Excerpt from Chapter 1- Riding the Wind

Two days before my sixteenth birthday, I woke up
so early that my maid was still asleep on the floor at the foot of
my bed. I should have scolded Willow, but I didn't because I
wanted a few moments alone to savor my excitement. Beginning tonight,
I would attend a production of The Peony Pavilion mounted in our garden.
I loved this opera and had collected eleven of the thirteen printed versions
available. I liked to lie in bed and read of the maiden Liniang and her
dream lover, their adventures, and their ultimate triumph. But for three
nights, culminating on Double Seven--the seventh day of the seventh
month, the day of the lovers' festival, and my birthday--I would actually
see the opera, which was normally forbidden to girls and women. My father
had invited other families for the festivities. We'd have contests and
banquets. It was going to be amazing.
Willow sat up and rubbed her eyes. When she saw me staring at her,
she scrambled to her feet and offered good wishes. I felt another flutter of
anticipation, so I was particular when Willow bathed me, helped me into
a gown of lavender silk, and brushed my hair. I wanted to look perfect; I
wanted to act perfectly.
A girl on the edge of sixteen knows how pretty she is, and as I looked
in the mirror I burned with the knowledge. My hair was black and silky.
When Willow brushed it, I felt the strokes from the top of my head all the
way down my back. My eyes were shaped like bamboo leaves; my brows
were like gentle brushstrokes limned by a calligrapher. My cheeks glowed
the pale pink of a peony petal. My father and mother liked to comment on
how appropriate this was, because my name was Peony. I tried, as only a
young girl can, to live up to the delicateness of my name. My lips were full
and soft. My waist was small and my breasts were ready for a husband's
touch. I wouldn't say I was vain. I was just a typical fifteen-year-old girl. I
was secure in my beauty but had enough wisdom to know it was only
fleeting.
My parents adored me and made sure I was educated--highly educated.
I lived a rarefied and precious existence, in which I arranged flowers,
looked pretty, and sang for my parents' entertainment. I was so
privileged that even my maid had bound feet. As a small girl, I believed
that all the gatherings we held and all the treats we ate during Double
Seven were a celebration for me. No one corrected my mistake, because I
was loved and very, very spoiled. I took a breath and let it out slowly--
happy. This would be my last birthday at home before I married out, and I
was going to enjoy every minute.
I left my room in the Unmarried Girls' Hall and headed in the direction
of our ancestral hall to make offerings to my grandmother. I'd spent
so much time getting ready that I made a quick obeisance. I didn't want to
be late for breakfast. My feet couldn't take me as fast as I wanted to go, but
when I saw my parents sitting together in a pavilion overlooking the garden,
I slowed. If Mama was late, I could be late too.
"Unmarried girls should not be seen in public," I heard my mother say.
"I'm even concerned for my sisters-in-law. You know I don't encourage
private excursions. Now to bring outsiders in for this performance . . ."
She let her voice trail off. I should have hurried on, but the opera
meant so much to me that I stayed, lingering out of sight behind the
twisted trunks of a wisteria vine.
"There is no public here," Baba said. "This will not be some open affair
where women disgrace themselves by...