The Auspice of January 18th Helen Liu

January 18th1 the lone mountain town is strangely quiet today.

A chilling wind blows through its empty streets, kicking up dust and dead leaves. The buildings are hushed and lifeless, their doors shut tight, drapes covering their windows. Trees rattle and shake, their branches bare and frozen in this cold winter, but even the clack of wood on wood seems muted.

It is waiting for something. The town holds its breath, a terrified child hiding in a closet, as if the demons forever twisting in the shadows beyond will disappear if it just remains still. Even as the air grows painfully thin, even as fear chokes its throat, it remains silent and unmoving.

And then, far in the distance, a suona2 wails.

It pulls her from her sleep, shrill and sharp. She blinks open heavy eyes, twitches numb fingers. Ah - it’s been a while since she’s slept this well, dreamless and uninterrupted. She yawns pleasantly, flexes her legs, and rolls her shoulders. Then, bracing herself with her hands, she tries to sit up.

Her body feels like it weighs ten tons. With a huff, she lets herself flop back to the bed. The effort leaves her exhausted; her eyelids are already beginning to flutter shut. Drowsily, she shifts into a more comfortable position, leaning back against the cushion and clasping her hands together.

The suona sounds again.

She frowns and flips herself over. Pushing her face into the cushion, she hopes it will muffle the screeching instrument.

It sounds again, and again, and again.

A curse bursting from her lips, she springs to her feet, fueled by pure irritation. Her hair, long and unbound, spills to the floor.

“Who the hell is that?” she shouts, stomping outside, ignoring the way her white robes drag in the dirt.

Of course, nobody responds. She glares at the street in front of her, wanting desperately to go back to sleep, but she can still hear the suona somewhere in the distance. But standing outside, its notes seem to be clearer, purer. Compelling rather than harsh, piercing but not painful, just rough enough to be addictive. She closes her eyes and tilts her head to listen more closely.

The song fascinates her. She can’t tell if the musician is overjoyed or devastated, if the melody is meant to be a celebration or a lament. Perhaps it is announcing a wedding or a funeral - she has no idea which.

Something brushes against her feet. She looks down to see a stray cat twining around her legs, rubbing its face against her robes and purring softly. It nudges her forward, towards the sound of the suona.

“Alright, kitty,” she coos, bending down to stroke its ears. It leans into her touch; she’s never seen a stray so friendly. “Let’s go see what the big deal is.”

As she walks, she spots a man sneaking through the next

alley. He’s twitchy and wide-eyed, his breaths coming in pants, his forehead beaded with sweat. In his hands is a plate of expensive desserts, rarely seen in lone mountain towns like these.

“Are you alright?” she calls, but he does not respond, instead ducking in between two buildings and disappearing. Shrugging, she moves on.

More cats slink onto the street behind her. Minnow-like, they emerge from shadowy alleys, flit through cracks in the walls. Pupils dilated and tails held parallel to the ground, they follow silently.3

On the other side of town, the suona is louder than ever, its song echoing through the lonely streets. The buildings seem to shy away, trembling in fearful anticipation. Then slowly, gradually, comes the clicking of hoofbeats. The thumping of footsteps, the rustle of fabric in the wind. And the musician appears around the corner, blowing into the suona with all his might.

His playing is smooth, but his fingers are white-knuckled around his instrument.

Looming behind him is a man dressed in red, adorned with gold. He sits straight-backed atop a gleaming horse, swaying slightly with the movement of its muscles. Trailing him are four men, carrying on their shoulders an ornate sedan decorated with flowing tassels and glittering embroidery. And after them, a long vermilion procession. Scarlet banners flap, the characters ying qin4 stitched on in vibrant yellow. Women in flowing dresses clutch baskets of crimson paper, confetti fluttering like snow around them.

All bow their heads; none wear smiles. Only the groom on the horse stares steadfastly forward, eyes fixed on the path before him. His mouth twitches, as if he wants to grin but has forgotten how.

She sees them coming from afar, their bright reds unfamiliar in this drab, grey mountain town. She can only describe their presence as a loud silence. The town is not quiet anymore, filled with the sound of the suona and the shuffling of feet and cloth. But where are the cheers, the laughs, the well-wishes and congratulations? If she didn’t know better, she’d say this was a funeral disguised as a wedding, some sort of twisted joke.

An altar stands at the center of town, covered in flowers and silk and incense waiting to be lit. Shuangxi5 large and golden, is emblazoned at the heart of the setup. And positioned before it is a thin stone tablet, looking somewhat out of place amidst the colorful decorations. She tucks herself behind a shadowy building; she doesn't think they will see her here.

Slow and deliberate, they enter the town center. The groom dismounts; the procession stills behind him. An attendant hurries to light the incense while the carriers gently ease the sedan to the ground. As if frozen in place, the groom stares at the altar, smoke wreathing around him. He tries and fails to rearrange his expression, the corners of his mouth curling up even as his lips thin, dimples appearing below furrowed, lowered eyebrows. His horse stamps its hooves and whinnies nervously; someone hurries to grasp its reins and calm it down.

Then, with a long, shaky exhale, he gives up and turns towards the sedan. He takes a step forward, then another. 51

Two attendants follow skittishly, drawing aside the curtains and reaching into the sedan with trembling hands.

The bride emerges. She wears a beautiful red dress, multilayered and embroidered with gold designs. A gossamer red veil, as delicate as butterfly wings, is draped over her head. The groom stiffens ever so slightly, then slowly moves to her side.

Together, they stand in front of the altar. A man pours two cups of wine and sets them on the silk-covered table, tripping over his own feet while backing away. The groom descends to his knees, heavy and lethargic, eyes half-closed. With the help of the attendants, the bride does too, the heavy dress making her movement awkward and unwieldy.

She moves closer to the altar, keeping herself hidden. At this distance, she can clearly see the groom’s face. His clenched jaw, his hands fisted in his lap, his lashes fluttering ever-so-slightly. The way his eyes dart back and forth between the bride, the altar, and the ground.

And a long-forgotten memory stirs in her head.

“I’m going to become a palace official in a year,” he boasts. “I’m going to ace the civil service exam and enter the capital. The emperor himself will rely on me!”

“Of course,” she says, shoving at him playfully. “With that poem you wrote way back then, you’re guaranteed a position.” She puts a finger on her chin and pretends to think. “How did it go again? ‘Her hair is like an inky river, dark as the night and shiny as the stars -’”

He blushes furiously. “Shut up!” he whines. “I was thirteen!”

“Thirteen and already lovestruck,” she teases, nudging his arm. “Hey - why haven’t you written about me more? Where’s the sequel?”

He turns away, cringing. Laughing, she scoots closer and leans against his shoulder. “Don’t tell me you loved me more when you were thirteen than you do now.”

He mumbles something under his breath, the tips of his ears bright pink. She leans closer still. “What was that?”

“I said if you want more poems, I have a dozen written already!” He buries his burning face in his hands.

Delighted, she grins giddily and hugs him. “Why, you’ll have to show me sometime.”

Someone at the head of the procession steps out into the open, and she forces her gaze away from the groom. The man’s legs are unsteady; his nails dig into his palms. Face pale and voice breaking, he opens his mouth and shouts:

Yi bai tian di!6

The words hit her like a punch to the gut. Swearing, she doubles over, her knees hitting the ground hard. The cats behind her hiss, a menacing, rattling sound, their fur standing on end.

“I’ll be leaving tomorrow.”

His jaw is set, but his eyelashes flutter, trying to hide his tears. It’s useless - they glitter like diamonds in the moonlight. She watches as a drop slides down his cheek. “I’ll be leaving

tomorrow,” he says again, voice trembling. And then he collapses into her arms, futilely choking back sobs.

“Why are you crying, silly?” she says, sitting down and pulling him further into her lap. She attempts to smile, her own vision blurring. “You’ve dreamed of this since you were a kid. We should be celebrating.”

He doesn’t respond, just buries his face into the crook of her arm. His body heaves. She strokes his back, rests her chin on his shoulder. “Don’t be like this,” she whispers. “Let’s make the most out of today, yeah?”

He only cries harder. Who’s she kidding - she’s as heartbroken as he is. Closing her eyes, she clutches at him tighter, as if she could keep him with her if she only hugged him long enough. Her tears stain his shirt.

They rest like that for a while, limbs entwined and eyes wet, mourning the years they are about to lose. The moon is high in the sky when their breaths are finally steady again.

“I’m going to miss you,” he says quietly, not moving from his place in her arms.

“I’ll miss you too.” She runs a hand through his hair and hopes she seems stronger than she actually is. “But it’s alright,” she adds, forcing brightness into her voice. “It’s not like you’ll be gone forever.”

“It’s not like I’ll be gone forever,” he repeats. “It’s not like I’ll be gone forever.” He wipes the tears off his cheeks and sits up, a new fire in his eyes. “I swear to heaven and earth that I will come back for you. Once I’ve settled into my duties - once I have 54

what I need to give us both a happy life - I will come back and marry you.” He hesitates, shifting. “If you’re willing, of course.”

She reaches out and grasps his hands, interlocking her fingers with his. “Doesn’t that go without saying?” Looking him in the eye, she promises, “I will wait for you.”

The groom bows, his forehead touching the ground. She feels pain lance through her body as the bride bows too, the attendants taking care to support her. The person at the head of the procession shouts again, voice high and tight:

Er bai gao tang!7

She is willing to wait. The rest of the town is not.

An unmarried girl brings bad luck, they whisper. Better to stay away from her, lest you want misfortune falling upon your family. Her partner might’ve promised to marry her, but who knows when he’ll be back? Two years? Three?

Passing the imperial examination is no small thing - I doubt he’ll be back at all. Look at all the other girls her age. Most of them already have children.

A shame, really. She’s not bad-looking. What a waste.

Her family distances themselves from her. She is to stay inside and help with their business, weaving cloth from cotton and hemp. Keep to the back-alleys and remain out of sight, her parents say. Don’t embarrass us more than you already have.

She gets used to it, eventually. She learns to ignore the whispers that follow her as she walks down the street, to brush off the snide comments spoken just loud enough to hear. There had

never been much for her in this lone mountain town, anyways. What difference does all of this make?

Even if he hadn’t left, she thinks her life would be more or less the same. And even if he comes back wealthy and powerful enough to whisk her to the capital - she can’t imagine much will change.

The weeks stretch into months. The months become years. Some days she goes to the field they once loved to play in, lying down in the long grass and staring up at the cloud-lined sky. How simple it used to be, she thinks. To be satisfied with such a small, confined existence. She wishes she could be as naive as she was back then.

Three years pass, and still he does not return. She no longer knows if she is waiting or not. She does not know what she is waiting for.

Then one evening, as she is washing clothes by the river, a drunk man leaving the nearby tavern sees her.

“You’re that unmarried girl everyone talks about,” he said, a slight slur to his words. She squints to make out his face. It’s Wang Ergou, the shoemaker who had come to the town with his family a few months ago, and she can smell the alcohol on him even from here. Gathering her clothes and standing, she walks away.“You know, you’re quite pretty,” he laughs loudly, approaching her. “Why haven’t you found a husband yet?”

She quickens her pace, hurrying down the riverbank.

He follows her, shouting, “Don’t go, lovely one!” and finally she drops all her clothes and starts running, but he is faster 56

and manages to grab her arm and then there is nothing she can do. “Why don’t you spend some time with me,” he breathes, his warm breath on her face. All she can smell is alcohol.

When he is gone she retrieves her dirt-covered clothes and goes back home. The next morning her parents berate her for staying out so late. Later her father sees the pile of still-wet dirtcovered clothing tossed haphazardly beside her bed and slaps her and tells her he should have just drowned her when she was born because daughters are good for nothing but marriage anyways and she cannot do even that.

She can still smell the alcohol.

She clutches her head, wishing the pain would go away. In front of the altar, the groom shifts on his knees, turning to face the bride. Tears brim in his eyes; his entire body trembles like a leaf in the wind.

Fu qi dui bai!8

She is sure of it - her life is not worth living.

This is all she will ever have. This purposeless drifting in a sea of misery and suffering and humiliation and despair. Nothing will change - not in her lifetime.

What more is there? Even if tomorrow she finds ten pounds of gold buried in the ground, others will lay claim to the money. Even if she has twenty servants waiting on her at all times, she will still be trapped in a cage. Even if he comes back this very moment, she does not know if she still loves him, or if he still loves her. It does not matter either way - no amount of love is worth this much pain.

What a childish promise she had made back then. How foolish on her part; how selfish on his. He has the entire world in his hand, all the opportunities he can dream of. He will not miss that childhood sweetheart from so long ago.

She fingers the rope looped around her neck. She knows that it is sturdy, and that it will hold - she had woven it herself. A bitter smile curves her lips. It is almost funny, that though she was helpless in life, she can guarantee herself a smooth death.

She spares no final prayers, not to heaven and earth, not to her parents, not to him. All she hopes is that the afterlife will be kinder.

Suddenly, her head clears. The pain stops; her body relaxes. Slowly, she stands up, just in time for the groom to rise from his third bow. Ah - she remembers everything now.

The groom takes the two cups on the altar and gives one to his bride’s attendants. With a shaky hand, he lifts her veil to reveal a paper-maché face.

She stares at her effigy, running her gaze over its painted eyes, its bright-red lips, its sculpted body covered in layers and layers of vermillion silk. The artist had done a decent job, she thinks. Lifeless, stiff, dressed for marriage - how incredibly accurate.

The groom’s mouth twists as he stares at the bride Squeezing his eyes shut, he downs the wine in one gulp.

She hears frantic muttering in the next street over.

It’s the man from before, with the desserts; she recognizes him now. It’s Wang Ergou who is kowtowing towards the altar, feebly pushing forward his plate of small cakes and sweet soup.

“Forgive me,” he babbles, forehead on the ground. “I was drunk and didn’t know what I was doing. I made a mistake. I made a big mistake. Please - please take these offerings as penance.” He bows again, fear in every line of his body. “Please - I have a wife - I have children. Please forgive me.”

She doesn’t stop to listen to more, and moves towards the town center. Her eyes pass over the thin tablet8 on the altar, tracing her own name etched into the stone.

All this fanfare, and for what? She’s dead - she could care less. He’s a fool, binding himself to someone long gone, someone he never truly knew. And when everything is over, what will change? He will return to the capital and continue his work, carrying on as usual, this moment only a minor hiccup in his life. Was it really worth disturbing her rest for this?

She doesn’t understand, but supposes it’s none of her business anyway.

She looks over the procession of red one last time, then drifts back to her nap, already feeling the sleepiness weighing down her limbs. Soon the suona will stop playing, and then they will burn her effigy, and once again she will have no ties to the world. She’s glad - she much prefers her comfortable slumber.

The afterlife is kinder, after all.

1January 18th (of the lunar calendar) is an auspicious day for funerals.

2The suona is an instrument commonly used in Chinese traditional music. It is sometimes played at weddings and/or funerals. A Chinese proverb states, 唢呐一响, 非喜即悲 - the sound of the suona must bring either joy or sorrow. (Note: the suona is a major feature of 囍, being the most prominent part of its chorus.)

3Feral cats were said to have been able to see spirits/ghosts. 4Ying qin (迎亲) roughly means “to welcome the bride” or “to escort the bride.” In traditional Chinese weddings, the groom would go to the bride’s house and escort her from her house to his family’s house in a sedan. 5The character 囍, reading, “shuangxi” (双喜, literally “a pair of xi”). It is composed of two 喜 (joy) characters side by side. It is commonly seen as a decoration in weddings. 6Bow to heaven and earth. The first part of the baitang (拜堂) ceremony, in which the newlyweds show respect to firstly the heaven and earth, secondly their parents, and finally to each other.

7Bow to parents. The second part of the baitang ceremony.

8Newlyweds bow to each other. The third part of the baitang ceremony.

9In China, ancestral tablets are used to honor ancestors and designate their places in their families. An ancestor’s name is inscribed upon each tablet. Incense would often be burned before them, and offerings (food, drink, etc) could be placed in front.

Lyrics

正月十八 January 18th 黄道吉日 This auspicious day 高粱抬 Raising the sorghum 抬上红装 Carrying the red wedding dress 一尺一恨 Every step with hatred 匆匆裁 Severing ties 裁去良人 Leaving the loved ones 奈何不归 Is there a way to return? 故作颜开 Pretending to be happy 响板红檀 The sound of the red sandalwood clappers 说得轻快 The light voice 着实难猜 It’s hard to guess 听着 Listen 卯时那三里之外翻起来 To the sound, three miles away, echoing in the early morning 平仄 Up and down 马蹄声渐起斩落愁字开 The clicking of hoofbeats arouses sorrow 说迟那时快 Time flies 推门雾自开 Pushing open the door, there’s fog outside 野猫都跟了几条街 Feral cats have followed for a few streets now 上树脖子歪 Climbing up the trees, necks bent 张望瞧她在等 Looking at her still waiting 这村里也怪 This town is strange too 把门全一关 All the doors are closed 又是王二狗的鞋 It’s Wang Ergou’s shoes again 落在家门外 Scattered outside the door 独留她还记着 Only she remembers 切肤之爱 属是非之外 The love that was beyond right or wrong 这不 But this is not 下马 方才 61

The person who stepped off the horse 那官人笑起来 That official smiles 那官人乐着寻思了半天 That official thought happily for a long time 只哼唧出个 离人愁来 Only to whisper a sad sentence 她这次又是没能接得上话 This time, she was once again unable to say anything 她笑着哭来着 She laughs and cries 你猜她怎么笑着哭来着 Guess how she laughs and cries 哭来着 Crying 你看她怎么哭着笑来着 Watch how she cries and laughs

一拜天地 Bow to heaven and earth 二拜高堂 Bow to parents 夫妻对拜 Newlyweds bow to each other 堂前 In front of the hall 他说了掏心窝子话 He spoke from the bottom of his heart 不兑上诺言 But it can’t be as their promises 岂能潇洒 How to be unrestrained? 轻阴 Clouds gather in the sky 叹青梅竹马 Sighing for a childhood sweetheart 等一玉如意 Waiting for a desired jade 一酒桶啊 And a jar of wine

她竖起耳朵一听 She pricked up her ears and heard 这洞房外 Outside of the bridal chamber 那好心的王二狗跑这 给她送 点心来了 That kind-hearted Wang Ergou was scrambling to bring her desserts 她这次可是没能说得上话 This time, she was once again unable to say anything

她笑着哭来着 She laughs and cries 你猜她怎么笑着哭来着 Guess how she laughs and cries 哭来着 Crying 你看她怎么哭着笑来着 Watch how she cries and laughs

正月十八 这黄道吉日 January 18th, this auspicious day 正月十八 这黄道吉日 January 18th, this auspicious day 正月十八 这黄道吉日 January 18th, this auspicious day 正月十八 这黄道吉日 January 18th, this auspicious day

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