*NIP* A Single Grain of Rice

Part 3

"Did you put ice in this?" I ask, teeth chattering. The older woman laughs, and opens her mouth to answer, but my mother comes in at that moment, a determined look of diapproval on her face.

"It would have been warm if you had been on time," she grumbles. I roll my eyes, since I can't really retort to that logic. Scrubbed pink and numb, I'm rushed from the tub into a long, colorful, and somewhat out of fashion dress. I reach to pull back my hair, and realize that the seeves are so long that they cover my hands. Now if that's not annoying, I'm not Chinese. The other woman glances out a window. 

"Hurry, kuai!" she says, and grabs my arm, pushing me into the next room. A tall woman waits there in a long red dress, with a tiny waist I instantly envy and a hairdo i instantly despise. Her loose bun at the nape of her neck looks like she wrapped up a hedgehog in it and left it for a week. 

"Mulan, dahling, come! We should do your hair!" I try not to laugh at her manner of speech, which is absolutely ridiculous. It's the type of accent Mai and I would poke fun at. I'm pushed into a chair, and within seconds the strength of my scalp is being tested as she yanks and tugs at every tender piece of hair. After maybe ten minutes, she hands me a polished silver mirror and I study what she's done to me. My hair curves around my face, coming to the top of my head in a tight knot, unlike her own hair. I let a small smile come to my lips, and the reflection of the woman smiles.

"Next room, now dahling, next room!" 

"Kuai! Kuai! We have less than an hour!" My mother snags my elbow and rushes me out a back door. We burst into the street, where I instantly feel embarrassed and self-conscious in my ridiculous outfit and hairdo. A group of children dash past me, and one girl stops. Her eyes travel from my shoes up my dress up to the very last hair on my head, eyes as big as saucers, jaw open wider than barn doors, cloth doll lying temporarily forgotten at her feet.

"Are you the princess?" she asks in a small voice. Mother grabs my arm, rolling her eyes, but I have just enough time to tell her,

"No, nui, but you can pretend I am, if you'd like to." before I'm dragged out of earshot. I turn back to see where I'm going, shrugging off my mother, when I hear a scream of pure outrage behind me.

"Give it back! Give it back!" a tiny, high voice shouts. Without a second thought, I whirl around, and a boy with a toy sword, probably her older brother, is dangling the cloth doll over the little girl's head. She's near tears, so I storm over, and snatch the doll away, glaring at the boy, who gulps and runs. at my murderous expression.

"Here," I say, with a smile, offering the child her doll before I drop it in these stupid sleeves. She looks at me in awe, but I can't savor the moment. I run after mother, who's waiting impatiently by a cheery yellow door. I'm hustled through said door, and see a pair of twins. There's no doubt about how they're related, they are perfect mirrors of each other, even their hair and clothes are the same. I hit the seat of a rather short chair and instantly something attacks my face. I cough at the powder that suddenly clouds the air, and while I cough, a hand grabs my chin, and dabs at my lips. Another hand swipes at my eyes, at my cheeks, holds my hair up for some very cold paste of some sort, and within just a few minutes, one lady holds a mirror up. The girl in the mirror is so... stunning. And nothing like me. Her face is the perfect pale white of a cloud, her eyes gentle under a light curtain of dark powder, her lips deep red like a piece of fine silk.

"Oh... my sweet niu, you look perfect!" My mother exclaims, her hands clasped to her chest, and I think there are actual tears in her eyes. She opens her mouth to say something else, when a familiar voice reaches us.

"No, no! You imbecile, you've missed it! I tell you, I'm in a hurry!" Grandmother's sharp tongue cannot be mistaken. Mama's eyes widen, and she dashes outside. Meanwhile, the twins grab a length of red silk that practically floats, it's so light, and cinch it artistically around my waist. Great, I think to myself. Can't use my hands and I can't breathe. I'm about to be herded out the door, when Grandmother hobbles in clutching a small box withone hand and a knobbly cane with the other, completely ignoring my mother, who is hovering around her and trying to convince her to get back in the cart. She catches my eye, and inclines her head toward my mother, then rolls her eyes. I snort in laughter. Grandmother reaches me at last, pushing away her daughter-in-law. She lifts the lid of the box, her eyes shining with emotion.

"Mulan," she says softly, in her hoarse voice. "These are from my wedding day. I wanted you to have them." With those words, she draws out a jade necklace, and I place it around my neck. She pulls out two gold earrings next, and I gently put them on my ears. It's odd. Wearing her jewelry, I feel like a bride for the first time today. Tears sting my eyes, but I'm determined to keep them hidden. At last, Grandmother clears her throat, and nods briskly. 

"You're ready," she says, satisfied. 

"No, wait!" My mother dashes over with a variety of different items. "An apple for serenity-" she says, stuffing an apple in my mouth, which I spit out, "-a pendant for balance-" she continues, dropping a small weight into my sash. It tumbles out at the bottom, and I subtly nudge it under a nearby table. "And a gift from my grandmother on my wedding day," she says softly, gently pressing a comb decorated with a lotus flower into my hair. "Now you are ready!" she says, and the hopeful sparkle in her eyes almost makes me feel bad for rejecting most of her gifts. Almost.