Chapter 19: Reunion
The day after the visit from the Fourth Aunt in abbey school, Little Jade rose early and put on a padded jacket and pants. The time had come for her to go and to begin the journey to her mother. She tied a kerchief to cover her hair. She picked up her small bundle of clothes and the precious letters from her father. She informed the nuns that she wished to go home on her own. A young nun gave her a brief embrace and wished her well.
Little Jade stepped away from the front gate of the school. She knew that, with each step, she was walking away from her father, possibly forever. She did not look back. Feeling suddenly adventurous, she walked toward a busy spot of the town and inquired about hiring a wagon to take her to Peking. She decided to share a wagon with a group of travelers.
Little Jade was short for her age and very skinny. With her padded cotton jacket and trousers, and her braids hidden, she tried to pass for a boy. Her clothes were not refined, but anyone could tell that she was not a peasant because of her cultured accent and the paleness and smoothness of her skin.
They stayed overnight at a roadside inn. The four men settled down with their bundles in a communal room. It was then that Little Jade told the innkeeper that she was a girl and therefore could not sleep in the same room with the men. The innkeeper frowned and called for his daughter. The travelers did not pay attention. They were tired from traveling all day on the bumpy road and were looking forward to the luxury of being able to stretch out on a bedroll. The innkeeper let Little Jade share a room with his daughter. Little Jade leaned against the windowed wall that looked out to the stable. She stayed awake most of the night and was thrilled by the prospect of meeting her mother and worried that the wagon driver might leave her behind.
The next day, at the outskirts of Peking, the wagon driver discharged the passengers and collected the payments. Little Jade gave the driver a few bills and got some coins back. She hired a pedicab and showed him the address on the neatly folded paper. The pedicab brought her to the front door of an old-style house at the end of a narrow street. Little Jade paid the driver with all the coins in her pocket. She took a deep breath, smoothed her hair and her jacket with her hands. She knocked on the wooden door of peeling red paint--one of many identical doors that lined the street. The number written on the door matched the number on the slip of paper. It was dinnertime, and she hoped that someone was home. She was tired from her two days of journeying. She had been sustained by a shining warm feeling of hope.
The door was opened by a sickly-looking middle-aged man wearing pajamas. His face was the color of yellow wax. Little Jade knew right away that he was an opium addict. She picked up the scent of the opium as soon as the door opened. She wished she hadn’t made the trip. But now it was too late.
“I am the daughter of Chang Wei Jen,” Little Jade told the man. “She sent for me.” She uttered the words without thinking. The name of her mother rang in her ears, familiar and foreign at once. She must have sounded convincing because the sickly looking man gestured to let her in and quickly closed the door.
“Wei Jen’s daughter is here,” he announced as he led her into the hallway.
Little Jade felt faint when she heard the man referred her as her mother’s daughter. She was weak from hunger and followed the sickly man into the dining room where a table full of people looked up from their bowls. Little Jade scanned the faces one by one, but she did not see the Fourth Aunt. There were men, women, and children. The sickly man returned to an empty chair, sat down and started eating. Little Jade felt like a stray. An old man with a long white goatee put down his chopsticks and frowned. He called to the maid, “Amah, take her to the back and clean her up. Feed her something from the kitchen.”
Little Jade followed the maid into the back room. She sat by the kitchen stove and dug into a large bowl of rice topped with a soy chicken leg and some stir- fried vegetables. The maid knew she was the daughter of Wei Jen—the general’s wife who paid for the house, the food and the clothes on the backs of everyone living in it.
That night, Little Jade wore clothes borrowed from a cousin. Her name was Lan and she was three years younger. They shared the same bed in a small room. Little Jade wondered when she would see her mother. Too tired to think about it for long, she fell into a deep sleep.
The next day a tailor arrived with Fourth Aunt. Little Jade was happy to see a familiar face. The tailor was a skinny man with a hunched back. He looped a soft measure tape around Little Jade and scribbled numbers into a worn notebook held together by a rubber band. Fourth Aunt explained that she ran errands for Wei Jen. As soon as the new clothes were ready, Little Jade would meet her mother.
It is almost like getting ready to meet the emperor in the old days, Little Jade thought. Her head was checked for lice. A doctor came to give her a thorough check-up, listening to her heart and asking her to breathe deeply. A cobbler came by with five pairs of shoes for her to try on. Fourth Aunt decided on two pairs—a pair for everyday use and a pair of patent leather Mary Jane’s for special occasions. Little Jade could not imagine what kind of special occasion would warrant such beautiful shoes.
***
Three families and a few stragglers lived in the compound. They were nice to Little Jade, but no one tried to get to know her. She was an oddity from the countryside. Little Jade was most comfortable around the Fourth Aunt who wasn’t around much. Lan was friendly enough though she eyed Little Jade suspiciously. People whispered things about the newly arrived child.
On the fifth day, the Fourth Aunt arrived, excited. She carried a new leather suitcase and put it on the bed Little Jade shared with Lan, who lingered in the room wanting to see its contents. Fourth Aunt opened the suitcase triumphantly and pulled out one piece of clothing after another. The suitcase was filled with everything from fine cotton knit underwear to western-style coats with Peter Pan collars and turned up cuffs in a fine soft wool fabric of deep blue. Little Jade had never seen such a coat for a child. Everything fitted her perfectly.
Fourth Aunt pulled out a few choice pieces. There was a long-sleeve cotton shirt with ruffled collars and a pair of pants made of darkly shining blue Shantung silk. She also pulled out a sweater vest of mixed red, pink, royal blue and sky blue yarns. “Your mother knitted this vest for you, Little Jade, Fourth Aunt said as she helped Little Jade into the vest, “She didn’t have enough time to knit the sleeves.” The vest hugged her gently. “Your mother used to knit sweaters for you when you were a baby. She knitted sweaters in graduating sizes. It was when she was in the university and you were a baby at the old house with your grandmother.”
Little Jade sat at the edge of the bed, her arms crossed over her chest with her fingers feeling the softness of the wool. She was anxious at the prospect of meeting her mother. She couldn’t understand why she had to wait for days. She secretly feared that her mother had changed her mind about wanting her back. She pictured what it would be like to meet her mother. She could see herself racing into her mother’s waiting arms. Her mother would embrace her and tell her how much she missed her.
***
It was a cold autumn day. The wind from Siberia swept over the humble rooftops of the northern city. The entire city hunkered down under the oppressive sky. People walked quickly with their heads down, their mouths covered by surgical masks or scarves. Fourth Aunt hired a pedicab and told the driver to take them to the athletic stadium on the outskirts of the city. Little Jade peeked out from behind the drapes of the pedicab. She could hardly contain herself. She was shaking from excitement and from the cold. Her eyes searched the road ahead. She felt tiny dots of sand dust bounce off her cheeks.
At last, the pedicab slowed down and passed through an opening in a tall metal fence. The Fourth Aunt directed the driver inside the fence and told him to wait there. She got off the pedicab and extended her hands to Little Jade. Little Jade climbed out of the pedicab and looked up at the fortress-like wall of the stadium. The concrete wall stood impossibly tall in front of he
r. She could see the cracks in the wall and the green moss along the base of it. Fourth Aunt’s gloved hand held onto Little Jade’s. She searched the number on top of the gate: “Number nine,” she mumbled to herself.
They walked together through the wooden door with peeling blue paint into a tunnel. Coming out the other side, Little Jade’s eyes adjusted to the gray glare of the low clouds as she looked around the empty stadium. A scattering of crows flew across the sky and disappeared beyond the edge of the stadium wall. Fourth Aunt motioned Little Jade to sit on the bench next to the aisle.
They waited in silence. They wind was getting stronger and Little Jade was visibly shivering. Her hands were deep in her coat pockets, her fingers digging into her palms.
Suddenly, Fourth Aunt stood up and pulled Little Jade up next to her. Little Jade saw a woman emerge from the same tunnel and walk toward them. Little Jade knew at once that it was her mother. The woman stopped about three steps away. She was wearing a long wool coat trimmed with black mink at the collar and hem and a pair of black leather riding boots. Her hands disappeared into a matching black mink hand muff. The fur-lined collar was pulled up and framed her face. She wore no rouge or powder. Her short straight hair was parted on the side and clipped back with a simple silver ornament. Her eyes were steady and unblinking. Her brows wore a trace of a frown. Her lips pressed tightly. She betrayed no visible emotion. Little Jade looked at her- studying the face she had not remembered. Now, she was sure that she had seen her before, but could not place her. Somewhere between the eyes and definitely the lips, there was a distinct resemblance. Now she realized, with a start, that she had seen traces of her mother in her own reflection. Wei Jen looked at Little Jade. Then she said to no one in particular, “Oh, so this is she.” She sounded almost disappointed. Little Jade waited for her mother to embrace her, but she did not.
“She is short for her age,” the Fourth Aunt said apologetically, “and a little skinny.”
“Nevertheless…” Wei Jen studied Little Jade for what felt to the girl to be an unbearably long time. Finally, she addressed her daughter. “It is your decision now,” she told her, “Do you regret coming?”
Little Jade shook her head. She couldn’t speak. She openly stared at the woman in front of her. Tears were pouring down her face. She tried to wipe her eyes with the sleeve of her beautiful coat.
“Have you decided to stay with me? If you stay, you can never return to your father again. Is this understood?” The woman looked intently into Little Jade’s eyes.
Little Jade nodded emphatically. She was trying very hard not to cry out loud. She wanted badly to give her mother a good impression. She wanted desperately to say something, something clever maybe. But it was impossible. She was silently crying with her mouth open, sucking in frigid air. She wanted so much to hug her mother. But the elegant woman’s restrained manner held her back. Little Jade sensed an invisible chasm between herself and the woman standing in front of her who was coolly planning the logistics of adding another girl to her complex household.
“From now on, you will take my surname Chang. Do you understand?” Little Jade kept on nodding. She couldn’t take her eyes off her mother.
“This is important. You will call me Gugu (Auntie) from now on.” Little Jade nodded again. The elegant woman was leaning over to talk to her now. Little Jade could almost touch her, but didn’t dare.
“Your given name will be ‘Lee’—the ‘Lee’ that means independent, not the one that means beauty. You must be independent now. You will have to stand on your own. Do you understand?” Little Jade nodded and watched her mother straighten up to speak to Fourth Aunt.
“I hope she hasn’t been too much trouble.”
“No, no trouble at all. She is quiet mostly,” Fourth Aunt replied eagerly.
Little Jade wiped her eyes with the backs of her hands, trying hard not to sob too loudly. She would be a good child. She would stay quiet, out of the way, and be no trouble at all.
The elegant woman nodded at Fourth Aunt and took another look at Little Jade. “I have to go now.” She turned and walked away, down the aisle, and into the tunnel to exit the stadium.
After her mother disappeared from her sight, Little Jade was able to cry out loud. She cried and cried as Fourth Aunt pulled her along toward the exit. The wind was picking up, getting stronger, whistling through the empty benches of the stadium and whipping at Little Jade’s tear-stained face. She had never felt so cold or so small in her life.
Chapter 20: Lee and Jen, Niece and Gugu (Aunt)
Little Jade was still sobbing as she was led away from the stadium and back to the waiting pedicab. Fourth Aunt was quiet as she kept one arm around the girl’s shoulder. She patted the Little Jade’s shoulder, looking at her with a frowning, worried face. Little Jade slumped into her aunt’s arm. She was comforted by the warmth of Fourth Aunt’s slender body wrapped in a soft wool coat. Fourth Aunt’s hair smelled of citrus scented shampoo. Little Jade strained to remember the last time someone had embraced her. It was when her father had rescued her from the ghost village so long ago. She had sat on his lap in that cold dark room lit by a dying candle. She closed her eyes and tried to recall the touches of her father, but she could remember nothing. Her heart was like a dying candle, a tiny flicker of flame cupped by both hands, the stub of wick curled up and drowning in its own tears. The love she had had for her father was worn down by the endless waiting, day after day, night after night, hour after hour. The cruelty of hope raised then crumbled into grains of sand that slipped between her fingers and were lost forever. Maybe her father was capable of just the one heroic act of saving her. Perhaps there would be no follow up. She would probably never see him again.
Little Jade trembled as she thought of her mother’s pale, frowning face framed by lush black mink collars. She thought of her mother’s words which were so carefully measured and without warmth as if she was negotiating a contract. Her mother had looked disappointed when she saw her and did not touch her once.
Little Jade knew that she had to stop crying. No one likes a crying child. A crying girl draws too much attention to herself, unwanted attention. What would strangers think or say? A girl kidnapped? The pedicab turned a corner. They were approaching the Chang house. She could not be seen sobbing by the people in that house. Little Jade quieted down and wiped her face dry. What was the use of crying? She had to accept that everything had changed. Her grandmother was dead and buried. Her step-grandfather was lost in the ghost village which had now turned to dust. The bamboo forest was lost to her. Little Jade was no longer six years old. She was no longer a child. She was twelve, and there was no one to blame. She felt very tired. In silence, she entered the Chang house where she would be known as Chang Lee. She did not speak a word for the rest of the day.
***
Lee knew that everyone in the house talked about her because they stopped talking as soon as she entered a room. The patriarch of the house, the old man with the long white goatee, Lee’s maternal grandfather, always frowned when he saw her as if she gave him a headache. The two uncles were opium smokers, skinny sickly men who walked around in pajamas all day long dragging their slippers against the wooden floor. The familiar sweet smell of opium permeated the house. The house, its inhabitants and the drifting smoke made her perpetually listless and drowsy. She had not come all this way for this. If her life was to be subsumed by opium and hopelessness, she might as well have stayed with her father. Lee wished she could be nearer to her mother, even if she had to accept the pretense that she was merely her niece. After living at the Chang house for one month, Chang Lee told Fourth Aunt that she wanted to move to her mother’s house. No matter what her mother felt about her, nothing could change the fact that they were mother and daughter. If only they could get to know each other better, all they needed were chances to be near to one another. Living under the same roof there were bound to be more opportunities. She longed to feel loved again. She had not felt loved since her grandmother d
ied.
***
Lee gradually became accustomed to her new name. She wrote the new name down on a piece of paper next to her old name: Chang Lee and Su Ming-Yu (Bright Jade). Lee liked that she was sharing her mother’s last name. The character Chang consists of two words, the word “bow” for a bow and arrow, and the word for “long” as in distance or size. “Long-bow Chang,” someone would say, identifying oneself and at the same time distinguishing this “Chang” from other words that were pronounced the same way. Her new given name, “Lee”, was a lonely word. The character is a solitary, standing figure, tall and erect, ready to face the world. Now that her name was changed from Bright Jade to Lee, she knew that she was no longer a treasure. She did not mind. In this chaotic time of running from one disaster after another, it was useless to be a piece of jade, no matter how precious, for gold and jade could not always be exchanged for rice and bread. Better to be someone who could stand alone with a long bow squinting hard into a distance to shoot for a future. Any future.
Chapter 21: General Tung
In the study of General Tung’s estate, Jen sat in a soft cushioned chair that was covered in heavy burgundy brocade and situated beside an open window. Her legs rested on the matching ottoman. A glass of chrysanthemum tea was steaming on the desk beside her. One side of the desk was piled high with opened letters, telegrams and documents with the red seal of “top secret” stamped on them. There was a stand from which hung calligraphy brushes in different sizes. Jen had not practiced for a long time. She glanced at the faces of her royal blue satin slippers with their embroideries of yellow chrysanthemum flowers. The thin petals curved gracefully inward overlapping each other like golden scales on ancient armor; deep green leaves with scalloped edges balanced the oversized flowers. Autumn was her favorite season. In autumn, the blooms of chrysanthemum in elegant white, yellow and deep purple contrasted against the background of bamboo stalks outside her window. Of the four gentlemen plants–bamboo, chrysanthemum, orchid and plum blossoms, Jen preferred bamboo and chrysanthemums. She liked the latter flower because it bloomed in the chill of autumn when other flowers had long gone limp and soggy and brown. She favored bamboo because it is both strong and flexible which was the two qualities she most admired. Jen picked up her knitting needles and began to make an infant size cardigan, pulling yarn from a large ball of multicolored yarn resting in a willow basket beside her chair.
Daughter of the Bamboo Forest Page 18
