China by Edward Rutherfurd (latest novels to read TXT) 📗

◦

One hour later, the baby was born. The village midwife had been in the Lungs’ house since the night before. Willow’s labor had been long. Mei-Ling and Mother had been helping, and when at last the baby came, the midwife handed it to Mother for inspection. The baby cried, not very loudly. Nobody spoke. Willow, pale with exhaustion, looked up at her mother-in-law and then her head fell back. Her eyes went blank.

Willow had given birth to a second girl.

The household was very quiet that afternoon. No one came by. Everyone in the hamlet knew, of course. People who might have come by on business feared to encounter the wrathful face of the lady of the house. The servants went about their tasks with heads down. Nobody discussed whether or not this was a lucky day; no calculations about the baby’s character were made.

Being quite tired herself, Mei-Ling asked Mother if she might rest a little and was told she could. She’d become big with her own pregnancy during the last month, and Mother had been more solicitous than ever, hardly letting her work at all and not even scolding her if she did something wrong.

After resting awhile, Mei-Ling went in to see Willow. Her sister-in-law was awake, but she looked pale and dispirited. The baby, wrapped in the traditional white cloth that Willow’s mother had sent, was in a little bamboo cot beside her, sleeping. Mei-Ling inspected the baby. It had a little hair. Perhaps the baby looked like Willow. It was hard to judge.

“You have two days to rest and be quiet, Sister,” she remarked with a smile. After that, it would be time for Willow’s mother to arrive with baby clothes and presents.

But her sister-in-law hardly seemed to hear her. “Now I know what it’s like to be you,” Willow said at last.

“What do you mean?”

“When I married into the family, I was treated with honor because my father’s rich. They weren’t so nice to you.”

“I didn’t expect anything else. I was lucky to marry Second Son. He’s very good to me.”

“Was I kind to you?”

“You were quite kind.”

“I’m sure I wasn’t kind enough. Forgive me, Sister.” She sighed. “Well, now I know how it feels myself. No son. Two daughters. When Mother came in a little while ago, she hardly even spoke to me. Looked at me as if I were dirt. Once I’ve recovered, next time I do anything wrong, she’ll give me a beating. You’ll see.”

After a little while, Willow said she was tired, and Mei-Ling left her.

But something Mei-Ling saw that evening made her think that Willow might be wrong about Mother. The sun was setting when the baby awoke and made some little cries. Mei-Ling was sitting in the shadows just behind the little orange tree when she saw Mother come out with the baby. She walked up and down the yard, gently rocking the baby in her arms, and Mei-Ling heard her murmuring: “There, my pretty one. Sleep now, poor little thing.”

And it seemed to her that Mother’s voice was so tender towards her tiny granddaughter that it wouldn’t be long before she’d forgive Willow for having another girl. The baby soon went to sleep, and Mei-Ling saw Mother go back towards Willow’s room. Soon after that, she went in to lie beside her husband and sink into sleep herself.

She was surprised when she woke in the early morning to see Second Son standing beside the bed looking distressed. “The baby died during the night,” he said.

“Died? What do you mean?”

“It must have stopped breathing. It happens sometimes.”

She rose and hurried to Willow. The baby had vanished. There were tears on Willow’s cheeks.

“What’s happened?” Mei-Ling cried. “How?”

The look that Willow gave her was so terrible. It was anguished, bitter, helpless, all at once. “Perhaps Mother will like me better,” she said dully, “now the baby’s dead.”

—

Mei-Ling had been due to go see her parents that day. She had wondered what she should do, but Mother had said, “You may as well go.” She’d arrived at her parents at noon and stayed a couple of hours before returning.

When she got back, she found Mother sitting alone on a bench under the orange tree in the middle of the empty courtyard. The older woman looked gloomy. She motioned Mei-Ling to a smaller bench opposite her. Mei-Ling sat down, and Mother gazed at her in silence for a while.

“Tell me what they’re saying in the village,” Mother finally asked. Mei-Ling hesitated. “Tell me the truth,” Mother commanded. “Everything.”

“They’re saying we killed the baby.”

“We?”

“The family.”

Mei-Ling had heard the stories: baby girls born into poor families who couldn’t feed them or who had too many girls already. Babies who quietly disappeared. Had they been exposed, drowned, smothered, or just died of natural causes, as babies often did? Who knew? And she supposed that those who knew probably didn’t say. She’d never heard of such a thing in her own village. Maybe it was one of those tales that happen in another village or province rather than one’s own.

But people still talked about it.

“You mean they’re saying I did it,” Mother stated flatly.

Mei-Ling didn’t answer. There was no need. Mother sighed. “They fear me,” she remarked. “Do you think I did it?”

Mei-Ling thought of the expression she’d seen on Mother’s face when she was cradling the baby girl. “No, Mother,” she said.

“Good.” Mother nodded. “Well, I didn’t.”

And that should have been the end of the matter.

—

But during the night that followed, Mei-Ling suddenly awoke with such a start that it woke Second Son as well.

“What is it?” he asked.

“A nightmare. It was terrible.”

“Tell me.”

“I had the baby. It wasn’t a boy. It was a girl.” She stared ahead in desperation. “Then Mother took it…” She clasped her hands in front of her belly as if she could protect the child within. “She took it and killed it.”

“She would never do that. You know she wouldn’t.”

“I know.” Mei-Ling shook her head. But