Yuxiu had spotted this right off. Yumi was afraid of Guo Jiaxing in a strange way that managed to attach her fear to his daughter as well. She was forever trying to win over the girl, but invariably failed, and that drove her to distraction. That knowledge was why Yuxiu was so scrupulous in waiting on the father and daughter. If she indulged them to their satisfaction, Yumi would not be able to send her packing.
Yuxiu had a good idea of how to deal with Guo Jiaxing. Any man his age was susceptible to flattery from a pretty and flirtatious girl. For proof of that she needed to look no further than her own father, Wang Lianfang.
If anything, she was even more confident where Qiaoqiao was concerned. All she had to do was demean herself in Qiaoqiao’s presence, thereby convincing the girl of her own superiority to win the day. Granted, it was not something Yuxiu did with pleasure, but she had only to remind herself that she was used goods, and in that case, what was there to be unhappy about?
Yuxiu worked especially hard in front of Guo Jiaxing and his daughter, always bowing and scraping for their benefit. Qiaoqiao was touched by the first thing Yuxiu ever did for her: coming in early in the morning and discreetly emptying the girl’s chamber pot.
Qiaoqiao was not only a foolish girl, she was also a slob. She compounded her slovenly appearance by eating and drinking as much as she could every day, which made for a full chamber pot. Yuxiu could not even guess when the girl had last emptied it on her own, and when she picked it up, the vile contents splashed over her hand. That action produced instantaneous results—Qiaoqiao actually spoke to her.
Yuxiu was off to a terrific start. When it was time to eat, her shrewdness served her well. Keeping her eye on everyone’s rice bowl, she was quick to act as soon as one was empty.
“Here, let me, brother-in-law,” or “Don’t get up, Qiaoqiao, I’ll get it for you.” Her cunning also manifested itself in how she acted during meals when she adopted a strategy that was the opposite of Yumi’s. It was a gamble, but at mealtime she put on a happy act. Pretending she was in high spirits, she talked nonstop, asking all sorts of comical, even silly questions. She’d cock her head in front of Guo Jiaxing and bat her eyes.
“Brother-in-law,” she’d say, “do all members of the leadership have double-fold eyelids?”
Or “Brother-in-law, are all communes ‘common’ or could some be ‘uncommon’?”
Or “Exactly where is the Party? Is it in Beijing, the ‘northern capital,’ or in Nanjing, the ‘southern capital’?”
Those were the kinds of questions she asked meal after meal, and she was never prettier than when she was asking them. Her face was bright, her look one of naivete and innocence with a trace of seduction. Some were honest questions, things she truly didn’t know, and others she made up for effect. It was exhausting work, racking her brains for things to ask. Fortunately, her father had been a Party secretary for twenty years, which supplied both a rich source of topics and the courage to put them into words.
Yuxiu’s foolishness embarrassed Yumi, who tried to stop her. She was surprised to learn that Guo and his daughter actually found Yuxiu’s questions intriguing and pleasing to the ear. She put smiles on their faces. Qiaoqiao even spit out a mouthful of rice several times from laughing so hard. Yumi, who never thought something like that could happen, was secretly pleased. Guo himself pointed to Yuxiu with his chopsticks after a hearty laugh and said to Yumi, “She’s a fascinating little comrade.”
Yuxiu was given a room behind the kitchen, facing the living quarters; from there she secretly observed Guo and his daughter as much as possible, waiting for the opportunity to divulge her desire to stay in Broken Bridge. The timing had to be perfect, and she needed to do it just right. She would have one chance, one beat of the drum. If she blew her chance the first time around, there would not be a second. She could not afford to be haphazard.
Sunday. There were no classes, so Qiaoqiao was home. Yuxiu decided to do Qiaoqiao’s hair before lunch, something she did with instinctive imagination and creativity. After Yuxiu gave Qiaoqiao a shampoo, the basin was filled with greasy water. It was disgusting.
Even before she was finished, Yuxiu developed a loathing for this idiotic cunt, who was beneath contempt; she’d have liked nothing better than to shove the girl’s face into that basin of pig grease and drown her. But her fate was tied to the girl, so she forced every finger on both hands to be obedient and docile. After the girl’s hair was clean and dried, it was time for Yuxiu to comb and braid it.
Until now, Qiaoqiao had always worn a single, thick, unattractive braid, which gave her a hard, somewhat imperious look. Yuxiu thinned her hair with scissors, then parted it down the middle and gave Qiaoqiao a pair of small braids, which she coiled up and fastened at the ends. The tips of the braids rested just above her ears and bounced slightly when she moved—a mischievously chic look like that of the typical spoiled daughter of a traitor in the cinema. Without those two braids, Qiaoqiao, who was a bit of a tomboy to begin with, could easily have been mistaken for a boy. But now, thanks to Yuxiu’s grooming, she at least looked like a girl and was clearly pleased with the results.
As she stood off to the side, Yuxiu said in a voice dripping with envy, “I’d love to have hair like yours, Qiaoqiao.” She sounded sad, and once flattery reached that level of emotion, a recipient would have to be made of wood not to be moved. As expected, Qiaoqiao loved the sound of that comment. She beamed, grinning from ear to ear like a clam. All you could see on her face was her mouth. One look told Yuxiu that this was her chance.
She sighed. “Wouldn’t it be wonderful if I could be your personal servant, Qiaoqiao? But no such luck, I’m afraid.”
Qiaoqiao was admiring herself in the mirror, first from one angle, then another, marveling over how nice she looked.
“That shouldn’t be much of a problem,” Qiaoqiao blurted out.
Yuxiu carried on a cheerful conversation with Qiaoqiao during lunch, which sounded strange to Guo Jiaxing, since that wasn’t like his daughter, who was never chummy with Yumi. But she obviously was with Yuxiu.
After losing her mother at such a young age, no wonder the poor girl saw Yumi as the enemy. Guo couldn’t recall ever seeing her in such a good mood, and he was so happy he ate more rice than usual.
As she handed Guo Jiaxing his rice bowl, Yuxiu knew that her moment had arrived.
“Brother-in-law,” she said, “Qiaoqiao and I have agreed that I’m going to be her personal servant. I’ll stay here—but you have to supply three meals a day.” She said it like a spoiled, winsome little girl. But she knew that this was the critical moment and waited nervously for his reaction. Holding his bowl in his hand, he took a look at Qiaoqiao’s head. He had a pretty good idea of what was going on.
As he shoveled some rice into his mouth he mumbled, “Serve the people.”
The words made Yuxiu’s heart lurch. Her hand shook. But she knew that everything was okay. Thinking her sister was joking, Yumi dismissed what had just happened. But Yuxiu turned to her and said, “Well then, dear sister, I’ll stay.”
So it hadn’t been a joke after all. Like a medicinal plaster, the little scamp had found a way to stick around. Yumi didn’t know what to say. Qiaoqiao put down her bowl and left the table, and as she watched the girl walk away, Yuxiu reached over and grabbed Yumi’s wrist, squeezing it tightly as she whispered, “I know my own sister wouldn’t want me to leave.” The real message in this comment was a plea. Yumi knew that, and she still could not abide the way Yuxiu had used her cunning to her advantage. But what could she say in light of Yuxiu’s sisterly comment? She just pursed her lips and shot a glance at Yuxiu, slowly chewing her food as she said to herself, You can’t stay in Wang Family Village, you little whore, so you come here to upstage me with your slick ways.