Power of the Matchmaker

by Karey White

  It was Goa, the man who’d given her the restorative tea. Mae fumbled for her satchel. “Only twenty coppers, but I’ll give you all of them, and I’ll bless you for the rest of my life.”

  The man gave a soft laugh. “You can’t bless what’s cursed, but I’ll still lead you outside. Only because I despise Madame Fong.”

  Mae took the offer. She followed him down the stairs and through the twisting corridors, flinching at every sound she heard. But finally, Goa led her through a door that opened into a back alley. The fresh air was like a soothing poultice. She finally felt as if she could breathe again. Dark had fallen, and beyond the alley the street was filled with people and noise. Mae had no idea where she’d go for the night, but the farther away from Madame Fong and Daiyu, the better.

  She dug into her satchel and handed over a few copper coins. Goa snatched them and turned to leave.

  “Where do I go from here?” she whispered, making him pause.

  He turned back and grinned, his crooked front teeth flashing in the moonlight. “You are a foolish girl.”

  “I know,” Mae said. She’d heard it before. “But I need to find a job.”

  “Everyone needs a job,” Goa scoffed. He looked her up and down, his eyes beady in the dark. “Girls like you are only good for one thing.”

  Mae’s heart twisted at his words. “There must be something. I can cook or clean or work in the garden.”

  Goa just shook his head. “You know no one; you have no connections. You couldn’t even get a job in the courtesan houses. Only the brothel for you. Unless you want to starve.”

  Mae was practically starving now. She gave Goa a brief nod, thanked him, then moved down the alley, toward the street beyond.

  She didn’t know the hour, but it seemed the night life in Shanghai was much different than any village she’d ever visited. Lanterns glowed above the streets and restaurants were open, with people coming and going. Vendors pushed carts along the cobbled stones, calling out their wares. At the corner of the street, a group of women and men laughed together. The women’s painted faces only made it too clear about what they were after, and the men seemed obviously interested.

  Mae clutched her satchel to her chest and crossed the street, hurrying toward the river. A man caught her arm as she passed a closed shop. She hadn’t even seen him in the shadows. “Why are you in such a hurry?” he said.

  Mae tugged away from him, and he laughed, pulling her close. His breath reeked of cigar smoke as he spoke in her ear. “You look like you’re ready to float away. Come with me and I’ll get you fed.”

  But Mae had already been tempted with food and burned.

  “Let me go,” she said, twisting out of his grasp. Surprisingly, he let her go with another laugh.

  “I’ll be here when you’re hungry,” he called after her as she hurried away.

  Another block down the road was a large gathering of people and carriages. Mae realized the people had just come out of an opera house. Their clothing was exquisite, their manners elegant. She slowed her step and watched them with eagerness. They had food and a place to sleep for the night. Family. Clothes. Money.

  She had nothing. How had she ever believed she could come to Shanghai and find a job so easily? She realized a few of the people in the crowd had turned to look at her, noticing her staring.

  A man in a uniform, perhaps a guard at the opera house, approached her, his dark eyes narrowed, his square jaw set firm.

  She scurried to the other side of the street. The guard folded his arms and kept his eyes on her. He probably thought she was a vagrant and wanting to steal from the elegant people. Mae’s heart sank. It was like the road divided her from a completely different world. Weeks ago, she had a bed to sleep in, a family, food to eat. She’d only been in Shanghai for a day and had spent most of it locked up and drugged.

  Mae moved toward the Huangpu River, looking for scraps of food that might have fallen from a vendor’s cart. But street dogs were plentiful, and more than once she witnessed a snarling fight over a bit of steamed eel or roasted duck.

  When the river came in sight, a shudder passed through Mae as she gazed at the dark swirling water. The shores were deserted now, but at first light, she hoped to find a bit of work, maybe hauling crates or baskets of fish. The breeze coming from the river cut through Mae’s thin clothing, sending a shiver through her. She climbed beneath an abandoned fish cart, and taking shelter from the night wind, she curled up as best she could, praying that dreams would overtake her soon.

  Chapter Seven

  “Get out, you dog!” the woman’s voice screeched through Mae’s dream. It wasn’t until someone shook her that Mae realized she wasn’t dreaming after all.

  She blinked her eyes open to see a short woman with a scowling face standing over her, hands on hips. “Get out away from the cart or I will get the police.”

  Mae scrambled to her feet, a wave of dizziness momentarily stunning her. Mouth dry, head buzzing, and body aching, she picked up her satchel and scooted out from beneath the cart. Her body screamed for nourishment. The sun was just rising into a deep blue sky. Birds skittered along the edges of the sampans in their holds, and shouts echoed about the river as the first fishing boats pushed off, getting an early start on the day’s catch.

  “I’m looking for work,” Mae said. “I can do anything.”

  The woman grunted and looked Mae up and down.

  “I’m small, but I’m strong,” Mae added.

  “I can’t feed a girl,” the woman spat out. “You’re only good for the brothels. Better go work there before you’re too thin for even a blind man.” She folded her arms tightly and shook her head in disgust. “Now go. You leave, or I will get the police.”

  Mae left the woman and the cart behind, keeping her head held high, even though she felt like collapsing at any moment. The streets were starting to come alive, men pulling carts, gathering the buckets of night soil from servants. Other vendors calling out their food wares of sesame balls, scallion pancakes and seafood moon cakes.

  Mae tried to ignore the smells of steaming crullers and delicious foods as she walked along the street, taking another way to the telegraph office, asking directions as she went along.

  By the time she reached the office, she was shaking and her feet were numb from walking so much. The front door was locked and when she peered at the sign, she learned it wouldn’t be open for another hour. Vendors continued to rumble past with their carts, and Mae’s stomach continued to twist until it felt as if it had turned inside out. She kept a wary eye out for Daiyu or Goa, or even Madame Fong—although Mae guessed the woman didn’t venture outside onto the street much.

  At one point, Mae rose to her feet and bought a pork dim sum off of one of the passing vendors, parting with a few of her remaining prized coppers. It wouldn’t do to faint at the telegraph office desk. Finally, as the sun was hard at work dissipating the shadows on the street, the lock on the door rattled. Mae shot to her feet, catching her breath at the sudden movement, and opened the door leading into the office.

  The man who’d opened the door had just made it back to his desk and he peered up at Mae through thick spectacles. His hair was neatly oiled, and he wore a Manchu jacket.

  “Good morning,” Mae said, bowing her head and speaking in her most careful Wu dialect.

  The clerk made no secret of scanning her from head to toe, his nose wrinkled in distaste. “We don’t offer charity,” he said in a high nasal tone.

  “I’m not here for charity,” Mae said, feeling her face flush hot. She’d spent the night sleeping beneath a cart and the previous day drugged; it was no wonder she repelled the clerk. “I’d like to inquire after any job postings.”

  The man didn’t seem surprised. But he did continue to stare at her.

  “I can embroider, or garden, or watch children. I could even do office work—I know many dialects,” she added.

  “Office work?” the clerk barked out a low laugh. “Where are you fr
om?”

  “West of Suzhou.”

  “Your Wu dialect is barely passable,” the clerk said. He fussed through some scrolls on his desk. “There isn’t an office position for the likes of you, anyhow.”

  Mae had unconsciously taken several steps toward him. “Please, sir,” she began as the door rattled, then opened. A man entered.

  Mae waited as the clerk helped the customer with composing a telegram. When the man had left, she met the clerk’s gaze. “Please, sir?” she whispered.

  He let out a sigh, then held up a finger. “I know of someone who is looking for a servant, but it will cost you five coppers.”

  Swallowing against the thick lump in her throat, she dug into her satchel for the coins and handed them over.

  The clerk scribbled on a thin piece of paper and Mae took it, scanning the lettering quickly. The directions were to Nanjing Road. She looked up at the clerk. “How far is this?”

  “It is a long walk. Any rickshaw puller can take you there.”

  Mae nodded and thanked the clerk, feeling like she couldn’t press him further. She couldn’t spend her final coins on a puller, but she’d find a way to get to Nanjing Road. It took over an hour to walk the winding streets to Nanjing Road and find the two-story house mentioned in the job notice. By the time she reached the gate leading to the courtyard, Mae was out of breath and hungry again, but she was also hopeful.

  She knocked on the front door and a young servant girl answered. Her brows drew together as she studied Mae.

  “I’ve come to ask about the servant position.”

  The girl took a step back, then called out to someone in another room. From the open doorway, Mae could see that the home was nice but not extravagant. Silk scrolls adorned the walls, displaying the four seasons. A woman came into the front entry, tall and imposing. Her hair was swept into an elaborate bun. Mae’s hope soared. Perhaps this was the lady of the house.

  Mae gave a small smile and repeated her inquiry.

  The woman stepped out onto the porch. “Mr. Shi is abroad often, and his wife is in ill-health,” the woman began.

  Mae surmised that this woman must be an ayi or perhaps a relation. She nodded, hoping and praying that she’d be offered the servant position.

  “They are very particular though,” the woman said, her gaze narrowing slightly. “What is your background?”

  Mae explained about the village she’d grown up in and how she’d worked with her mother in the garden and knew many dialects. Languages came easily to her and she had a good memory for historical events.

  The woman nodded along as if she were listening closely. “I will give Mr. Shi my recommendation and you may return tomorrow to inquire if you’ve been hired.”

  Mae smiled, although inside her heart was pounding. She didn’t know where she’d sleep or what she’d eat in order to make it back to Nanjing Road tomorrow. But the woman had already turned toward the front door to go back inside, saying, “Our rickshaw man will take you back to the city.”

  Mae could only nod and watch the woman step into the house. After thanking her profusely, Mae found herself settled into a luxurious rickshaw and being towed to the sparkling city of Shanghai. The beauty of the city spread before her, fresh and full of new hope. The river and the ocean beyond seemed to wink good omens at her. Tomorrow, at this time, her life would begin. She might be only a servant, but she’d have a bed. She’d have food.

  Chapter Eight

  Mae staggered from beneath the cart she’d slept under all night. Her mind was groggy, but she didn’t want to encounter another angry fisherman’s wife. Her limbs felt hollow, and as she walked along the newly awakening street, she searched for anything to eat. The rickshaw puller who’d driven her from Nanjing Road the day before had demanded payment, so it was with a heavy heart that Mae parted with her final coppers.

  Her only valuable possession now was the pearl comb from Chen. Selling that would be akin to working in a brothel. Mouth dry, stomach concave, she moved in and out of the morning shadows. She stopped in a daze and stared as a young boy scampered in front of her and swiped a cruller from a vendor cart. The vendor gave chase and moments later, the boy was huddled in the street crying beneath a switch.

  A police man rushed over, grabbed the boy, and the vendor huffed back to his cart.

  If Mae had been quicker, she would have thought to steal her own cruller during the commotion. But she’d been frozen in place. The boy was a thin slip of a person; he looked like Mae felt: starving.

  She moved away from the commotion, forcing herself to take one step after the other, even though she wanted to collapse from exhaustion. She pushed forward, keeping her eyes out for a discarded bit of food. But there was nothing.

  Mae avoided the area that she’d run into Daiyu, and took another road until she finally reached Nanjing. The day was still early, and Nanjing Road was quiet, although the lower streets of Shanghai were fully awake.

  Knocking on the Shi family door, Mae waited breathlessly for it to open. Soon, she’d be settled and fed. This time the woman who’d interviewed her opened the door.

  Mae smiled and was about to greet her, when the woman said, “We’ve hired Mr. Shi’s niece. There is no job here now.”

  Mae stared at the woman, and it was only when she started shutting the door, that Mae’s senses came alive. “I can clean. I can work in the garden. I—”

  “We’re not hiring any servants or gardeners,” the woman said, shutting the door firmly.

  She stood for a moment, stunned, hardly breathing. This couldn’t be happening. She needed employment. Her chest hurt, her feet were swollen, her legs ached, and her head pounded.

  Squeezing her eyes shut, she exhaled, then inhaled. Perhaps if she stayed on the front porch, someone would take compassion on her. Someone would hire her. She’d even work for food only.

  Suddenly the door opened, and Mae looked up, hope soaring through her. A mistake had been made; they would hire her after all.

  It was the little girl from the day before. “They will call the police if you don’t leave,” she spat out, her tone clear and concise, beyond her young years. Then she shut the door again.

  The sound of the slammed door echoed through Mae’s mind, reverberating against her ears. Somehow she climbed to her feet and made it to the road. She walked slowly, focusing on staying upright and trying not to stumble. The sun was climbing the sky now, bring the sharp warmth of a new day.

  She calculated how far she could walk without food and without collapsing. As far as the widow’s farm? At least she’d been fed there. Mae blinked back the tears stinging her eyes and continued to push her body forward, step by step. When she reached the cross street at Nanjing, she didn’t know which way to turn. The courtesan neighborhoods were to her right, the fields to her left, and below, the city.

  The sun’s heat increased. Flies buzzed about. A group of children down the street called to each other, laughing. Were they laughing about her? Mae didn’t even have the strength to turn and look. Numbly, she walked toward the city center, her pace slow but steady and determined as she continued until she reached the river.

  The river life was in full swing. Sampans coming and going, the morning’s catch carried in. Vendors purchasing their fish for the day. Sampans leaving again.

  She sat on the ground and leaned against an abandoned barrel and watched the fishing boats. The afternoon turned into evening as the sun settled behind the horizon, turning the river to orange then gold.

  The streets filled with people traveling to the theater and eating at the restaurants. Shops closed down, others lit their lanterns, and still Mae didn’t move. Her limbs felt heavy, yet thin. Weightless. Sounds came and went. Laughing. Shouting. Talking. Singing. Carriages moved grandly along the streets.

  Mae’s eyes half-closed as the evening settled. At one point she pulled out the extra clothes from her satchel and pulled them on, trying to get warm. It was easier to sleep through the hopeless hours. In t
he morning, she’d have no choice but to sell the pearl comb. The money would give her more days to find work. Perhaps enough strength to return to the widow’s farm. Mae reached into her satchel and unwrapped her bundled shirt. In the moonlight, the comb gleamed, reflecting memories she’d left behind. The inlaid pearls were cool and ethereal beneath the stars, absorbing what little light surrounded Mae. She ran her fingers along the smooth surface, thinking of Chen. What was he doing now? Sleeping? Thinking of her? Soon he’d marry and perhaps next year at this time, he’d have a healthy son.

  Would Mae even be alive in a year? In a week? Tomorrow? She wrapped the comb back into the shirt and hid it inside her satchel. Then she pulled out the wooden tablet that listed her ancestors’ names. She traced the grooved characters over and over with her fingers. As midnight came and went and the moon arced over the river, Mae rose to her feet with her last measure of strength, and walked to the riverbank.

  Kneeling in the damp soil, she set the wooden tablet on the ground so that she could bow before it. She clasped her hands together and began to pray. “Spare my life. Save my pearl comb,” she whispered. “In return, I promise to always live a selfless life. To never think of myself. To always serve others.”

  The wooden tablet seemed to glow in the moonlight, and beyond, the river moved and changed, staying absolutely silent. Mae’s tears joined the swirling water below her and were carried out into the current. If she had to sell her comb, it would be the symbol of forgetting Chen forever, of putting him out of her life.

  “Please,” Mae took up her pleadings again. Perhaps her grandmother’s soul was nearby or her mother’s sister who died when Mae was a young girl. “Spare my life. Save Chen’s token of love.”

  Her stomach hollow, and her head dizzy, Mae pulled her legs up to her chest and rested her head on her knees. Closing her eyes, she waited and listened.