Women of the Silk

by Gail Tsukiyama

  Pei swallowed hard and raised herself to a sitting position. For a few moments she felt frozen in that position. She tried to move, but she seemed to ache all over. Then, without saying another word, Lin took hold of her arm and helped her gently to her feet. Standing next to Lin, Pei felt terrible, her clothes soiled from travel.

  “Would you like to wash your face?” asked Lin.

  “Yes, please.”

  Lin left her sitting on the bed and returned moments later with a basin of water and a towel.

  “There, that’s much better,” Lin said, gently wiping her face and dropping the dirt-stained towel into the basin. “We’d better hurry now. Everyone is waiting for us.”

  Downstairs the loud hum of voices stopped when they entered the dining room. The girls sitting around the large dining table turned their curious stares toward Pei. They all looked so alike, each one wearing the same white clothing, their hair cut short in front with a long braid hanging down in back. When Auntie Yee told Pei their names, it was as if she were talking to someone else. Pei sat so still she could hear her own heart beating. She tried hard not to cry, and thought of dashing toward the door and out—but how would she get home in the dark? Relief finally came when Moi carried in the food, one dish at a time. The girls began to eat and took no more notice of her. Pei sat in a daze, sipped her tea, and ate very little of the food placed in her bowl.

  In the morning Pei remembered little of the night before. Her mind began to clear enough so she could take in the large, new room she slept in. Along with the fear and shame of being left behind with strangers, she couldn’t help being curious at all that was happening around her. The girls who slept in the beds next to hers rose and went about their business as if she were not there. But with the help of a round-faced girl named Mei-li, Pei acquired a basin of water to wash her face and a clay jar for night-soil purposes.

  Mei-li was friendly and talkative, leading her from one thing to the next. “Did you sleep well?” she asked when Pei was done.

  “Yes.” Pei was almost ashamed at how well she had slept.

  “That’s good, because you have a full day to look forward to. Now come, or we’ll be late!”

  She followed Mei-li downstairs to their morning meal of jook and another roomful of curious stares.

  When the meal was finished, Pei watched the girls rise from their seats in unison. With the confusion of voices and the clatter of their wooden sandals against the floor, they collected their tin lunch pails and moved in a large group out the door. She remained seated, and much to her relief, so did Lin. Seeing her anxiety, Lin smiled at Pei with her beautiful dark eyes.

  “Where are they all going?” Pei finally asked.

  “To work at the silk factory. That’s what we all do here, and what you’ll soon learn to do.” Lin said, rising from her seat.

  “Are you going?”

  Lin smiled and took her hand. “Today I am going to show you your new duties, but first come along and I’ll get you some fresh clothes.”

  Pei looked down at the dirty clothes that she had put back on, but she could only think of her sister Li, who so often turned away from her questions, while Lin listened and responded kindly. They were so different, but she could not look at Lin without thinking of Li. And even when Pei thought of fighting this new life she had fallen into, she knew it was her father’s desire that she be here. She had nowhere else to go. All her other thoughts of rebellion were quickly put away by the calm, soothing voice of Lin, whose kindness was a comfort.

  Pei was given a set of white cotton trousers, with a shirt that buttoned up to her neck and a pair of wooden sandals such as all the girls in the house wore. After changing into them, she sat down to have her hair combed out. Very carefully Lin undid the braids her mother had tightly bound the morning she left, which now seemed so long ago. Lin stood behind her just as her mother did every morning, brushing gently through the difficult knots until finally the brush flowed through her hair with ease, stroke after stroke. Pei could almost imagine she was still at home, but she turned around quickly to see for herself that it was Lin doing the brushing. And when Lin gathered her hair together in one large handful and let the brush work its way underneath and downwards, it was a gesture she knew her mother never had time for.

  The heavy footsteps of Auntie Yee echoed throughout the house, and in the next moment she filled the room with her strong scent of soap and ammonia. When she smiled, her crooked teeth protruded from her shiny, well-scrubbed face. Auntie Yee ran her plump fingers through Pei’s hair and said, “Ah, it’s very lovely.” Then from her pocket she took out a pair of scissors and with a sigh said, “I’ll need to cut just a little.”

  Pei jerked forward and turned towards Lin, who nodded her head reassuringly.

  “You won’t feel a thing,” Auntie Yee said. She took hold of the front strands of Pei’s hair and quickly snipped, leaving the shortened hairs to fall straight across her forehead. Then Lin divided her hair into three equal parts, twisting them into a thick single braid.

  “Now look,” said Lin. She gave Pei a small silver mirror to see herself.

  Pei looked into the mirror and saw her somber reflection, framed by the straight black bangs, just like every other girl at the girls’ house.

  Chapter Three

  1919

  Pei

  Pei had never seen anything like it before. The building was of whitewashed brick, standing the height of three houses and the width of at least ten. To one side of it stood two other buildings of equal size and shape. She followed Lin and looked up at the big building which Lin told her was the Yung Kee Silk Factory.

  Seeing her surprise, Lin took Pei’s hand and led her into the large open room of the first building. The room was very hot, and Pei felt as if she were suffocating. From the wooden rafters above hung several greasy fans, which turned too slowly to generate any real relief. Girls stood behind several long tables covered with small mountains of white. When Pei’s eyes grew accustomed to the darkness she could see the sharp stares and hear the loud whispers of the girls who were working there. Even though she was dressed like them, Pei still felt like a stranger in their world.

  Lin leaned over to her and whispered, “Don’t worry about them.”

  Pei tried to smile, then looked away. She felt tired and uncomfortable.

  “Those are the cocoons,” Lin said, pointing to a white-covered table. “They’re the first step in spinning silk.”

  Pei’s eyes scanned the crowded room. Everywhere were large cloth bags filled three feet high with the white, peanut-shell-sized cocoons.

  “This is where the girls sort the good from the bad cocoons,” Lin explained.

  Pei watched as the girls flattened the cocoons on the table. Their quick hands then tossed the darkened ones to the side like stones, while they put the good ones into small baskets. Then a girl carted the filled baskets into another room.

  Pei reached out and gently picked up a cocoon from one of the opened bags. It felt light and fragile in her hand.

  “May I have one?” she asked.

  Lin nodded. “Take as many as you like.”

  The cocoon was about half the size of Pei’s longest finger, and when she shook it, the dead seed Lin called the chrysalis bounced against its hollow walls. She ran her fingers across the outside. It was hard and slightly bumpy, with a thin, fuzzy layer of hair surrounding it. Pei held the cocoon in her hand like a new toy.

  Next to the sorting room was a larger room filled with steam as thick as smoke. Pei wrinkled her nose and rubbed her eyes. The heavy steam smelled almost sweet. Through the vapor Pei could see two rows of wood and cement counters that ran down the length of the room. Sticking up from the counters were metal arms moving up and down. The steady spinning noise of the funny metal machines filled the room. At the far end of the room Pei could see a grim-looking man pacing up and down, holding a long wooden stick.

  “That’s one of the managers hired by the owner, Chung. For the
most part, they’re harmless. They know very little about the silk work; they’re just here for show, to make sure we do all the work,” said Lin, watching Pei. “Come this way,” Lin then said, moving toward one of the counters. “This is where we unwind the cocoons. The threads are very delicate. Sometimes they’re so fine you can scarcely see them when they wind themselves onto the bobbin.”

  Along one side of the counter, a row of older girls was seated before metal basins of steaming water, spinning the silk. Directly across from the spinners were the younger girls, no older than Pei, who stood in front of pot-sized bowls, holding their forked sticks as they soaked and turned the cocoons brought to them in baskets.

  “The younger girls are soaking the cocoons in boiling water until the silk threads loosen. It’s one of the most important jobs here. They have to find the main thread from which the entire web of silk is unraveled,” Lin continued.

  As each girl found the main thread, she lifted the steaming bundle, which looked like a wet animal, and placed it in the basin of the older girl across from her.

  Pei moved closer to the basin, careful not to slip on the wet cement floor. She saw dozens of the white cocoons dancing on the surface of the water. The older girls gathered the main threads from each one and twisted them together into one single thread. Pei watched so closely her eyes began to water from the heat. She wanted to touch the thin, almost invisible line, but she could only watch in fascination as the quick fingers of the older girls connected the threads with another set of cocoons before the first threads ended.

  Pei walked slowly down the aisle away from Lin, who had stopped to speak to one of the spinners. Pei could feel the girls watching her out of the corners of their eyes, even as they continued their work. She recognized several of the girls from the house, but kept her eyes lowered. The younger girls, some of whom could barely reach the basins in which their cocoons soaked, looked wilted in the heat.

  Not until Pei saw the pleasant, round-faced Mei-li did she stop. Mei-li nodded and smiled as she stirred the steaming cocoons.

  “It isn’t difficult once you get used to it,” Mei-li said with a smile. “But you must be careful not to burn yourself.”

  “You’re very good at it.”

  Mei-li laughed. “I’m one of the slow ones. There are others here who are very quick—you’ll soon see for yourself!”

  “Have you been here long?” she asked Mei-li, her finger lightly touching the edge of the basin.

  “For almost two years.” The steam rose as Mei-li stirred the new batch of cocoons.

  “Do you like it here?”

  “It’s not bad, you’ll get used to it all. At least my parents aren’t here watching over my every move.” Mei-li laughed, until the older girl sitting across from her sharply told her to return to work. “Don’t mind her,” Mei-li whispered. “She’s always in a bad mood.”

  “I’m sorry,” Pei said, quickly moving away.

  In the steamy atmosphere, with all the girls dressed alike, it was hard to tell one from another, much less find Lin again. Moments later, Pei saw Lin and another girl emerge from the haze. From the distance, Pei could tell they were both about the same age, fourteen or fifteen, though the girl who was walking with Lin was short and thick, her heavy features appearing even coarser next to Lin’s. As they came closer Pei could see the square line of her jaw and her dark piercing eyes, which were filled with a fire that made Pei want to turn and run away.

  “This is Chen Ling,” said Lin. “She’s the one you should talk to if there are any problems here.”

  Pei nodded shyly, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

  “Welcome, Pei,” Chen Ling said, in a low voice that carried over the noise of the machinery. “I hope you’ll like it here.”

  Pei whispered, “Thank you.”

  Chen Ling paused for a moment. Pei could feel Chen Ling look hard into her eyes, sizing her up with an expression that seemed as if she were hiding what she really thought. “If you need anything, I’ll be glad to help you,” Chen Ling finally said.

  Then, before Pei could say anything else, Chen Ling turned abruptly and walked away.

  “Don’t worry,” said Lin. “That’s Chen Ling’s way. She’s very different from Auntie Yee.”

  “Auntie Yee?”

  “Chen Ling is Auntie Yee’s daughter—the daughter from her husband and his concubine, but her daughter just the same.”

  “Auntie Yee has a husband?”

  Lin laughed. “There’s a lot you will have to learn, little one.”

  From this steam-filled room Lin led her into another one, where a huge metal pot boiled the water that filled the metal basins. The steam rose up like a thick cloud of smoke. Several girls leaned over the edge of the pot with large wooden spoons, scooping out the hot water into barrels, which were then transported into the basin room. Suddenly Pei was reminded of her mother and the way she took care not to spill any soup or jook. She felt a hollow feeling in her stomach and tried hard not to cry. When the girls stood straight again, their faces were flushed pink, their hair pressed wet against their foreheads.

  They passed through into another smaller, enclosed room.

  “This is where the silk is sorted into different qualities to be sold for the highest price. That’s our best,” Lin said, pointing across the room. On wooden poles slung from one side of the room to the other, the best silk hung like the thick blond hair of the white-devil missionaries Pei had once seen in their village.

  “The poorer silk is also sold, or put aside and used in other ways, for lining in bedding or clothing. Nothing is ever wasted here,” said Lin, with obvious pride.

  Pei moved around the crowded room, where the baskets were piled high in clumsy stacks against the wall, so that if just one of them were pushed, the rest would come tumbling down. Pei looked over at Lin watching her and shifted uncomfortably, her arms glued to her sides.

  The street felt strangely deserted when they emerged from the building. The glare of the bright sun made Pei close her eyes for just a moment.

  “Come this way,” Lin said, taking Pei’s arm. “I want to stop at one more place.”

  They hadn’t walked far before Lin slowed down and turned into a small teahouse tucked away from the main road on a quiet street. The men and women villagers in the teahouse glanced up and stared rudely at them. Pei followed Lin to an empty table in the back, away from all the curious stares they attracted.

  “Why do they watch us like that?” Pei asked when they were seated.

  “They don’t know any better,” Lin answered. “They think we’re different because we work in the silk factories and make our own way.”

  “Are they angry at us?”

  Lin smiled and said gently, “They don’t know what to make of us.”

  Then, turning away from Pei, Lin ordered several plates of food. One by one they came: white, plump buns filled with meat that was sweet on Pei’s tongue, tiny balls of orange-veined shrimp wrapped in a thin rice-flour skin, and noodles fried crispy on top, with an oyster sauce. Pei ate, with an appetite she had not realized existed, until all the plates were empty. Never had she tasted food so delicious.

  “Would you like something else?” Lin asked.

  Pei sat up straight and felt a hot rush of blood color her face. “No, no, thank you.”

  Lin smiled. “I know it’s all a great deal to take in at one time, isn’t it?”

  Pei nodded, thinking how beautiful Lin was with her pale smooth skin and her dark, kind eyes.

  “It was for me, also,” Lin continued. “I was older than you are now when I first came to Auntie Yee, and the first days were very difficult. But it passes.”

  “How long?” Pei asked. She suddenly had to know when the ache inside of her would leave, when she would stop thinking of her parents and Li, and even of the baby sister whose face she had not yet totally memorized.

  “Time works differently for each one of us,” Lin said softly. “You’ll see, i
t will soon get better.”

  “Is that how it was for you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why did my father leave me here?”

  “He had no other choice,” said Lin gently.

  “But why?” Pei tried hard to hold back the tears that rose in her throat.

  “Sometimes things don’t work out as they’re planned, and there have to be sacrifices in order to make things better again. The money you’ll be earning at the silk factory will help your family a great deal.”

  Pei made a small sound, trying to comprehend everything Lin was telling her. But she could find little comfort in Lin’s words, and the absence, like a small tear, grew wider. Pei couldn’t help but feel in her heart that she had done something terribly wrong to make her mother and father hate her enough to leave her with strangers.

  Then, in a sudden outburst, Pei said, “I would never leave my daughter!”

  “I know,” Lin said softly. “Just understand that you may think this is not a very good place, but it’s not a bad place, either. It’s just another place for you to be right now.”

  Pei looked up at Lin and slowly began to understand what she was saying. Pei tried to speak, but couldn’t say anything because the words seemed stuck in her throat. The oily aroma of cooking filled her head and settled in her stomach. All at once the events of the last two days came back to her, stinging her memory like Auntie Yee’s ammonia. Her hand searched her pocket for the dry shell of the cocoon. All around them were the low hum of voices and the clinking of bowls against plates.

  Auntie Yee

  Moi drove Auntie Yee crazy. At least once a week, she complained about the vegetables. “They are old,” Moi said, “as old as me! Look, I cannot eat this!” She spat out the green fibrous mass of bok choy.

  “So why did you buy it then?” Auntie Yee taunted. “Just to complain?”

  “That old man Sing, he cheated me!”

  “Old man Sing is almost blind! How could he cheat you when you picked what you wanted?”