The Red Envelope Scheme

 

I remember my eight-year-old sister’s eyes glittering as she filled her mouth with strips of candied winter melon. We had waited a year for Chinese Lunar New Year to return–the candy canes at Christmas were only a preface to the treats we received on Lunar New Year. I was ten at the time, young enough to shadow older kids and old enough to manipulate my younger sister to follow my schemes, like the caper I wanted to pull that Lunar New Year. This Lunar New Year I thought I would get the best of everything. I had two goals: to eat as many sweets as I could and to gain control of the red envelopes full of money that would soon be delivered by my family members. In previous years, my mom instructed my sister and I to promptly give her the envelopes we received from our relatives, and we never saw the cash again. This year, I was determined to hide away some of the money so that my mom couldn’t have it all.

My mom hurried into the living room, carrying bags of snacks to replenish the nearly empty bowls we had been eating from. “Don’t eat so much before dinner. Get ready for your grandma, aunts and uncles.” Jade and I stood up and smiled at one another, flashing teeth with pieces of white crystallized fruit stuck on them. We strode into the dining room and took in how transformed the space looked. The dull blue-gray walls were splashed with decorations for the Year of the Horse. The decorations were red with new year’s wishes inscribed upon them in gold glitter along horses standing on their hind legs. For weeks, my sister Jade was led to believe that we were celebrating the Year of the Pony given all the cartoonish horse decorations that were being sold in Chinatown. I had given up trying to convince here otherwise.

As preparations continued, I went into the kitchen to see what my dad was doing and pretended to not be surprised by all the food that had been prepared. A clash of steamed green vegetables, braised fish, and dumplings was laid out on large white plates. “What do you think kid,” my dad asked in Mandarin as he smiled broadly with his eyes narrowed. I put my hands into the pocket of my maroon jacket, offended that I was expected to be grateful by the mere presentation of food. This was my parents’ version of affection.

“Children,” my mom said while walking into the kitchen with Jade behind her, “Your grandma, aunt, her husband, and uncle will be here soon. You can tell them about your sports and music when they arrive!” She smiled at us, basking in the self-imagined warmth she thought she emanated to us. I saw Jade’s face was a reflection of mine. “Jenny,” she said, turning to me, “Remember to smile.” The pride our parents felt toward us was transient, lasting only the time our family was around, then dissipating back to criticism.

I was starting to grow anxious when the doorbell rang. In each of the previous years, we would receive red envelopes full of money that we would promptly hand over to our mom who said she would hang onto it for us to spend later. The thing was, we never got to see any of the money again, let alone spend it. This year, with some creative ingenuity, I was going to take some of the money from the red envelopes Jade and I received and give the rest of it to my mom without her noticing. My mom herded my aunt–her younger sister–and my uncle through the door. My aunt was pregnant at the time, and I was surprised by how large her stomach had gotten. She was my mom’s younger sister and was excited to hand my sister and I our red envelopes. I bowed my head as I thanked her with the new year greeting. Gong xi fa cai!

My dad’s younger brother helped my grandmother into the room. My mom hurriedly intercepted her mother and said she would take it from there. She didn’t like my dad’s younger brother too much because he always went out drinking with his friends and only held a contractor job despite being in America for decades. I wasn’t going to waste too much energy on him. When he handed my sister and I our red envelopes I said the new year greeting quietly. The red envelopes felt light in my hands, and I thought my mom’s contempt for my uncle was justified. My grandma put a hand on each of our faces and we smiled. We were very vocal in our new year blessings to her. I flashed a smile to Jade for carrying on the performance so well and took a very deep bow when my grandmother handed our red envelopes to us.

Jade automatically followed me and tried asking me what I was going to do. I held a finger to my lips until we reached the bathroom. “We’re going to take some of the money from our red envelopes but give the rest back to mom.”

“But isn’t stealing wrong,” she asked with her eyes narrowed like dad’s. I thought about punching her in the mouth.

“Jade,” I said through clenched teeth. “This money belongs to us.”

I opened my uncle’s red envelopes first. They were fairly common envelopes with multicolored peonies on them. I was right. Each envelope held a single hundred-dollar bill inside, there was no way to skim anything from them. Disappointed, I sealed them closed.

Outside we heard our mom and our aunt talking quietly to each other, probably more Chinese secrets about having a baby. Jade suddenly walked outside, which I thought would blow my cover. But it actually made sense since mom believed that Jade was using the bathroom. While she talked to the adults outside, I opened my aunt’s red envelope and found five twenty-dollar bills. Jackpot! I took two bills from each of the envelopes and stuffed them into my jacket pocket.

“Where is Jenny?” mom asked. I felt a stream of sweat run from my right armpit down my ribs.

“I’m still using the bathroom mom!” I opened my grandma’s envelopes which had white stallions standing on their hind legs. I couldn’t make out any of the Chinese characters except for the word “horse.” Each envelope had one hundred and twenty dollars inside. I took a twenty from both envelopes and shoved them into my jacket pocket.

I opened the bathroom door when I suddenly remembered to flush the toilet. I gave it a hearty push and walked out with my hand staunchly in my pocket. I said hi to everyone outside and walked into my room. I slipped all the bills into a thick hard covered workbook. I realized there was a gap between the pages that made it obvious something was inside. So, I tried to put my pencil bag in front of the book to hide it as much as possible.

The dinner table’s eclectic spread and chattering adults comforted me. Dishes with thick steam coming out of them and chopsticks clacking over people’s voices filled the room. I was going to eat some chicken and fish, talk to my sister, answer some questions from the adults, and pray that I wouldn’t be called on to sing any folk songs this year. As I nestled in my seat, I watched my uncle take a bottle of hard Chinese liquor in his hand and carefully pour it into a tiny glass. My dad made a tight face that exposed the ravines of his face after swallowing. My mom was chattering with her sister and brother about their health while making sure to interweave into the conversation all that my sister and I had accomplished during the last year.

As dinner came to an end, my parents and our relatives started arguing about who should keep the leftovers. My grandma moved to the living room to watch the broadcast of China's Lunar New Year’s festivities. Her eyes rested for a moment and shifted across the screen. I sat next to her for a while, chewing pieces of winter melon and candied kumquat. I didn’t realize that Jade had gone from the front of the house to our bedroom in the back. While I lounged with grandma, Jade began showing my aunt and uncle our schoolwork. After letting the adults flip through my fourth-grade reading workbook, the money I had hidden inside fluttered onto the pink carpet under our desk.

“Jenny!” my mom shrieked. My mom’s voice yanked me from the couch to my room. I panicked when I saw the bills on the floor. While I tried in vain to provide an explanation, my grandma quietly stepped behind me and placed her hand on my shoulder.

“It’s alright child. You and your sister should keep the money, and your mother can take care of the rest.” I turned around and saw her smiling down on me.

In a way, the story has inspired a tradition of its own. Now, as a married adult, my family will tell “The Red Envelope Scheme” whenever I bring out a box of candied winter melon to share. The experiences and years layered upon life, like the crystalized strips of candied winter melon we would line our mouths with as children, always make us laugh and sweeten the time and traditions we share with our families.