Mulan looked up in surprise. “You had a matchmaker, Grandmother?”
“Why, of course I did. So did your mother,” her grandmother said. Mulan’s mother nodded.
“Did you have to go to a class like this?” Mulan asked.
Grandmother Fa shook her head. “This is not a common practice. But it might have been better if it were! Why, I was terrified the day I met my matchmaker. I was only a few years older than you. Perhaps if I had taken a class at your age, I would have been more prepared.”
“You were terrified?” Mulan asked. She was fascinated by this idea of her grandmother, young enough to visit a matchmaker. But even more so, she was fascinated by the idea of her grandmother being terrified of anything.
“Oh, yes,” her grandmother continued. “The matchmaker was studying my skills around the house, the way I was dressed, my family…everything. And her evaluation was going to determine who I would marry—determine the rest of my life!”
Mulan frowned. “It doesn’t seem very fair that someone who doesn’t know you would get to decide that.”
Mulan’s mother poured more tea. “It didn’t turn out so bad, did it, though?” she asked Grandmother Fa.
“Not at all,” Mulan’s grandmother said. “If I hadn’t been matched with your grandfather, we wouldn’t have your father, Mulan. And then we wouldn’t have you. The matchmaker is an expert for a reason.”
“Were you scared of the matchmaker, too, Mother?” Mulan asked.
Her mother’s cheeks turned pink. “Nothing had ever scared me more,” she admitted. “But Mulan, you are brave. Much braver than I was. There’s nothing to worry about. This class will help you improve the basic skills you already have. Listen to what the matchmaker teaches you and follow your instincts. They will always lead you down the right path.”
Grandmother Fa reached out to touch Mulan’s mother on the shoulder. “Very wise. Your mother is right, Mulan.”
Mulan relaxed. Sitting with her family, safe in her comfortable house with their afternoon tea, had a way of making her feel as though troubles couldn’t get through the courtyard walls. And hearing her mother and grandmother admit that they’d had fears in the past, too, made her feel less alone. If they could do it, she could do it.
She gave Little Brother an absentminded pat, thinking about the matchmaker’s lessons. I’ll learn everything I can, as much as I can, and work hard to make sure I’m the best in the class, she thought.
Her mother’s voice pulled her back to the present. “We received good news today,” Mulan heard her say. “Your father should be coming home soon.”
Mulan gripped her teacup with both hands, nearly shattering it in her excitement. “Really? Is the war over?”
“Not quite yet, but they no longer need so many fighters,” Grandmother Fa said. “Your father is beginning his journey back home.”
What a fantastic surprise! It had been almost a year since Mulan had seen her father. She missed him terribly, though she knew he’d been bringing their family honor by fighting in the war. She couldn’t think of a better welcome-home gift for her father than doing well in the matchmaker’s lessons and bringing him some honor in return.
The next day, Na met Mulan outside Mulan’s gate, and the girls walked to Mei’s house together. They took turns guessing what task they would face that day. Their answers quickly grew silly, going from preparing dumplings to standing on their heads to trapping giant pandas. By the time they reached Mei’s house, they were giggling so hard they could barely breathe. But once they entered the classroom, their giggles stopped. It was clear that this room was not a place for giggling, or for having fun of any kind.
Mulan and Na sat on the same mats as the day before. To their disappointment, they saw that in front of each seat was another portion of uncooked rice. Mulan wondered if today they would learn from the matchmaker how to prepare the perfect rice that Ying had made.
Before she could wonder much more, the matchmaker entered the room and the girls gave her their complete attention.
“Making and applying cosmetics are valuable skills for a lady,” the matchmaker began. She gestured toward her face. “As you can see, when done properly, makeup can bring out a woman’s beauty—highlight her best features, and hide her worst.”
Mulan wasn’t sure she agreed. From where she sat, the harsh white powder made the matchmaker look stiff and mean.
The matchmaker continued lecturing the girls about the cosmetic styles gaining popularity in other villages: waxy red lip coloring, thick black lines around the eyes, plucked and painted eyebrows, decorations on the foreheads and cheeks. Mulan didn’t know why anyone bothered with such things!
After an hour of speaking about all the different ways a lady could apply makeup, the matchmaker finally arrived at the day’s activity. “The powder I have on my face is made from rice. So today we will be grinding the rice into a powder you can wear. Please choose a partner to whom you will apply the powder—but you will each be making your own. Begin!”
Mulan and Na partnered up. Again, Mulan found it odd that the matchmaker was asking them to perform a task without first teaching them how to do it. Mulan had never made or worn makeup, and she knew Na hadn’t, either. Had any of the girls done this? Was this what other mothers and grandmothers were teaching their daughters at home while Mulan was gathering eggs and feeding the animals?
Nevertheless, Mulan was going to try her best. If turning rice into makeup would bring honor to her family, she’d do it, even if it seemed a little silly to her.
Mulan took a wooden rolling pin and a solid hardwood board and placed her rice grains on the surface, as she saw the other girls doing. Crushing the rice into a fine powder was not easy. The grains kept slipping out from under her rolling pin. No matter how hard she pressed, jammed, and shoved the rice against the board, it refused to transform into a silky powder. She peered at Na’s work space and saw that her friend was having similar problems. Mulan kept attacking the rice, aware all the time that the matchmaker was pacing around the room watching them.
“Girls, you’ve been working with the rice long enough. Begin applying the makeup now,” the matchmaker called to her students.
Mulan and Na stopped grinding. By now Mulan’s rice was slightly powdery, but still quite chunky.
“You first?” Na asked Mulan.
Mulan sighed. “Okay,” she said. She scooped her fingers into her rice mixture and swiped some of the rough powder over Na’s cheek. A trace of white clung to her skin, but the heavier rice pieces fell to the floor. Na and Mulan looked at the fallen rice and both stifled giggles.
Mulan knew that she did not have enough of the fine powder to cover more than one of Na’s cheekbones. She needed a way to make the bigger pieces stick so that at least Na’s face would be covered. It didn’t seem like the matchmaker would be giving them any tips, as she’d stopped to admire her own makeup in a small bronze mirror.
Thinking quickly, Mulan dipped her fingers in a pail of water nearby and then scooped up more of the rice mixture. When she wiped it on this time, the water helped the heavier pieces cling to Na’s face. Unfortunately, it was more like a paste than a powder. When Mulan finished, Na’s face was covered in a splotchy, goopy white mess.
When it was Na’s turn, she mimicked what Mulan had done with the water. The wet, sloppy makeup felt strange on Mulan’s face. When Na was finished, she tilted her head, studying Mulan.
“Is that what I look like?” she asked, taking in Mulan’s appearance. The two girls leaned over the water pail to see their reflections. As they moved, clumps of rice plopped and splashed into the water. Mulan and Na erupted into the giggles they’d been holding in for the entire lesson. Mulan laughed so hard that she knocked against the pail, spilling some water on the ground.
“Ahem!”
Mulan and Na sprang up. The matchmaker stood at the front of the room, hands on hips. Mei and Chen looked worse than Mulan and Na; there was no powder on their faces at a
ll, only whole grains of rice that dropped off their skin, one by one, breaking the silence with a steady plink, plink, plink as they hit the ground.
Ying and Jin were a different sight. Jin, who was wearing Ying’s makeup, had a face dusted in fine, white powder. It looked nearly identical to the matchmaker’s, without the eyebrow and lip coloring. Ying’s face was almost as perfect; Jin had mostly managed to grind the rice into a powder, with just a few small flecks of grains remaining.
Mulan could see the admiration in the matchmaker’s eyes as she inspected Ying’s and Jin’s faces. After a few moments, she turned back toward Mulan, Na, Mei, and Chen. “While you were giggling and playing with your rice, these two were completing their lesson successfully. These classes are not a time for silliness and acting like children,” the matchmaker said.
How else could we act? Mulan thought to herself. She knew she had been trying hard…she couldn’t help it if it turned out so funny.
“If you don’t improve,” the matchmaker said, pointing at the rest of the girls, “Ying may be the only one who’s suitable to match with a husband when she’s of age.”
Mulan felt the mood in the room sink. It wasn’t the idea of not having a husband—Mulan still wasn’t sure how much she cared about that. But another lesson had passed, and she hadn’t come any closer to impressing the matchmaker and securing future honor for her family. And she probably never would, as long as her skills lagged so far behind Ying’s.
Quietly, the girls washed up and left Mei’s house. As Mulan headed home, her gaze drifted toward the schoolhouse. The boys were outside, practicing martial arts with their instructor. Mulan admired the way their arms moved with grace. The way their legs kicked with purpose.
Mulan knew the boys weren’t learning martial arts so they would be able to please their eventual matches. She yearned to join the boys as she watched them practice a leap-kick combination, over and over. Who wanted to spend a day cooped up inside, next to each other but alone, crushing rice into powder for makeup, when it was possible to be leaping, kicking, and working as a team?
The lessons of the next few days unfolded much like the first two had. Mulan was determined to try her hardest and not lose hope. But it was becoming clear that the matchmaker was not much of a teacher. Every day the girls faced a new challenge, and every day one girl did a bit better than the others.
Na, who often helped her mother mend her younger sister’s clothes, had the strongest embroidery skills, but was banned from showing anyone her stitching method. Mei was a talented painter, but the matchmaker scolded her when she tried to show the girls how to blend colors. Jin was especially good at mixing herbs for tea, but the matchmaker forbade her to share her recipe. Chen knew how to form many of the brushstrokes for calligraphy, but didn’t dare share her knowledge behind the matchmaker’s back.
Despite how well the girls did at each task, however, Ying was always the best. There was no doubt who would win the competition at the end of the class. Na’s stitches were excellent, but Ying embroidered more flowers than the other girls combined. Mei’s painting was lovely, but Ying’s looked like it could be sold at a market. Jin’s tea was fragrant and rich, but Ying’s tasted like it could be served in a fine teahouse. Chen’s calligraphy characters were neat, but Ying’s were perfect. Mulan thought she and the other girls might have a chance to be as good as Ying was if only they could truly practice these skills. If they could help each other as a team.
An idea was beginning to form in Mulan’s head. She wasn’t sure if the others would go for it—especially Ying—but Mulan knew something had to change. As her mother had warned her, this was not like the boys’ school—the girls were supposed to be competing against each other. Still, Mulan hoped the others also wanted to really learn something.
On the day Mulan decided to tell the others about her idea, the girls arrived before the matchmaker. There were baskets of fuzzy white balls and trays of wriggling white-and-brown-striped worms on the matchmaker’s table. Mulan recognized them as silkworms. Na, Mei, and Chen wrinkled their noses at the sight of the worms, and Jin jumped.
“What’s the matter?” Mulan asked.
“As many times as I’ve helped my mother feed silkworms, I’ll never get used to how…ugly those creepy-crawly things are!” Jin shuddered.
“Who would think beautiful silk would come from those?” Na added.
The other girls were murmuring in agreement when Ying entered the classroom. Mulan noticed she didn’t bother to peek at the front of the room to check out the assignment for the day. Mulan wondered what it must feel like to be so confident that you were good at everything.
“What if we aren’t making silk?” Chen asked, a twinkle in her eye.
“What do you mean?” Jin asked.
Chen continued, teasing Jin. “What if the matchmaker makes us turn them into a gourmet meal? What if we have to eat them?”
Jin shrieked. “We wouldn’t—would we?!”
Mulan laughed. “No, don’t worry. Not without cooking them first.”
Jin’s face turned whiter than the day they had practiced applying rice powder makeup.
“I’m only joking!” Mulan said. “The matchmaker would certainly make us eat them raw,” she added with a grin.
“Excuse me.” The matchmaker’s voice cut through the room. Mulan froze. She’d been so caught up in laughing with her friends, she hadn’t noticed the matchmaker enter.
The matchmaker sneered at Mulan. “Silk weaving is one of the most treasured and special skills in China. Silk thread can be used for clothes, for paper, for fishing line, to trade for other items…If you are skilled in raising silkworms and crafting silk, it could benefit you and your family in countless ways. It is not a joke.”
Mulan blushed. As if she needed to disappoint the matchmaker further!
The matchmaker continued to speak about the marvel and beauty of silk, explaining how it came from silkworms that fed on mulberry leaves, and how merchants would travel for miles and miles to purchase the fabric. At least some of this was information Mulan didn’t know, and she paid attention with interest, despite her embarrassment. The lectures the matchmaker gave were usually the only time Mulan ended up learning anything.
When it was time for the activity of the day, the matchmaker had each girl take a small reel and a bucket of the fuzzy silkworm cocoons. After soaking the cocoons in hot water, the girls unraveled the filaments onto their reels. Mulan worked, her nimble fingers twisting the fibers into threads. She had always loved watching her grandmother weave silk, enchanted by the fact that from these worms and their cocoons, something so unexpected could be produced.
When the matchmaker finally called, “Time is up, girls,” Mulan had wound a tight figure eight of silk. Na had not managed nearly so much.
A thrill ran through Mulan as she admired her work. She was certain that she had made more thread than the rest of the girls…until she saw where the matchmaker was now standing: next to Ying, who had managed to reel more than double what Mulan had produced. How was that even possible? Mulan had unwound all the cocoons she’d been given!
But the matchmaker was praising Ying again, without even a glance in Mulan’s direction. Mulan supposed she should be proud of what she had accomplished, but now another day’s lessons were over and still no one was close to equaling Ying. Even if there was no besting her, it would be nice to at least learn some of what she knew. Mulan could see a similar disappointment in Jin’s, Chen’s, Na’s, and Mei’s faces as they headed toward the door. Mulan remembered that she wanted to speak to them about her idea. “Wait up,” Mulan called to the girls.
She gathered her belongings, pushing down her disappointment with the day’s lesson. When she turned around to leave, she ran smack into Ying, who was looking into her bag on her way out. Both girls stumbled, falling to the ground.
“I’m sorry!” Mulan said, reaching out to help Ying pick up what she’d dropped. “But I’m glad you’re still here, Ying.
I wanted to talk to you and the other girls…” Mulan’s voice trailed off as she noticed what she was holding. It was a hank of silk thread. And it had not come from the class’s silkworms. It had come from Ying’s bag.
Ying had cheated.
“Give me that,” Ying said in a shrill whisper.
Mulan handed the spool back to Ying. “Is that how you did so well today?” Mulan whispered back. “Did you even make any of your own thread?”
“Please don’t tell the matchmaker,” Ying said softly, placing the spool in the bag. Mulan could see her eyes were full of fear. “Please.”
“Have you been doing this all along?” Mulan asked. “While the rest of us have been working so hard? We’ve all been trying our best!”
Ying didn’t answer. She looked so frightened. Mulan felt sorry for her, even though she was also very angry.
“I won’t tell her,” Mulan sighed. “But it’s not fair.”
“I know.” Ying’s voice broke and she bowed her head. Mulan saw a tear hit the floor as Ying closed her bag, stood up, and fled the small classroom.
Mulan exited, too, considering whether she should go after Ying. But Mei, Chen, Na, and Jin were lingering outside the room, waiting for Mulan.
“What was that all about?” Mei asked. “Why did Miss Perfect run off?”
Mulan chewed her lip. The other girls watched her expectantly, waiting to hear what had happened. “Well,” Mulan began, “it turns out she’s not so perfect….” She described the encounter in the classroom with Ying and how it seemed she had somehow been cheating at her tasks by bringing finished products from home.
“I can’t believe it!” Chen said when Mulan finished her story.
“I can,” Na said. “No one is that good at everything!”
“You know,” Jin said, “I thought something was strange when we made our rice powder. She kept turning her back to me when she was grinding the rice. I thought she was hiding her special technique from me…but now it all makes sense.”
Disney Princess Beginnings Page 2
