Women of the Silk

by Gail Tsukiyama

  The next day Chen Ling and Ming gathered the girls together in the reading room and announced that they were going through the hairdressing ceremony. There was the buzz of voices and congratulations as Auntie Yee watched the girls gather around her daughter and Ming. And for the first time Auntie Yee realized that Chen Ling would really be leaving the girls’ house, and moving to a sisters’ house with other women committed to the silk work.

  As always, Auntie Yee found solace in keeping her hands busy cleaning. She began to clean the girls’ house from top to bottom. With Moi’s help, she quickly took down all the heavy boards and opened every window and door to allow fresh air to move freely through the stale house. Pei followed her about, full of questions.

  “After Chen Ling and Ming go through the hairdressing ceremony, will they ever be able to marry?” asked Pei, finding Auntie Yee dusting the reading room alone one day.

  Auntie Yee laughed and shook her head. “That is the choice they’ve made. Actually, the hairdressing ceremony is very similar to a marriage ceremony, only it’s a celebration of choice.”

  “Is that what it was like for you?” asked Pei, lifting objects out of Auntie Yee’s way as she dusted.

  “It wasn’t quite so simple for me, but yes, it’s just as important as a marriage ceremony. While a bride is assisted by an elderly woman who has had many sons, the nonmarrying woman is assisted by an elderly celibate woman. Someone such as myself!” Auntie Yee laughed.

  “What if the woman should change her mind after going through the hairdressing ceremony?” Pei asked.

  Auntie Yee stopped dusting and turned in all seriousness towards the tall, curious Pei. “It’s a choice that cannot be taken lightly. It must be a way of life that you want more than any other, and to wander from it will bring great shame to your family and anger the gods.”

  Pei took in every word she said, and nodded slowly.

  “Listen to me,” Auntie Yee said, laughing, “I sound just like Chen Ling!”

  After the Monsoon

  After the rains ended, the girls’ house came alive with laughter and activity. Chen Ling and Ming’s upcoming hairdressing ceremony brought a new excitement to everyone. It felt like the recovery from a long illness. Yung Kee once again survived what might have been a disaster, and Auntie Yee’s voice sang victory throughout the house as she continued to clean up the results of the storm.

  The second morning after the rains stopped, Pei left the house before the other girls, hoping to see Lin, who had already left for the factory. With the arrival of fair weather, Lin and Chen Ling were back to their old schedule of working long hours.

  Outside, the air was thick and pungent with the water-soaked earth. The sun shone weakly from behind the clouds, but Pei was excited. She wrinkled her nose against the rank, rotting smell and walked happily toward the silk factory.

  Everywhere there were signs of cleaning up, as the villagers worked with buckets and pots to rid their homes of mud, and the boat people waited anxiously for the water to recede. Their few precious possessions—bowls, sandals, and scattered clothing—lay along the road, washed up by the flooded river from the boats. Rat carcasses lay bloated along the soggy road. Next would come the slow and arduous task of rebuilding what had been washed away, while the few unfortunate ones who had lost their lives in the flood could be burned or buried.

  Yet, even as the remnants of this storm were swept away, Pei began to hear the news of another kind of storm brewing within China, a struggle for power that blew like a whirlwind into every corner of the country. With the death of Sun Yat-sen, China looked towards a new leader named Chiang Kai-shek. Old and young alike swept and shoveled, while in teahouses and on the streets they argued their positions on their country’s fate.

  “It’s time for change in China!” some would say.

  Others would spit and shake their heads. “What do you know? China doesn’t need the likes of you causing trouble! We have the Japanese devils for that!”

  Pei walked the streets and listened to the voices, her happiness dampened by what she heard. China was so large and forbidding. The struggle for power all felt so remote from Yung Kee and her life at the girls’ house. She looked up to the sky and let her mind clear of all the disheartening thoughts. Soon she would be safely back with Lin at the silk factory. Ming was well enough to return to work, and everything would be as it had been before the rains.

  A few evenings later, the girls’ house received an unexpected visit from Mei-li’s parents. Their monthly visits usually took place on every first Thursday, so their unannounced arrival caught everyone by surprise.

  “I’m sorry,” said Mei-li’s father, a heavyset, balding man. “We have come to see Mei-li about a matter of great importance.”

  Mei-li’s mother followed mutely behind and nodded solemnly toward Auntie Yee.

  “Of course, of course. We are honored by your visit, Chun Sen San and Chun Tai,” said Auntie Yee, leading them into the reading room. “I’ll send someone to get Mei-li.”

  Pei went upstairs to find her. Mei-li remained expressionless upon hearing that her parents were downstairs waiting. She said nothing, simply tossed aside the book she was reading and went down to them.

  Downstairs, Auntie Yee moved nervously around the kitchen, preparing tea for her unexpected guests, while Moi poured dried plums and nuts into small bowls.

  “Have they no manners to come so late?” complained Moi.

  But before anything else could be said, they heard louder and louder voices coming from the reading room.

  “I will not!” screamed Mei-li.

  “Please, Mei-li, calm down,” her father begged.

  The rest, inaudible, was followed by Mei-li’s crying and the muffled voices of her parents trying to calm her.

  When the tea was ready, Auntie Yee hesitated, then knocked firmly on the double doors and waited for them to open. When they did, Mei-li’s father appeared apologetic and readily accepted her presence. From the small crack left open between the doors, Pei could see Mei-li in Auntie Yee’s arms, crying. Every so often Mei-li would look up at her parents to say between her tears, “I will not marry him … I will not!”

  Mei-li’s crying persisted, but to no avail, for when her father finally flung open the double doors, his angry voice rang throughout the house. “I am your father and you will do what I say!” He stormed out of the house with Mei-li’s mother following quickly behind.

  Mei-li remained in the reading room with Auntie Yee. Pei knew only too well what had taken place. Another girl at their house had been visited by her parents with the news that a husband had been chosen for her. A week later, the girl had left, accepting her fate without argument. Pei knew this wasn’t the first time Auntie Yee had been left to comfort a girl whose parents wanted her to enter into a loveless marriage. As with the others, Auntie Yee could only stand helplessly by. Every year it was the same story, as she watched certain families return, blind to the fact that their daughters were no longer the young, obedient children who had been left at the girls’ house. The silk work provided them not only with money, but with the independence of working and living on their own. And for many girls, there could be no turning back.

  Pei waited in the darkness for Mei-li to come to bed. Long after her parents had left, Mei-li remained in the comforting arms of Auntie Yee, not to emerge even when the lights were put out. At last the door to their room opened and the single figure of Mei-li quietly made her way to the bed next to Pei. Across the long room a girl coughed and another moaned in her sleep.

  Pei watched as Mei-li quickly undressed and slipped into her cotton gown, then whispered, “Are you all right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Your father was very angry when he left.”

  “Not as angry as I was.”

  “Will you marry, as your father wishes you to?”

  Mei-li didn’t answer right away, but sat silently down on Pei’s bed.

  “Only if my father wishes me to marry
Hong.”

  “Have you told them of Hong?”

  “No, I’ve only told them I won’t marry the one they’ve chosen for me.”

  “Who have they chosen?”

  “The son of a family they know.”

  Pei leaned closer to Mei-li. “But what do you really know about Hong?”

  “I know all I need to know, Hong is the only one I will ever marry!”

  “What are you going to do, then?”

  Mei-li paused, her round face half hidden in the darkness. She rose slowly and moved entirely into the shadows, then whispered: “I don’t know yet.”

  Chapter Six

  1926

  Pei

  When they reached the main road, Pei wished that she and Lin had walked in another direction, away from all the noise and the suffocating crowds. Her mouth felt dry and sour. It was a week before Chen Ling’s and Ming’s hairdressing ceremony, and the girls had been given a rare day off from the factory while waiting for a new shipment of cocoons. Pei felt she’d seen so little of Lin in the past year that it was as if they had just awakened from a long sleep, still awkward and shy. After Ming’s accident, Lin had been given all Chen Ling’s duties. Lin pleaded with the owner, Chung, for help, but he refused to bring in another girl, fearing it would cut into his profits. Then the rains came with a vengeance, leaving everything and everyone in three feet of water. When they finally dried out, Lin had withstood the storm.

  “How could you stand it?” Pei asked, as they recounted the year. She stepped quickly to the side, avoiding an oncoming cart stacked high with bamboo cages filled with ducks and chickens.

  Lin simply laughed, as if it were someone else’s life they were talking about. Work never seem to frighten her, and she never complained, though in the past year she’d grown thin and haggard.

  In the white light of late winter, Lin looked frail. She said very little, and her hands shook slightly when she brought them out in front of her. Her eyes met Pei’s for a moment, then looked away, anxious. For months Lin had been receiving letters from her mother in Canton. Lin hadn’t said anything to Pei about them. She simply read the letters, then tucked them away as if they had never existed. Pei hoped Lin might finally tell her about the letters without her asking.

  What Pei really felt ashamed of was how little she knew about Lin. Lin had taken care of her for the past seven years, but Pei knew very little about Lin’s childhood, or her mother and two brothers, who lived in Canton. Lin held tightly onto her family, secrets, and for once, Pei’s questions made no difference. At fifteen, Pei knew little more about Lin’s family than she had at eight.

  Suddenly, Pei was distracted from her thoughts by a loud crashing noise coming from a nearby fish shop, followed by the high shrieking of a woman’s voice. “Devils! I want you out of here!” The front door flew open and a woman chased out several stray cats that had crept into her shop. Pei and Lin stopped to watch, laughing.

  When everything was calm again, they walked slowly away. They turned down a dusty street, quieter and less crowded. Pei decided it was time to satisfy her curiosity. “Were you thinking about the letters from your mother?” she asked.

  Lin paused, then looked up at her with a smile. “Yes,” she answered.

  “Why haven’t you ever told me anything about your family?”

  “There was never anything to tell.”

  Pei waited for Lin to continue, feeling a cool wind send a chill through her. Lin appeared as calm as usual, but as Pei looked closer she could see Lin’s tightly pursed lips and the dark, dry eyes, which carried a hint of sadness.

  “Is anything wrong?”

  Lin sighed and then relented, in one breath: “My mother has found my brother a suitable wife to marry.”

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  “Now she wants me to leave the girls’ house and return home to marry.”

  “What!” Pei said, stunned.

  “My mother’s health has returned.” Lin swallowed. “And she has found the right girl for a favorable marriage to my brother Ho Chee. The marriage will also help to advance my brother’s career, so that he can carry on the good name of my father. But since I’m the eldest, something must be done about my own unmarried position, in order to clear the way for him.” Lin paused for a moment, as if something were stuck in her throat. “My mother has even suggested I leave the silk factory and return home as soon as I can.”

  “You can’t,” Pei whispered. She wished they had stayed on the main road, where the crowds might distract her. The thought of Lin’s leaving felt too large and dark for her to understand.

  Lin smiled wearily. “Don’t worry, I’ve known too many girls whose families have made them marry against their will. I won’t be trapped in a loveless marriage with a total stranger. I can’t allow that to be my fate.”

  “What are you going to do?” Pei asked.

  “I’ve been at the girls’ house for almost ten years now, and I’m past the age of marrying well. Who would want to marry a woman of twenty-one? I’m too old for a match of any worth.” Then, as an afterthought, Lin said, “There’s always the hairdressing ceremony.”

  “But you could still have any husband you choose. You’re so beautiful! The hairdressing ceremony would mean you could never marry!” Pei’s throat felt dry as she looked away to avoid Lin’s eyes. For the first time, Pei saw Lin struggling with a decision that would affect both their lives. She didn’t want Lin to see how frightened she was.

  “It makes no difference to me now. I don’t think it ever did, not really. Marriage was always what my mother wanted for me. My only concern has been to help my mother and brothers. After my father died, I just wanted to protect them from anything else that could harm them. The silk work provided me with a quick means to do that.”

  Lin stopped beside a wooden sign whose faded red characters listed herbal medicines; she was quiet, as if remembering something painful. “Did you know,” she finally said, “that some families keep a daughter aside just for the silk work?”

  Pei nodded her head. Over the years Pei had wondered if she herself was one of these “silk daughters,” or if her parents really had no other choice but to give her away. She always hoped it would be the latter.

  “It was never my mother’s original intention for me,” Lin continued.

  “I know,” Pei said. She was certain of this, and said it so softly it was almost lost in the wind.

  Lin looked at her curiously. “And what do you suppose my fate was to be?”

  At first Pei couldn’t say anything. From the moment she laid eyes on Lin, she had known Lin was not like the others. Besides having a smooth, even beauty, Lin carried herself differently, with quiet, graceful movements. She didn’t have the clumsy country ways of the others. Lin’s dark eyes seemed to have seen more of the world than the rest of the girls had.

  “I think you could have presided over a very great house, with a husband and children who adored you,” Pei finally answered.

  Lin laughed. “You have predicted what was my mother’s fate, or at least part of her fate.”

  “Did she have a very great house?”

  “Yes,” Lin answered thoughtfully. “My father was a very high official in Canton, and we lived in a good district near the European settlement. My parents were always entertaining, especially my mother, who was so beautiful I …”

  Lin lifted her hand to touch her own face.

  “Are you all right?”

  “I don’t know what I’m going to do now,” Lin suddenly said, defeated.

  “You won’t leave, will you? You know I’ll do anything to help you stay,” Pei said, with renewed vigor. Her voice sounded strangely foreign to her.

  “I know.” Lin paused, looking away. “At first, being here was only for my mother and my brothers, and there was a simplicity to it. Even with all the loneliness, I was helping them. But now, there’s you. What will become of you?”

  Pei remained quiet, trying to think of some ric
h scheme that would return everything to the way it had been. Pei knew that “clearing the way” meant Lin must either enter a loveless marriage, or go through the hairdressing ceremony and move from the girls’ house to a sisters’ house. Either way, Pei would lose her. Over the years, Lin remained her closest friend. Pei had come to love her entirely, as a sister and teacher. Without Lin, she would be lost. Pei suddenly felt so cold she could barely stand the small ache growing inside of her.

  Before Pei could say anything else, Lin turned back to her and suddenly pulled Pei’s arm, looking up and smiling at her height. “Come now,” Lin said, “let’s not waste this wonderful day!”

  But as awful as Pei felt, Lin seem to relax as they walked on. Coming toward them was a family returning from the marketplace. The daughter and her two younger brothers each held a bag of fruit. Lin smiled and watched them pass. Her voice was calm when at last she broke her silence and began telling Pei about her life before the girls’ house.

  “I have never dreamed of my family, they’re much too real for that,” Lin slowly began. “I was born the eldest child, and only daughter, of Wong Hung-Hui. Much of my early life was spent taking care of my two younger brothers and learning the household duties that would prepare me for marriage and my future in-laws. We lived in a large brick house in one of the better districts in Canton, with two old servants and three dogs. I knew from early on that we lived a privileged life. My father was a high official in the government, and men dressed in uniforms or Western suits often came to our house. The women who accompanied them had heavily painted faces and wore bright, Western-style clothing. My brothers and I would watch from the top of the stairs as they entered, but always my mother remained the most beautiful woman in the room as she stood beside my father in her red lace cheongsam.

  “As a small child, I worshiped my mother. She was the only daughter of a scholarly man who had little wealth, but the intelligence to know that Wong Hung-Hui would make something of himself. Knowing that my mother had the gift of great beauty, her father quickly went to Wong Hung-Hui’s family and made the match between my parents. It proved to be a successful pairing, for my mother’s beauty would always be an asset to my father’s career.