My Splendid Concubine

by Lofthouse, Lloyd

  Ayaou hid behind the crowd while they watched. When he attempted to put an arm around her, she moved away from him as if she didn’t want anyone to know they were together. She smiled carefully to people who greeted her. Robert remembered that belonging to him caused her to lose face to other Chinese. Understanding her behavior didn’t stop him from resenting it. At the same time, he felt as if he were a hypocrite.

  There was envy in Ayaou’s eyes. Although she did not express it, he knew she would have loved to have the same ceremony for herself. On the other hand, she knew that she’d never get the respect Tee Lee Ping and his bride received. She belonged to Robert, a foreigner. She was an outcast in her community. The Chinese had unspoken moral rules running like veins through the body of their society. Master Ping had invited Robert, not out of respect for Ayaou but for his student. To the Chinese, Ayaou had no status—she did not exist and was as good as dead.

  Robert could offer Ayaou no comfort. If he married her, he’d be considered decadent to the Western community. The missionaries, except William Martin, would sentence him to hell and eternal damnation. They would say he’d gone native—that the heathens had enticed him away from the one true God.

  He knew that William would attempt to convince him to convert Ayaou to Christianity. William had tried once before, but Robert had ignored him. He had his reasons for not wanting Ayaou to become a Christian.

  Besides, his family belonged to a Methodist religion founded by John Wesley, who preached that women were equal to men and not chattel.

  Robert had been avoiding this. He wanted to be accepted by his people. He believed that if he married Ayaou, his career in the British consular service would become frozen. He’d never advance. It was expected that he marry a woman from Ireland.

  Before they departed, Robert wished the bride and groom great luck and plenty of children. Tee Lee Ping accepted the wish and again thanked him for the hens.

  The rain had let up, so he dismissed the sedan chair. He checked his coat pocket to make sure the revolver was there. “Do you have your weapon?” he asked.

  Ayaou lifted the cloth bag she had brought with her so he could see the revolver. He nodded. “Good,” he said. “Be alert.” They walked down the narrow street toward their house. She was unusually quiet. He thought she was worried like he was. He hated living in fear—not knowing when another blow was coming.

  He tried to get her to talk. “They certainly had to wait a long time to be married. The poor bugger had to save his money for thirteen years to put that on in proper style. It must be horribly expensive.”

  Ayaou did not respond. She appeared deep in thought.

  Until that night, their lovemaking had been frantic as if they might not live another hour. Once home, Ayaou was tender. While they were making love, he smelled the sun and the ocean in her hair—something he cherished.

  “I fear the future,” Ayaou said.

  He knew what she meant, but what could he say? One part of him wanted to make a marriage proposal right then, but his other half, the British half, said no.

  He slipped his arms around her. She nestled against him. “No matter what happens,” he said, “you must know that I love you.” He felt a twinge of guilt. Sleep wasn’t going to come easy.

  One evening soon after the wedding, he arrived home to find Ayaou’s father waiting in the downstairs sitting room. He hadn’t seen the old man since Shao-mei’s funeral.

  By the expression on Ayaou’s face, he knew her father’s reason for being there was not good.

  He greeted Chou Luk properly, and they made small talk for an hour. He learned that Chou Luk had been busy moving opium inland for Captain Patridge.

  Ayaou served tea. Then she sat on the far side of the room with her arms folded across her chest. She avoided eye contact with Robert. Something was wrong, but he couldn’t guess what it was. His stomach churned.

  Finally, he couldn’t take the Chinese way of beating around the bush any longer. He leaned toward Chou Luk and asked, as only a foreigner could without causing insult or embarrassment, “What has brought you here?”

  “A family matter. I have discovered that both Ayaou and Captain Patridge have been lying to me.”

  “I’m sorry,” Robert said. “I am not sure I understand.”

  The old man avoided looking at him. Instead, he took a sip from his teacup. His eyes remained downcast. A moment later, he said, “Until last month, I had not been in Shanghai for a long time. When I was there recently, I had business with Boss Takee. Ward was there.”

  Robert’s stomach tightened like a hangman’s noose during an execution. He thought he might vomit. He avoided looking at Ayaou. “Tell me what he said.” His voice was strained. It felt as if a bucket of ice water had been dumped on his head.

  “He told me you took Ayaou from him without paying for her. He said you insulted his patience, which led him to kill Shao-mei by mistake. He knows he killed the wrong sister. He still wants Ayaou.”

  “Ward lied,” Robert said. The anger swelled like a giant balloon. He struggled to control the explosion. With an effort, he calmly explained what happened. “I borrowed the money from Captain Patridge. I went to Shanghai to pay, but Ward had been seriously wounded in battle. He wasn’t there. I couldn’t find him. Eventually, I discovered he’d gone to the countryside to mend. I am still willing to pay.” Robert knew he couldn’t pay. He’d spent too much on Shao-mei’s funeral. Most of the money was gone.

  He wanted to know how Ward found out that he had killed the wrong sister. Who told him? Maybe Ward had spies in Ningpo watching. That thought scared him. He looked at the front door making sure the locking bar was in place. Maybe someone would come for her tonight. Maybe he should take Ayaou and find a place to hide. But where? Maybe they could flee to the Yellow Mountains in Anhui Province. He had read the poem by Li Bai, the great Tang poet.

  Thousands of feet high towers the Yellow Mountains

  With its thirty-two magnificent peaks,

  Blooming like golden lotus flowers,

  Amidst red crags and rock columns.

  He’d seen watercolors for this breathtaking area of China. Maybe one of the Buddhist monasteries hidden in those mountains would let them stay. He frowned—too many maybes. He hated maybes.

  He wondered if Captain Patridge was behind it all. Was he keeping Ward stirred up over Ayaou so Robert would stay bound to him? After all, it was to Patridge’s benefit that he continued to use his position with the British consulate in Ningpo to help smuggle opium into China. Patridge had also asked him to keep the duties low for the legal cargoes. Due to his efforts, the captain was making a fortune for his employer and himself.

  “Ward is crazy.” Chou Luk folded his hands, and they disappeared inside his long, wide sleeves. “I want no trouble with him.”

  “What did you tell him?” he asked, afraid of the answer.

  Chou Luk leaned forward. The skin around his eyes crinkled causing his eyes to look like they were shrinking. “Ward believes Ayaou is still his property. If—” The stony expression on Robert’s face stopped him.

  It took all his discipline to stay seated. He wanted to strangle Chou Luk. However, it would have been wrong to kill the messenger. Besides, Ayaou wouldn’t like it. He almost laughed at the irony. “Ayaou is not leaving!” he said.

  “I do not want to see Ayaou go with Ward either.” Tears filled the old man’s eyes. “He killed Shao-mei. He will have no trouble killing Ayaou. The problem is that he is after me now. He wants me to give him Ayaou, or I will lose my life. I told him to allow me some time to find her. I lied. I did not tell him where she was. Think of a plan quick.”

  Ayaou left her chair and went to the kitchen. Robert knew she was angry. He never told her she still belonged to Ward. At this point, there was nothing he could do to keep her from getting hurt. He feared losing her. He couldn’t survive another blow like the loss of Shao-mei.

  “If you believe he means to kill you,” he said, you must ta
ke your family to Macao, find Uncle Bark’s son, and stay with him on his junk Do you have money for passage?”

  “Not enough.”

  “I’ll help.”

  “What about you and Ayaou?” Chou Luk asked. “He knows where you are.”

  “I’ll deal with it,” he said. He didn’t know what he was going to do if Ward came with a bunch of cutthroats. He didn’t have the money to pay for protection. If he wanted protection, he’d have to ask Captain Patridge for help. He was sure the opium merchant would say yes.

  Patridge wanted his oath that he would serve for decades. But Robert did not believe the opium trade was a good thing. It was a poison of the worst kind.

  Ayaou came to bed after she settled Chou Luk in for the night. She had her back to Robert. He put a hand on her shoulder. She shrugged it off. “Please tell me what’s on your mind,” he said, and managed to keep his voice from sounding as if he were begging.

  “You believed that if I did not know the truth, I would be better off. But, Robert, you were wrong. Being kept in the dark has always frustrated me more than anything. That is why I constantly seek a fortuneteller’s advice. Since Shao-mei’s death, my life is filled with chaos. Even you, my closest one, keep secrets from me.”

  “I did what I felt was best. Turn around, Ayaou, please. I want to talk to your face.”

  She turned. He saw the tears and pulled her into his arms. Her body was stiff like a limb from an old tree. “I am your woman, Robert. You bought my body, not my heart. It was me who offered my heart.”

  “Yes and that is priceless. I only hope to be worthy. But—” He felt a bitter taste in his mouth that he couldn’t explain—not to Ayaou or to himself.

  Ayaou leaned over him and stared into his eyes. Her long, black hair tickled his face. He felt her warm breath against his skin. The way she was looking at him made him nervous.

  “I dug a hole in the yard and buried an ugly stone with dog shit,” she said. “It is to keep Ward from reaching us. Mr. Yin-Yang gave me instructions. He predicted we would be safe for now. But there was something else he said that bothers me.”

  “What is it?” He moved out from under her and sat. He was disgusted with himself for falling into this superstitious trap. On the other hand, he wanted to hear what the fortuneteller had said.

  “I do not want to believe it,” she said. “Mr. Yin-Yang said that I might be doing something unwise. I might be trying to fetch the moon’s reflection in the water with a bamboo basket. Mr. Yin-Yang believes that my safety rests in your heart. I kind of know what he meant, but—”

  She didn’t finish. He dreaded what he thought she meant. Could he measure up? Was his love strong enough? He wasn’t sure.

  Chapter 29

  March 1958

  He was going to Canton—to war. He was going to be in the thick of it.

  Thinking that death might be waiting in Canton pushed Ward’s threat from his mind, and Canton was a thousand miles south of Ningpo and Shanghai.

  He had also been advanced in rank to become a second assistant, and his annual pay increased to five hundred pounds.

  There was another reason he was pleased. Transferring to Canton meant an end to his business relationship with Captain Patridge. It felt good knowing he would no longer help Patridge cheat the Chinese while smuggling opium into China. All he had to do was stay alive.

  “Robert,” Master Ping said during their last lesson, “to truly understand China, you must know that China is not one culture but many.”

  He was going to miss his language teacher. They had become friends. During the winter, the lessons had moved to the kitchen table closer to the tiger stove. The parlor was deserted. Since Shao-mei’s shrine was in there, he didn’t miss that room.

  He brewed the chrysanthemum tea Guan-jiah had given him. He wanted this last lesson with Master Ping to be two friends saying goodbye.

  “To understand what I am talking about,” Ping said, “I recommend that you study poems written during the fourth, fifth and sixth centuries during the time northern China fell under the control of the invading Tartars. Southern China stayed under Chinese rule as a separate nation. The poetry of the south focused on love, while the poetry of the north focused on the spear or the sword.”

  “It’s too bad that the Cantonese aren’t writing about love today,” Robert said. He took the kettle and poured hot water over the dried flowers, spices and berries in each cup. When the cups were full, he capped them to steep. He then placed the cups on a tray and carried them to the kitchen table. There was a bowl of dried red dates on the tray too.

  Master Ping took his cup, lifted the lid and inhaled. His frog like features relaxed. His eyelids closed halfway. Then he said, “The focus of these poems demonstrates why China has never been ruled by a southerner and that most if not all of the generals of China’s armies have always been from the north where life is harder.”

  Robert’s mind kept drifting. What was Canton going to be like? Since Qin-shi-huang-di, the First Emperor, had unified China two hundred years before Christ, the Cantonese had wanted to be a nation again, separate from the rest.

  “The invading Tartars came from the north and so did the Mongols. The Ch’ing Dynasty that rules China today also came from beyond the wall.” Ping took his cup, lifted the lid and made loud sucking sounds as he sipped tea.

  Since the Arrow Incident near Canton in 1856, the British and French had been at war with the Ch’ing Dynasty. The Dynasty was being forced to fight two wars—one with the Taipings and the other with the British and French. The British and French were also fighting the Taipings. That made the British and French allies with the Dynasty. It was confusing.

  “Master Ping, I doubt if I will find another teacher as sensitive to my needs as you have been. I’ve learned much under your guidance. I honestly don’t know what I will do without you.”

  The British were demanding that China be opened to British merchants. They wanted the opium trade legalized and foreign imports to be exempt from internal transit duties. There were more demands, but the one about opium bothered Robert the most. There were times he was embarrassed to be working for the British.

  Ping put his cup down, folded his hands together, and nodded. “I thank you for the praise,” he said. “However, you no longer need a teacher. You are now skilled enough in both the written and spoken language of China to learn on your own. The only thing left is to see that China is not one culture and one nation but many. Since you are going to Canton, you will see this firsthand. People in the south are not like those from the north. You will experience what I mean by living with them.”

  “I don’t understand,” Robert said. “What is it that I have to look for?” He wondered if he had the time—if it would be safe to try.

  Master Ping took a handful of the dried dates and started eating them. At first, he was careful to make sure there were no pits. Then he started to chew with enthusiasm.

  “How has China survived being conquered so many times and stayed one nation?” Robert asked. “When barbarians conquered the Roman Empire, everything fell apart. It took centuries to rebuild and instead of one empire, many nations argue and fight each other. War follows war.”

  “Maybe that explains why China is so weak,” Master Ping replied. “For centuries, no nation threatened China. We were too powerful. The answer to your question may be in the power of piety. In Europe and Britain, individuality is the focus. In China, the family is the center of all things. I believe that is the reason China survived. The family unit has always been too strong to allow a collapse like what happened to your Roman Empire.” He sipped tea and ate more dates. “Emperors and dynasties come and go but piety remains as the anchor that keeps China from sinking.

  “China is like a house, and the family instead of the individual is the foundation. One wall may be built of stone, another of wood and a third of hay. The front of the house may be glass. Because of the family foundation, the house stays together and refuses to
collapse. Every family member does his duty and keeps his wall standing.”

  Robert thought of Guan-jiah and his family. Once, they had land and prospered in the silk trade. Due to the Taiping rebellion, they had lost it all and fled to the safety of Ningpo to start over. His servant made a great sacrifice when he castrated himself and applied for a job inside the Forbidden City to help his family. He didn’t think anyone in the West would have suffered like that. He knew he would not have gone that far to help his family.

  Before leaving Ningpo, Ayaou and Robert had a heartbreaking separation.

  “Ayaou, can’t you understand? This is my job. This is how I earn the money that pays for everything we have—even the food we eat.”

  She sat with her back to him. Every time he walked around to look into her eyes, she turned away. It was tearing him up to see her face twisting itself into a dishrag of misery.

  “You are going to leave me as Shao-mei did,” Ayaou said. “I have heard talk of Canton and the fighting. It is safer here. Everyone is a stranger there. Tell them you do not want the job in Canton. Stay in Ningpo. If you love me, you will leave this job with the British consulate, and we will go live in a cave. You can work the fields so we have rice and yams. I will sew and cook and keep the cave clean.”

  “I’m not going to abandon you, and I am not going to live in a cave.”

  “Then you do not love me as you keep saying. You are a liar.”

  “I told you that after I settle in Canton, I will send for you and Guan-jiah.”

  “Guan-jiah!” She spit the eunuch’s name out as if it was the pit from a rotten fruit. “I do not want to live with strangers.”

  “Who else is there to live with? Your father has taken his family and gone to Macao to live with Uncle Bark and his son. They had to go so Ward wouldn’t hunt them down. There’s no one here for you to live with but my servant and his family. We’re lucky they are willing to take you in.”