Tiger Lily
"You've got to be the worst potter in all of Jiangzhai," An snorted, shaking her head in amusement at her younger sister's crooked basin. "Might as well crush that back into another lump of clay; Mother wouldn't allow us to be seen with such work in the house."
Mei groaned, slamming the clay on the ground in discouragement. This was her third attempt at making a water basin for her grandmother, who was turning seventy in a few days. Mei had imagined that she would paint it with lilies, Grandmother's favorite flowers. But now, at this rate, she would never complete a polished work.
"An, Grandmother is waiting for you to accompany her on her daily walk," Mother called from outside their home, which was essentially a pit surrounded by wattle walls shaping up into a cone. "Come, now."
An grumbled under her breath, springing up from her stool by the fireplace in the center of the house. "I hate walking with Grandmother. Why do I have to anyway? She can take care of herself perfectly fine."
"She's old," Mei pointed out. "She might fall and, well..."
"Die? Well, at least I won't have to walk with her anymore," An began to say, before the tall, slender figure of their mother appeared on the steps, adjusting her black bun.
Mother's eyes flashed, showing that she had heard every word. "An, you shall not speak of your grandmother that way! She is the matriarch of the village, and has lived far longer than any of us. Do you think that you, a girl of sixteen, are wiser than a woman of seventy?"
"N-no," An murmured, looking down at the floor.
"I'll go with her, Mother," Mei volunteered, wanting to escape the stuffy house, as well as her sister's criticism of her basin.
"Very well, Mei. An, since your tongue is so lively today, why don't you go and help Auntie Zheng tend her baby? Keep her company."
An nodded submissively. Mei hastened up to the surface of the village, taking in the warm sun. It should have lightened her spirits, but instead she felt heavy-hearted. What would she say to her grandmother in a few days when the other members of the family presented their gifts? Would she be empty-handed? Perhaps she could bring her one of the new piglets their sow had just birthed. But then, what would Grandmother do with a piglet, besides eat it? In any case, Mei had heard that her brother Yu was going to give Grandmother a pup to keep watch over her when it was grown. She didn't want to seem as if she was stealing his idea. She thought of making Grandmother a new hemp cloth, but An was already doing that, and Grandmother hardly needed two coverings. If she could get silk...but silk was rare, and very expensive. Mei would have to sell her father's entire flock of sheep just to afford a bit of silk, and Father would never allow that.
Grandmother was waiting patiently outside of her house, clasping her staff tightly in her gnarled hands. Despite her age, she was not bent, like old Auntie Huo, but straight-backed and full of courage. Mei remembered the stories Mother had told her of Grandmother's younger days. Supposedly, once she had fought a man from another village who had tried to murder her husband because of a dispute over a cow. Mei was not sure whether she believed that story; at any rate, that must have been many years ago. Now Grandmother's hands quaked, and her legs were unsteady.
"Ah, Mei, my granddaughter," Grandmother said, nodding with eyes squinted at the sun. "So you are sent to watch over me today, to ensure that I do not fall like your grandfather did and let out my death rattle all alone on a walk."
Mei's eyebrows rose in shock, and a little embarrassment that Grandmother would speak of death so casually. Her grandmother only smiled and took her hand, squeezing it in her own warm one.
"And what have you been doing these days, granddaughter?" she asked, taking a few slow steps towards the River, where she often liked to walk and look at the ducks.
"Oh, not much," Mei said, trying to smile.
"Not much? Surely you have not been lazing around your house all day."
"No...I was making something, but it didn't work."
Her grandmother looked at her with a sweet, tranquil smile. "What were you making?"
"A—a water basin," Mei said, deciding that it didn't matter now whether her grandmother knew or not. She would probably never complete it.
"How lovely; did you choose a design to paint on it?"
Mei nodded, looking out to the bright orange lilies growing by the banks of the Yellow River. "A lily."
"And how is it not working?"
"I cannot form it properly; it is crooked," Mei replied ashamedly.
Her grandmother did not laugh, as she had expected her to, but only nodded, walking serenely to the lilies growing tall. Bending down, Grandmother seemed to sniff the air around the flowers, before resting her hands gently on them, as if she was patting one of her grandchildren on the head.
"Do you see the perfection of this lily?" she asked Mei, pointing out a single plant somewhat distinct from the others.
Mei came closer to the blossom, noticing at once that something was wrong. Instead of the smooth, unblemished orange, it was streaked with black.
"It has spots on it," she said, frowning at this aberration of nature.
"Yes, it does.
"It's not supposed to; lilies are supposed to be one color—"
"Not this one. It is like a tiger, is it not? Black on orange."
"But it's not—"
"Granddaughter," Grandmother said a little impatiently, "is it not as beautiful as the others simply because it is imperfect?"
Mei looked at it, and then at the other, spotless lilies. She had to admit that the tiger-striped lily carried an allure, a mystery of form that the others did not because they were all the same. "It is beautiful."
"Indeed. And it has taken many months to become this beautiful. First it was dropped as a seed to the earth. Perhaps a bird carried it from some far-off place and then neglected it here. The seed soaked in the water during the rainy season, and then it was trampled into the earth, to grow into a bulb. And when the weather grew warm, a stalk grew out of the bulb, slowly, steadily, pushing out of the earth and forming leaves. With the sun's rays, buds formed on the top of the stalk, and then, one day, the flower bloomed."
Mei shrugged. She did not see what her grandmother was trying to say. Mother said wise women often spoke in riddles, and Grandmother was the matriarch; she was certainly wise. But Mei could not see her point yet.
"It takes time to make such a work of beauty, Mei. And though many may not see it as beautiful, to me it is lovely because of its imperfection."
Mei's eyes widened, and she nodded, suddenly realizing what her grandmother meant to say. The old woman's face dissolved into wrinkles as she smiled down at her granddaughter.
"Perhaps we had better go home, now," Grandmother said. "So that you may finish your basin."
Mei could hardly wait; it was an effort to keep patient with her grandmother's slow steps until they reached Jiangzhai. Then she tore down the path to her house, nearly falling into the pit. Ignoring An's teasing, she snatched up the forgotten clay and began to form again the basin. Every time it came out crooked she did not give up, but simply squished it back into a ball and made it anew. Finally, as the sun set, she decided she was content. It was not perfect—no, the edges were slightly uneven and one side leaned towards her—but she was finished.
Mei let the basin sit for a while outside, to bake in the sun. When her brother Yu wanted to kick it over with his laughing friends, she defended it like a wolf would defend her pups. When An scoffed at it with Mei's cousins, she ignored them like a cow ignores a gnat.
When the basin was dry and hard, she took it back inside and painted it. Black and red; she wanted to find orange, but there were no colors readily made, and she did not have time to make some.
On Grandmother's birthday, the entire family showed their deference with a great feast celebrating her leadership in their clan. Gifts of many kinds were given—Yu's pup, An's hemp cloth, an elegant dragon statue Father had gotten from a talented craftsman, a ding from Aunt Zheng (which Mei suspected was used), and even a silk cloth from old Auntie Huo, Grandmother's sister (who had apparently been holding her wealth secret for the last fifty years). Finally, Mei, as the youngest grandchild (besides Aunt Zheng's baby, who was too little to give anything), stepped forward, her eyes resting respectfully on the ground. From behind her back she took the basin, holding it out to her grandmother and hoping that she would not be insulted by the humbleness of the offering she had to give. The paint seemed to her chipped, the basin deformed, and she was certain it would probably not even hold water. Nevertheless, it was what she had made, and she could not take it back now.
"Oh, granddaughter, it is beautiful," her grandmother's voice came.
Mei hesitantly looked up as her grandmother took the basin in her hands, turning it around so as to see every detail. The background was black, dark as a cloudy, starless new moon night. The lilies covering the sides were a pale red, and each one was perfect...all except for the one at the lowest dip in the rim. This one was streaked with black, blemished, one would suppose.
"You made a mistake," An said from behind Mei. "You got black on it, silly."
"No," Grandmother said, smiling at the lily and touching it lightly with the tip of her long finger. "It is perfectly imperfect. Well done, my granddaughter."
Historical Note: This story was set in the time of the Yangshao culture in China, an ancient civilization based around the Yellow River. The ancient town of Jiangzhai is actually a real place, though now it exists only as an archeological site. It is believed that the Yangshao civilization might have pioneered the creation of silk. and possibly pottery as well. Though very little is known about this civilization, there is some evidence that it was matriarchal.