*NIP* A Single Grain of Rice

Part 4

I dashed out into the street, where a line of girls in other ridiculous dresses and cosmetic wonders waited in a prim line. I took one final glance at my mother and grandmother leaning on the yellow painted door. Mama waved a hankerchief, and Grandmother looked like she had tears in her eyes as she smiled at me. But I couldn't afford to say goodbyes. I turned to face the other eligible ladies, but they're gone. With a burst of panic, I sprinted down the narrow street, until I saw them off to the right. I ran after them and caught up at last, like a gosling among ducklings, stumbling along behind the others. I trip over the sash on my waist, and slightly brush against the girl in front of me. She turned around, perfect red lips pursed in a frown, which i greeted with a rather awkward smile. With a slight sniff, she whipped her head back around, parasol held high, and her nose even higher. I rolled my eyes and imitated her high-and-mighty act, when I heard snickering off to the left. I see our parade has not gone unnoticed. Four old men sat or stood around a rickety wooden table with some sort of game (and some sort of money) on it, chuckling at my antics. I blushed, and one of them preteded to faint, to the roaring laughter of his friends. I grinned at them, when a high voice cut out over their guffaws.

"Mulan! Mu-lan!" The smile slid off my face faster than water on stone. With burning cheeks, I turned to see my mother tripping after me, a bright blue parasol clutched above her head. "You forgot your parasol!" she yelled to me, and with a small glance, I saw the girls before me each sniff and turn haughtily away at my mother's casual appearance. As soon as she was close enough, I snatched the parasol, and pushed her away. She jogged beside me for a moment, eyes serious, and she whispered,

"Mulan, remember: your marriage shall bring great honor to our family. We will go home, and your father will be so proud of you!" As our entourage neared the matchmaker's house and my anxiety grew, my mother slipped away with one last word,

"Honor!" and disappeared into the crowd of waiting families. I took a deep breath, and noticed belatedly that the others had extended their parasols and were kneeling behind them. I struggled to push my old parasol open. By the ancestors, it was stiff! Had it not been opened since Grandmother used it? At last I got it open, and ducked behind it just in time, as a loung bang came from the house in front of us. A throat was cleared.

You know the saying "butterflies in your stomach"? I disagree. I think it's more like killer bees stinging you from the inside.

"Fa Mulan!" a woman's voice said boldly. I stood up somewhat shakily, but tried to hide it. That was one of the five 'P's' right? Poised. Along with Prepared, Precise, Punctual, and... um... a fifth word that starts with 'P'.

"Present!" I called, raising the parasol so she could see my face.

"Speaking... without... permission..." se muttered, jotting something on a clipboard. I sighed through my nose, and walked towards the door she held open. Just before I went inside, I clearly heard a voice that sounded a lot like Grandmother's hiss,

"Well, someone had bad bean curd."

The house was softly lit by the sunlight through the windows, with a few braziers holding burning, sickly sweet incense here and there in the room. A table with finely embroidered cushions was the centerpiece of the room, holding a steaming teapot and about six cups. The door slammed behind me, and I got my first look at the matchmaker. Her makeup was bright and gaudy, obviously expensive, but used poorly. A large silk dress held in her enormous round waist and rather full chest. Her neck was a roll of fat, and small piggy black eyes shone above the white cheeks.

"Recite the final admonition," she said blandly. The what? 

"Er, right..." I cleared my throat, and clumsily tried to get my fan from my dress, buying time. A lot of time, with these long sleeves in the way. I fluttered the fan delicately in front of my face, when my eyes fell on a framed text hanging on the near wall. I read the title,

The Final Admonission

and smiled to myself behind the fan. She really must have took her job seriously to frame something like that on her wall. The matchmaker cleared her throat impatiently.

"Fufill your duties calmly and... respectively. Reflect before you snack? Act! Before you act. This shall bring you honor and... and glory," I read from the paper. The matchmaker narrowed her beady eyes, and snatched my fan, looking at it suspisciously before handing it back. 

"This way," she ordered, then settled herself on a cushion, gesturing for me to imitate her on the opposite side of the table. I sank onto the cushion, relieving my shaking legs. Honor, I thought to myself. Do it for the honor of the family. 

"Pour the tea," she said commandingly. "Your inlaws will expect a well-bred girl. And a well-bred girl pours tea with Precision," she finished, smiling to herself. I reached across for the teapot, which made her frown and scribble something else on the paper. I grasped the teapot with the silly sleeve in the way, praying that I wouldn't drop it. It slipped a bit, but I steadied it, and poured the steaming drink into the cup with shaking hands. I picked up the cup to pass it to her, but it slid right out of the silk sleeve covering my hand, leaving it unmoved on the table. With a frown and a terrified glance at the matchmaker, I tried again. And again. And again. I think we were both becoming frustrated, when I tried to pick it up a bit too fast. The cup went flying across the room, and the tea splashed in the matchmaker's face, dripping down her neck and soaking into her dress. Her face was murderous. 

"I'm so sorry..." i squeaked. She huffed through flaring nostrils like a bull, and I quickly added a few blessing just to calm the obvious anger she was controlling. "May a thousand suns shine directly on you! May your fields be fertile! May your-" she interrupted me suddenly with a yell of rage, face red as her dress, fat fists clenched on the table as she struggled to her feet.

"You want me to tan like a commoner in the sun? You want me to plow fields like a farmer? How dare you! You will-" at that moment in her damning speech, she stumbled over the shards of the teacup, and fell onto one of the incense stands. The anger drained from her face as pain, shock, and terror overtook it. 

"Ahhhhh! Ooooooo! Ahhhhhhh! Put it out! Put it out! PUT IT OUT!!!!!" She leaped up, hands clapped to her large rear, whick was smoking. 

"Right! Right, uhh..." I whipped out my fan, and fanned air on the seared cloth to put it out, but it burst into flames. I could have slapped myself. Air feeds a fire. The matchmaker screamed from the depths of her soul, and raced out the door, howling with her rear flaming. With a sudden thought, I grabbed the teapot and raced after her, proceeding to splash the contents of the pot over the flames. The dress sizzled, and she turned to face me, utter shock etched in every bit of her flabby face. I bowed clumsily, handing her the empty teapot and backed down the stairs to my mother's waiting arms. But the shock soon changed to outrage in thte matchmaker's face. She stormed down the stairs after me, hurling the teapot at my feet.

"You! You are a disgrace! you may look like some excuse for a bride, but you can never be a true one! I am ashamed of ever meeting you! Live to be a spinster! You will never bring your family honor!" And with those last words ringing in my ears, the matchmaker stormed away, slamming the door behind her with a final bone-shaking, dream-crushing boom.