Scarring Jasmine-Chapter Forty Turtle

12/13/2024 Friday 23-35F Sunny

On that year’s Dragon Boat festival day, before Jasmine wrote a letter to her mother and brother, sister Gui came into her room around noon and brought her six Zongzi (* Dragon Boat festival’s signature dish which was made with sticky rice and wrapped in a bamboo leaf).

“Jasmine, what’s your festival lunch?” After putting the Zongzi on the trestle table, sister Gui asked. 

“Yesterday I bought a crucian, it is swimming in the bucket now.” Jasmine raised her chin to the bucket, while her hands were still busy drawing pattern lines of a slipper on one piece of green fabric. “Once I finish cutting the fabric, I will start to make fish ball broth. Sister Gui, thanks for the Zongzi.” 

Then she stopped her hands, walked to a bamboo basket, and took out one small, folded parcel from it. “Sister Gui, here are two school bags for the kids to use; and this apron is for you. Hope you will like them.” 

Sister Gui opened the bags and apron, “They are too beautiful for my two wildcats. Keep them for yourself or you can sell them.” 

“No sister Gui, please accept them. You are like my family, and your two children always help me fetch water and buy coals. I wish that I could do more for you.” 

“Don’t be so formal, Jasmine. I have been a widow for eight years; I know it isn’t easy for a woman to live alone.” She sat down, holding Jasmine’s hands, “You are still young, and don’t have children like me. Did you ever think about remarrying? What kind of man do you like?” 

Jasmine blushed, “I haven’t thought about that at all.” 

“Don’t be foolish. You can’t live on your hands forever. We women ought to have men who can shelter us, no matter whether they are our fathers, husbands, or sons. For example, like me, my husband inherited this house from his father. Even though he is dead, his house still shelters me and our children. In Shanghai, especially nowadays, it is almost impossible for a woman to buy her own house; and a house can’t be called home without someone in it who cares about you. Men provide us house and food; we reward them with our children and caring. That’s the way life works.” 

Then sister Gui chuckled, “Here, I have something interesting to tell you: Tailor Zhang, the one you work for, came to my house yesterday. He told me that he liked you and asked me  to be his matchmaker to propose to you. I figured it all night; I think he is a proper man for you. His name is Luopu Zhang; both his parents are dead. He has three married sisters in his hometown of Ningbo. He is twenty-nine, never married before. As you know, he owns his shop, as well as those two rooms behind it where he is living. You and he are a good match: Your ages are similar; you both are reliable and gentle persons; and he is a tailor while you are an embroiderer. I can’t help thinking that it must be kismet that brought you two to meet each other. I have never made such a perfect match before. Tell me, what do you think?”

Jasmine lowered her head, “I am a divorced woman, with a cut face. He is too good for me; he deserves a better wife.” 

Sister Gui stopped her: “You are wrong, Jasmine. It is him who sent me here to propose to you. He said to me that he didn’t mind about your face, as well as your past. I think that he is a man who can see qualities. Jasmine, trust me, I am ten years older than you, I know people. You are twenty-seven now; the chance for you to meet someone better will be very slim. I don’t know anything about your ex-husband. But right now, in our grassroots class, Zhang can be considered a golden bachelor. To find a true hearted man is much harder than finding a large fortune. For certain you will regret it if you miss this opportunity to pair with him. Think about it carefully, I will come to you tomorrow.”

Sister Gui left; Jasmine sat on the bed feeling lost. This feeling was so familiar to her: When her mother told her about Wang’s proposal, she felt it; when again her mother tried to persuade her to engage to Zhao, she felt it; when eventually her mother pushed her to marry Qian, she felt it too. The problem was, she couldn’t deny that what they had told her was all correct, each word made sense! Even their formulas were similar— “To find a true hearted man is much harder than finding a large fortune.” She knew that, because she hadn’t found one yet and had been disappointed so many times. Perhaps there was no such man for her; perhaps that man was Zhang.

In fact, Jasmine didn’t have any negative feelings about Zhang; she even liked him. He was a familiar face in a familiar crowd: He had average appearance, average height, and was one of the millions. However, he was a man of few words, and smart about making fashionable clothes. Perhaps only this kind of silent yet sharp man could see qualities through appearance, therefore he saw hers, both her hands and heart. He foresaw what she could bring him; and he didn’t like compromising himself. In his past, he must have had many chances to get married, but he remained single. It might be kismet like sister Gui said, he had been waiting for a right woman for him, at a right place, in a right time; or else, why that noon on that busy street, that rickshaw puller stopped in front of her? Why was she pulled to sister Gui’s place? And why after being turned down by so many people for employment, only he accepted her?

But, still, there was another voice in her heart— “If you do want to marry him, you should make sure that this decision is from your heart, and you have no doubt about it.” That was what her father told her. She closed her eyes, asking herself: “Is he the one I love? Or is it just because he is the only available one for me now and choosing him will be practical? No, I like him, but I don’t love him. There is only one man in this world whom I loved and will continue to love.” 

She searched under the pillow and took out that handkerchief-- The two pearl earrings were still wrapped in it like two obedient little orphans. “I love him. Yu was the reason why I came to Shanghai—Not to meet him, but to breathe in the air which he breathes out, to stay in the same city where he stays, to get closer to him, to touch and feel him in the wind of each season. Perhaps he is married, perhaps he is single; perhaps he has already forgotten about me, perhaps in some random moments he thinks of the past; perhaps he even has left here. But all those are not important. I love him, in my own way, in my secret way, like the ocean watching the moon, like the snail admiring the nightingale, like the snow expecting the Spring. Despite that probably the rest of my life will be barren and lonely, with his existence in this world, I will still feel content. I shouldn’t betray my heart.”

Getting old was horrible, being lonely was horrible. But among all the horrible things, the worst was: Seeing the bus approaching the station to bring you to the last stop of your life, you realized that you had forgotten to carry your soul along the whole journey; and there was not even a soul either on the bus or at the station that could accompany you. 

She knew that her one-sided love for Yu, a man who loved men, sounded stupid and destined to be fruitless, and that no logic could support her to continue to love him. But he was her first man who made her taste the sweet, the bitter, the hope, and the frustration granted by love; he made her be a real woman. Since then nobody could break the fences which she had built for him. “Nevertheless, love is a good thing, even though there is no response, and maybe no hope.” 

The next day when sister Gui asked her about Zhang’s proposal again, Jasmine declined. “Please help me say thank you to him. He is a good man, worthy of marrying. But I am happy with my current situation and have no plan to change it for now.” Sister Gui looked confused, yet she didn’t say anything anymore.

After the declination of Zhang’s proposal, Jasmine continued to embroider for him. Every time he saw her, he smiled gently, and explained all the details about the new embroidery requests to her, as if nothing had happened between them. Sometimes in the evening when Jasmine was busy with his sewing machine, he sat alone in his room, watching her silently through his little window with a lonesome look on his face.

He was a similar man to Wanshan in that Suzhou pharmacy shop; their love was humble and shy; and they were as sensitive as turtles--once they sensed any tiny bit of potential harm, they retracted their heads into their shells right away. But some turtles could outlive human beings by hundreds of years.