The Valley of Amazement

by Amy Tan

  I gave Madam a fur wrap and Vermillion a long opera coat. I had already settled my debt with Madam, which included the original fee she had paid for me, interest, and other expenses, which I did not know she had charged, including a percentage of the “protection services” provided by the Green Gang and special taxes levied by the International Settlement administration. My retirement savings dwindled down to a quarter of what I thought I had. I sold back a few costumes to the tailor, who felt they were in fine enough condition to present as new. We agreed to share fifty-fifty whatever these clothes fetched. I knew he would cheat me out of at least a quarter of my half, so I also made him agree that he would give me a good price when I returned to have new clothes made in a Western style. When I did, I would point out how little money I received for the clothes he sold for me and he would lower the price even further.

  There was one dress I could not part with, a lucky one, which had brought me many suitors and two patrons, including my second contract with Loyalty. It was a green watered silk, the upper half Chinese with pearls for frog clasps and silk thread dipped in gold that had been sewn along the plackets of the collar and edges of the sleeves. The upright Chinese collar was slightly flared to show a hint of Western lace lining. It was tightly fitted around the bodice. Below the waist, it tapered wide to accommodate a full Western skirt with large pleated folds. A false hem ended at the knees, and below that were three layers of scalloped silk of a dark emerald shade. The dress looked like the folds of a theater curtain as it was being raised.

  This was my greatest achievement in fashion, one I had created without Magic Gourd’s interference, and its success created a ripple through the courtesan houses, so that by the end of the next week after I had first worn the dress, some courtesans had already copied a few of its features—the lace, the false hem, the scallops, and the collar’s flared shape. But, as I had planned, they were unable to imitate the expensive pearl clasps or the delicate gold threading that had required weeks of careful sewing. As a result, the ones worn by other courtesans looked like the cheap replicas that they were.

  In the costume, I’d had not only luck but also a sense of confidence and calm, which I took to be my true self. I was afraid to leave the dress behind. Yet, to keep it might pull me back to my old life, whether I wished it or not. Tucked inside me was a fear that I would have to return for any number of reasons I had imagined a hundred times. In the end, I kept the dress. I might be able to make a few adjustments, so that it was more suitable to a life without suitors.

  I fretted over which dress I should wear for my arrival at the house. It should be Western. Other Chinese people treated Westerners with respect—or at least with fear. But the dress should not be too fancy, lest it appear that I had made too much of an effort to compensate for my station in life. I finally chose a dark blue walking suit.

  Magic Gourd appeared at my door, and I had to keep myself from laughing. She wore a dull brown Western dress with a blouson that hid her breasts and waist. She said the dress was ugly, but it suited her new life. Although Magic Gourd had retired as a courtesan six years ago, she had remained attentive to her best features, her perfect skin and a graceful undulating walk that acted like a switch in throwing her hips from side to side. When she was training me as the virgin courtesan, she demonstrated the walk, emphasizing its subtlety and lewdness, which I could never achieve. I saw men stare at her as she seduced them with the provocative movement of a retired courtesan whom they otherwise would not have noticed.

  “I’m too old now to wear beautiful clothes. I’m already thirty-five.”

  Now she had made herself older. And she was—close to forty-five, by my guess. As the years went by, she had aged more quickly. I now appreciated how well she had done in prolonging her career.

  She set a valise on the sofa. Inside were pouches of jewelry, hers and mine. She put aside the pieces she thought I should sell: the gaudy and less expensive ones. She picked up a ring that Loyalty Fang had once given me. She eyed me. She and I knew this would reveal what I still felt for him. If I kept it, I would feel unfaithful to Edward. “Sell it,” I said.

  There were more valuables she felt were too precious to put in the trunks: a small jade carving, a pair of porcelain dogs, and a small mantel clock. I saw she had also included two scrolls wrapped in cloth. But then I realized they were not scrolls but those damn paintings that had belonged to my mother and that had been painted by Lu Shing.

  “I thought I threw these away,” I said.

  “I told you that day that I was keeping them for myself. I like the painting style and I don’t care who painted them.”

  “Just make sure they’re hanging in a place where I can’t see them.”

  Magic Gourd frowned. “You have a good heart and you have a hard one. Now that you have Edward and a new life, you can soften your heart a little, put it at ease. You don’t have to be like me.”

  THE CAR ARRIVED to take us to our new home. Edward had gone ahead to make sure everything was in order. My heart beat fast, making me feel like I should run to keep pace with its rhythm. I was leaving my courtesan life at last, yet I saw omens everywhere that this was a mistake: a laughing bird, a tear at the bottom of my skirt, a sudden breeze. Whenever I had tried hard to avoid bad luck, it came anyway. And whenever I had ignored the signs, the result was the same.

  WE DROVE THROUGH the gates and into the courtyard. The house was tall, like Hidden Jade Path, but the stone walls made it look like a fortress.

  Edward ran to the car and swept open the door. He helped Magic Gourd first. “Do you think you can be happy here?” He wore a boyish grin.

  I looked at the large house and the small guesthouse opposite it. To the left, the grounds extended to gardens and several smaller buildings in a similar style. It looked as if the former stone wings of the house had broken off and floated away. Small rosebushes had been planted on both sides of the pathway to the house. Beneath them were violets with purple-and-yellow faces. I did not often see those flowers and decided I would take that as a good omen and stop thinking that everything unusual was a sign of bad luck to come.

  “Is Mr. Shing here? We should thank him right away.”

  “He’s already left,” Edward said. “We can send him a letter. Once you go inside, you’ll see how much there is to thank him for.”

  We walked between double doors twice our height and into a chilly vestibule. A servant quietly entered and whisked away our long coats. Magic Gourd would not let him take her small valise with her valuables. The cold sank through my skin into my bones and I was about to call for the servant to return the coat when Edward led me through another doorway and into a large, comfortably heated square hall. Across the room was a fireplace and above that an enormous mirror, like those found in the lobbies of hotels. I walked toward it and saw my face. Was that really how I looked—timid and lost? I mustered the assuredness I had always had as a popular beauty. But I could not shake the feeling that I did not belong here and never would. The house was sparely furnished, but each chair, sofa, and table was clearly expensive and tasteful. There were no spittoons or velvet curtains that cascaded onto the floor. The air smelled sharp, and felt thinner. Magic Gourd walked around the room tentatively, as if her footsteps might break the tile floor.

  I ran my hand across the fireplace mantel. Its rounded marble corners and sides had the look of wax that had melted into soft ripples. The flames were tall and bright, and as I grew warmer, I gradually felt more at ease.

  “Look at that servant staring at me,” Magic Gourd hissed, “as if to tell me I am lower than he is.” She looked at herself in the mirror. “This dress is even uglier than I thought. It looks cheap.”

  Edward signaled a servant to push open a row of painted fanfold screens to reveal a dining room whose furniture was made of a golden wood. The legs were carved with the same swirled wax patterns of the fireplace. At one end of the room was a Chinese pond with miniature rockeries. As Magic Gourd and I approached t
he pond, a mass of openmouthed goldfish swam toward us with the eagerness of begging dogs. “They want to eat us alive!” Magic Gourd exclaimed. She went to a chair and sat down heavily. “All this excitement has worn me out. I need to take off these clothes. Where’s my room?”

  Edward signaled a maid, who shouted, “Mousie!” A girl, around ten years of age, ran out and offered to take Magic Gourd’s valise, and when Magic Gourd refused to let go, the woman rebuked the girl for not helping Auntie. “That woman called me Auntie,” Magic Gourd said, “as if she is younger than I am. I am going to tell her I am Mrs. Wang and that I am the respectable widow of a rich and educated man … and very handsome, too. Why should I have an imaginary husband who is old and ugly?”

  Edward took me up a wide stairway and into a library lined with walls of books. At one end was a billiard table with a rounded belly and green-and-red fringe, and at the other an arrangement of two brown velvet sofas facing each other, along with armchairs, square tables stacked with books, and reading lamps.

  We made our way to the other end of the hall and to a closed door. Edward said it was our bedroom. He opened it and revealed a small room with only a small table. I was puzzled until he led me farther in, to another door. Edward opened it slowly. Before me was a large room, darkened by green curtains. It was stately, without excess, and conveyed the power of the man who owned the house. An enormous bed with a carved headboard and footboard faced the door. This was bad feng shui and could draw disharmony and expel our luck … I stopped myself. I should no longer think this way. I quickly took in the rest: walls covered in green silk, a thick Persian carpet, a rose marble fireplace, small tables, tulip-shaped sconces. I caught Edward watching me.

  “Are you pleased?”

  “Yes, of course. But I feel like an intruder. It will take time to feel I belong here.”

  He took me through a doorway and into a large dressing room with a rose-covered divan and two walls of cabinetry. Beyond that was a bathroom with white marble floors and walls and shiny silver faucets that resembled a collection of pistols. The pedestal sink looked like a bird fountain, and, in fact, a marble dove sat in each corner. On one side of the bathroom was yet another door. I opened it and stepped into another bedroom, decorated in shades of rose.

  “Is this for the baby?”

  “The baby’s room is down the hallway. This is your private bedroom.”

  “Why would I have a private bedroom separate from yours?”

  “It’s a ridiculous American custom of the very rich. The more money you have, the more privacy you require. You would not sleep here, of course. But you can use this room to place your personal belongings, your dresses, and such. I have similar rooms on the other side of the bedroom.”

  “Look at that enormous chandelier and that bureau. Everything looks so proper and also as if no living, breathing person ever slept here.” My eyes passed over a painting on a wall next to the bed. It looked familiar: the shadowed land, the sharp-toothed mountains, a false glow of life that would soon be extinguished. I walked up to read the name of the artist: Lu Shing. My heart beat fast. In the other corner it said The Valley of Amazement. Someone had taken it from Magic Gourd’s valise. But how had they put it into a frame so quickly? It did not make sense. Someone was mocking me, giving me bad omens.

  Edward came over and stood behind me. “Mr. Shing’s artistry is not as dreadful as he made it out to be.”

  I nearly jumped out of my skin. “Mr. Shing? Lu Shing is the owner of this house?”

  “The very one. I was also struck by the painting. We had a similar one in our house, only much larger. He painted it when he was our guest. It’s the southwest view of the valley we saw from our house. He must have painted this smaller one as a study for the larger one.”

  I was breathing fast, unable to take in enough air. Like many Westerners, Edward had mistaken Lu Shing’s first name as the given name and the second as the family name. “Mr. Shing” should have been “Mr. Lu.”

  Why was Edward living in his house? Was this a secret plan?

  Just then Magic Gourd crossed the room. “The bed is so soft it’s like a pile of autumn leaves. The fireplace is not even lit, but it’s as hot as an oven. She stared at me. “Ai-ya! What’s wrong? Are you sick? Is it the same nausea or do you have a fever?” She took my arm and guided me to the bed, and then she, too, saw the painting. “Eh! How did this get here? Did someone steal it from my bag?”

  “This house belongs to Lu Shing,” I said. “He is Edward’s host, the one he called Mr. Shing.”

  Her eyes grew round. “How can this be? Are you sure it’s the same person?” She studied the painting from corner to corner, and put her finger on the name.

  Edward did not understand what we were saying. “She likes it as well, I see.”

  I asked Magic Gourd to give me some privacy. She quickly left, giving a parting glare at Edward.

  “I don’t know what Lu Shing’s plan is or his reason for letting us stay here, but I cannot live in this house.”

  “What’s wrong? Violet, you’re trembling. Are you ill?” He sat me on the bed.

  “Your generous host, Mr. Shing, as you call him, is actually Mr. Lu, the father who abandoned my mother and me when I was a baby, and who then entranced my mother into leaving Shanghai for America to find her long-lost son. He is the reason I wound up in the courtesan house.”

  Edward fell silent, staring at the painting with vacant eyes. He started to speak several times, then stopped.

  “Did he have anything to do with our meeting?” I said. “Was this a plan you and he concocted?”

  “No, no. Violet, how could you think that? If Lu Shing had a plan, I did not know it. It sickens me that he knew who you were and tricked me into bringing you here. Did he think we wouldn’t find out?” Edward stood up. “Of course we must leave. I’ll call for the servants to remove our things immediately.”

  And we would have done exactly that had Magic Gourd not fallen sick with Spanish influenza.

  CHAPTER 7

  A BLUE DISEASE

  Shanghai

  June 1918

  Violet

  I had never seen Magic Gourd rendered so helpless. She moaned that she wanted to return home rather than die in a stranger’s house. When she could not breathe easily, she stared at me with bulging eyes, shiny with tears.

  Edward called for a doctor from the American Hospital, and an officious portly man with a beard, an Englishman, arrived wearing a white mask. He had the unfortunate name of Dr. Albee, which sounded like the Chinese words for “eternal suffering.” Magic Gourd said to him, “King of Hell, I am Chinese. Don’t take me to the fire pit where foreigners burn forever.” Later, she lied that she was a Christian and deserved to go to heaven. She listed the good deeds she had done, which consisted primarily of having to deal with my haughty attitude, teaching me well, and being patient when I did not follow her advice. I was full of remorse that she would leave this world thinking of me as an ungrateful charge. She further cut into my heart by saying I was her beloved little sister and she worried about what would happen to me after she was gone. That led to her plea that he allow her to stay until I became one of the Ten Beauties of Shanghai.

  Dr. Albee said there was nothing to do but encourage her to drink water and make her as comfortable as possible. He advised that everyone in the house wear a mask and, in parting, informed us that we were all under a two-week quarantine. No one was allowed to leave. Only then did I remember that I wanted to leave this house the moment I learned it belonged to Lu Shing. None of that mattered now. As the fever progressed, she confused me with her mother. Her face glowed and she explained why she had not returned to the village to see her sooner. I told her I was happy she had come back to me. I cried as she recounted in terrible detail her mistreatment by the husband of her mistress.

  When the Chinese doctor arrived, I asked that he introduce himself to Magic Gourd by a Chinese name that sounded like “good health.” He gave her b
itter soup and a plaster of camphor to place over her chest. She soon breathed more easily. I went to her side and said, “Mother is here. Now you have to get well and stay longer on earth so you can take care of me in my old age.” Her eyes rolled toward me and she frowned. “Have you lost your mind? You’re not my mother. Look in a mirror. You’re Violet. And why should I take of you? You should take care of me for all the trouble you caused me.” That was when I knew she would recover.

  The Chinese doctor told the servants to wash the floors thoroughly with limewater each day so that the rest of us would not become ill. But that evening, I suddenly became feverish and cold at the same time. My bones felt as if they would break. The room floated, Edward shrank to the size of a doll. I awoke and saw a girl sitting next to the bed dozing. I did not recognize the room at first and thought Fairweather had kidnapped me again and dropped me off at another courtesan house. At least it was first class this time. And then I saw the Lu Shing painting and remembered where I was, and in an instant I was seized with fright. “Where’s Edward?” The slumbering girl sat bolt upright then ran out. Moments later, Edward arrived and petted my forehead, murmuring endearments as his tears fell onto my face. I told him not to touch me lest I infect him, and he assured me that I was no longer contagious. No one else had become ill. They had been drinking the bitter soup day and night. “I know how vile it is because Magic Gourd made me drink the same daily potion. I’ve concluded that if you don’t die from the awful taste, you won’t die of influenza.”

  When I was well enough to sit, Edward carried me to the garden where a chaise longue had been placed in the shade of a tree.

  “I already sent Lu Shing a letter excoriating him for his abandonment of you and his deceit in not telling me who he really was. I let him know that as soon as you had recovered completely from illness, we would leave. He sent back a reply.” I asked Edward to read it aloud, and I lay back, steeling myself.