But, as they say, last night’s food loses its taste, and the grass behind is no longer fresh. Yuxiu’s attempts fell flat with Yumi. Nothing illustrated that better than the act of serving rice. After Qiaoqiao left, Yumi refused to let Yuxiu wait on her, preferring to do everything herself. Most of the time she acted as if Yuxiu weren’t even there, which had the desired effect.
Yuxiu felt as if she’d been kicked out of a production brigade. The difference this time was that she did not blame her sister. There was no way around it—the fault lay with her. She’d stood with the wrong unit, had chosen the wrong orientation, and in the process had caused her sister considerable pain. She could not blame Yumi for being disappointed in her; it was totally deserved. It was now up to Yuxiu to behave differently, to talk less and do more. If she worked hard at reforming herself, she could show her sister that she was a new person. And once her sister saw that new person take shape, her anger would dissolve and she’d be in a forgiving mood. Then she’d let Yuxiu wait on her. Despite all that had happened, they were still sisters, and that gave Yuxiu all the confidence she needed.
Yuxiu was right to think that way, but she chose the wrong tactic. Yumi was giving Yuxiu the cold shoulder in hopes that she would reflect on her behavior and admit that she’d done wrong. What Yumi needed was an open admission of mistakes. It was all about attitude. And by attitude she meant that Yuxiu should stop thinking about saving face. As long as she adopted the proper attitude, Yumi, who was, after all, her older sister, had no interest in embarrassing her and would be happy to have her continue to live with them. But this was lost on Yuxiu, whose desire to turn over a new leaf was undermined by the frown that seemed permanently fixed on her face. Yumi saw that as a sign of resistance, even of outrage over the treatment of Guo Qiaoqiao. That sort of obstinacy was not what Yumi had hoped for. Well, she said to herself, all right, if that’s how you want it. Since you’re hell-bent on doing it your way, don’t blame me for making things hard for you.
Yumi wore an unusually stern expression. With Qiaoqiao now out of the house, she would bang her rice bowl and chopsticks down on the table, adding to the heavy atmosphere. Yuxiu was stymied. One day passed, then another and another, driving Yuxiu to the point of distraction. She spoke as little as possible, and her darkening mood increased the impression of defiance. Admitting mistakes is never easy, because you need first to determine what the person you’re dealing with is looking for. Only after you know that can your attitude be considered proper.
The day for Yumi to lay her cards on the table finally arrived, but Yuxiu was still in the dark. Guo Jiaxing had gone to a meeting out of town, leaving the sisters home alone. The house was oppressively still, an outbreak of close combat threatening to erupt at any minute. Right after breakfast Yumi summoned her sister from the kitchen. Yuxiu rushed into the living room, water dripping from her hands. One glance told her that something was wrong. Yumi was sitting with her legs crossed in the rattan chair, a seat normally reserved for her husband. She didn’t say anything right away, and Yuxiu’s heart sank. She stood in front of Yumi, who ignored her and contemplated her own feet. Then she reached into her purse, took out two yuan, and laid the money on the table. “This is for you, Yuxiu,” she said. With her eyes on the money, Yuxiu breathed a sigh of relief.
This was a welcome development, not what Yuxiu had expected. “I don’t want any money,” she said. “I don’t need to be paid for waiting on my own sister.” That was just the right thing to say.
But it had no effect on Yumi, who then took out a ten-yuan bill and fingered it for a moment before laying it next to the two yuan. “Give this ten yuan to Mama.”
With that, Yumi got up and went into her bedroom, and as she stood alone in the living room, Yuxiu realized what was happening. “Give this ten yuan to Mama.” Yumi was telling Yuxiu to go back to Wang Family Village, wasn’t she?
In the grip of panic, Yuxiu followed her sister into the bedroom. “Sister,” she said.
Yumi ignored her.
“Sister!” Yuxiu called out again.
With her back to Yuxiu, Yumi crossed her arms and gazed out the window. “Sister,” Yuxiu repeated, controlling her emotions. “I can’t go back to Wang Family Village. If you force me to go, I’ll have to kill myself.”
Clever as always, Yuxiu knew that this was exactly the right thing to say. To begin with, she was telling the truth, but it also represented strength in weakness. That is, while it sounded feeble, almost like begging, hidden in it was the power of coercion when directed at her own sister.
With a faint smile Yumi turned and said with due politeness, “Go ahead, Yuxiu, kill yourself. I’ll find you some nice woolen funeral clothes.”
This shocking comment took Yuxiu’s breath away. Her indignation was no match for the crippling shame she felt. She stared with a dazed look at Yumi, who returned her gaze. The length of time that the two sisters stared at each other, unblinking, was protracted and grim; it carried the dual significance of ending the past and creating a new beginning.
Yuxiu blinked and her gaze began to soften. Softer and softer, weakening even her legs until she fell to her knees in front of Yumi. She knew perfectly well that the effect of kneeling lasted forever. Once you go down on your knees, that’s where you will stay, always inferior.
Still Yumi said nothing. As Yuxiu knelt, tears spilled from her eyes; she kowtowed, touching her head to her sister’s feet. Time passed slowly. Then, dropping her arms, Yumi crouched down and began gently stroking Yuxiu’s hair, over and over as her eyes also filled with tears, big translucent drops that ran down her cheeks. Cupping Yuxiu’s chin in her hand, she said, “How could you lose sight of who we are, Yuxiu? Have you forgotten that we’re sisters? I’m your big sister.” There wasn’t a false note in what she was saying. She wrapped her arms around Yuxiu and held her close.
Enough had been said by then that Yumi felt it was time to get everything out in the open. And so, she talked in fits and starts, starting with the day of her engagement, all the way up to her plans to bring Yuxiu to town to see if she could make something of her life. Tears of sadness accompanied every word. “Yuxiu,” she said, “our brother is just a baby, and of all the girls in our family, you’re the only one who has a chance. How can you not know what’s in my heart? Why must you act like a seductress? Why do you always fight me?” There was a bleak quality to Yumi’s voice. “You have to amount to something, Yuxiu, you just have to. Show the people of Wang Family Village what you’re made of. Please don’t disappoint me anymore.”
Yuxiu looked up at Yumi, and at that moment she knew she was not her sister’s equal; she had let her down terribly and was unworthy of her.
She burst out crying. “I’ve been a terrible sister and I’m so sorry.”
“Have you no feelings for family?” Yumi said. “Not this family, our family?”
Yuxiu sobbed as she let go of her sister’s legs and listened carefully. Guilt and remorse told her that this time she’d really and truly grown up and had become an adult. She vowed she’d never again do anything to disappoint her sister, no matter what. She buried her head in Yumi’s bosom and said what was in her heart. “Everything, it’s all been my fault, and I swear I’ll never disappoint you again. If I do I know I’ll die a horrible death.”