by Amy Kwei
In an instant, the burning air inside the bamboo erupted. Pieces of flying cane burst into small tongues of fire, trailing dense sooty smoke. Popping explosions mocked the celebration of fireworks, which had so often heralded the festive events of her life. The lyricism of home and hearth turned to ashes right before her eyes. Purple Jade turned from the heinous sight and asked, with lead in her heart, to be taken to Shanghai.
“Huang tai-tai, You must change into a fisherman’s suit if you wish to pass into Shanghai Harbor.” The fisherman’s wife handed over her best suit.
Without protest, Purple Jade exchanged her brocade robe for the rough cloth suit of a fisherwoman. Charcoal soot was smeared over her face to hide her smooth pampered skin. When the Japanese patrol boats came by, the fisherman placed her in the lee of the boat, cleaning fish. With her small feet tucked underneath her and her delicate hands covered by the blood and entrails of fish, she became just another fisherwoman. Peony slept with the fishermen’s children. Her pale, sick face drove away all who came to inspect.
When the boat arrived at the English section of Shanghai, Purple Jade sent a message to Petain Road. The East Asian Uniform Company hired a small sampan and transferred the lady and her maid to the factory. There, they changed into ordinary street clothes and hired a pedicab to take them to the safety of the French section. Purple Jade noticed that the Japanese had cleared away the refugees.
Day and night, Purple Jade devoted herself to nursing Peony. She studied her collection of Chinese medical books, consulted Chinese doctors, and sent the chauffeur to all corners of Shanghai to purchase the necessary ingredients. These included loquat syrup, ginko nuts, ginseng, lotus root mixed with milk and steamed, jujube and goji berries, apricot seed, oxlip and raspberries fried in wine, scallions, Menthol, dried buds of the white lotus, dog rose, knot grass steamed and sun dried, peach pits and honey. Purple Jade brewed the medicine herself and fed it to Peony, while the rest of the family tiptoed around them in hushed concern. Comely Brook noticed Purple Jade’s lapse into moments of unnatural stillness. She offered tea, brought her embroidery, or asked for instructions on household matters. She watched her mistress closely, but did not mention anything to alarm the others.
In her quiet moments, Purple Jade recited her Tu Fu poems to seek serenity:
Whirling petals diminish the spring.
Swirling like colored dot in the wind, they sadden me.
I Watch the last flowers fall before my eyes.
Do not mind if too much hurtful wine passes my lips.
Two kingfisher birds nest happily in a river pavilion,
Crumbling stone unicorns guard the tomb of nobleman.
It is a law of nature to make life a happy game.
What’s the use of vanity and fame?
When Peony recovered, she became restless. She had neither the heart nor the concentration to do the reading and writing assignments Purple Jade gave her. During her occasional trips to the factory, Peony learned of the peasant resistance movements in northern interior China. She made it known that she wished to join them. Purple Jade objected. In the end, Purple Jade and Comely Brook prepared a jacket for Peony, with gold coins and jade pieces sewn inside.
As the household stirred to life one morning, they found Peony was gone. She had left without a word, so their ignorance could shield them from blame. Suddenly, Purple Jade felt overwhelmed by the strain of her traumatic experience. While Peony was there, she had resumed her old role as the family doctor. She had a purpose and an important task. She was able to maintain her composure. Now inconsolable, she took to her bed.
Purple Jade slipped into delirium, reliving the horrors of her time in Hangzhou. In her deranged shouts and mumblings the family came to experience vividly the atrocities at home. The girls tiptoed around the house. They whispered to each other and tried to understand what they could not. Their father commanded them to study hard, and they buried their anxiety in schoolwork. Righteous Virtue sought help from the doctors. The American doctor prescribed sedatives, which enveloped Purple Jade in a drowsy stupor. The Chinese Dr. Tsui approved the same medicines that Peony had taken. Comely Brook resumed all personal care of her former mistress. She concentrated on preparing the choicest herbs — those she knew Purple Jade would use. In time, the violent outbursts subsided. It was a full month before the household returned to normal.
When Righteous Virtue realized his wife’s depression had been tempered by caring for Peony, he wisely persuaded Dr. Tsui to accept Purple Jade as an intern in his practice of Chinese medicine and acupuncture.
For centuries, the practice of healing in China had been passed along family lines, its secrets guarded like family fortunes. It was unheard of that a woman should be admitted into this elite society. But Dr. Tsui had recently lost his wife and a young son during the Japanese bombing. He had been impressed with Purple Jade’s thorough self-instruction in herbal medicine. In his bereavement and confusion, he consented.
Every morning Purple Jade left by rickshaw for his clinic, where the doctor soon found her in full command of his Chinese pharmaceuticals. The many drawers and bamboo cylinders of powdered oyster shell, cuttlefish-bone, ginseng, shark fins, turmeric, orange peel, camphor, cicadas, dried sea horses, magnolia flowers, licorice roots, deer antlers, ashes, sulfur, saltpeter, and varieties of ferns and mushrooms were all thoroughly catalogued, numbered, and arranged in impeccable order. Purple Jade worked quietly, observing with infinitesimal care the taking of pulse, the measurement and positioning of the acupuncture points for various ailments. No longer useless, and grateful to be admitted into such sacrosanct knowledge, her mind became focused and disciplined.
Iris returned one day under full Japanese escort. It appeared she had done a commendable job helping Miss Tyler run the mission. She had helped nurse the wounded and treat the enemy soldiers who had been poisoned. The Japanese were grateful, but Purple Jade eyed her presence with unease. Still, Iris’s work at the uniform factory ensured safety for them all.
Righteous Virtue did not wish to call attention to himself. He sold his car and rode a bicycle to work. He came home exhausted every evening.
Two East Ocean soldiers stood guard at the bridge where Righteous Virtue had to cross each day to reach his factory. Every Chinese was required to bow to the soldiers as he passed their posts. The humiliation was intolerable.
Righteous Virtue secretly placed part of the factory in full production to make uniforms for the Nationalists and shipped them down to Hong Kong. Whenever possible, he included guns and ammunition for transport to Chungking. New to the ways of the town, the Japanese still found waterfront activities confusing. Righteous Virtue’s subterfuge brought back the excitement of his youth. At times, he felt both strangely animated and depleted by his actions.
AFTER THREE MONTHS of intense fighting, the Japanese had taken full control of Shanghai by early December. General Chin departed. Bright Crystal languished in uncertain malaise. The Chinese underworld still held power in all corners of the city, and Bright Crystal knew General Chin had close connections to these gangs. She had heard nothing from Glorious Dragon, nor did she know how to reach him.
Several times she picked up the telephone to call Purple Jade, but every time she disconnected before speaking. She was certain Purple Jade would overlook her errant reputation. She knew instinctively that they shared their love for “her Dragon.” She yearned for a mother’s shoulder to cry on, but Iris had told her Purple Jade’s horrendous experience in Hangzhou. How could she alleviate such a loss? It would be unthinkable to burden her further with concerns for Glorious Dragon. She paced her rooms with restless hunger. Yet, when she sat down to eat, she had no appetite. Listless and vapid, she shunned the mirror, became careless of her daily toilette. Alarmed at her appearance, her father created masterpieces in his kitchen to restore her spirits.
One summer day in 1938, a dust-covered vagabond knocked on the back door of Bright Crystal’s house. The stranger had long hair and a rag
ged black beard that gave him a ghoulish appearance. His flea-ridden rags hung in shreds around him; he stank of sweat, dirt, and rancid food. When Little Lotus, the serving girl, opened the back door, she slammed it shut and shrieked in alarm. The vagrant shrugged and squatted beside the door to wait.
By mid-morning, Bright Crystal’s father opened the back door to set on his day’s marketing. The beggar stood, towering over the rotund chef. Falling to his knees, the beggar called, “Ba-ba!” — the name Bright Crystal had always called her father.
With a loud gasp, the father recognized Glorious Dragon. Without another word, he pushed him into the kitchen. Once inside, he berated the serving girls and shouted for hot water, food, and scissors.
Informed of her Dragon’s return, Bright Crystal screamed with relief and delight. She wept and laughed, babbling with questions and exclamations about his condition as she held him close. She felt his protruding ribs; she kissed his cheekbones and hollowed eyes. His condition sent her trembling — their precarious existence made real to her. Glorious Dragon clasped her to him, murmuring, “There, there, I’m home.”
Bright Crystal clung to him and would not let go.
Finally calmed, she took over his “restoration.” She scrubbed and trimmed him in a hot tub. Between sips of soybean milk, Glorious Dragon allowed himself to be lathered, shaved, and fondled as Bright Crystal began to massage him gently with her fingers. Smelling of soap and disinfectant, he soaked in the bath, drinking wine. Bright Crystal offered him a bowl of plain, soupy, soft rice.
“First, you must have something easy to digest,” she said, wiping his mouth as she fed him. “Look at you,” she teased. “Your shoulder blades look like a coat hanger!”
“You can’t imagine what I’ve been eating!” Glorious Dragon obligingly opened his mouth and swallowed everything. “A meal of grubs and grass was a treat!”
“Oh my poor Dragon.” Bright Crystal put down the bowl to wipe her tears. Glorious Dragon pulled her into the water. Splashing and squealing with urgency, he helped her remove her clothes.
As they toweled each other dry, slowly examining each other’s bodies, they tumbled to the floor. Sitting back on his heels, Glorious Dragon held her at arm’s length. “Oh my Crystal, I can’t believe how beautiful you are!” Her soft, creamy body was all he could see. He lifted her thigh, and kissed her. Reaching the clouds and rain, her heart raced and she wanted to shout.
“You have penetrated my whole being,” Bright Crystal whispered. “Don’t ever leave me again!”
They spent long hours talking of their experiences during the past frightful months. Bright Crystal wept to hear the suffering Glorious Dragon shared with the dispossessed. They could not blame Japan alone for all China’s problems. The warring factions within China encouraged foreign depredation. Japan happened to be the closest and hungriest predator. Corruption was rampant within the Chinese government. Its scorched-earth response to the Japanese advance also caused widespread suffering.
“The Chinese government opened the Yellow River dikes, causing the flood,” Glorious Dragon said with disgust. “Then they blamed the act on the Japanese.”
“Of course it’s the Chinese government,” Bright Crystal responded with an emphatic jab of her nail file. “The Japanese were already marching into the interior. Why would they send their advancing army into disarray?” She worked on her long-neglected nails. “Where were you during the flood, my Dragon?”
Glorious Dragon ate from a breakfast tray in Bright Crystal’s bed. He wolfed down a pork bun, and proceeded to slurp loudly on soft bean-curd soup, seasoned with chopped, spicy mustard roots, ground dried shrimps and seaweed.
“I went to Hangzhou after I left Shanghai. Knowing General Chin’s long arm of influence, I did not stay long. Lao Wang still had a close grip on our household affairs. He supplied me with money for my escape.”
Crystal perfumed herself and applied make-up.
“When the dikes broke and the flood came, I had already moved on toward my mother’s village, hoping to find something about her origin. Oh my Crystal.” He stopped eating. “You can’t imagine the misery! Thousands died. Many more thousands were reduced to gnawing on tree bark. Dysentery and cholera set in . . . oh, Crystal, you’ve never seen such hollow-eyed children, skeletal, emaciated men and women. The bastards who committed such deeds are the true traitors, whatever they call themselves!”
“So, you gave away your money and became one of them?”
“There was no food to buy! Within a week, I exchanged everything I owned. When I learned that the Japanese had occupied Shanghai, I walked all the way back.” He saw Crystal’s tear-stained eyes and beckoned her to join him. Reclining in shimmering silk sheets, they leisurely traced their fingertips over each other’s arms, legs, lips and nipples.
Bright Crystal whispered into Glorious Dragon’s ear: “I think Iris has a Japanese boyfriend. They met in Hangzhou, when Iris helped to nurse the wounded in Miss Tyler’s mission. There were so many poisoning cases among the soldiers that the Kempetai, the Japanese secret police, came. Iris’s boyfriend is a lieutenant, but strangely, he was born in the United States. He sounds terribly interesting. We must invite them here, and place ourselves under Kempetai protection, so we’ll never need to fear General Chin’s underworld connections.”
The mischievous glint returned to Glorious Dragon’s eyes. “Yes, yes, now you’ll be freely, openly mine!”
After several weeks, Iris brought Lieutenant Akiro Kamasaki to Avenue Joffre. Lieutenant Kamasaki, born in California, was most taken with the English-speaking Iris. To him, she was a radiant angel of mercy, nursing wounded Japanese soldiers as well as the Chinese.
Both Glorious Dragon and Bright Crystal had preconceived notions of what a Japanese looked like. They had expected a short, bow-legged man, with sly slits of eyes and an irascible temper that expressed itself in guttural grunts. It was therefore a pleasant surprise to meet Lt. Kamasaki, dressed in a gray three-piece suit. He was even taller than Glorious Dragon. His large, somewhat bulging eyes lent him the expression of a curious imp; his slightly protruding mouth was overshadowed by a handlebar moustache. When he changed into tennis shorts, he was noticeably more hairy than most Chinese. He was an excellent tennis player. Glorious Dragon noticed his forceful serves.
The game over, they lounged on the rattan couches in the sunroom and enjoyed a drink.
“You’re tall like an American,” Glorious Dragon said.
“My parents like to attribute my height and weight to the American milk and meat I was raised on. I think it is simply a case of the recessive gene, plus my muscle-building exercises,” Lt. Kamasaki replied.
“Perhaps your parents were correct. You said you stopped growing after you returned to Japan,” added Iris. Her thin cherry lips quivered as she glanced toward her lover.
“Oh yes, but by then I was already eighteen-years-old.” Kamasaki smiled. “I had stopped growing at sixteen.” He admired Iris’s quiet reserve and quick intelligence. He was also touched by the open gratitude she felt for her former masters.
“So, if you were born in America,” Glorious Dragon mused, “how did you get into the Japanese military?”
“It was not easy being Oriental in the United States. The Americans can’t tell one Asian from another.” He looked fondly into Iris’s glowing face. How calm and liquid were her eyes. “I was often called a ‘Chink.’” He continued, “a ’yellow bastard,’ a ‘sly-eyed scum’! We could live with the name-calling, but our neighbors did not want us around. Japanese immigrants were not allowed to own land, but since I was born in America, my family bought some land in my name. We worked hard and our farm prospered. Our neighbors did not do as well. First, our dog was poisoned; then our barn caught fire. One night, a tractor mysteriously crushed some of our crops. So it went, one disaster after another. We reported these incidents to the police, but they took no action. They said they could find no evidence of mischief. My parents began to fear for our live
s. We sold the farm for a song and returned to Japan ten years ago.” The lieutenant shrugged.
“We in China thought the Americans were helping Japan.” Glorious Dragon wrinkled his brow. “They sell you all the scrap metal and gasoline you need.”
“It is our money they respect!”
“Trade benefits both parties,” Crystal said.
“Yes, the Westerners want to trade.” Lt. Kamasaki gave a bitter short laugh. “I still have some very good American friends on a personal level, but Europe and America are not ready for racial equality.”
Kamasaki stood and started to pace. “Do you know that during the Paris Peace Conference in 1918, Japan asked for ‘acceptance of the principle of the equality of nations and the just treatment of their nationals?’” His voice rose in anger. “This basic doctrine of human decency was rejected by our idealistic President Wilson — out of consideration for the feelings of our southern senators.” He looked on the puzzled faces of his Chinese friends and corrected himself. “Excuse me, I should say ‘their President, and their southern senators.’ We’re conversing so fluently in English, I thought I was back with my American-Chinese friends.”
“So you’re not totally used to being a Japanese,” Glorious Dragon spoke gruffly to conceal his pity for the young man’s confused identity. Kamasaki looked no older than twenty-six.
“I guess not.” Lt. Kamasaki sighed. “None of my compatriots know this, of course. My mind and heart are in America, which has rejected me. Japan is supposed to be a Confucian state, like China, but they have renounced the rule of ‘virtue’ and become seduced by the might of the sword.”
As they looked at him with undisguised sympathy, he stopped abruptly and shouted: “I said ‘they’ didn’t I? Well, I’ve been drafted into the army and I’m now a part of it all.”
“No Akiro,” Iris spoke in a hushed voice, “you’ve helped so many Chinese. You said you had grown up with many Chinese-Americans!”
