Peach Blossom Paradise

by Ge Fei

  Lilypad went downstairs into the courtyard with Xiumi behind her. Tiger’s head hung lifelessly, even as his father continued to whip his small body like a madman. Lilypad wrenched the riding crop from Baoshen’s fingers, then untied the boy. Blood dripped down the child’s face, his breathing faint through one open nostril. Chips of red paint from the pillar lay scattered all over the stone floor where he stood. Lilypad carried his small body to her own bedroom, worked his pressure points and spat cold water over his face until finally the boy took in a breath and screamed, “Daddy!”

  Baoshen had already frightened himself speechless, and hearing his son call out to him caused tears to stream down his face. He knelt by Lilypad’s bedside with his forehead on Tiger’s chest and sobbed.

  Xiumi wondered why Mother had gotten so angry with Baoshen. The kid must have done something really horrible for Baoshen to have whipped him so mercilessly. Xiumi asked Magpie and Lilypad about it, but both said they didn’t know anything. Magpie seemed to be telling the truth; Lilypad wanted to say something but refrained, and instead added with a smile, “Some things are just better left unknown. Don’t wear yourself out worrying.”

  Tranquility returned to the house the following day, and it seemed as if nothing had ever happened. Mother asked Baoshen to measure Tiger’s feet so she could make him a pair of cloth shoes. Meanwhile, Xiumi felt like strange and inexplicable events were occurring all around her, and yet the mystery refused to speak to her. Her curiosity fed on silence, grew stronger and more impatient, and frequently took flight with her riding its back. She swore she would get to the bottom of this incident, and after a few more weeks, she finally found her opportunity.

  A caramel-candy seller announced his arrival in the village with the sound of his flute. Tiger, who was playing by the pond, watched him pass by with hungry eyes. His father’s hard beating had deflated him completely; now he spent most of his time squatting on the ground and keeping silent. Xiumi walked over and squatted down beside him. “How would you like it if I bought you some candy?” Tiger grinned, but still said nothing. Xiumi ran to the vendor and came back with a square of caramel. She held it in front of Tiger’s face; when he reached out, she yanked it away.

  “Tell me: Why did your dad beat you so hard that day?” Xiumi winked at him.

  “Daddy said I can’t tell anyone, no matter what,” Tiger replied.

  Xiumi waved the caramel in front of his face until he drooled in spite of himself. He thought hard for a minute, then said, “If I tell you, you have to promise not to tell anyone.”

  “I won’t tell anyone, I promise.” Xiumi put a hand to her heart.

  “You really want to know?”

  “Of course I really do.”

  “You mustn’t tell anybody.”

  “Pinky swear.” The two of them swore. “Now can you tell me.”

  “If you give me the caramel, I’ll tell you.”

  Xiumi gave it to him. The boy stuffed the whole candy into his mouth at once, chewed a few times, and swallowed with effort. Then he stood up, slapped the dust off his pants, and headed off.

  “You haven’t told me what happened!” Xiumi complained, grabbing his hand. But his greasy brown fingers slid right through her grasp, and he ran away. “Nothing!” he cried, and sprinted to the other side of the pond. Pointing a finger at the sky, he called out, “It’s gone! It turned into a bird and flew away!”

  •

  On his way home to Qinggang, Baoshen had made detours through villages and towns in Shangdang, Pukou, and the Qingzhou area, searching for news of Father. He visited nearly every inhabited locality in the entire county without learning anything at all of Father’s whereabouts.

  Mid-autumn drew to a close. When Father disappeared, the cotton in the fields had just started to bloom; now the sounds of picking and carding could be heard in every household. Mother began talking to Baoshen about setting up a cenotaph above Father’s personal effects. “Let’s not jump to a tomb just yet. The master may have gone crazy, but there’s no evidence he’s dead. What’s more, when he left the house he took a suitcase and quite a lot of money with him. He obviously wasn’t going somewhere to die.”

  “But we can’t keep sitting here and worrying ourselves sick about it,” Mother replied.

  “No need to worry, madam. Once the harvest work is over, I can hire people to carry out a thorough investigation. As long as he’s still alive, everything will be fine. If you plant a headstone for him now without knowing anything certain, and one day he shows up at your doorstep with his suitcase, wouldn’t that be a public embarrassment?”

  Mother said that she had asked the Buddha about that already, and had been assured that it wasn’t a problem. Moreover, according to local custom, a tomb should be built for anyone who had disappeared for more than six months, whether confirmed dead or not. “And besides, he’s crazy, and the world is in chaos. Even if he were still alive, he could be far away from here, and how would we ever know? If we build him a tomb, we can at least have some closure for ourselves.”

  Baoshen wanted to argue, but Mother cut him off with a frown. “You just worry about hiring people to build it, and don’t bother about anything else.” Baoshen nodded and changed his tune immediately. “Yes, yes, of course, I’ll find someone at once.”

  Yet a disturbing piece of news forced Mother to abandon her plan. One day in mid-November, a young man from Chen’s Rice Market in Changzhou arrived to deliver a message from his employer. He arrived at the house just as the sun was setting. The young employee told them that two Buddhist monks in dark robes had come to the shop just that morning to buy rice.

  “One of them looked exactly like the master. My boss has been to Puji before to buy rice, and was acquainted with him. He’d heard that Master Lu had been gone for almost half a year, his family desperate to find him, so seeing his resemblance in the monk surprised him. When he asked them what monastery they belonged to and where they lived before taking vows, they didn’t answer his questions but just pressed him for the rice. It had been so long since my boss saw Master Lu he couldn’t be sure it was him. But it so happened that we were sold out for the day, and the new rice hadn’t been hulled yet, so he took a deposit from them and scheduled a pickup for the day after tomorrow. After they left, the boss thought for a while and decided this was no small matter, so he sent me over to tell you. He figured you might send a few people over tomorrow to spend the night in the store, so when the monks come the next morning, you could get a good look at them. If one of them is the master, my boss will have done a good turn; if it isn’t, he hopes you won’t blame us.”

  Mother sent Magpie into the kitchen to make dinner for the young man, which he accepted willingly. After food and wine, he begged for an oiled torch, and made his way back to Changzhou under the cover of darkness.

  10

  MOTHER rose early the next morning and gathered Xiumi, Lilypad, and Baoshen for their trip to Changzhou. Magpie and Tiger would stay home to watch the house. As they were about to leave, Zhang Jiyuan appeared from the rear courtyard, rubbing the crust out of his sleepy eyes, his face still unwashed. He slapped Baoshen on the shoulder and asked, “Mind if I tag along?”

  Baoshen paused for a moment, then replied, “Do you know where we are going, Uncle?”

  “I do. Aren’t you going to Changzhou to buy rice?”

  Mother and Lilypad couldn’t help laughing at the exchange. Lilypad whispered to Xiumi, “Buy rice? We get more rice every year from our tenant farmers than we could ever sell, and this idiot wants us to go to Changzhou to buy it?”

  “What will you do while we’re buying rice?” Baoshen asked with a chuckle.

  “I’ll go for a walk. I’ve been feeling too shut in recently.”

  “If you could come, it would be a blessing,” said Baoshen. “I fear that if the master throws a fit, I won’t be able to handle him on my own.” He looked at
Mother, as if asking for her opinion.

  Mother knitted her brow. “In that case, Xiumi doesn’t need to go.”

  She had barely finished speaking when Xiumi threw her cloth bag on the ground and said in frustration, “I told you I didn’t want to go, but you wouldn’t let me stay, and now you’re not letting me go. I don’t even know what’s going on!”

  The force of her own protest surprised her. Mother said nothing, but stared at her like she was a stranger. The two women’s gazes collided straight on and unavoidably, revealing the other’s unspoken feelings completely and without pretense. Both were too stunned to speak.

  “Let’s everyone go together,” exhorted Lilypad in order to break up the scene. “If the master really has taken orders and become a monk, he might be hard to persuade. If Xiumi goes, he’ll at least have a chance to see his daughter.”

  Mother didn’t argue, she simply started walking. After a few paces, she turned and glared at Xiumi with an expression in her eyes that said, That little hussy has the gall to talk back to me in front of the family? I guess we can’t treat her like a child much longer.

  Lilypad tried to drag Xiumi out the door, but Xiumi stood firm. Zhang Jiyuan picked Xiumi’s bundle off the ground, brushed the dust off, and passed it to her. He made a funny face and said, “Want to hear my donkey impression?” He let out a wild, in-and-out hee-haw that sounded surprisingly real; Xiumi had to hold her breath and bite her lip hard to keep from laughing.

  Mother led the way with Baoshen, while Zhang Jiyuan walked next to Lilypad, and Xiumi behind them. Puji lay among lowlands, only a mile or two north of the Yangtze River; as the party approached the water, the high embankment seemed to loom over their heads. Xiumi caught sight of patched sails crossing the river, and she could hear the rough sounds of the rushing current. The gray sky hung low, and an autumn chill pierced the air. Flocks of egrets landed and took off from the river. Xiumi listened to Zhang Jiyuan and Lilypad laughing and talking, though she could not discern their words. Sometimes Lilypad would laugh and punch his shoulder, and Zhang Jiyuan would turn back to look at Xiumi. The fire in Xiumi’s heart grew again. She felt as if a steel curtain hung right in front of her eyes, letting her see only parts and pieces of things, but never the entire scene. Nothing seemed clear to her, even at this age. For instance, she knew that Zhang Jiyuan and Lilypad were joking with each other, but she had no idea what they were laughing at, and whenever she got close enough to hear, they suddenly stopped talking. Xiumi intentionally slowed her pace, as if she were upset with herself, but when the pair got too far ahead, they stopped and waited for her. When she neared them again, they turned and went on without saying anything to her, still chatting and casting an occasional glance back in her direction. Just as they got to the ford, Xiumi noticed that both were standing still. Mother and Baoshen had already climbed the tall embankment; Lilypad stood with a hand on Zhang Jiyuan’s shoulder for balance so she could pull off a shoe and dump the sand out. How could she put a hand on his shoulder?! And Zhang Jiyuan was supporting her elbow with one hand. They were still laughing and talking. And when Lilypad was finished, they walked onward without even acknowledging Xiumi’s existence. Xiumi started to curse the pair of them silently, every word touching the darkest and most malicious corners of her heart.

  At the ferry dock, the wind was blowing strongly across the river, waves folding into each other and crashing violently against the shore. Tan Shuijin raised the sail, while Baoshen helped him on deck. Fair-haired Tan Si carried a stool out for Mother to sit on, and Gao Caixia brought out a plate of newly steamed sticky buns for her. Lilypad and Zhang Jiyuan stood beside each other on the far end of an upturned canoe, staring out at the darkened river. For some reason, the pair had fallen silent. When Lilypad saw Xiumi near the edge of the embankment, she waved to her. “What took you so long?” she asked.

  Xiumi didn’t reply. Lilypad’s tone of voice sounded different. The blush on her cheeks looked different. Her energetic, easygoing demeanor was different.

  Xiumi’s heart sank again. I’m stupid, she thought, they think I’m stupid. I’m just stupid. She repeated the sentence in her head as her fingers played with her dress. Gao Caixia interrupted her self-loathing by offering her a sticky-rice cake as she exhorted her young son to call Xiumi Big Sister. The fair-haired boy merely giggled.

  Tan Shuijin secured the sail and called the rest of the travelers aboard. The southwest gale continued, making the boats pitch and yaw. As Xiumi climbed the gangplank, Zhang Jiyuan reached his hand back to steady her, but she smacked it away angrily.

  “I don’t need your help!”

  Her outburst drew a look of surprise from the entire party.

  No one spoke on the ride over. When they reached the middle of the river, the sun appeared through the fog, penetrating the bamboo roof of the cabin and dancing across the floor like a bronze coin. Zhang Jiyuan sat with his back to Xiumi. Reflected light from the water flashed across his black cloth shirt in tangled lines, fluttering and waving as the boat moved.

  They did not arrive in Changzhou until early afternoon. Chen’s Rice Market stood beside a deep pool fed by a mountain spring; a thin mist hovered over the clear water. All was quiet, save an old mill wheel that clanked methodically as it slowly spun. A bamboo grove behind the shop extended a halfway up the mountainside. The shop owner, Chen Xiuji, and his employees had been waiting outside to receive them. Mother cued Baoshen to present the tael of silver they had brought as a gift, which Chen Xiuji refused to accept over Baoshen’s prolonged protestations. After a round of small talk, Chen Xiuji led them through the bamboo forest to a separate courtyard, where they rested.

  The courtyard was secluded and immaculate. A covered walkway surrounded a well in the middle of the open space. Red, ripe gourds hung from the interior eaves. Tea was served in front of the main hall. Mr. Chen said that the residence had been empty for over a year; he had sent people over that morning to clean up all the cobwebs. “Not the best living arrangements, but I hope it will suit you for a night or two.”

  Lilypad asked why such a lovely little place should stay empty for so long. Chen Xiuji stared at her blankly for a moment, as if unsure how to respond. Then he sighed and raised one cuff to dry his eyes. Mother shot Lilypad a look and changed the subject by asking how the rice business was doing, but Mr. Chen’s sadness didn’t dissipate; he held out for a few words of half-hearted small talk, then made an excuse about being very busy and took his leave.

  Xiumi and Lilypad took the west bedroom; its single window faced the courtyard. A collection of items lay beneath a red silk blanket on top of an old-fashioned set of shelves that stood below the window. Xiumi was about to peek under the blanket when she noticed Zhang Jiyuan snooping around the courtyard.

  He seemed to possess an intense interest in every aspect of his environment. He strolled under the covered walkway, tapping the gourds that hung from the rafters; he gently kicked a bamboo cradle that sat by one of the pillars; he uncovered the water basins by the kitchen and looked inside; he even lay down beside the well, peering inside it for a long while. What an idiot, Xiumi thought, poking his nose into every corner. No telling what he is looking for.

  Lilypad plopped onto their bed and started babbling to Xiumi. Xiumi mostly ignored her. Her resentment from earlier that day had not died away completely, and she responded only when she had to or could say something biting, to the point where even she felt she was going too far. Lilypad yielded again and again, pretending not to hear her implications, and merely smiled at her from her supine position from the bed. When Mother came in to ask for a brush, Xiumi didn’t move from her spot by the window, nor did she turn to look at her. Mother behaved differently toward her, now patting her head, now squeezing her hand, and finally putting an arm around her shoulder and saying, “Come, come keep me company in my room. This place really is a little terrifying.”

  Dinner was served inside the
store. An eight-sided dining table had been set up next to the bellows for blowing chaff. Next to the bellows was a heavy stone mortar used to hull rice; screens and bamboo sieves of various sizes hung from the walls, and a round basket leaned against a rice crate in the corner. Fine particles of chaff floated thick in the air, making everyone cough as they ate. A feast had been prepared—Mr. Chen had even gone out of his way to cook them a pheasant. Mother chatted with him while picking out the best morsels of food for Xiumi’s bowl and frequently casting a sidelong glance in her direction. Mother had never been so good to her before; it made Xiumi feel like crying. She looked up to find Mother’s eyes sparkling.

  After dinner, Zhang Jiyuan left the table first. Mother and Baoshen carried on endlessly with Mr. Chen, and finally Xiumi asked Lilypad if she wanted to go. Without looking up from the pheasant head she was sucking on, Lilypad replied she needed to stay and help with the dishes.

  Xiumi left the table alone. Afraid she would run into Zhang Jiyuan on the way back, she dawdled beneath a large pine tree for a while, looking out at the lighted windows in the valley as the events of the day replayed themselves in her head. The lights floated in the dense darkness of the forest like golden stardust. She felt as if she were floating too, exacerbating her uneasiness.

  Once enough time had passed for Zhang Jiyuan to have reached the courtyard, she set off in the same direction, following a path that skirted the outer wall of the rice shop. Yet as she made her way toward the heavy shadow of the bamboo grove, she found Zhang Jiyuan sitting on a stone, smoking his pipe. He was waiting for her, as she had half-sensed he would. And, behold, there he was! Her heart started to beat loudly. She held her breath and started to walk past him, but the idiot didn’t move and continued to smoke, the ember of his pipe glowing red. It didn’t matter how slowly she walked, he didn’t say a word. Does he not see me? she thought.