Once I recovered from the shock of overhearing Gao talking to the woman he planned to marry in the barn I confronted him, but I found the confrontation similar to others Gao and I had had. It changed nothing. Gao simply didn't want to marry me. Whether the reason was because he disliked how marriages are often arranged or because he wanted to marry someone else mattered less than I imagined it would in the end, and I was very sure this was the end for Gao and me. So I tried to bolster myself in the face of Gao's rejection and turn my attention toward Fa, the servant who would likely become my husband.
Even now as I walk with Gao to the landlord's house to meet Fa I find myself whispering Fa's name, letting it roll off my tongue as I wonder what it will mean to me in the coming months and years. What does Fa look like? Will he be a good husband? How long will it take for him to seem like someone I know well rather than a stranger? Will he be fiery like Gao or serene like Peeta? What will it be like to become his wife?
Gao hasn't met Fa either, but he says he trusts our landlord that Fa will be a suitable partner for me. I'm not sure why he thinks our landlord would care if I found a suitable partner, but I want to be optimistic about the match. I shuffle past the threshold as we enter the house, trying to walk in an attractive way and not like the farm-girl I am. I bow my head respectfully to the landlord, looking down toward my feet. Wanting to appear as attractive as I can to Fa, I've worn the finest clothes in our home, arranged my hair in an intricate braid wrapped around the crown of my head, and dowsed myself with sweet smelling fragrances that once belonged to my mother. They are very old, but they still smell nice.
The landlord's house has real walls and several other servants besides Fa. One of them leads us into a small room with a few chairs. I sit down, feeling increasingly uncomfortable in my dressy clothes. Folding one hand over the other nervously, I notice how rough my skin has become from the work of harvest. I never thought Gao minded such things, and he certainly understood them well. I wonder if I should have at least done something to try to soften my hands before meeting Fa. A man serving in the home of a rich landowner with beautiful daughters would be used to being around women far more polished and refined than I am.
Thankfully my first meeting with Fa will be very different than my first meeting with Gao, who was brought to our house by his father while I was playing in the dirt. My hair was matted and dusty then, a testament to a long day of work followed by a bit of play. Gao had stared at my small form for a moment, then turned away. He probably knew more about what was happening than I did, having said "goodbye" to his family before leaving his home. As I think of Gao's vacant eyes that day and how he looked up at his father pleadingly, I feel a twinge in the pit of my stomach. Gao had never wanted to live with us. He especially missed his mother and wanted to go home to her. While I hate what Gao has done to me, I cannot hate Gao. Suddenly I'm grateful for being spared the pain of having to say "goodbye" to my mother and Min, leaving them to an uncertain future. If this new match is successful, it could be the answer to our dilemma. This man could replace Gao in my life and family, and he might be far happier than Gao could ever be married to me.
This growing optimism is still new, though. Even yesterday Peeta had to try to calm me after I became upset about the situation.
"Maybe Gao has found someone who you will like very much," he said. "Living with someone and sharing a life with them probably will make the two of you feel close."
But Peeta's smile didn't quite meet his eyes when he said it. He has talked to me about "love" before, and it's not the kind of love anyone could have for a stranger. Maybe I could learn to love Fa the way Peeta describes love given time. Even if I never love him, I might learn to live with him in harmony. Harmony is good. So is peace. Peace is a gift.
The kiss I shared with Peeta slowly comes to mind, and suddenly I feel about as far from peaceful as possible. A wave of heat washes over me. I've thought of that kiss so many times, each time more fondly than the last. The desire to kiss him again, to lie in his arms again, to feel his breath on my neck again…it's so strong. Peeta must not have similar yearnings for me. He's had many opportunities, and there's never been another kiss. I start to wring my hands, embarrassed at the thoughts running through my head while I sit here with Gao waiting to meet my future husband. I shake my head to try to shift my thoughts back to the present. Then I touch my hair to make sure I haven't disturbed it.
Before I can completely banish the kiss from my mind the landlord walks into the room followed by a man I assume is Fa. Fa is dressed in the modest clothing of a servant, but his clothing is nicer than Gao's. He is shorter than Gao, but Gao is considered quite tall. Fa looks older than me, but he does not appear to be an "old" man. His hair is a shiny black. Being older than me might mean he is wiser and will be more respected. I try to shift my lingering thoughts of kisses to Fa…his lips, his arms. It's not an easy task. I don't know Fa.
The landlord introduces us, and then he and Gao quickly recede to an adjacent room so Fa and I can talk privately as I've requested. There's an uncomfortable silence, and then Fa clears his throat.
"Why did you want to meet me?" he asks hesitantly, his expression unreadable.
"I wanted to find out more about you," I answer.
"You will, of course," he tells me. "If you are my wife."
"Of course."
I pause, not knowing what else to say. The moment is awkward, as if he believes it is a bit offensive that I wanted to meet him before the wedding.
"So, you've farmed before?" I ask him.
"My father was a farmer, and I grew up helping him," Fa explains.
"My father was also a farmer," I tell Fa. "He is dead now."
"Yes, I know," Fa says. "I remember him. He was a fine farmer. I handle the crop inventory."
"Oh," I say, impressed that Fa has been trusted with such a big responsibility for at least several years. "That is very good."
Fa smiles shyly. There is another pause. This time Fa takes the opportunity to stare deeply into my eyes.
"I have a younger sister and a mother," I say, my gaze falling on my hands again because I'm a bit uncomfortable that Fa seems to be looking right through me. "They wish to remain with us."
"So I've been told," Fa says softly. "They may until your sister is old enough to marry."
I nod. His answer is the best I could ask for.
"My mother," I begin, looking up at him again. "Did anyone talk to you about my mother?" Fa takes a small step toward me, perhaps to hear me better.
"I'm told she is not well sometimes," Fa answers. His tone tells me he understands what he is unwilling to put into words. I could not hope for a better answer than this one either.
"That's right. I'll need to take care of her."
"One should respect one's mother," Fa says.
"Will you miss living in a big house like this?" I ask him.
"I'll be with you on the farm. I won't miss this place," he answers, emphasizing the word "you."
Fa suddenly looks flushed. I wonder if he has feelings that stir inside him for me. The thought of it makes me shiver. I never even wondered about such things until recently.
"Your plot of land is the best on our landlord's property except for his private fields," Fa observes, his eyes suddenly darting down and away from mine.
"That's what my father used to say," I admit.
"Are you happy about the marriage?" Fa asks, suddenly steering the conversation to a more personal subject as if he can't help but do so. He takes yet another chance and fearlessly gazes into my eyes while he waits for an answer.
"It's a surprise," I tell him. "I was arranged to marry Gao."
"I know," Fa says.
"Are you happy about the marriage?" I ask, deciding that it is a fair question now that he's asked me.
"Yes," he says confidently. "Very happy."
Peeta said I might like Fa, and I think I do. I haven't asked the most dreaded question, though. I made a private vow to ask it even though Peeta would be very upset with me for asking.
"We do have one secret," I begin.
Fa's brow furrows.
"A secret?" He repeats.
"Yes, do you remember the plane crash on our land?" I ask him.
"Yes," Fa answers. "Everybody remembers that."
"There is something that most don't know about the plane crash."
Fa raises an eyebrow at me. "What is it?"
"There was a man who survived. He is a foreign soldier, an American," I explain, sighing from the relief of admitting the truth. "We have been hiding him."
Fa's mouth drops open.
"And he's still with you on your farm?" Fa asks.
"Yes."
"Who else knows?"
"Nobody outside of my family," I tell him. "We consider this man an ally of China, and that's why we've been hiding him."
Fa raises his hand and pinches the bridge of his nose with his fingers, looking away as if very distressed.
"Will you allow him to stay after the wedding?" I ask Fa. "He is helpful on the farm. I…we believe he'll die if he tries to leave and find his people. They are so far away, and he doesn't know the area. It will be winter soon."
Even to my own ears my ramblings about Peeta sound a bit desperate and strange. I think I know why, but I hope Fa will not realize it.
Fa drops his hand to his side before he interrupts me.
"But he is a man, and you will be my wife. He can't stay in our home," Fa says.
"He doesn't stay in the house…."
"But he's a foreigner," Fa continues. "He should find his own people. He can't stay."
"I'm sure he will find a way back to his people eventually," I reassure Fa. My heart squeezes painfully at the thought of having to say "goodbye" to Peeta someday, and I continue to argue on Peeta's behalf. "For now he is our ally, and I believe it's important that we protect him."
Fa's face turns a different shade of red, and he raises his voice as he tells me, "That's not important. The answer is still 'no.'"
"I'm…I'm just saying that…"
"You should stop saying things," Fa tells me, taking a step back. "It was fine to ask me if the man could stay, but I have said 'no.' What you believe no longer matters. He must go."
I feel hot all over, and the tiny hairs on my arms suddenly stand on end.
"Then I won't marry you," I tell Fa angrily. The sentence comes out so fast it almost sounds like one long word.
"You won't marry me?" he asks skeptically. "You must marry me. What else will you do? Besides, our landlord promised."
"Promised what?"
"Promised that I could marry you. Didn't you know that?"
"No! Nobody told me! What is this? Some kind of trick?" I ask, feeling rage boil over at the thought of the landlord speaking for me.
Fa reclaims the step he'd taken backwards a moment earlier. He rolls his jaw intimidatingly.
"In my bet with the landlord he bet you because he knew I liked you," he explains. Then Fa lowers his voice, and his muscles seem to relax slightly. "I have always admired you from afar."
"He had no right to include me in a bet," I counter. "And you had no right to try to buy me that way."
"But didn't you hear me? I have always admired you. You're what I wanted. If you hadn't been promised to Gao and if I'd had the money for the bride's price, I'd have tried anyway."
"Stop! Stop!" I scream, angrier still at the thought of Fa trying to negotiate with my family for me. Then again, that is how it is often done. "Nobody will sell me. My mother would not have taken your money unless I wanted you."
"And why wouldn't you want me?" Fa asks, looking both hurt and confused. "I am a man who can help you. I can offer you things that even Gao cannot." Fa stares at me for a moment, apparently looking for something in my expression. He must not find it because a moment later he breaks away from our conversation and meets the landlord in the doorway. The landlord looks pale.
"I think this can be mended," the landlord says.
"No, it can't," I counter, crossing my arms across my chest and turning away from both of them. "It can never be mended."
Gao comes into the room and stands beside me. He touches my arm, and I shrug him away.
"I didn't know, Cai," he tells me.
I don't believe him. I don't believe any of them. I'm tired of people lying to me and trying to design my future for me. I won't let them anymore!
"You expect me to follow tradition, Gao," I lower my voice to a whisper. "You even expect me to accept being bought in what was probably some drunken bet because that's expedient, while you run off with a woman who inflames your passions."
The tips of Gao's ears turn bright red, and he looks away. I continue, speaking only to him and very quietly, "you tell me that you believe people should marry who they choose to marry, but that rule apparently doesn't apply to me. I hate you. I hate all of you."
Gao looks stunned. He grabs for my wrist and whirls me around, away from the prying eyes of Fa and the landlord.
"Stop this. We'll talk later," he says in a hasty warning.
"No, this is over," I tell him. "Let's go home."
/
The landlord sends word through a neighbor that he wants to speak to Gao in the evening.
"I won't change my mind," I tell Gao before he leaves.
He nods and says, "I know."
Then Gao reluctantly walks toward the landlord's house for a second time as I explain to my mother and Min what happened earlier. When Gao returns he doesn't volunteer any information about his meeting with the landlord. Finally I ask him what the landlord wanted.
"The landlord said Fa left and won't be coming back," he confides.
I lean forward over our dinner of rice and soup, truly surprised by hearing about Fa's departure. I wonder where he will go and what he will do.
"Since the deal to marry you and work this plot of land fell through, the landlord had to compensate Fa with a sum of money. Apparently they argued about how much money for some time. Then the landlord threw Fa out along with the largest sum of money he had requested. It was a great deal of money, Cai. I think the landlord wanted to be finished with the matter. One of the other servants said that they literally tossed Fa out of the gate."
My eyes widened at the thought of such a dramatic ending to the negotiations for a marriage with me.
"Cai, I think Fa truly did want to marry you but not force you into marriage. The other servants told me that he talked about you, particularly after you'd visited the house for some reason."
"I don't care. I will not be bartered for like an animal."
"Fa probably thought that was the only way he'd ever have a chance to marry you. He was basically enlisting the help of the landlord in negotiating his position with me and securing the landlord's permission to work the land with you as your husband. The landlord wouldn't have agreed to any of that if Fa had not won the bet. It's no different than the bet with the landlord that won us our water buffalo. If I hadn't bet with him, we'd have never been able to reasonably negotiate."
"But I'm not an animal, and I shouldn't be treated like one," I tell him.
"Of course you shouldn't be treated that way, and you are not property of any kind. But Fa saw this as an opportunity to try to get to marry you. It was that opportunity that Fa wanted, but he wanted you to want it also. Plus he wanted to work the land. That was important to him."
"I disagree all of that," I say smugly.
"And that's fine for you to disagree. I understand why you do. I am upset too, and I told the landlord so. The whole system is flawed. You know I think that, and the matter is settled now anyway. Fa can find some new opportunities with the money he has."
But suddenly I realize it's not settled. There's Peeta to consider, and I told Fa about Peeta. My heart starts to race as I begin explaining to Gao what I did.
"I told Fa about Peeta," I gasp. "I asked him if Peeta could stay on the farm after the wedding."
"Oh, I know," Gao says casually as he picks up some more rice with his chopsticks. "The landlord and I couldn't hear you and Fa talking until you started arguing, but Fa told the landlord about Peeta after you and I left. Fa thought he'd be angry, but the landlord says Peeta will probably be an asset if the Americans come to look for their soldiers someday. He says we might be rewarded for protecting Peeta. So the landlord says it's fine for Peeta to stay. It's Peeta's choice. "
"But what if Fa tells somebody about Peeta?" I ask.
"The landlord doesn't think he will," Gao explains. "He says he knows Fa well and that he would never betray us. Besides Fa has other matters to attend to, like finding a use for all that money."
Gao half smiles at me. Maybe he's proud that somebody thinks our farm and I are worth that much money even if he doesn't truly believe people should be bought and sold.
"What will I do now," I ask him.
"I don't know. We'll figure it out," he answers.
/
I bring Peeta his dinner and watch his facial expressions as I tell him what happened at the landlord's house. He's obviously shocked by all of it, but the first thing he says is, "how are you doing with all that?"
Peeta always knows what to say.
"I am doing well, but I don't know what will happen to me now," I admit. "Gao doesn't either. Maybe I should have been more understanding with Fa and the landlord, but I just couldn't imagine how they talked about me like that…about 'if I win I get to marry Cai and have her family's land to farm,'" I shudder at the thought of it.
Peeta opens his arms to me, and I go to him. He wraps me in a warm embrace and begins to play with my hair.
"Nobody should be treated that way," he says. "And if Fa thought that was the only way to have a chance to marry you then that's sad."
I think about what he's saying and then I ask him, "how did you end up promised to Delly?"
His muscles tense. They always do when I mention Delly.
"I asked her to be my wife. She said 'yes.'"
"And why didn't you marry? Did you ask her a long time ago, when you were too young?"
"No, I asked right before I left for the war. We could have married," he tells me.
"Then why didn't you?"
He pauses before answering.
"Our parents wanted us to wait, and I think we were a little scared something bad might happen."
"Something bad like what did happen?" I ask, referring to the plane crash.
"Yes," he says solemnly. "Or maybe that I'd be killed."
He tenses again. I can feel it in the muscles he's using to hold me.
"But you're still very much alive," I remind him.
"For the moment," he says.
I hate it when he talks as if he'll die.
"Do you think I could have loved Fa if I'd tried?" I ask Peeta.
Peeta chuckles a little.
"I think part of love is 'trying,' but not all of it. The trying part is probably loyalty."
"What's the rest," I ask.
"It's something that just happens to you. One day you just realize you love someone. My father does say love is work, though. It's doing things for the other person that you wouldn't do normally and putting the other person first."
"You're father sounds like a wise man," I tell Peeta.
"He is," Peeta says, a longing in his voice. He misses his family. He's told me.
"Peeta, can I ask you something?"
He smiles a crooked smile and squeezes my arm where he's holding it.
"You don't need to ask permission," he answers.
"How do you know how to speak any Chinese?" I ask. Peeta's Chinese is very far from perfect, but I think it must be unusual for someone from such a faraway place to know my language at all. We've never talked about how or why he learned Chinese. Maybe the army taught him?
"My grandparents taught me," he says. "My father speaks a little Chinese, but mostly my grandparents."
That is an answer I wasn't expecting.
"And how do they know Chinese?" I wonder aloud.
Peeta fidgets a little, and I assume I'm making him uncomfortable by resting in his arms this way. I start to get up, but he gently nudges me back down into his arms. Then he answers my question with a question.
"Cai, how do you really feel about people like me coming to your country?" His eyes search mine.
"What do you mean?" I ask.
"I mean, do you dislike it? I know some people here dislike it."
He's right. That's true.
"It depends on why they are here. I have no problem with you being here. You were trying to help us free ourselves from the Japanese," I answer.
"But what if I were here for a different reason?" He asks.
"Like what?"
Peeta takes a deep breath, and he begins stoking my hand with the fingers of his free hand. Why does he look so concerned?
"My grandfather is a doctor," he says. "He came to China as a young man and started working with other doctors trying to build a hospital. Then he met my grandmother. She was here in China also, as a missionary. A Christian missionary. Do you know what I mean?"
I nod. I do know.
"They got married," Peeta goes on. "My father was born, and they spent most of his childhood working here in China as missionaries. The hospital opened and helped many people. My father went to school in England part of the time, so he didn't learn as much Chinese as my grandparents."
"But why would they come here, and why did they stay here after the hospital was built?" I ask.
"There were treatments American doctors were using that my grandfather wanted to share with the Chinese. He learned from the Chinese, too. My grandfather has ideas American doctors find strange. He got them from Chinese doctors." Peeta pauses again for a moment. "And they wanted to tell the people they met here about their religion."
This seems to be what worries him, and I understand. There have been times when both Chinese and foreigners have been killed for being Christian. Maybe that's why Peeta looks worried.
"Did anybody try to hurt them?" I ask hesitantly.
He exhales slowly.
"Once," he says. "But that was a hard time for China anyway. It was when my father was a baby."
I nod and stop Peeta from rubbing my hand by interlacing our fingers.
"But they stayed after that?" I ask.
"Yes," he answers slowly.
"Why?"
"Because they thought they were supposed to stay," he says. "And there were people who wanted them to stay, just not everybody."
I don't quite understand what he means. How could a foreigner believe they were "supposed" to stay in a foreign land where people had tried to harm them? I can imagine having nowhere else to go, but I can't imagine staying by choice in such a situation.
"Supposed to stay in a place where people tried to harm them?"
"Well, it was just one time. Most of the time life here was peaceful for my grandparents. They did good work, and people liked them."
He's saying reassuring things, but he seems a bit shaken.
"I have heard of their religion," I tell him. "There are Chinese who practice it also."
"There have been for a very long time," he confirms. "Just not very many of them."
"There is a book they read, isn't there?" I ask.
"Yes," he says. "That's right."
"Have you read it?" I ask.
"Yes, often," he says. He seems thoughtful and distant. Maybe all this makes him think of home too much? "I miss reading it," he adds.
"What's in it?"
"Different things. Stories. Poems. Songs. What Jesus taught," he says.
"So, you follow this religion, also? Like your grandparents?" I ask.
"I do, but I'm not brave like them. I'm not good like them," he stammers.
"I don't believe that. You are good to me, and I've told you before that I think you are brave."
He swallows hard.
"I try to understand God, but I don't," he says.
"Do Christians believe people can understand gods?" I ask him.
"Not completely. No," he admits.
I give him a sharp nod of my head.
"You are a person, Peeta."
"Christians do believe you can learn about God," he explains, "that the more you learn the more will be shown to you."
"Then maybe you can keep doing that without feeling like you have to understand everything at once" I tell him. He seems to cheer up a little. I think he should. His religion sounds like it's something important to him.
"Do you believe in God, Cai?" he asks me.
"No, not a god," I tell him. "But sometimes I feel like my father is nearby even though he is dead."
Peeta pulls me in tighter, perhaps sensing that talking about my father is hard for me.
"Sometimes I feel like God is watching over me," he tells me. "I thank God for you every day, Cai. I know I wouldn't be alive without you."
Peeta presses his lips into my hair for a moment, kissing me gently. Somehow I know he won't kiss me the way we kissed before right now, but I feel a warmth grow in my chest anyway. I'm not sure how Peeta thanks his God for me, but I believe that he does.