Chapter Text
Prologue
The Gold Wrapped Around You
June 6, 1934
Brooklyn, New York
“Xīngla, guòlái! (come here, Xingla)” The little girl glanced up from her precarious work to glance down the hallway. Her breath caught in her throat for a moment before she carefully swallowed it, finishing the backstitch she was on at the moment before laying down the tiny, sharp, and silver needle along with her new smooth and satiny pointe shoe. While standing up from the large couch situated in the middle of the living room, she pressed down the layers of her dress to guarantee there would be no wrinkles when she faced her mother.
The young dancer called out gently to her mother as she started making her way to the backroom, “Māmā láile! (coming, Mama)” With small and silent footsteps, she padded down the familiar narrow corridor to her parent’s room. She passed by many a photograph on the way: her first family photo when she was barely a toddler, one from her Mama and Ahpa’s wedding, one from a recent photoshoot of her first-ever tutu, and many, many school and performance photos. So many memories that she passed by every single day. So many moments from the past that she didn’t seem to linger on much anymore.
“Tā shì shénme? (what is it?)” the teenager asked once she poked her head through the doorway of the master bedroom. She immediately noticed two things: (1) her mother was sitting cross-legged on the bed messing with a glittering object in her hands and (2) there were two fully packed duffle bags next to the door. After switching her attention back and forth for several moments, her eyes landed back on her mother. “Nǐ yào zǒule? (you’re leaving?)”
The woman before her didn’t respond. Seeing her mother so obviously unnerved was… disturbing, to say the least. Without much hesitation, the daughter moved over to sit on the mattress next to her mother; by doing so she was able to spot what the woman had been paying so much attention to since the girl walked into the room: a single gold bangle.
The girl recognized the bracelet as one of her mother’s—one of six in fact. She wore six gold ones, three for each arm. She was told they were a family heirloom from her mother’s side of the family; the child supposed that was why the first bangle had some almost unrecognizable Chinese characters engraved onto one of them in elaborate calligraphy. On the other 5 bangles were etched the names of all the firstborn females from generations past; every single one of her family members’ names was carved into those gold bands—even her own. And there were still two whole bracelets that were completely empty, still shining brilliantly as if they were just curated by a fine craftsman the same day.
The girl could also spot the other bangles dangling around her wrist: 4 silver ones that her father had added to the collection. That set was filled with nicknames, little sayings, and words of affirmations that pertained to their little family alone. It was funny for the girl to think about—an entire family’s story told by little words inscribed into these small gold and silver pieces of jewelry.
“Wǒmen shénme shíhòu líkāi? (when are we leaving?)” the ballet dancer tried to ask instead. No response. It was scaring her. Why was her mother almost… almost shaking? “Wǒmen yào líkāi duōjiǔ? (how long will we be gone?)” she offered as another alternative question to answer instead.
“Qīn'ài de wǒ bù zhīdào, (I don’t know, Honey)” the woman finally replied.
The girl frowned at the mother’s broad response.
What’s going on?
“Wǒmen qù nǎ? (where are we going?)”
“Éguó (Russia).”
“Wǒmen zài zuò shénme? (what are we doing?)”
“Fēnlèi. Nǐ bù lái. (classified. you’re not coming along)”
What?
“Māmā qǐng. (Mama, please)”
The woman completely ignored her daughters pleading before opting to instead start pulling the bracelets off from around her wrists one by one. Each movement was calculated, precise, nothing that the girl hadn’t seen her mother do before but now it just seemed… intimidating… After she pulled off each one, the woman laid it on top of the other, making a perfectly built cylinder, the colors alternating between silver and gold.
Once she had completed that task, the dancer’s mother set out on another one: carefully plucking each bangle from the top of the pile and sliding it onto her daughter’s wrist, keeping the metals alternating as well as making sure the number of bracelets was evenly distributed between both hands.
“Māmā wǒ bùnéng—(Mama, I can’t)” the girl protested.
Her mother interrupted her swiftly, “Shì de nǐ kěyǐ. Nǐ xiànzài shísì suì. Tāmen xiànzài shì nǐ de. (Yes, you can. You are 14 years old. They are yours now)”
The girl then stayed quiet as she watched her mother slide on the last gold bracelet with intent. Once her mother was done, the girl pulled back her hands and lightly shook them causing the bangles to make a light jingly sound from clicking against each other. They were slightly heavy, something the young teenager was sure she’d get used to with time, and she couldn’t describe it… but somehow, they also just felt right. The rare upturn of her mother’s lips only solidified the feeling for her.
It was then that the girl’s mother pulled her in for a long and warm hug. “Wǒ ài nǐ, Xing’la. (I love you, Xing’la)”
“Qǐng ràng wǒ hé nǐ yīqǐ qù (let me come with you, please)” the girl tried to protest and push away from her mother. The older woman’s grip was firm, though, and unrelenting. She did not dignify her daughter’s last-ditch effort to tag along.
The little star wasn’t sure how she felt about that.
The following week the girl said goodbye to her parents from her aunt’s doorstep. As the young ballet dancer wished her mother and father good luck, she felt her stomach churn in an unfamiliar way—a way that had never occurred at all the previous times her parents had left her to embark on another mission without her. It wasn’t even the same way that her gut twisted when she was following alongside them.
She reached down with her left hand, gently, to twist and turn the bracelets now constantly present on her arms. She felt it important to not take them off for some reason; it almost felt as though she was now carrying her entire family’s legacy. Right on her arms. It was all up to her now—a 14-year-old girl.
It was with that realization that the girl had another—the empty feeling she had in her abdomen? It was the barren feeling of goodbye. It felt like this was the last time.
Turns out it was.