They asked me to choose one.
My aunt pointed at the maids in the room and said with a smile: "She'er, whoever you choose to be your wife, my aunt will give it to you."
I don't know what a wife is. I only knew that my mother was holding my shoulders tightly, and her hands were shaking. I looked up at her, and there was something in her eyes that scared me. It seemed like he was begging me, but also like he was ordering me.
I dare not choose wrong.
But who should I choose? The maids all had their heads lowered and they all looked the same.
Then I saw her.
She leaned against her aunt, wearing red clothes, like a ball of fire. She didn't look down, she was looking at me. Not looking, just sizing up. Looking slowly from top to bottom, as if estimating how much something is worth.
She is half a head taller than me. She is a few years older than me. She is her aunt's daughter and her grandmother's sweetheart. She has nothing to fear and nothing to ask for.
She raised an eyebrow at me.
That means: You have a choice.
I pointed at her out of nowhere.
The whole room laughed. My aunt laughed the loudest.
I heard my mother sigh in relief.
But what about her?
She just raised the corners of her mouth slightly. Not happy, but satisfied. It seems to be saying: You know the truth.
Then she stopped looking at me.
"Okay!" Auntie clapped her hands, "Then it's settled! When you grow up, Auntie will marry Gillian to you!"
My mother quickly pulled me to thank me. I was pressed to salute, but my eyes kept secretly looking at Gillian.
She no longer looked at him, and lowered her head to pluck her beads again, as if everything just now had nothing to do with her.
Later he learned that no matter who he pointed at that day, his aunt would tell him to point at Gillian instead. That's not a child's talk, it's a carefully arranged political alliance.
But he would rather believe that it was his own choice.
That expression of "I guess you know the truth" will be remembered by him for a lifetime.
Intention: "see"