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ear. Junan’s hands were steady and her vision accurate. Years later, Hu Mudan would claim the sisters grew up in such intimacy that Junan had memorized the twists and turns of Yinan’s ear canal. The story was offered as proof that they had been inseparable.
    It was the morning of Junan’s wedding day. As Junan bent over Yinan’s ear, she and Hu Mudan went over the final list of things to do. The red qipao must be checked for loosening beads. Junan would wear this dress to bow before the ancestors. Then she would change into a fashionable white gown for the hotel ceremony and banquet. The two separate gowns and ceremonies were a last-minute compromise for the traditional Mma, who, although she had grown almost blind, was able to see the difference between red and white.
    “Hold still, Meimei.”
    Yinan sighed.
    “To be an elegant girl, you must be clean and have clean ears.”
    “But I don’t want to be an elegant girl.”
    “Just for today,” Junan said. Yinan submitted, and Junan felt some regret that she had insisted on the ear-cleaning. She didn’t want to cause Yinan unnecessary distress. Both sisters felt a dread of separation that roosted like a crow over the wedding plans. Junan had reassured Yinan that nothing would change. She would remain in the Wang house with Yinan. Li Ang, stationed nearby, would visit on his days off, and things would be the same as ever. But she knew better. Any change could lead to trouble. Like her sister, she distrusted any promise of safety. She knew that it could vanish like a stone thrown into a lake.
    She tucked a wisp of hair behind her sister’s ear. Yinan’s hair, although not black or glossy enough to be considered beautiful, was thick and soft to the touch. Leaning closer, Junan noticed something on the scalp. She bent and parted the tender waves. There, at the roots, a large, red pimple had been scratched open.
    “Meimei, what is this?”
    “I don’t know. It itches.”
    “You’ve broken the skin.”
    Junan noticed another spot. She pulled down the shirt to examine Yinan’s neck. There were pimples on her back and chest.
    Junan consulted Hu Mudan. The woman bent over Yinan and nodded briefly.
    “Tell me what it is,” Junan demanded. “What illness does she have?”
    “She has the shuidou,” Hu Mudan said matter-of-factly. “It is a normal childhood disease.”
    “Is there any way to cover her forehead? Everyone will see it.”
    Hu Mudan shook her head. “She can come with us to the hotel, but she should not attend the wedding. This pox is easy to catch. And it’s dangerous for any pregnant woman or any adult who hasn’t had it as a child.”
    “I’m sorry, Jiejie!” Yinan hung her head.
    “She should be kept from scratching. She can be cooled with wet cloths. The pox has to run its course.”
    Junan thought quickly. “Tell them to pull one chair away from the banquet table. And Yinan. Stop looking like that. Let’s go to your room.”
    “May I bring Guagua?” From the courtyard, they could hear the clucking of Hu Mudan’s pet hen.
    Junan shook her head. “Keep that chicken out of here. For all we know, you caught this illness from that filthy bird.”
    In Yinan’s bedroom, Junan cut her sister’s fingernails with the tiny scissors that had belonged to their mother. She had Weiwei bring a basin of water and soak cloths to press on Yinan’s skin when she complained of itching. Hu Mudan had said that if the shuidou were scratched, they could leave scars or holes as big as rice grains.
    Junan pressed her hand on Yinan’s forehead, searching for fever, but she couldn’t sense it; she felt feverish herself. She wasn’t ill, but merely floating on the river of her plans into this day, her wedding day.
    She recalled the moment when she had learned her fate. Sometime in the early morning, she had woken to find her father sitting on her bed. She smelled the alcohol on his breath. He was talking, almost to himself, repeating the name Li Ang. It