Dance - Cinderella Retold

Part 2

TWO

Months passed, for it was a long journey from their mountain village to the capital. Every morning, Mai made an offering at the ancestral shrine, before moving to the courtyard to practice dancing alone. If she closed her eyes, she could almost believe her father practised beside her, and she longed for the day when he would return.

One evening, as she placed her mother's favourite flowers in the shrine, she heard a commotion in the distance. She followed the shouts to the gate, where she could see what looked like a procession making its way through the village. Her heart stuttered in fear. Surely...not a funeral procession?

None of the people headed toward her house was wearing white, she realised with relief, for even under the dust caking their clothes, the colours shone through.

Then something appeared around the corner of the last house in the village that made Mai stare even more intently. A box as big as a house, sitting on poles carried by several men, brought up the rear of the procession. This, too, was brightly coloured in red and gold, though dulled with the dust of travel. Curtains swayed in the doorway to the box, tempting Mai to climb inside.

The procession reached the gate and she raced across the courtyard to the veranda, where she would have a better view of everyone as they crowded into the yard. Especially the mysterious box.

The box bearers set their burden on the ground, right in front of the veranda steps. A man stepped forward and stuck his arm through the curtains, then pulled it out again, clasping a hand.

At the bottom of the curtains, a tiny, striped shoe poked out, not much larger than one of Mai's shoes. She clapped her hands in delight, hoping for a playmate. Yet the girl who emerged from the box was far older than Mai – she was a woman grown, despite her tiny feet. And the way her round belly bulged through her robes told Mai the girl would be a mother before long, just like the other women in the village. The woman swept past into the house without noticing Mai.

Mai sighed and sat down. No other children to play with, no mother to tell her stories, and no father to dance with. The servants wouldn't play with her, either. A more morose girl would have sat there and sulked, but Mai was a cheerful child, so instead she rose and made her way to the family shrine. Her mother might not be able to tell her stories, but she could tell her mother one, about the arrival of the round-bellied girl with the tiny feet.

Mai gathered some flowers from the garden and climbed the steps to the shrine, only to discover she wasn't the only one paying her respects to the ancestors.

"Father!" she exclaimed, racing across the tiles to throw herself into Fu's open arms. "I came to tell mother about the new girl!"

"Her name is Jing, and she will be your new stepmother," Fu said gravely.

Mai squirmed out of his grasp so she could stare up at him. "That girl is not my mother. She'll be mother to the babies in her round belly, just like Mrs Wu in the village."

"No, she is not your mother, and yes, she will give you sisters to play with. But Jing is used to life in the Imperial City, not a country house like ours. Will you do your best to help her, like a good daughter?" Fu asked.

"For you, Father, anything. She is our guest, and we must be hospitable to guests," Mai declared.

Fu laughed softly. "No, child, she is not a guest. Jing is here to stay. This is her home now, but I think she would like it if you treated her like an honoured guest." He eyed her. "She does not rise early, for court women don't like to see the dawn. So we will resume our dancing lessons tomorrow at dawn. The army with the best trained troops is assured victory, remember. Have you practised while I've been gone?"

Mai nodded happily. "Every morning, Father. It is not as much fun by myself, but now you are back, it will be better."

"Do you use your wooden sword every morning?" Fu demanded, eyeing Mai's thin arms.

She shook her head. "No, for it is too heavy."

"It is at first, but as your strength increases, you will grow used to it. A dancer's skill is equal parts balance and strength. Your balance is good, but we must work on your strength."

Mai bowed her head. "Yes, Father. I will practise now, so that tomorrow morning I will be ready."

He clapped her on the shoulder. "Good girl." Fu glanced at her mother's funeral tablet. "Da Ying would be proud to see you dance."

Mai beamed. "Thank you!" She skipped out into the courtyard in search of her practice sword, forgetting about stepmothers or sisters or strange boxes, for they were nothing compared to the honour she intended to bring her ancestors.