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voice.
    “No,” he assured her, handing her a cup of water. But she scarcely moistened her lips before setting the ebony-colored cup down on the table. “Dont worry, no one will come,” he reassured her. “And what if they did? We have nothing to be ashamed about.”
    “I brought it.” She removed a folded piece of red paper from her pocket and dropped it onto the table before sprawling out on the kang, burying her face in her arms and bursting into tears.
    Gao Ma gendy rubbed her back to get her to stop crying; but when he saw it was futile, he unfolded the sheet of red paper, which was covered with black calligraphy:

     
    On the auspicious tenth day of the six month in the year nineteen hundred and eighty-five we betroth the eldest grandson of Liu Jiaqing, Liu Shengli , to Fang Jinju , daughter of Fang Yunqiu; the second daughter of Cao Jinzhu, Cao Wenling , to the eldest son of Fang Yunqiu, Fang Yijun; and the second granddaughter of Liu Jiaqing, Liu Lanlan , to the eldest son of Cao Jinzhu, Cao Wen . With this agreement, our families are forever linked, even if the rivers run dry and the oceans become deserts. Witness the three principals: Liu Jiaqing, Fang Yunqiu, Cao Jinzhu.

     
    Dark fingerprints were affixed to the paper beside the names of the three men.
    Gao Ma refolded the contract and stuffed it into his pocket, then opened a drawer and removed a booklet. “Jinju,” he said, “stop crying and listen to the Marriage Law. Section 3 says, Arranged marriages, mercenary marriages, and all other types that restrict individual freedom are prohibited/ Then in Section 4 it says, ‘Both marriage partners must be willing. Neither they nor any third party may use coercion to force a marriage upon the other party/ That’s national policy, which is more important than this lousy piece of paper. You have nothing to worry about.”
    Jinju sat up and dried her eyes with her sleeve. “What am I supposed to say to my parents?”
    “That’s easy. You just say, ‘Father, Mother, I don’t love Liu Shengli and I won’t marry him.’ “
    “You make it sound so easy. Why don’t you tell them?”
    “Don’t think I won’t,” he replied testily. “Tonight. And if your father and brothers don’t like it, we’ll settle it like men.”
    It was a cloudy evening, hot and muggy. Gao Ma wolfed down some leftover rice and walked out onto the sandbar behind his house, still feeling empty inside. The setting sun, like a halved watermelon, lent its red to the scattered clouds on the horizon and the tips of the acacia and willow trees. Since there wasn’t a breath of wind, chimney smoke rose like airy pillars, then disintegrated and merged with the residue of other pillars. Doubt crept in: Should he go to her house or not? What could he say when he got there? The dark, menacing faces of the Fang brothers floated before his eyes. So did Jinju’s tear-filled eyes. Finally he left the sandbar and headed south. A lane he had always felt was agonizingly long suddenly seemed amazingly short. He had barely started out, and already he was there. Why couldn’t it have been longer—much longer?
    As he stood in front of Jinju’s gate, he felt emptier than ever. Several times he raised his hand to knock, but each time he let it drop. At dusk the parakeets raised a maddening din in Gao Zhileng’s yard, as though taunting Gao Ma. The chestnut colt was galloping alongside the threshing floor, a newly attached bell around its neck clanging loudly and drawing loud whinnies from older horses off in the distance; the colt ran like an arrow in flight, trailing a string of peals behind it.
    Gao Ma clenched his teeth until he nearly saw stars, then pounded on the gate, which was opened by Fang Yixiang, the impetuous and slightly preposterous second son. “What do
you
want?” he asked with undisguised displeasure.
    Gao Ma smiled. “Just a friendly visit,” he said, sidestepping Fang Yixiang and walking into the yard. The family was