by Mingmei Yip
Fang Rong claimed that she worked as a housekeeper for a rich family. The master, a merchant of foreign trade, was looking for a young girl with a quick mind and swift hands to help in the household. The matter was decided without hesitation. Mother, completely forgetting her vow never to be involved in rich men's business, was relieved that I'd have a roof over my head. So, with her departure for Peking looming, she agreed to let Fang Rong take me away.
Both Mother and Fang Rong looked happy chatting under the sparkling sun. Toward the end of their conversation, after Fang Rong had given Mother the address of the "rich businessman," she shoved me into a waiting rickshaw. "Quick! Don't make the master wait! "
When the vehicle was about to take off, Mother put her face close to me and whispered, "From now on, listen to Aunty Fang and your new master and behave. Will you promise me that?"
I nodded, noticing the tears welling in her eyes. She gently laid the cloth sack containing my meager possessions (a small amount of cash and a few rice balls sprinkled with bits of salted fish) on my lap, then put her hand on my head. "Xiang Xiang, I'll be leaving in a month. If I can, I'll visit you. But if I don't, I'll write as soon as I've arrived in Peking." She paused, a faint smile breaking on her withered face. "You're lucky. . . "
I touched her hand. "Ma ...
Just as I was struggling to say something, Fang Rong's voice jolted us apart. "All right, let's go, better not be late." With that, the rickshaw puller lifted the poles and we started to move.
I turned back and waved to Mother until she became a small dot and finally vanished like the last morning dew.
Fang Rong rode beside me in silence. Houses floated by as the rickshaw puller grunted along. After twists and turns through endless avenues and back alleys, the rickshaw entered a tree-lined boulevard.
Fang Rong turned to me and smiled. "Xiang Xiang, we'll soon be there."
Though the air was nippy, the coolie was sweating profusely. We bumped along a crowded street past a tailor, an embroidery shop, a hair salon, and a shoe store before the coolie finally grunted to a stop.
Fang Rong paid and we got out in front of the most beautiful mansion I'd ever seen. With walls painted a pale pink, the building rose tall and imposing, with a tightly closed red iron gate fiercely guarded by two stone lions. At the entrance, a solitary red lantern swayed gently in the breeze. An ornate wooden sign above the lintel glinted in the afternoon sun. I shaded my eyes and saw a shiny signboard, black with three large gold characters: PEACH BLOSSOM PAVILION. On either side, vertical boards flanking the gate read:
Guests flocking to the pavilion like birds, Beauties blooming in the garden like flowers.
"Aunty Fang," I pointed to the sign, "what is this Peach-"
"Come on," Fang Rong cast me an annoyed look, "don't let your father wait," and pulled me along.
My father? Didn't she know that he was already dead? Just as I was wondering what this was all about, the gate creaked open, revealing a man of about forty; underneath shiny hair parted in the middle shone a smooth, handsome face. An embroidered silk jacket was draped elegantly over a lean, sinewy body.
He scrutinized me for long moments, then his face broke into a pleasant grin. "Ah, so the rumor is true. What a lovely girl!" His slender fingers with their long, immaculate nails reached to pat my head. I felt an instant liking for this man my father's age. I also wondered, how could the ugly-to-death Fang Rong catch such a nicelooking man?
"Wu Qiang," Fang Rong drew away his hand, "haven't you ever seen a pretty girl in your life?" Then she turned to me. "This is my husband Wu Qiang and your father."
"But Aunty-"
Now Fang Rong put on an ear-reaching grin. "Xiang Xiang, your father is dead, so from now on Wu Qiang is your father. Call him De."
Despite my liking for this man, in my heart no one could take the place of my father. "But he's not my de!"
Fang Rong shot me a smile with the skin, but not the flesh. "I've told you that now he is, and I'm your mother, so call me Mama."
Before I could protest again, she'd already half-pushed me along through a narrow entranceway. Then I forgot to complain because as we passed into the courtyard, my eyes beheld another world. Enclosed within the red fence was a garden where lush flowerbeds gave off a pleasing aroma. On the walls were painted lovely maidens cavorting among exotic flowers. A fountain murmured, spurting in willowy arcs. In a pond, golden carps swished their tails and gurgled trails of bubbles. A stone bridge led across the pond to a pavilion with gracefully upturned eaves. Patches of soothing shade were cast by artfully placed bamboo groves.
While hurrying after Fang Rong and Wu Qiang, I spotted a small face peeking out at me from behind the bamboo grove. What struck me was not her face but the sad, watery eyes which gazed into mine, as if desperate to tell a tale.
When I was on the verge of asking about her, Fang Rong cast me a tentative glance. "Xiang Xiang, aren't you happy that this is now your new home? Isn't it much better than your old one?"
I nodded emphatically, while feeling stung by those sad eyes.
"I'm sure you'll like it even better when you taste the wonderful food cooked by our chef," Wu Qiang chimed in enthusiastically.
Soon we arrived at a small room decorated with polished furniture and embroidered pink curtains. Against the back wall stood an altar with a statue of a white-browed, red-eyed general mounted on a horse and wielding a sword. Arrayed in front of him were offerings of rice, meat, and wine.
In the center of the room was a table set with chopsticks, bowls, and dishes of snacks. Fang Rong told me to sit between her and Wu Qiang. With no other etiquette, she announced that dinner would begin. A middle-aged woman brought out plates of food, then laid them down one by one on the table. After filling the bowls with rice and soup, she left without a word.
During the whole meal, Fang Rong kept piling food into my bowl. "Eat more, soon you'll be a very healthy and charming young lady."
I'd never before tasted food so delicious. I gulped down chunks of fish, shrimp, pork, chicken, and beef, washing them down with cup after cup of fragrant tea.
When dinner was finished, I asked, "Aunty Fang-"
"Didn't you forget that I'm now your mama?"
Her stare was so fierce that I finally muttered a weak, "Mama." I swallowed hard. "After dinner, are we going to see the master and the mistress of the mansion?"
Barely had I finished my question when she burst into laughter. Then she took a sip of her tea and replied meaningfully. "Ha, silly girl! Don't you know that we are your new master and mistress?"
"What do you mean?"
"That's what I mean-I am the mistress and my husband is the master of this Peach Blossom Pavilion."
"What is Peach Blossom Pavilion?"
"A book chamber."
I looked around but didn't see any books, not even bookshelves.
Fang Rong cast me a mysterious look. "A cloud and rain pavilion.
Now Wu Qiang added soothingly, "This is ... ah ... a turquoise pavilion."
"What-"
Fang Rong spat, "A whorehouse!"
Wu Qiang looked on with a mysterious smile while his wife burst out in a loud laugh. Then she chided me affectionately. "Why do people always have to have the entrails drawn?"
She was referring to the Chinese saying that when one paints a portrait, he even includes the intestines-an act redundant and stupid.
Shocked, it took several beats before I could utter, "But didn't you tell us that the master is a merchant of foreign trade?"
Fang Rong laughed, her huge breasts and bulging belly shivering. "Ha! Ha! It's true. From time to time we do entertain British, French, and American soldiers here. Don't you know you've just arrived at the night district of Si Malu? This is the most high-class shangren lane, where all the book chambers are found!"
I felt a queasiness simmering in my stomach. "You mean ... I was sold into-" Fang Rong's harsh voice pierced my ears. "No, you were not sold, silly girl! You were
given to us as a gift-"
Using his long-nailed pinky to pick some meat from between his teeth while stealing a glance at me, Wu Qiang added, "We didn't even have to pay your mother."
"That's why we never forget to make offerings to the Buddha, Guan Yin the Goddess of Mercy, and," her sausage finger pointing to the sword-wielding, horse-riding general, "the righteous, money-bringing White-Browed God." Fang Rong winked, then pinched my cheek. "So, little pretty, see how they look after us!"
Now, as if he were my real father, Wu Qiang looked down at me tenderly, his voice unctuous. "Xiang Xiang, don't worry. From now on, you'll have plenty of good food to eat and pretty clothes to wear. You'll see we'll take care of you like you're our own daughter."
But they were not my mother and father. That night, alone, helpless, and abandoned, I cried a long time before I fell asleep in the small, bare room to which I'd been led.
My only hope was that my mother would write to me and soon come to visit.
2
The North Station
-n the following days, it surprised me that my anger at being ,tricked into the prostitution house had gradually waned. I had to admit, with embarrassment, that life here didn't seem to be so bad after all. Fang Rong kept her promise to my mother-I was well clothed and fed. Moreover, I felt relieved to be spared, not only from accompanying clients but also from the menial chores like washing clothes, scrubbing floors, cleaning spittoons, emptying chamber pots. Those jobs were given to maids-girls too plain to ever serve as "sisters."
In comparison to their work, mine was easy: serving the sisters and their customers while they played mahjong; refilling the guests' water pipes and serving them tea and tobacco; helping the cook in the kitchen; carrying messages for the sisters; running errands for Fang Rong. Needless to say, I didn't like serving Fang Rong, but I actually enjoyed the other tasks. Especially the mahjong playingwhen the game was finished, the customers always tipped me generously by secretly pushing money into my hand.
Moreover, when the game finished and dinner was served in the banquet room, a puppy would always materialize to gobble bits of food thrown down by the guests and sisters. He was so cute that whenever I saw him, I'd pick him up, squeeze him in my arms, and bury my face into his fluffy yellow fur. Strangely, he was never given a name, but was just called "Puppy." One time when I'd asked a sister why didn't the puppy have a name, she laughed, "Because we don't want to bother. Why don't you give him one?" And I did. So he became Guigui-good baby. Guigui began to recognize me and follow me almost everywhere. His favorite place was beside me in the kitchen while I helped the chef, Ah Ping.
Ah Ping, a fortyish, mute, and half-witted woman, always secretly fed me and Guigui with goodies. For a chef, she was unusually thin. I always stared at her hollow cheeks and wondered why she never seemed to have any appetite. Or why she only spoke with jumbled sounds which no one could understand.
I carried out my chores mostly during my spare time. My main duty in the pavilion was to learn the arts-singing parts from Peking and Kun operas; playing the pipa-a four-stringed lute resembling a pear; painting; and practicing calligraphy.
The painting and calligraphy teacher was Mr. Wu, an old man in his forties. I felt very fond of him not only because he painted well, but, also because he was a very kind teacher-never scolding but gently redirecting my brush to show me how to form the strokes more elegantly. The opera teacher, Mr. Ma, was younger than Mr. Wu, but also pretty old-thirty-eight. I didn't like him, for he looked at me strangely and would accidentally brush his hand against my face, my belly, sometimes even my breast (when he demonstrated how to lead my breath from my chest down to my dantian- cinnabar field).
A young woman named Pearl was assigned to teach me to play the pipa. Beautiful with shiny black hair and sparkling white teeth, Pearl was the most popular sister in the pavilion. Although I was extremely fond of her, somehow she also made me feel uneasy. I found it hard to tell what kind of a person she really was-sometimes sweet and lively like a rabbit, at other times arrogant and difficult like a cat. Though usually bright and bubbly, at moments she would become sad, as if burdened with forbidden secrets.
Besides Pearl's unpredictable temper, I had another source of unease in the turquoise pavilion-the pair of sad eyes peeking out from the bamboo grove and staring at me whenever I passed the courtyard.
However, I felt happy and content with my art lessons and fine food; Fang Rong and her husband seemed almost parental to me, so I had little inclination to complain.
Life in this turquoise pavilion was really not so horrible as it was described by people outside.
Yet one thing made me sad. I'd been here nearly four weeks now, but Mother had never written to me nor come to visit as she'd promised. Counting on my fingers, I suddenly realized that she would be leaving for Peking tomorrow. So I went to Fang Rong and asked for her permission to let me leave the pavilion to see my mother off.
Although she smiled, the big mole between her brows looked as if it were about to leap toward me in full force. "Ah, you foolish girl. Don't you know the rule in Peach Blossom? You can only be allowed to go outside the main gate on the following occasions: when you get an invitation from some very important guests, that's only after you've become very popular and much sought after; when I take you out for business like fixing your hair or having clothes sewn for you; when the pavilion organizes an outing to entertain important parties."
"What do you mean?" I stared at her mole to avoid her eyes.
"Don't ask too many questions; it never does a little girl any good." Her voice grew very sharp and harsh. "Anyway, you're not going out, not tonight, not anytime, not until I tell you to, you understand? Now go and help Ah Ping in the kitchen. Tonight we'll have a police chief, a banker, a cotton merchant, and many other important people to entertain."
In the corridor on my way to the kitchen, I heard an assortment of noises-singing, chatting, pipa plucking, mahjong playing, Fang Rong's yelling-drift from the different chambers. The sisters were putting on makeup, dressing, practicing their singing, or tuning their instruments one last time before the guests arrived. Today was a Saturday and business seemed unusually good. I peered down the street from a latticed window and saw shiny black cars pull up at the entrance, disgorging important-looking men-some clad in elegantly tailored silk gowns, others in perfectly pressed Western suits.
As I was watching the ebb and flow of cars, I felt a pool of sadness. Did my mother have any inkling that I was now living in a prostitution house and not a rich man's residence? Why didn't she come to see me?
I blinked back tears and hurried to the kitchen. Seeing me, Ah Ping's pale face brightened. She gave me an affectionately chiding look, then pretended to hold a plate in one hand, while her other hand made a pouring motion. After that, she shrugged as if to warn, Ah, Xiang Xiang, of you're late again next time, all the choice morsels will be gone!
She went to close the door, then returned to ladle bits of abalone, shark fin, and fish from the various cauldrons. She set the delicacies on a plate and pushed it across the table toward me. I was not hungry, but in order to please her, I picked up a piece of abalone and popped it into my mouth. As I was savoring the rubbery taste, I heard the grating of paws on wood.
"Aunty Ah Ping," I threw down my chopsticks, "it's Guigui!"
I dashed to open the door and let the puppy in. He yapped, then furiously licked my feet and wagged his tail. I scooped him up and began to feed him with the food from my plate. He lapped and gobbled happily.
Some strange sound emitted from Ah Ping's throat. She was protesting that I shouldn't feed the puppy with the delicacies reserved for important guests. I stuck out my tongue. She smiled back, then signaled me to continue eating.
But the only thing I wanted now was to see my mother. Tears swelled in my eyes as I buried my face into Guigui's.
Ah Ping gestured with her hands. Something wrong?
"Aunty Ah Ping, I have ... a stomachache, so can I-
"
She waved toward the door. Go.
"Are you sure?"
She nodded.
"Then thank you very much." I put Guigui down on the floor. He protested by pulling the hem of my pant leg with his teeth. "But Aunty Ah Ping-"
Again, she waved frantically, then leaned her cheek on her hands. Go, go take a nap.
I hurried down to the courtyard, and after making sure that no one was hiding within the bamboo groves, treaded cautiously along the hidden path until I reached the main gate. Heart pounding, I hid behind the bamboo foliage for the right moment to escape. I waited until the denizens of the establishment-Fang Rong, Wu Qiang, the sisters, the maids, the amahs, the male servants, the guards-appeared for the ritual of greeting the arriving guests. While they were kowtowing and pouring flattery to the important visitors, I slipped out.
Once clear of the gate, I ran all the way to the main street and hailed a rickshaw.
"Hurry, hurry! " I kept shouting to the coolie's scrawny back.
He turned and scrutinized me, his dull eyes menacing under the street light. "Little miss, this is a long way, so I have to save my energy. You don't want me to fall down in the middle of the road; do you?"
So I kept my mouth shut and listened to his tortured grunts until he finally entered a long, dark passage and pulled to a stop in front of a dilapidated house. I thrust a few coins into his calloused hand, then ran toward the low building. Dim light seeped out from underneath our cracked door. I knocked on the thin wooden plank, my heart pounding and my mouth sucking in big gulps of air.
