“An Ling,” a voice drifted from the doorway. I did not turn to meet my mother’s call, instead nodding respectfully at her reflection in the mirror. I was too captivated by the empty eyes and solemn lips of a girl I hardly even recognized, a child wearing a false mask of maturity, me.

“Not An Ling, please,” my gaze fell to my trembling fingers and tattered shoes. “I am Qing Yuan today.” Though I did not feel like my sister in any way. Her clothes hung on me awkwardly as if trying to flee in contempt, like they knew I was not their proper owner. And my face, although painted as hers once was, appeared more like that of a street performer than of a goddess. But what betrayed my true identity the most was my movements and posture, subtle differences, but still there. I did not stand straight, but rather a bit hunched, as if always in a submissive bow. Quiet acceptance pooled in the depths of my blinking stare, and my words blew wistfully from my lips instead of strong and certain. Whereas Qing Yuan had always been as a tree, firmly planted on the convictions of her heart, I was naught but a sprout of bamboo whipping however the wind directed me.

I was so lost in my own worries that I did not even notice as my mother approached me from behind and encircled me into a gentle embrace. “I’m sorry that you have to live this lie. I wish, I wish,” she stumbled uselessly, and my head dropped immediately. I had no wish to notice my mother’s display of weakness when I could find no solid understanding inside myself, and I feared that she would shatter the glorious aura of my sister’s memory by criticizing her as she once had so many years ago. But instead she finished meekly, “I wish I had not frightened Qing Yuan away.”

My heart leapt unwillingly. Never had my mother claimed any fault to me, for anything, but especially not for my sister’s death. At once I understood all the hours she had spent crying before the family altar, begging in half-uttered prayers for care and support. It had all been in guilt. She was crying for salvation. I summoned a new reverence for the haggard woman at once, for I realized she was not the stone figure I had once believed her to be, a cold essence that demanded veneration, but really a scared girl just like me. “We can’t blame ourselves for the past,” I managed to choke out, “for what can bring her back now? Not sorrow and blame.”

“I know you were in this room the day she, she left,” she stumbled. “You heard what I called her. In everything I only thought of myself, and I lost someone very dear to me because of this selfishness.”

“You couldn’t predict the future,” I felt an alien need to comfort rise within me. “We couldn’t see what would happen to her.”

“An Ling, your sister, she wasn’t taken by the river. She jumped in. She wanted to die.”

“I know,” I replied shortly as an endless void seemed to close inside of me. My mother was finally being honest with me.

“She died hating me, and for this she is condemned to wander the river as a broken spirit. She is not living in peace, but in a misery and loneliness so inconceivable to us,” like a pot bubbling over in a burst of steam and misplaced water, suddenly tears sprang into her eyes.

With wispy fingers, I reached to brush the sobs from her sunken cheeks. My voice was nearly silent, so deft that I was not even sure she could hear it. “That is not for us to predict. Qing Yuan was like a dragon: Resilient to loneliness, strong-willed, free spirited. Perhaps she is pleased to float down the Chang Jiang every day. I’m not so sure she would like living in the jade heavens anyway. They are too much like Chongqing. Unfamiliar. Ordered. She would find that kind of life to be more of a fetter than her marriage to Shing Li. But as a lost spirit she can truly have liberty.”

“It’s so unlike you to be this optimistic!” A slight smile broke through the mournful features of my mother’s face.

I shrugged, reaching up to tuck a few stray hairs into the heavy bun perched on top of my raven head. Answering politely and with regained composure, I said, “Maybe optimism will be the only thing to make this new life a happy one.”

“An Ling,” she interjected sympathetically.

I instantly corrected her, “No, Qing Yuan.”

“Qing Yuan, I am so sorry,” her voice was like sweet milk trickling into a fragile cup. “I don’t want to make the same mistakes again, it’s just that I“

”I understand,” I cut her off, a bit of reproach creeping into my voice. “You cannot break your promises. You want me to have a good life. I am grateful to you for your intent. Do not worry yourself any longer, please.”

“But this time I feel even worse. You are becoming a player, losing your whole identity forever, just so I can save our honor,” she cast her uneasy eyes on the wall to my left.

I forced the resentment swelling within me to rest before it ever revealed itself on my face. “You’re giving me duty. I can serve this family, and be rewarded for it. I don’t wish to lie, but that isn’t for me to decide.”

“This dishonesty bothers me as well,” she reassured me. “But I just can’t find any other options. But your sister was not chosen for her beauty alone, but for the compatibility of the couple’s birthdays. As a dragon, her marriage to Shing Li would have been auspicious and long lasting. But you are a sheep, and if he knew that, I fear he would find it unlucky and refuse to marry you. That would shame us all.”

I nodded, “I understand. But don’t you fear that our marriage will not be blessed because of this?”

“I fear many things, but that least of all.” She bit her lip as if to suppress a giggle. She continued in playful mockery, “That is not for us to predict.”

At once, any grudge I held against my mother melted away in a rush of happy warmth. “I’ll miss you.”

“And I’ll miss you,” sadness drifted into her words, but she caught it almost instantly. “But come, they’ll be here soon. You must go pray for security in this marriage.”

I rose from my seat in front of the rusting mirror and bowed dutifully as I departed. My quickened footsteps echoed dully on the dirt floors of our home, as I failed to pause and glance into the spaces that I had always taken for granted. Three filthy rooms with a shaky wooden table, frazzled sleeping mats, and excess piles of dry white rice. I did not realize that I would never peak into the settings of all my memories again. It would all be gone in but an hour.

I reached my destination and mechanically dropped to my knees. A cloud of freshly-lit incense surrounded a bright red table displaying the tablets of my family’s lineage as well as a few kind-eyed images of the local deities. The air felt sticky and intoxicating, lulling me with billowing fingers into a deeper calm. Closing my eyes, my senses seemed to spark and I began to note the sweet aromas of meals once set before these pieces of stone. I broke from this enchantment as I remembered why I had come here. “Qing Yuan,” I whispered, bringing my palms together before my heart and dropping my forehead to the floor. “Bless me and protect me wherever I go in life.”

“Qing Yuan!” I nearly leapt out of my too-large robes as a voice splintered my concentration. “Qing Yuan,” my mother dashed by in a flurry of red silk, before turning back to see that she had already passed me by. She smiled and dropped her voice, so as not to be heard by anyone nearby. “An Ling, they’re here. Take this,” she extended a knotted and aged hand and let a chain of green jade fall into my cupped palms. “I wore this on my wedding day, as did you grandmother, and her mother. It was to be Qing Yuan’s, but we cannot look back now. Just remember, even though I’m asking you to forget your true name, I’ll never forget the An Ling that brought me so much joy and pride.”

“Thank you. I’m honored to wear such a heirloom,” I felt so grateful for her gentle compliments that I almost forgot the fate waiting for me on the other side of the door.

But my mother soon ended this happy dream. “Come, Qing Yuan, it’s time to meet your new mother.” I smoothed the crimson silk of my dress as I brought my body back into a standing position. Pushing through the doorway, I caught the first glimpse of my new family in a flash of angry sunshine.

A bent figure wrapped in rich green robes scurried down the dusty path. “It’s been so long Mingmei,” a rough and pointed voice filled the air.

“Likewise, Jun Sun,” my mother replied curtly, obviously interpreting the comment to be that of resentful impatience, as I had. But she masked any irritation at the rude remark by bowing deeply.

Jun Sun chanced a quick slouch of her already-twisted posture to respond half-heartedly. Looking up at me with prodding, sullen eyes, she revealed a row of yellowed teeth in a snide smile. “She’s changed since I last saw her. She used to be rosy and healthy, but now she is a sack of bones in a worn brown bag.”

My cheeks burned in shame and frustration, and I wondered helplessly if any of this blush was visible under the cracking layer of paint. I felt my mother’s comforting hand brush my shoulder, and I half-expected her to retort in my defense, flinging some response that would allow me to regain some of my dignity. ‘She is not nearly as brown as you, you crusty dog,’ I thought I heard her say, but then I realized the words to be nothing but my hopeful translation the distant river’s song. No, my mother remained gracefully poised, and I realized that this was true dignity.

“Pleased to meet you, mother,” I dropped my decorated head in rehearsed reverence. “I hope you will accept me as part of your family and allow me to honor you in every way possible.”

She smiled with a hint of triumph. “We can get some healthy flesh on you before you join my son.” Stepped back toward the rickshaw she had waiting at the end of the road, she gestured to a pile of boxes. “And these will be coming with us?”

It was then I noted my father’s presence for the first time. “Yes, these are the things she will be bringing to your family home.”

“Then bless me by carrying them to the cart,” she ordered, and for the first time I understood my sister’s words. A slave. I would be little better than a slave in Shing Li’s house. Well, I could not dishonor my family now. If they wished me to live as a slave, then I would have to accept their demands. If that would make them like me, then I would do it.

I rushed to the heavy stack. A carven chest. Three boxes of fine green tea. A delicate set of blue bowls. ‘My family couldn’t afford this! We’ve never had such luxury in our home,’ I had to breathe deeply to suppress sobs as I saw the great sacrifice my parents had made for these people. ‘I hope they appreciate these generous gifts.’ Lifting them carefully and placing them in the wooden cart, I met my father’s watching eyes. “Thanks,” I mouthed, hoping that my face displayed the bright gratitude within me.

Jun Sun must have seen me hesitate, because she scuttled over to me like a sand crab, waving her gnarled arms superfluously. “Hurry. Hurry! We must leave before nightfall.” She herded me into my seat, and I thought to struggle with her overpowering presence in order to dash to my parents and let all the emotions within me flow to them in a last, painful farewell. But to cry and embrace, I knew, would be improper. Not in front of my new mother, I couldn’t show her that I longed to stay on this comforting rice patty with its three-room shack. I couldn’t show her that I loved these uncultured peasants and dirty streets. I couldn’t let her see that I all I wished to do was dissolve into my mother’s arms and beg her not to leave me.

Carefully, I chanced one glance back. There, under the setting sun, my parents sat, rattling with hidden tears. And to their right, the Chang Jiang stretched out for thousands of miles. At least the river, the same river, would follow me to my new home, and the real Qing Yuan could always reach me even when the rickety altar with stone tablets seemed so far away. I nodded, and turned to smile falsely at Jun Sun. I was ready to go to my new home.