My cousin Chen Jing, two years younger than me, had planned her wedding for May 2 in our childhood home in Jintan, a small county in East China’s Jiangsu Province, and asked me to be her bridesmaid.
The bride Chen Jing has her hair done for the wedding. [China Daily]
On the train ride home, I reminisced over our childhood years together. It seemed that everything had happened only yesterday:
On Spring Festival Eve, 4-year-old Chen Jing in looking for a pretty piece of cloth to make a new dress for her doll, unknowingly snipped a piece off the new dress that grandma was making for me.
During our early teenage years, we both became pop music fans. Chen Jing, my loyal follower, always thought I had the hottest tapes. Once I bought a tape but soon found it was not the one I wanted, so I told her how good it was and she happily bought it from me.
Later I left home to go to university. She regularly wrote to me, talking about literature, romance and the kind of life she dreamed of - all things that I thought were far beyond her simple country girl’s ken.
Four years ago, she wrote to tell me that she was in love but did not share more experience with me. But anyway, I was on my way to her wedding.
My work as the bridesmaid started the day before the wedding.
Chen Jie and Dai Yu toast each other. [China Daily]
Early in the morning, my aunt Huahua, the younger sister of my father, and I went in the same car to Changzhou, a city 45 kilometres east of Jintan, where uncle Minmin and his wife, my aunt Shuzhen, live and where the newly-weds are to live as well. Dai Yu, the bridegroom, was the driver.
When we arrived at uncle Minmin’s home, he and his wife were already busy with the wedding preparations. They had also invited two 60-year-old women to help arrange things according to the old customs.
One of the elderly women was making a quilt for the new couple. It was not your common quilt. The cover was of scarlet satin elaborately embroidered with 100 colourful little boys gamboling about in different pursuits. The little boys are a symbol of fecundity, expressing the wish that the family will have sons and a rich progeny.
Aunt Shuzhen was preparing special food for the next day, the day of the wedding, while discussing with the elderly women all the things that still needed to be done.
Then with Dai at the wheel, the bride-to-be, aunt Huahua and I went on a shopping spree, with a list of necessities that the old women had given us. It included a red paper-cut of the “double happiness” Chinese character, pronounced xi, some red ribbons, popcorn, chopsticks, a red suitcase, a couple of dolls and some children’s socks, shoes and hats.
Chen Jing was excited and anxious about everything. At the counter for paper-cuts, she carefully compared all the double-happiness paper cuts: the simple double-happiness character, the character set within a heart, double-happiness between two fish, which to the Chinese means abundant wealth, and many others. Holding up one in her right hand and another in her left, she asked me which one I liked best, but put down the one in her right hand to take up another before I had a chance to answer. In the end she bought one of each of the patterns.