The cold, nimble voice of Teresa Teng quietly resonated from the desk radio. “Where have I seen you before?” she muses. “Ah, in my dreams.”

“It’s you- it’s you- all my dreams comprise of you,” Tzuyu found herself quietly humming. She had grown up listening to Teresa Teng- the star of her homeland, the Chinese voice of decadence, the index of romantic possibilities. Even Nai Nai, who had claimed to never taking a liking to pop, loved Teng. ‘There’s just something different about her.’

“Hey, stop fooling around and take the flower off of your ear.”

Suddenly the door swung open, and Tzuyu’s brother was behind her. It was enough to startle her, flinching, that the flower tucked behind her ear had fallen to the table.

“And fix your cheongsam and come out. Papa has visitors over- they want to see you.”

“Okay.” Tzuyu replied, sighing. She twisted a knob on the radio, and suddenly Teresa Teng’s voice was now a mere remnant of the past, an intangible object from a few moments ago. She checked herself on Nai Nai’s compact mirror before heading out, and she continued to muse, wondering if she herself had a smile that was comparable to blooming flowers on a Spring day, just as Teresa Teng had described a lost lover’s.

 

“Tzuyu, sit here,” Papa motioned. He pointed to the chair adjacent to him in the living room. Tzuyu walked over, quietly sitting down just as she was used to being told. “This is my only daughter, Tzuyu. She’s pretty, isn’t she?”

“Oh, yes, definitely.” The man took a sip of his tea, slurping. “How old is she?”

“How old are you, Tzuyu?” Papa asked.

“Thank you,” Tzuyu shyly muttered to the guests, barely opening , “I’m turning eighteen this year.”

“That’s great! Chaeyoung, you must be the same age.”

“Yes, she is.” The girl, who was named Chaeyoung, seated beside the man Tzuyu surmised was her father, smiled. “Hello.”

“Hello.” Tzuyu replied.

Chaeyoung had straight hair that fell above her broad shoulders, its color a slippery fusion of both brown and black. She wore a red cheongsam obviously made of silk, embroidered with tiny pastel lotuses here and there, and Tzuyu cannot help but think how great of a contrast it is to her own. (Tzuyu had always preferred the birds to the flowers.) “We’re neighbors from now on. We just moved opposite you.” She said.

She’s pretty, Tzuyu thinks.

“Isn’t that wonderful, Tzuyu? Now you’ll be able to play with girls your age, since you always complain about not having playmates!” Papa said. He always had an overly enthusiastic way with snarky remarks- he probably only half-meant it, and although with no ill-intent, it always left Tzuyu feeling confused, and embarrassed.

Tzuyu tucks her head down, silent and blushing.

 

 

“The Son family was nice, weren’t they?” Papa asked in the dinner table that night.

“Yes, they were. They’re traders from Korea. They’re very nice- and look over here,” Mama pointed to the rice cooker in the middle of the round, dining table, “The rice cooker’s from Ms. Son. She even offered to have dinner together tonight because they had noodles, but I was so embarrassed that I had to decline her invitation.”

Papa chuckled. “You’re always so polite, aren’t you?”

“Of course. That’s why you married me.”

Papa kept silent, but he had a smile on his face. Meanwhile, Tzuyu wondered if that was the premise of marriage between women and men: politeness? Then what was the point of love?

“Tzuyu, why so quiet? You made a friend today, didn’t you?” Ye Ye asked.

Ye Ye was always nice to Tzuyu. She was his favorite grandchild, probably because she was the youngest girl in the family-- graceful, delicate, pretty… just like the flowers in the backyard of his childhood home way back in Tainan. But life wasn’t in Tainan anymore, alas. Now, life was different in Taipei. Life was passing by his eyes faster than he could comprehend, and perhaps it was also because Tzuyu had given him a sense of calmness that he could only otherwise glimpse through nostalgia.

“Anyway, today in mahjong I met Mr. Wong… a really great guy. It was a nice game,” Ye Ye coughed once, and then twice. “He said he had a son your age, too, maybe you should meet him once. I think his son’s name was… oh, I don’t remember. Anyway, you should come meet, have fun once in awhile, while you’re young…”

Gege laughed, loudly, obnoxiously. “Ye Ye, are you seriously planning on matchmaking them with each other?”

“He didn’t say any of those words, darling.” Nai Nai calmly said. Ye Ye pretended not to hear any of it.

“I wouldn’t mind the arrangement, but give them a background check first, OK? The moment Tzuyu marries a lousy man…” Papa wiped noodles off of his lips, “is the moment she crosses the line, and becomes a disgrace to the family.”

Everybody was quiet afterwards.

Fiddling with her chopsticks, Tzuyu wonders in the slightest if she has already crossed that line- wherever, and whatever that is- as she thinks about the girl that just moved next door.

 

 

Your smile is strangely familiar, but I don’t remember where I’ve seen it before.

 

 

“Mama, I need new notebooks for the next school year. The ones I have just won’t do anymore.” Tzuyu timidly approaches her mother on a quiet, Sunday afternoon. Mama was cooking braised beef; Tzuyu could tell just from the smell.

“Ask for a few cents from Nai Nai and tell her. She’ll understand.” Mama wiped a bead of sweat beside her left eyebrow. Tzuyu watched the bead of sweat slide down from her neck. “And don’t buy the notebooks from America, they’re expensive. Buy the local ones, so you’ll be able to have more.”

“Okay.”

Tzuyu walked to Nai Nai and Ye Ye’s room. She slightly opened the door, peeking in to see a glimpse of Nai Nai squirming in discomfort, and a swing of the door revealed that Nai Nai was washing her bound feet.

“Ah, Tzuyu, you’re here, augh,” Nai Nai groaned in pain, “You don’t know how lucky you are that you don’t need your feet bound anymore. Since you’re here, would you please help me wash my feet? They’re very, very painful.”

“Okay.”

Tzuyu did as she was told. She obediently kneeled beside Nai Nai, and held the damp towel to Nai Nai’s feet. They looked like hooves, she thought, simultaneously feeling sorry that Nai Nai had to endure such pain.

Then Tzuyu looked at Nai Nai thoughtfully, still washing her feet. “If you could have the chance to turn back time, would you have still chosen to bound your feet?”

“Oh, Tzuyu, we don’t wish for things we cannot have. That includes changing the past. Everything happens for a reason, don’t you think?” Upon the absence of a reply from Tzuyu, Nai Nai continued, “We don’t believe in coincidences.”

Tzuyu kept silent, and she wonders, too, whether coincidences are real or not.

Tzuyu was not able to buy notebooks that day.

 

If I never met you, where would I be?

 

It took Tzuyu at least eight seconds to will herself to stand up and finally answer the door, her reluctance a fusion of hesitation, and an irrational kind of hope that someone else would open it. But could one really blame me for laziness, especially on a hot summer afternoon, Tzuyu groggily thought. Finally, she stood up and opened the door.

“Oh, hi.” Tzuyu greeted, only a slice of her face peeking out the door.

“Hi, Tzuyu. Do you remember me? It’s me, Chaeyoung, I moved next door, adjacent your apartment, actually,” Chaeyoung started to get restless, albeit Tzuyu’s obvious reluctance to let her in, so she paused upon realizing so, “... just a few days ago.”

“I know, I remember you.” Tzuyu smiled at her politely. “Do you want to come in?”

“Oh-” Chaeyoung let out, her surprise at an invitation seemingly overwhelming her (forced), polite restrain. “that would be great!”

 

Tzuyu wasn’t used to girls her age being so self-possessed, slightly outstandish as Chaeyoung is. Perhaps it was because Chaeyoung was a foreigner, but Tzuyu is intrigued and fascinated all the same. But it was kind of nice also, finally having a girl her age to talk to on the daily, since she also realized that the men in her life were starting to get…

“Tzuyu, do you like listening to music?” Chaeyoung suddenly asked. They were doing homework together on the kitchen table.

“Yes, of course I like listening to music.” What a question!

“That’s nice,” Chaeyoung thoughtfully said, staring holes into the dining table as she bit on her bottom lip. “In Korea we barely have anything. Barely any music, barely any freedom, barely any money moving… that’s why we moved, actually… anyway, um, you like music, right? What do you listen to?”

Tzuyu didn’t want to pry, really. After all, she had just met Chaeyoung, and moving to Taiwan was the jumpstart of something new. “Whatever is on the radio, really… but I really, really like Teresa Teng,” Tzuyu smiled. She reached for her desk radio. She hoped this would make Chaeyoung feel better. “Let’s see. She’s usually on, anyway.”

Tzuyu fiddled with the radio until a voice came, first barely decipherable, and then, there it was: Clarity. Tzuyu smiled in satisfaction when she recognized the familiar voice from the speakers; it was definitely Teresa Teng.

My heart is real, and the moon represents my heart.

“She sings so prettily, doesn’t she?” Tzuyu asked.

“Definitely.”

“Do you understand what she’s saying?”

“Of course... I mean, uh, a bit, yes… uh, actually, no.” Chaeyoung smiled sheepishly, scratching her nape. “Sorry… heh.”

Tzuyu let out a string of giggles. At first she had tried to suppress them, but alas...

“Hey! It’s not my fault! I’ve been learning Chinese for a year already, okay!?”

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry for laughing. It’s not your fault.” Tzuyu calmed herself down, and she deflated onto the table, contentedly, and rested her head on the crook of her long arms. “She’s saying… just a single kiss is enough to move her heart. The time her love was deep… um, that was enough to make her miss her lover until now.” Not really coherent, but it was the best Tzuyu could do to explain.

“I think that’s beautiful.”

“Really?” Tzuyu surprisedly asks. “You think so? With just… that?”

Chaeyoung looked at Tzuyu in the eyes. “Yeah.”

Tzuyu’s eyes traced every outline of Chaeyoung’s face, and she had focused on the beauty mark near Chaeyoung’s lower lip. Was this what you called the face of a foreigner?

Chaeyoung seemed to notice Tzuyu’s staring, and it was enough to incite a string of giggles from her; Chaeyoung often laughed as if nobody were watching, and Tzuyu now understood when Teresa Teng sang of smiles being comparable to flowers blooming on a sweet, Spring day.

 

 

That night was spent answering homework- although at a rate painstakingly slow, they did not mind- and listening to Teresa Teng. They hadn’t talked much, really, but Tzuyu realized that it was always peaceful with Chaeyoung.

Come to think of it, Tzuyu has heard of people talking about comfortable silences plenty of times, and she had assumed that it was what she felt when she was with her family-- when they were all quiet, anyway. She wasn’t particularly uncomfortable, so that should mean she was entirely comfortable with all of them by default, right?

But oh, was she wrong. Never had she basked in anybody’s presence so comfortably. It was as if Chaeyoung’s being there had calmed her; never had Tzuyu felt so relaxed around somebody, because Tzuyu herself was always rigid as a whole: her back ramrod straight, her elf-like ears always open to every command she will hear, and then follow. But with Chaeyoung, Tzuyu wasn’t any of those. At all.

Tzuyu had somehow fallen asleep in those musing because she was awaken by the sound of Chaeyoung’s voice after. “You know what, I’m hungry. Let’s get some food, Tzuyu. I hate math.”

 

With filled stomachs, they were in front of a bicycle shop when Chaeyoung linked her arms with Tzuyu, laughing, much to Tzuyu’s surprise. Why? What was funny? Then Chaeyoung laughed again, before Tzuyu could wonder. Again.

“Have you ever thought that if I were a boy, and I did this to you, we would be the talk talk of the town right now? But since I’m a girl as well, I can do-” She slid her hand downwards, and held Tzuyu’s hand in hers, her fingers sledged in the spaces between Tzuyu’s own, “This.”

Tzuyu was too astonished to reply- her cheeks were probably red by now, and she felt warm inside- but Chaeyoung didn’t seem to be expecting a reply, so she kept quiet. But was blushing and looking at the floor considered a reply? Tzuyu really, really hoped so. She didn’t wanna leave Chaeyoung hanging.

And while their fingers were interlocked, they had talked about everything they could possibly talk about; Tzuyu spoke of her family, of course; they were always on her mind. She couldn’t detach herself from her notion that family always came first, that violating anything they had imposed on her would equate to committing a great sin. Chaeyoung couldn’t swallow why it was especially a big thing for Tzuyu, so she kept quiet, wondering. Was Tzuyu not used to it? Was there something that was bothering her?

Now they sat on the stone benches with the river in front of them, and Chaeyoung had an ice cream cone in her hand. (Strawberry! Chaeyoung squealed before Tzuyu could keep up. How was she even able to run in a tight cheongsam and heels like that?)

“Like what?”’ Chaeyoung asked curiously after a moment of silence.

Tzuyu looked at her, confused. “What?”

“I mean, what could you possibly do that would lead your family to- I don’t know- disown you?”

Did they not have that in Korea?

“I don’t know. I just assume it’s wrong to do things if my family doesn’t tell me to do it. But now that I think about it, or what Papa actually said a few weeks ago, I remember: getting married to a lousy guy. Or getting married after 30. I know nobody normal that’s gotten married after 30,”

“Normal?” Chaeyoung raised an eyebrow. “But all of that is absurd, Tzuyu. It’s like you all have an expiration date. That sounds crazy.” Chaeyoung loudly exhaled out of her nose and pouted. They didn’t have that in Korea, but that’s probably because they had bigger things to worry about. Like the government. “You should just do whatever makes you happy.” Chaeyoung said after a moment of thought, nonchalantly at her ice cream cone.

Tzuyu unrhythmically tapped on the gravel underneath her black heels. She sighed. The future was not bleak; in fact, it was the opposite: it was painfully structured and organized that she didn’t want to think about it anymore. “I don’t know.”

“It’s okay. It’s still quite early to tell.” Chaeyoung smiled at her. “Look,” And then Chaeyoung pointed upwards. “It’s the moon.” (Of course the moon had now appeared; they had talked for hours and hours without realizing.)

Tzuyu looked at the moon, alright. And then she looked at Chaeyoung. “It’s beautiful.” She tightened her hold on Chaeyoung’s hand, and then she wondered, at that moment, if loving Chaeyoung was considered wrong, too.

 

Without you, I would not be able to feel the slightest senses of love.

 

 

“Ge,” Tzuyu called out to her brother one evening. The rest of the family was out, busy, and it was just the two of them eating dinner. Wonton soup. “I don’t think I want to get married.”

Gege looked at Tzuyu with a look of worry, but if was out of concern, or worry, or disgust, although hopefully not, Tzuyu couldn’t tell. “What?”

Tzuyu swallowed hard. She said it again: “I don’t want to get married, ever. I’m sure of it.”

“Why?” Gege’s eyebrows scrunched up. “You know what happens to girls like that, right? And why? D-do you want to join the temple in Tainan? Is that it?”

“No.” Tzuyu said. Her calm disposition surprised even herself.

“Then why?”

Poor Gege, who, at 21 years of age, still couldn’t seem to be able to grasp the simple words coming out of Tzuyu’s mouth. Perhaps it was because the concept of a woman’s own aspirations was non-existent to him, especially if that woman was younger. Did he even see Tzuyu as a woman? Or a mere figure to further strengthen the legacy of the Zhou family?

“Because I just don’t see myself married that way, and I don’t want to,” Tzuyu said, not regrettably at all, “And I’m tired of being a pawn. Of following whatever Papa says. Because I am my own person, too.”

“Tzuyu, if this is a case of rebellion-”

“No!” Tzuyu almost yelled. This was the first time she raised her voice at a family member after she had grown out of being a toddler. “This isn’t just a case of rebellion! Ge, don’t you get it? I… I-”

Gege kept quiet, thought to himself whether he should just give Tzuyu the chance to speak now, because Tzuyu was never given the chance to speak at home. “Why, Jiejie? What is it?”

Tzuyu broke into tears at Gege’s silence. Inside her head: a conflict. “Ge, I don’t like men. I don’t like boys. I don’t even want to meet up with the sons Ye Ye talks about. My friends all look their way on the way home, and I’ve never felt the need to, because I’m just not interested. But I have been feeling this way for years now. I am sure of it. Ge, I’ll tell you this, now, and I’ll be honest. And maybe I’m going crazy for telling you this, but,” Tzuyu swallowed hard again. “Ge, I like girls.”

Gege let go of the chopsticks in his hand. He cut his eyes at Tzuyu. “Tzuyu, this is family we are talking about. I hope you know just what you’re doing.”

And with that, Gege left Tzuyu alone in the kitchen, and exited their apartment. And in there, in tears, Tzuyu was alone with his unfinished bowl of Wonton, and hers, and the lonely sound of the old ceiling fan whirring. Now she knows that indeed, loving Chaeyoung was considered wrong, too.

But Gege was right. Family did come first. Tonight, she will fall asleep, Tzuyu thought, and she will wake up a different person again, and both Tzuyu and her brother will forget of last night’s happenings, those memories to be sealed in a huge, intangible chest of memories never to be opened.

 

 

True to her thoughts, Tzuyu was a new person the day after that. And she was a new person for the following weeks, too.

Today, Mama told her that it was about time she was to buy her new notebooks, since she wasn’t able to buy them last time, because she had been with Nai Nai, her family. Thinking that it was also a fine way to celebrate her renewal, as a whole person, Tzuyu happily agreed, and obeyed. She dressed herself up, in the most beautiful cheongsam she owned, and walked to the nearby store in the district. She hadn’t left the house in a few weeks now, and now that she did, she couldn’t help but feel even better than she already had earlier. She dabbled and waddled in her internal celebration of renewal that before she knew it, she had arrived to her destination. The store.

‘Don’t buy the notebooks from America, they’re expensive. Buy the local ones, so you’ll be able to have more.’ Mama’s voice rings in her head, and so Tzuyu picks her notebooks carefully. Pink, would be a nice color, right? Well, of course it would. Tzuyu had always liked pink! And pretty girls always liked pink. And red, just like the cheongsam she was wearing now. Maybe she should get a blue one too? But blue was--

“Tzuyu!”

Tzuyu whips her head at the sound of a familiar voice. It was Chaeyoung, walking towards her, already half-smiling. Tzuyu regrettably thinks she looks very, very pretty today. Especially today. Longing did things to people, strange things, she thought bitterly.

“It’s nice seeing you here today, Tzuyu! Whatcha doin’?”

“I’m buying notebooks for school.”

Chaeyoung looked at Tzuyu in the eyes this time, and the already existing smile on her face grew even bigger. If that was possible. Tzuyu was fighting every inch of herself not to. She faced away Chaeyoung, and she immediately paid for the notebooks, not thinking twice about getting the blue one.

“Do you want to talk?” Tzuyu timidly said. No, I’m a different person now, Tzuyu thought.

“I’m sorry?” The question took Chaeyoung off-guard. “What do you mean, Tzuyu?”

“Nevermind.” Tzuyu walked away, away from the store, looking at the ground. She went into a dark alley, but Chaeyoung followed her, foolishly, even, as if she were a lost child. And then she grabbed Tzuyu by the arm, and Tzuyu flinched. She regretted it, but she felt… she felt something. A small part of her wished that Chaeyoung would never let go.

“Tzuyu,” Chaeyoung whispered. She still wasn’t letting go. “I’m sorry. Did I do anything wrong?”

Tzuyu looked like she was in pain, but she would never admit it. She bit her lip, still looking at the ground. Why wasn’t Chaeyoung letting go. “No,”

“Then why?” And Tzuyu has heard this phrase countless of times, all directed at her. Why would she ever have to apologize for her feelings, she thought. It wasn’t fair, and she felt attacked, threatened. An invalid. “Tzuyu, please, answer me. I don’t want to lose you,” Chaeyoung’s hand moved to tuck the sweaty, stray hairs behind Tzuyu’s ears, and that did it. Something inside Tzuyu has just spilled, and she wasn’t sure if she liked it, but the truth wasn’t always a pleasant thing, wasn’t it. It was the chest never to be opened, Tzuyu dreadfully thought. And the key came in the form of a doe-eyed girl shorter than her…

 

Tzuyu inhaled deeply. “Chaeyoung,” she whimpered. It was the first real thing she had said ever since that fateful night with Gege. Yes, she was a different person after that, but she wasn’t a real person then. And that wasn’t what living was. If Chaeyoung found out, she would be mad, Tzuyu endearingly thought. Ha, it was funny. Chaeyoung would get mad, and she would set Tzuyu free. And then even though Chaeyoung was right in front of her, her voice still rang in Tzuyu’s head: ‘You should just do whatever you want.’

And so she did. In a swift move, Tzuyu cupped Chaeyoung’s face in both her hands, and before the both of them knew it, Tzuyu’s lips were on Chaeyoung’s, and Tzuyu had never felt realer, righter, freer. She thought of the butterflies Teresa Teng sang of, and now, she understood what she had meant.

It took Tzuyu a few moments before she could detach her lips from Chaeyoung’s own, and it was only then that she realized that Chaeyoung had not pulled away.

Tzuyu breathed out. Finally, she said, “Chaeyoung, I love you. That’s why.”

Chaeyoung whimpered- probably in a form of a futile reply, but it didn’t matter, because Chaeyoung kissed Tzuyu again. And when they had finally parted, Tzuyu finally looked at Chaeyoung in the eyes, and Chaeyoung did the same.

“Tzuyu, I love you, too.” Chaeyoung looked like she was about to cry. From joy. From surprise. From real freedom.

“I love you, Chaeyoung.” Tzuyu smiled as wide as she had possibly known. “And I feel more right than I’ve ever been in my entire life. This is the most right I’ve been my entire life. I’m sure of it. A lot of things don’t make sense when I am around you. But I’m not complaining. When I’m with you I feel free. I feel like I can do anything. With you, there are no rules.”

Tzuyu took a deep breath, and yes, her words were true to her actions; she had finally felt as free, and as right as she could ever have. She did not care anymore what people thought, and she knew Chaeyoung didn’t too, because after all, was it not Chaeyoung that really taught her what real freedom meant? And now, Tzuyu knew, that her own happiness was first. And so again, she followed just that: she slid her hands down, and held Chaeyoung’s hands in hers.