The Drink and Dream Teahouse

by Justin Hill

  ‘I looked but there was nothing there.’

  ‘My sister said she put them there.’

  ‘Well they weren’t there,’ Peach stated.

  ‘Oh,’ Sun An said. He looked at his feet, then saw the teapot. ‘More tea?’

  Peach put her cup out, and he filled it up again. ‘Why don’t you shut the shop?’ she said. Sun An moved a chair back from out of the doorway, and then pulled the metal shutters down. They rattled as they plunged the room into evening; stripes of light shining through the slats. He slid the metal bolt into place and Peach put her cup down onto the desk. She swallowed the saliva in her mouth, but there was more, so she swallowed again as a tingling spread through her body. It made her shiver.

  ‘Are you cold?’

  ‘No.’

  He held out a hand and she put hers in it.

  ‘Are you sure you’re not cold?’ he said, tugging at her hand.

  ‘Yes.’

  He could feel her breath on his face, smell her skin. ‘I missed you Peach,’ he said. ‘I really missed you. I thought you didn’t love me.’

  Peach squeezed her eyes shut, fantasising about being held close, about being loved.

  ‘You won’t leave me will you?’ he whispered.

  ‘No,’ she whispered. ‘I won’t.’

  Sun An gave her another bear hug, as if he could squeeze more love out of her. He moved his head so they were nose to nose, and then they began to kiss. Their tongues entwined, then Peach pulled away and cuddled her head against his chest. They stood like this for a long time, Sun An feeling the rise and fall of her breathing; Peach listening to the strange noises his stomach made.

  ‘Let’s go do something,’ Peach said at last.

  ‘We could see a film.’

  ‘I’m bored of films.’

  ‘How about going to the park?’

  ‘I’m bored of the park.’ Peach curled her lip in resignation. ‘I’m bored of everything about Shaoyang! Bored, bored, bored!’

  Sun An tried to sound jolly. ‘We could go out for something to eat.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘How about the night market?’

  ‘Have you got money?’

  ‘Yeah, I’ve got loads. I’ve been saving up you see!’ Sun An smiled.

  ‘OK,’ Peach began. ‘I know‌–‌they’ve got crayfish in the night market.’ She mimicked a crayfish with her hand. ‘Big spindly crayfish that jump on you and crawl all over!’ She attacked him with her hand and he fought her off.

  ‘So, we go out?’

  ‘Only for crayfish!’ she said, attacking him again.

  He grinned. ‘Great!’

  Rain fell in the night, heavy soaking rain pummelled the leaves dizzy and even dribbled into Madam Fan’s deepest dream and filled it with the sound of splashing water. Despite the disturbance she woke feeling refreshed and excited. There was no music; this morning she would sing.

  Madam Fan pulled the bolt back and stepped out onto the balcony. The rain had kept the ballroom dancers at home. The factory was deserted; just dripping leaves and random droplets hung out on the clothes lines to dry. The rain had washed all the dust off the trees and bamboo: now they were a perfect emerald, polished with water. She took in a deep breath, let it out and took another. She danced a few steps, in time with the music in her head, danced a few steps more:

  No one can count the bends in a river?

  or stalks in a rice field.

  She sang so beautifully even the rain stopped to listen.

  I will always sing joyful songs.

  Though my heart is broken

  I will always sing joyful songs.

  From far away there was the hoot of a train‌–‌so faint it was almost an echo in the mind. It made Madam Fan want to cry. She sang out the last note, kept it going for as long as she had breath. People leaving; always leaving.

  Peach got up while Madam Fan re-boiled the mung bean and peanut soup. She put an extra spoonful of sugar in, stirred it round but Peach ignored the food and went straight into the toilet. Madam Fan hummed to herself as she set the soup on the table, slid a metal spoon next to it.

  Peach ate mouthful by deliberate mouthful while her mother was humming opera. It irritated her. She was too sleepy to talk. She was too sleepy to taste the soup. She decided she’d go and see Sun An again today. She’d have to change her trousers. They’d get filthy in the rain.

  ‘Why don’t we go shopping?’ Madam Fan asked suddenly.

  ‘I’m busy.’

  ‘What do you mean, you’re busy?’

  ‘I told a friend I would go and visit them today.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘One of my classmates.’

  Madam Fan bit her lip and nodded. She stepped in close and stroked a stray lock of hair from Peach’s face. ‘I’m sorry about all the trouble I’ve brought you,’ Madam Fan said and Peach half smiled. ‘I should have chosen a better father for you.’

  Peach picked her bowl up and took it to the kitchen. ‘What’s wrong?’ ‘Nothing,’ Peach said. ‘It’s just that I don’t want to be late.’

  Peach ran down the steps and through the rain, the water splashing dirt up her calves. In the market the peasants sat with plastic bags wrapped around their heads, sheltering from the rain. There was a queue of umbrellas at the end of the road waiting for taxis. Peach dashed past them all, all the way to the shop where a man sold steamed buns.

  The man was inside playing cards with his wife. Peach pointed at the bamboo steamer and shouted in at him ‘Have you got any more sweet buns?’ and he came rushing over, lifted the top off the pot and a cloud of steam plumed into the air. He swirled it away with his hand and then pointed. ‘I’ve got date buns and sugar buns.’

  ‘Can I have one of each?’ Peach said, then changed her mind. ‘No, actually can I have two date buns and one sugar?’

  The man used a translucent plastic bag like a glove to pick the buns out, then handed them to Peach. She gave him a one-yuan note and took a bite out of the top bun. It was filled with dark-brown date paste. Delicious!

  Peach ate it quickly then ran out into the rain and kept running all the way to Sun An’s video shop.

  ‘I’ve brought you a bun,’ Peach told Sun An as she sat on his bed. ‘Do you like sugar or date?’

  ‘I don’t mind,’ he said.

  ‘Well I like date,’ Peach said, ‘so you have that one.’

  They sat and munched on mouthfuls of bread. Sun An slurped his tea; chewed with his mouth open.

  ‘You look like a pig!’

  Sun An snorted and Peach giggled. He snorted again and she started laughing. He kept snorting as he shuffled towards her and tickled her ribs, still snorting.

  ‘Get off you pig!’ she screeched, but he tickled her all the more.

  ‘Oww! Stop it!’ she managed to squeal.

  He snorted again, close up to her face.

  ‘Stop it!’ she said.

  Snort.

  Peach wiped her hair back and took a deep breath. ‘Stop it,’ she said. ‘It’s not funny any more.’

  Sun An tried to kiss her but she cautioned him: ‘Not till you swallow!’

  He swallowed.

  ‘Is that everything?’

  Sun An opened his mouth.

  ‘Your teeth are all yellow, and they’re covered with food!’

  Sun An ran his tongue around his teeth, cleaning the bits of bun from around and between his teeth.

  ‘Let me see! OK,’ she said at last and then he kissed her.

  Peach spent the afternoon flicking through Sun An’s sister’s copy of Junior English for China while Sun An washed his clothes in a bucket of cold water. At last she got bored and slapped the pages shut.

  ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘No,’ Peach pouted. ‘I don’t think I am.’

  Sun An dried his hands and came and sat next to her on the bed. He pulled her across the bed, wrapped his arms around her as if he could protect her from sadness.

 
‘Is it your mother?’

  Peach nodded.

  ‘Isn’t your father going to come back?’

  Peach shook her head and snuggled into Sun An’s side. He stroked her hair, rocked her very slightly, as he thought about what to say. ‘Do you want him back?’ he asked at last.

  ‘I didn’t at first,’ Peach said. Her voice trailed off, uncertain. ‘It’s mother,’ she said after a long pause, ‘she’s so strange now he’s gone.’

  Sun An squeezed her again and kissed her cheek.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I don’t know. Actually, I don’t think I want to talk about it.’

  Sun An stroked her hair and she nestled into him, resting her head on his chest. She lay for a long time listening to his heart beat slowly and deliberately, beat after beat. Her mind wandered. She thought of the meal, and Da Shan on the hill with the kite. His voice had been so kind. His fingers had been as well. They were reassuring.

  Peach imagined what would happen if she married someone rich like Da Shan. They could both go abroad. In Hong Kong or Singapore. Then it wouldn’t matter that her parents were divorced. She could have lots of children and they’d be happy together. And rich. She wouldn’t have to lie on a bed in the back of a video shop, with a peasant.

  She looked up and saw that Sun An had dropped off. His mouth was half open, his eyelids were closed and very still. He looked silly. For a moment she felt a stab of guilt, then snuggled back into his chest.

  The rain had passed by the time Liu Bei got to her mother’s home. People didn’t go out much when it rained, there had been no point her staying at The Drink and Dream Teahouse all evening just to play cards. Little Dragon was jumping up and down in a puddle. He was trying to move the puddle to a new hole, but each time he jumped and splashed the water trickled back home. It was so frustrating he laughed, squealed when he saw his mother, kept jumping.

  Liu Bei picked him up in her arms and hugged him tight.

  ‘Who’s my handsome son?’

  ‘I am!’

  Yes you are, she thought and felt a coldness in her heart. Yes, you are.

  Liu Bei’s mother was inside cutting Aunty Tang’s toenails; using a set of paring scissors to trim the knobbly flesh and dig out an ingrown nail. Aunty Tang grunted with satisfied pain from time to time and Liu Bei curled her lip. She waited till her mother had finished and then cleared her throat.

  ‘There’s something I want to talk to you about Mother,’ she said.

  Her mother nodded.

  ‘Alone.’

  Aunty Tang pretended not to hear. She squeezed out a fart, slowly limped across the room to the back door, swung it open, stepped out over the threshold. The door swung shut behind her and a few moments later they heard the toilet door creak open and bang shut. Liu Bei’s mother cleared the nail and skin trimmings up in her palm, dropped them into the bin.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I’ve written a letter,’ Liu Bei said. ‘To a man in Shanghai.’

  Her mother heard a final tone in her daughter’s voice. ‘What man?’ she demanded, turning round.

  ‘He’s a retired army colonel,’ Liu Bei said. ‘He sounds kind and warm-hearted. I saw his advert in a magazine.’

  Liu Bei’s mother looked away, wiped an imaginary spot off the table.

  ‘He asked to see my photo. I sent it.’

  Liu Bei’s mother took a deep breath. ‘And?’

  Liu Bei tried to smile, but her eyes were too heavy to sparkle. She looked away. ‘That’s it.’

  ‘What about Little Dragon?’

  Liu Bei opened her mouth to say something, but couldn’t. She started to cry. Her mother stared, refused to be moved.

  ‘What about Little Dragon?’ she repeated. ‘He’s your son. How can you think of leaving him?’

  Liu Bei nodded: she’d tried to do her best but it was so difficult. ‘I know,’ she said at last. ‘I know he’s my son. Do you think I don’t know that?’

  Peach and Sun An sat on the sofa in the shop, their bodies curled up against each other like two silkworms. The rain had stopped but the roads were still wet, in the gutters rubbish floated slowly to the sea.

  ‘Why don’t we ever do anything?’ Peach huffed at last.

  ‘What do you want to do?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  Sun An frowned. It seemed a very difficult problem. ‘Why don’t we go out for a meal?’

  ‘OK! A really expensive meal.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Like‌–‌I don’t know!’

  Sun An frowned and thought for a moment. This hadn’t got any easier. ‘How about we go back to the night market,’ he said at last.

  Peach curled her lip.

  ‘The Hundred Old Names Dumpling Shop?’

  ‘I’m sick of dumplings.’

  Sun An sat down. ‘I don’t know then.’

  ‘How about,’ Peach began slowly, her eyes lighting up as she said it, ‘the Shaoyang Hot Pot City!’

  ‘You want to go there?’

  ‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘I do.’

  ‘OK, we’ll go.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Can you afford it?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Great!’ Peach jumped up and ran to the door. ‘Come on then!’

  Sun An stood up and thought. ‘Right,’ he said, ‘I’ll just get some money.’

  Sun An’s sister looked up from the television when he came into the back room. She watched him go across to the bed and fold the mattress back. He pulled the white plastic bag out and undid the knot at the top.

  ‘That’s supposed to be for Ma and Pa,’ she said severely.

  ‘I’m just borrowing some.’

  ‘Why?’

  Sun An counted out two hundred yuan, and slipped it in his pocket.

  ‘You can’t take that much!’ she said, her voice full of emotion. ‘What about my school fees!’

  He ignored her. ‘Get yourself some dinner,’ he said, giving her five yuan.

  She refused to take it. ‘You can’t take that money!’ she insisted and began to cry.

  ‘Watch the shop,’ he said, ‘I’m going out.’

  Sun An ordered a taxi and he and Peach sat in the back, holding hands. It was a ten-minute drive along the river and then over the Black Dragon Bridge into the centre of town. Strange faces filled the streets, they passed a row of welding shops, incandescent flashes dispelled the evening gloom, disappeared then flashed again. Peach shut her eyes but the flashes were still there, etched into her eyeball.

  The driver pulled up across the road from Shaoyang Hot Pot City, and Sun An looked up with alarm at the huge flashing neon sin which read: Shaoyang’s Premier Five Star Restaurant.

  At the door a girl in a blue silk cheongsam bowed to them as they walked past, and Peach giggled and said, ‘Isn’t it exciting,’ as a waitress in a red velvet dress, high heels and flesh-tone pop socks met them at the bottom of the stairs.

  ‘Would you like to eat in the dining room or in a private room?’ the waitress asked. She had a forced smile that held for a moment too long.

  ‘How much is the private room?’ Sun An asked.

  ‘Thirty yuan.’

  ‘We’ll eat in the lounge.’

  The Hot Pot Lounge was a large room. Round tables with white tablecloths were positioned around the room like frozen dancers. They were all empty. The waitress opened each menu and gave one to Sun An and one to Peach. Peach held her menu up high and imagined how jealous the waitress must feel to see her being taken out for dinner at the Hot Pot City.

  ‘Would you like to order?’ the waitress asked.

  Peach kept the menu up high. ‘What’s the most expensive meat?’

  ‘Dog meat,’ the waitress replied.

  ‘Let’s have dog meat,’ Peach said, taking Sun An’s hand. He nodded, and the waitress wrote it down.

  ‘Dog Meat Hot Pot. Any cold dishes?’

  Peach read off a couple of
the most expensive ingredients and the waitress read them back: ‘Roast Cow Liver, Five Spice Roast Meat, Chicken Stomach with Sichuan Pepper Dressing.’

  She sat excitedly watching as the waitress put a bowl of melon seeds and a packet of paper napkins on the table in front of them, poured them both tea.

  Peach pulled a paper towel from the packet and put it to her nose and sniffed.

  ‘Mmm!’ she said, ‘they smell lovely.’

  ‘I never knew they did smelly napkins,’ Sun An said.

  ‘You’re so silly!’ Peach giggled.

  The waitress asked them what they wanted to drink and Peach said beer.

  ‘American or Chinese?’

  ‘American!’

  ‘One bottle or two?’

  ‘Two!’

  The beer came and they drank and toasted each other: ‘Future Wealth and Prosperity‌–‌gan bei!’ Peach finished hers in four long gulps, burped and put her hand to her mouth in surprise. ‘Woops!’

  Sun An finished his and his eyes watered with surprise. ‘Too cold!’ he said. Peach felt suddenly sad and reached across the table and took his hand.

  ‘Do you love me?’ she asked.

  ‘I love you,’ Sun An said, wiping his eyes. He watched her. She looked so pretty with her hair tucked back behind one ear. Her pink cheeks making the rest of her skin look paler, her black eyes darker. ‘Do you love me?’

  Peach stopped. She hadn’t really thought about it. ‘I think so,’ she said.

  When they’d finished the bill came to a hundred and ninety yuan. Sun An’s face went white. ‘How come it’s so much?’ he asked the waitress, who put the menu on the table in front of them and pointed to everything they’d ordered.

  ‘Seventy-five for the hot pot,’ she said, ‘fifteen each for the starters. Fifteen for the beer. Each. The paper napkins are twenty-five.’

  ‘These?’ Peach asked in disgust, holding up her crumpled napkin.

  The waitress nodded.

  ‘That’s ridiculous!’

  Sun An’s face was red as he put both hundred yuan notes onto the table. Peach tried to get them back but the waitress snatched them up and threw down a single ten-yuan note in return.

  ‘She’s robbed us!’ Peach said, talking louder than she meant to. She wobbled and put both hands down flat on the table top to steady herself. ‘I think I’m a bit drunk,’ she said, and Sun An helped her up. He was drunk as well, but the cost of the meal had just sobered him up. He’d have nothing for his parents this month. He’d have to go without meat or dofu to try and save money.