Now, to see the two women as they watched the child, it would have been hard to tell from the two faces which was the mother. Indeed, the child made no difference. He smiled radiantly on both. He was learning to walk, and he took the few steps from one to the other, laughing and falling upon each in turn.
Meng was always happy, but she had been deeper in happiness the last few days than she had ever been. She had told no one except Liangmo of the coming of the second child. Servants, of course, knew it. Her own maid had first reminded her that her second moon cycle had passed without sign. In the servants’ rooms there was already secret rejoicing. But in a great house servants were like furniture, used without heeding.
Lien knew, and knowing it was more gay than ever. A house with many young wet nurses was a lucky house. She had gradually ceased to love her own child. All her rich animal love was transferred to her nursling. Her own home was poor and hard, the food scanty. The mother-in-law had a bitter tongue and a hand greedy for the wages Lien brought home. Although Lien had loved her home once and had wept all day and all night when her husband’s mother had sent her to the Wu house, now she had come to love the good food, the ease, the idleness. Beyond nursing this healthy boy, nothing was asked of her. She was urged to eat, to drink, to sleep. Her young, pleasure-loving body responded quickly. This was now her home, and she loved her nursling more than her child.
She longed, in the soft fullness of her content this morning, to tell her young mistress how rejoiced she was at the promise of a second birth, but she hesitated. These rich, idle, soft young women allowed anything, it seemed, and yet sometimes they flew into anger not expected and causeless. She continued only to laugh, therefore, and to praise the little boy.
“A little godling,” she said fondly. “I never see one like him anywhere, Mistress.”
Before Meng could do more than smile, they heard footsteps. The child ran to Lien, and from her arms stared at his grandmother and father. Meng rose.
“Here you are, Meng,” Madame Wu said. “Sit down, child. Rest yourself, please. Come here to me, son of my son.”
Lien pushed the little boy forward and inched herself along on her heels so that he was always in the shelter of her arms. Thus he stood at Madame Wu’s knee and stared at her with large black eyes whose corners were tucked in. He put his fingers in his mouth, and she took them gently away.
“A lovely boy,” she murmured. “Have you raised a name for him yet?”
“There is no haste,” Liangmo replied. “He does not need it until he goes to school.”
She looked down at the little boy. He stood in their midst, the center of them all. And yet, she thought musingly, it was not he himself, not this simple creature, who so held their hopes in him. Were he to die, another would take his place. No, he was a symbol of continuing life. It was the symbol which held all their dreams.
She turned her eyes from the charming little face and remembered why she had come.
“Meng, Liangmo tells me you have added happiness,” she said. “I have come to thank you and to bring you a gift.”
Meng blushed her ready peach bloom and turned her little head. The one defect in her beauty was her hair, which tended to curl in spite of the fragrant wood oil with which she continually smoothed it. Now her pleasure was mingled with fear lest her hair was curling again before Liangmo’s mother’s eyes. She loved Madame Wu, but she feared her. No one ever saw a hair misplaced on Madame Wu’s graceful head. Then she put out both hands to receive the gift and forgot her fears.
“My mother’s pearls!” she breathed.
“She gave them to me, but I am too old for pearls,” Madame Wu said. “Now everything happens for good in this house. You declared your happiness today, and I had these pearls ready to give you.”
“I have always craved these pearls,” Meng said. She opened the box and gazed down at the jewels.
“Put them on,” Liangmo commanded her.
Meng obeyed. Her soft cheeks blushed more deeply. They were all watching her, even the little boy. But her slender fingers did not fumble as she fastened the pearls in her ears.
“I used to put them in my ears and beg my mother to let me keep them,” she confessed.
“Now you have earned them,” Madame Wu said. She turned to her son. “See how rosy the pearls have become. They were silver gray.”
It was true. The pearls looked rose pink against Meng’s soft flesh.
“Ai ya,” Lien cried. “She must not look too pretty or the baby will be a girl!”
They laughed, and Madame Wu closed the laughter by saying as she rose to depart, “I would welcome a girl. After all, there must be female in the world as well as male. We forget it, but it is true, is it not, Meng?”
But Meng was too shy to answer such a question.
It was the hour of the birthday feast. Madame Wu had taken her place at the left of Old Lady, who because of her age and generation had the highest seat. Mr. Wu sat on his mother’s right, and on the other side of him sat Liangmo. Tsemo, the second son, sat on Madame Wu’s left, and on Tsemo’s left the third son, Fengmo. Yenmo, the fourth son, was still a child of seven. But he had come to live in his father’s rooms, and now he stood in the circle of his father’s arm. Thus one by one each member was in his place, and below the sons the two sons’ wives sat, Meng with her child on her knee, and a maidservant stood near to take it away if it became troublesome. Old Lady was proud of her great-grandchild but easily impatient, whereas Madame Wu had endless patience.
Indeed, nothing seemed to fret her. Her smooth pearl-colored face looked with pleasure on this great gathering of her family. At six other tables, of eight places each, there were uncles and aunts and cousins and friends and their children, and at one table Madame Kang presided. All had sent gifts to Madame Wu before this day. These gifts were of many kinds — pairs of vases, packages of dates, boxes of soft cakes and sweets, scrolls of silk upon which were pasted characters cut out of gold paper, each carrying a good wish. There were many other gifts. Mr. Wu had added two bolts of heavy brocaded silk, and Old Lady had added two boxes of fine tea for her personal gift.
The family gift had been expensive. They had ordered a painting, by the best artist in the city, of the Goddess of Long Life. All the guests agreed as to its beauty when they came to offer their first greetings to Madame Wu. The picture hung in the place of honor, and even its details were correct. The goddess held the immortal peach in her hand. By her side was a stag, red bats flew about her head in blessing, and from her girdle hung the gourd containing the elixir of life. Even long-lived herbs were not forgotten by the artist; he had tied them to her staff.
On the wall behind Madame Wu hung a square of red satin upon which were sewn the characters for long life cut out of black velvet. Against this bright satin Madame Wu’s dark head was dainty and austere.
To all the greetings and good wishes of the guests Liangmo responded for Madame Wu. Before the guests were seated, he and Meng had gone to each table and thanked the guests, for their mother, as the eldest son and daughter-in-law of the house.
Everything, that is, had been done with ease and yet with some formality, which showed that the Wu family valued the old ways and understood the new. Every now and again Madame Wu rose from her seat and moved among the guests to make sure that all had been properly served. Whenever she did this the guests rose and begged her not to trouble herself, and she in turn begged them to be seated again.