Excerpt of Paper Butterfly by Diane Wei Liang

lt was two weeks before Chinese New Year, the spring festival that marks the end of winter. It is the principal holiday of the year, with celebrations that last seven days. Red Luck Posters were stuck to the door of each home. Meat was marinated and strong rice wine, ju, bought. Families arranged visits, and banquetswere prepared. In Beijing millions thronged the temple fairs to complete their holiday shopping. The largest miaohui was in Ditan Park. There the noise was deafening. Drums thudded, cymbals clashed, and trumpets blared in the cold air. Stall holders called their wares, and customersshouted for children to keep up. Swept along by the crowds, Mei walked beside her sister, whose mood had darkened. "Why must we come here every year?" Lu moaned. "All these people pushing each other -- and where's Mama?"

"She said she wanted to buy something." Mei stood on tiptoe
to search but couldn't see her. Red lanterns swayed under
the white stone arch of the sacrifice altar, where the
emperor would offer sacrifices to earth at the summer
solstice, and behind it, more crowds and stalls.

"Fireworks! Fireworks for Spring Festival!"

"Luck Posters to welcome the spring and banish ghosts!"

Dancers on stilts appeared at the end of the lane,
accompaniedby trumpets and drums. The women wore red satin
and waved vast pink fans. The men were in long blue robes
and domed hats beneath which their faces were heavily made
up with thickly lined eyes and rouge cheeks. Two children
ran in front of them, causing some to wobble. At that moment
Mei saw her mother pushing through the crowd with two bottle
gourds.

"Hulu?" Lu frowned and uncrossed her arms to take the gourd.

"For luck -- and a grandson soon," said Ling Bai.

"Mama!" Lu protested. Her blush of embarrassment was endearing.

"As for you" -- Ling Bai turned to Mei -- "it will protect
you against demons."

"I don't need it."

Ling Bai glared at her elder daughter. "Thirty-one years old
and no boyfriend? You need a lucky charm."

Lu nudged Mei with her elbow. "Just take it," she whispered.

"Hulu is very powerful. Look at the curves. It's heaven and earth in union, true harmony. Especially lucky for a woman," Ling Bai averred. They walked up the stone steps to the sacrifice altar, where a jiaozi theater was in full swing, musicians playing in exaggeratedways, trumpets, drums, cymbals, and an erhu, a Chinese stringed instrument. As four men danced, they tossed a sedan chair -- the jiaozi -- with an actress inside it.

"Where are you going, young wife?" roared the men.

"Going back to my mama's house," sang the actress.

"Where is your husband?"

"At home, like a little boy, with his mother."

The audience laughed. But Lu stood rigid and glared at the
spectacle. She loathed folk dancing. Mei glanced at her
mother, who was smiling, enjoying the play. Her face was
lined, and strands of her gray hair blew across her face in
the wind. Mei shivered with cold and guilt. But how could
she love if she could not forgive? She had learned the
truth, which had separated her from her mother as completely
as if a shutter had fallen between them.

She shook her head as if to clear it. She wished she could
confide in someone, to share the burden.

"Shall we find some bingtang hulu?" asked Ling Bai. Candied hawthorn on a stick was a favorite winter delicacy that everyone munched at the miaohui.

"Not for me," said Lu. "How can you eat something that's
been lying about in this dust for hours?"

The Wangs made their way to the North Gate, Ling Bai searching for a bingtang hulu stall.

"People are staring at you," Mei muttered to her sister.

"Are they?"

Lu sounded indifferent, and Mei knew why. Her sister was
strikingly beautiful but never gave it a thought. It was of
interest only to others.

Ling Bai bought two bingtang hulu, one for Mei and one for herself. They ate them as they walked. The path leading to the North Gate was packed with stalls. A man was pouring tea from a large copper pot with a very long spout. Smoke rose from kebab braziers, the scents of cumin and chili in the air. Colorful windmills spun, and red lanterns dangled like giant fruit from leafless branches. An ice slide stood in the middle of North Gate Square, childrenand adults squeaking and laughing as they slid down. A long queue snaked around the ticket booth. Bright banners displayingmiyu, riddles, hung from the trees, where a large crowd had gathered. Ling Bai and Mei liked miyu. Some years ago, when Mei was still a girl, they had competed on National Day and won prizes. "There's one," said Mei, reading aloud. " 'A good beginning -- a foreign currency.'" She thought for a while. "The answer is U.S. dollars -- mei yuan. Mei means 'beautiful,' and yuan can mean 'beginning,'" she whispered to Ling Bai.

"Oh, yes!" exclaimed her mother. "Write it down and we'll
win a prize."

"One won't get us far. We'll need to solve at least ten to
win something worthwhile," Lu said.

"We have plenty of time." Mei glanced at Lu.

"I'm tired of standing about in the cold," said Lu sweetly.
It wasn't a complaint. "We've been out for hours."

"Perhaps you're right," Ling Bai said, clutching her
shopping bag.

Lu took her mother's arm. "It's the same every year."

They heard a drumroll from the direction of the sacrifice
altar, and someone shouted, "Lion Dance!" The crowd surged.

Mei, Lu, and Ling Bai walked out of the North Gate, where
taxis were delivering revelers to the fair. Lu found an
empty one and got in, her mother following. Mei sat next to
the driver.

"Where to?" cried the driver jovially.

"The Grand Hotel," said Lu.

He started the engine and turned on the meter. "Which way
shall I go? Changan Boulevard is at a standstill."

"Whichever way's the quickest," said Lu with a hint of
impatience.

At the Grand Hotel, they sat at a table with a white linen
cloth in the Red Wall café. The waitress brought tea in a
silver pot, and as she set it down, the china tinkled. She
went away, then returned with a cappuccino for Lu.

The café had a high ceiling, crystal lights, and a spiral
staircase with a vine growing up the banister. Potted plants
and panoramic windows gave the impression of a lush
conservatory. A waiter brought Western cakes on a trolley,
so perfect they might have been made of plastic.

Ling Bai eyed them. "Too beautiful to eat." Mei ordered a
yellow piece with icing. She hoped it was cheesecake, which
she had eaten once before and liked.

Lu stirred her coffee. "They were saying there'll be snow
tomorrow."

"I'm not surprised. This is the time of Big Chill, the
coldest two weeks of the year," said Ling Bai.

Sitting in the café, Mei found that hard to believe. They
were insulated here from the outside world.

Lu took out her mobile phone. "Li-ning is having lunch at
the China Club. Maybe he could join us if they've finished."

Mei and Ling Bai sipped their tea, awkward together now that
Lu's attention was elsewhere. Mei gazed out of a window, her
strong nose and firm mouth making her profile sharp. The sky
was darker, clouds dense, and traffic thick as mud idled on
Changan Boulevard. Mei stretched for a glimpse of Tiananmen
Square, which was not far away, but she couldn't see it.

"Can't you come for a few minutes?" Lu said into the phone.
She sounded annoyed.

"When do you leave for Canada?" Mei asked her mother,
although she knew the date. She was embarrassed that Ling
Bai was eavesdropping on Lu's conversation.

"In a week, I think," said Ling Bai gloomily. "Will I see
you before I go?"

"You know that Gupin, my assistant, is going home for Spring
Festival. I'm afraid I'll be too busy," Mei said to her
teacup rather than to her mother.

Ling Bai sighed. "You should think of finding a new
assistant. I thought you were doing well -- why keep a
migrant worker in the office, especially a man? People will
talk."

"I don't care what anyone says. Gupin is good at his job. Unlike some, he has a high school diploma and is taking evening classes at the university." Suddenly, Mei was picturing Gupin's chiseled face and muscular shoulders in her mind's eye. She wondered what he was doing this weekend. Perhaps he was still at work on the case of the boy who had died in the hospital during a routine operation. Perhaps he had been shopping for his sick mother -- he could even have been at the miaohui, buying Beijing treats to take home. The thought made her smile.

Lu shut her phone. "I'm sorry. Li-ning won't be able to
come, even though he wants to. They're going to the driving
range with Big Boss Dong."

"He's always busy." Mei remembered the last dinner Li-ning
couldn't make.

"Everyone wants to collaborate with him on their projects or
persuade him to invest. It's hard to be a tycoon."

"Surely -- "

"I don't mind. I know what it takes to be a success. He has
to put a great deal of time and effort into networking,
which means making sacrifices in our personal life. I have
to do the same for my show," Lu said. She hosted a program
on Beijing TV in which she interviewed and offered
counseling to people who had problems such as adulterous
affairs or difficult mothers-in-law. It had proved popular,
and for a time there had been talk about broadcasting it
nationally.

"You both work so hard I hardly see you," Ling Bai said,
looking first at Lu, then at Mei. "Especially you."

"Mama, you know everyone wants their case solved yesterday." "Opportunity! It's everywhere these days. If you don't grab it, someone else will." Lu raised a hand to silence Mei, who had been about to interrupt. "I don't know how much you make, Mei, catching cheating husbands, but for us, lost opportunity might cost millions. So we work all the time, trying to keep up. Li-ning and I know we're being unfair to our family and friends" -- she laid a hand affectionately on her mother's -- "and that's why this Spring Festival, we're taking Mama with us to Vancouver to see Li-ning's family." She turned to Mei. "Mama told me you...