and that, examining her breasts, wondering if they were too large, angling the mirror to her black rose, which seemed unkempt. As for her thighs and arms, she needed no mirror to know they were overly broad, shaped by work like a peasant woman’s.
As usual she could not help examining her feet. Such large feet, any lady would be ashamed of them. Cao particularly envied their guest’s tiny feet, like perfect golden lilies, enough to drive a man wild. But her father had always scowled when she suggested binding and it was too late now, one had to start young. Shih maintained that bound feet did nothing for a woman except make her shuffle. Sometimes Cao caught his glance descending to Lu Ying’s tiny feet and wondered what he really thought. He was a man like any other, after all.
Her imperfections distressed Cao, but soon her thoughts drifted back to familiar, comforting concerns: the shop and patients reluctant to pay their fees; whether to buy fish for dinner. It was absurd, gazing at herself like an unmarried girl.
The bronze mirror grew burdensome in her hand and she felt a great urge to escape her reflection. Placing the mirror face down on her bed, she dressed hurriedly. Then she wiped its flawless oval face one last time before hiding it away in her special chest. She wiped her eyes, cloudy with foolish tears.
Opening the door to the central corridor running like a spine through the house, Cao listened once more. This time she imagined what could not be heard – the squeals and cries of noisy children, calling her name.
A little tea flavoured with a soothing herb made her feel better, and she stood by the kitchen door looking out. Apricot Corner Court was a rectangle of one-storey wooden buildings surrounding an earthen courtyard. In the centre stood the apricot tree, heavy with young fruit still too bitter to eat. Three families lived round the courtyard in houses of descending size.
Dr Shih’s was the largest, as befitted his position. At the front stood his shop, known to passers-by through the sign of a yellow gourd and a banner reading Health Guaranteed in fading red characters. The family rooms lay behind, eight in number, if one counted the first storey tower room Shih used to dry herbs and prepare medicines. He claimed that the winds gained potency higher up and, ideally, he should prepare his medicines at the top of Blue Dragon Pagoda. Dr Shih had boundless faith in the Eight Winds.
Aside from the kitchen and bedchambers, their household contained two storerooms gathering dust. Every year Cao buried a sweet, ripe apricot from the courtyard tree in a corner of these rooms. Yet her prayers remained unanswered. The apricot stones had not bloomed. When they first came here they had never imagined how years might pass in waiting.
Old Hsu the fan-maker’s dwelling and workshop were next in size. He and his family occupied a large corner of the courtyard, concealed from the street. The third house, and smallest, belonged to Cao’s special friend, Widow Mu. Behind Mu’s narrow shop lay a smaller, family room. In all, only a dozen people occupied Apricot Corner Court so that some in Water Basin Ward called it a barren place, despite its fertile name.
Cao stepped outside and yawned. The Twin Cities lolled in the last weeks of summer, the air moist from clouds blowing west. Old Hsu waved at her from his seat beneath the apricot tree. He worked less and less these days, restricting himself to criticising his Youngest Son and Son-in-law, who kept the fan business going.
‘Madam Cao!’ he called. ‘At last, someone sensible to share my news!’
So flattering a summons could hardly be ignored. Cao went over, unconsciously shuffling a little as she had seen the stylish Lu Ying walk down the corridor. Old Hsu examined her sharply beneath bushy eyebrows.
‘Something wrong with your feet, Madam?’ he asked.
Before she could answer his question he announced gravely:
‘Today I took a bundle of fans to the