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the boy and Grandfather laughed. Then Bi smiled at me directly. I felt my cheeks flush, and looked down and away from his eyes.
    “Now you will be hungry tonight!” Bi laughed.
    “No, we have a cook . . .” I quickly replied, then stopped.
    Grandfather and Bi laughed together again.
    Next day Bi was in the same place. Grandfather and he sat by the bank and continued their discussion on fishing, the wind, and the river. Eventually, Grandfather formally introduced me and allowed me to sit on the bank and watch the boy fish. I sat there while Grandfather helped the gardener prune the saplings. In the beginning we were mostly silent. Bi fished and I watched the river and the insects hovering and skirting around the reeds and lilies. It did not feel awkward, because I did not want to talk. I had nothing to say and being quiet with Bi did not make me feel nervous or anxious.
    “You don’t say much. The girls in my home town can’t stop talking.” I sensed him looking at me but stayed perfectly still, staring into the water.
    He had a sweet smell from his childhood spent in the countryside, like the scent of fresh flowers and fruit in the market. I realize now I should have forced myself to treasure each breath I took that carried the scent of such innocence.
    The weeks drifted by as the wedding preparations advanced. I could pass through the busy house, unseen by everyone. Bi and I spent more and more time by the river. Sometimes we would just sit together, looking into the water as it flowed around the rocks on the riverbed. He concentrated so hard on his fishing that often I could gaze at him for several minutes without him noticing. Sometimes I could see his bare chest between the buttons of his shirt. I would snap a quick glance then pretend I had not. I kept looking, though I did not know why. His skin glowed with a light sweat, pale and unblemished. He had none of the scars of older men who have been beaten by the world.
    “So where do you live? It must be nearby as all of you city people never travel far without your servants.”
    I remained silent when he asked this.
    “You will have to say something eventually. You wouldn’t survive long in my village. The only time you can be silent there is when you are sleeping. We are always fishing, farming, cleaning . . .” He paused, trying to convey to me how life was lived there. “The women work harder than the men, but it is the men who do the teaching. That is what my father says. Then, at the end of the day, for a short time after supper, it is peaceful and you can watch the moon and the stars. That is the best time. The time I like most. I hope you can see it one day.”
    As the weeks passed, he showed me how to build a dam, to make a fishing rod, to take the scales from a fish. Little things, but I remember them still. Most of all I loved to sit in silence with him and follow the movements of his eyes as he looked for changes in the current where fish surfaced. Sometimes, as he concentrated on the water, I would stand behind him and throw small stones into the river. I would watch his head turn and his eyes dart after each splash before he realized it was me. After school each day I would run home, leaving my friends to play without me, and ask Grandfather to take me to the gardens. I am sure he knew why I wanted to go there so urgently, why I could not wait as soon as I arrived home, not wanting my supper or greeting Ba and Ma, but he always took me. He never stopped me or explained to my parents why we were going, just let me be carried away by feelings I could not properly explain even to myself.
    Then one day Bi arrived outside my school as I was leaving to return home. I had left the school yard and turned the first corner on my way back. He was there, standing in front of me, holding two fried dofu sticks.
    “I thought I would see where you went to school. But now I also know that you can speak, because I saw you there with your classmates. So I