Niang Character Analysis

“We can’t match the food you had in Beijing, but I hope you still like my dumplings,” my niang said as she set a bowl of steaming hot dumplings in front of me.

“This was all I’d dream about, but we did have dumplings all the time at the academy,” I lied. I pushed the bowl in front of my dia, because I knew there wouldn’t be enough for everyone.

“Liuga, can you count how many times you ate meat there?” Jing Tring asked.

“Nearly every day!” I replied.

Cunsang was wide-eyed with disbelief.

I nodded. There was silence.

“Madame Mao wouldn’t let her students starve, would she?” Niang finally said.

“Cunxin, nothing is impossible for a determined human being. Physical imperfections are easier to overcome than mental deficiencies. Remember the bow-shooter fable?” he said. “Nothing is impossible if you put your heart and soul into it! Let’s make your family proud! Become a good dancer, the greatest dancer you can be. Starting next year, I expect to see nothing less than the best from you.”

It was true that Teacher Xiao’s fable of the bow shooter had left a deep impression on me. But from that day on, it became an inspirational driving force. Whenever I met difficulties or challenges in my dancing, like the split jumps, I always went back to this fable for my basic inspiration: hard, work, determination, and perseverance. That day Teacher Xiao’s words had touched me deeply, and I knew that he cared.

“Ohh…Li!” Ben started to sob. “I’m finished! I’ve lost everything! Consul Zhang at the consulate thinks I’ve masterminded this whole thing. They think it’s all my fault. You have ruined everything! I’ll never be allowed back to China now!”

“I’m sorry, Ben. What you want me say?” I asked.

“I want you to say that this is all a mistake and that you will go back to China. Nothing will change if you go back now. I have spoken to Consul Zhang. You’ll still be a hero if you go back to China now. You’ll still be allowed to come back.”

“If you want live in China, you go,” I said.

“Li, the least you can do for me is explain all this to the consulate! Tell them I had nothing to do with it. Can you do this for me?”

I didn’t regret what I had done. In a strange way I felt at peace with myself. […] But still I felt a strong sense of sorrow for my parents. I hadn’t even sent them a single dollar yet.

[…] My poor dear niang. She had suffered enough hardship already. I thought of her wrinkled face and the sorrow she would feel if she never saw me again. Oh, how much I loved her! She was the most innocent and loving niang on this earth. She had given me everything, yet I had nothing to give her in return. Would my niang ever recover from her despair at losing one of her beloved sons? This would surely kill her.

I thought too of my beloved teachers who had invested so much of their time and effort in me […]. Their hopes would be dashed.

By the time they were ready to leave, my parents had many suitcases full of gifts: watches for my brothers, clothes for my sisters-in-law, picture books and nylon jump ropes for the children, mugs and T-shirts with the Houston skyline on them for friends and relatives, a couple of bottles of Maotai for my grandfather and oldest uncle, and Ben’s sewing machine too. “We left China poor, but will return so rich!” my niang exclaimed on their last night in America. “I don’t mean the material things. It’s the richness I feel in my heart. How well you’re doing here and how much you’re loved and respected! We will savor this trip for the rest of our lives. We’re truly fortunate.”

“Mary, can you have six extra boys and give us one each?” another sister-in-law asked, and everyone laughed. Deep inside, however, I knew how they felt. Not producing a son to continue the family line was considered the worst betrayal of your ancestors […] I looked at my third brother’s beautiful daughter, Lulu, then looked at my nephew and my other nieces. I felt sad that they, like most of the next generation of children growing up in China, would have no brothers or sisters. We had survived through generations of dark and impoverished living because of this one strength, because of the unconditional love and unselfish care of each other within our family unit. It was all we’d had.

“We can’t match the food you had in Beijing, but I hope you still like my dumplings,” my niang said as she set a bowl of steaming hot dumplings in front of me.

“This was all I’d dream about, but we did have dumplings all the time at the academy,” I lied. I pushed the bowl in front of my dia, because I knew there wouldn’t be enough for everyone.

“Liuga, can you count how many times you ate meat there?” Jing Tring asked.

“Nearly every day!” I replied.

Cunsang was wide-eyed with disbelief.

I nodded. There was silence.

“Madame Mao wouldn’t let her students starve, would she?” Niang finally said.

“Cunxin, nothing is impossible for a determined human being. Physical imperfections are easier to overcome than mental deficiencies. Remember the bow-shooter fable?” he said. “Nothing is impossible if you put your heart and soul into it! Let’s make your family proud! Become a good dancer, the greatest dancer you can be. Starting next year, I expect to see nothing less than the best from you.”

It was true that Teacher Xiao’s fable of the bow shooter had left a deep impression on me. But from that day on, it became an inspirational driving force. Whenever I met difficulties or challenges in my dancing, like the split jumps, I always went back to this fable for my basic inspiration: hard, work, determination, and perseverance. That day Teacher Xiao’s words had touched me deeply, and I knew that he cared.

“Ohh…Li!” Ben started to sob. “I’m finished! I’ve lost everything! Consul Zhang at the consulate thinks I’ve masterminded this whole thing. They think it’s all my fault. You have ruined everything! I’ll never be allowed back to China now!”

“I’m sorry, Ben. What you want me say?” I asked.

“I want you to say that this is all a mistake and that you will go back to China. Nothing will change if you go back now. I have spoken to Consul Zhang. You’ll still be a hero if you go back to China now. You’ll still be allowed to come back.”

“If you want live in China, you go,” I said.

“Li, the least you can do for me is explain all this to the consulate! Tell them I had nothing to do with it. Can you do this for me?”

I didn’t regret what I had done. In a strange way I felt at peace with myself. […] But still I felt a strong sense of sorrow for my parents. I hadn’t even sent them a single dollar yet.

[…] My poor dear niang. She had suffered enough hardship already. I thought of her wrinkled face and the sorrow she would feel if she never saw me again. Oh, how much I loved her! She was the most innocent and loving niang on this earth. She had given me everything, yet I had nothing to give her in return. Would my niang ever recover from her despair at losing one of her beloved sons? This would surely kill her.

I thought too of my beloved teachers who had invested so much of their time and effort in me […]. Their hopes would be dashed.

By the time they were ready to leave, my parents had many suitcases full of gifts: watches for my brothers, clothes for my sisters-in-law, picture books and nylon jump ropes for the children, mugs and T-shirts with the Houston skyline on them for friends and relatives, a couple of bottles of Maotai for my grandfather and oldest uncle, and Ben’s sewing machine too. “We left China poor, but will return so rich!” my niang exclaimed on their last night in America. “I don’t mean the material things. It’s the richness I feel in my heart. How well you’re doing here and how much you’re loved and respected! We will savor this trip for the rest of our lives. We’re truly fortunate.”

“Mary, can you have six extra boys and give us one each?” another sister-in-law asked, and everyone laughed. Deep inside, however, I knew how they felt. Not producing a son to continue the family line was considered the worst betrayal of your ancestors […] I looked at my third brother’s beautiful daughter, Lulu, then looked at my nephew and my other nieces. I felt sad that they, like most of the next generation of children growing up in China, would have no brothers or sisters. We had survived through generations of dark and impoverished living because of this one strength, because of the unconditional love and unselfish care of each other within our family unit. It was all we’d had.