Lin looked up, and smiled. “Of course not.”
“Yes, well, she really doesn’t have anyone anymore, and since she gets on so well with us, I thought it might be better for her to come with us.”
“I know,” Lin said. “I’ve already written to Ho Yung to find a place on the boat for Ji Shen. We should hear from him any day now.”
From the kitchen, Pei could hear Moi’s voice mumbling something inaudible.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” she asked.
“I took it for granted you knew she would be coming with us. Where else would she go?”
Pei laughed. She then walked over and gave Lin a quick hug.
Pei went immediately to ask Ji Shen if she’d like to go to Canton and Hong Kong with them. At first, Ji-Shen was tongue-tied, then she nodded her head. “Yes,” she finally said aloud, “I want to go.”
Pei knew Ji Shen had just found a new rhythm to her life at the girls’ house, and it would be hard to start over again. But she also knew the girl’s feeling of safety would be short-lived. The Japanese devils were approaching the south with great speed.
Pei laughed and hugged Ji Shen. “Everything’s going to be wonderful in Hong Kong. We’ll find work there, and see all the new things we’ve only dreamed about!”
“What kinds of things?” Ji Shen asked.
“Everything! Buildings taller than you can imagine, and people who have come from all over the world to do business.”
“What kind of work would we do?” she asked, fearful.
“We’ll do whatever we can, and learn what we have to—it will be like having a new life!”
“And what about Chen Ling and Ming?” Ji Shen suddenly asked. “And what about Moi?”
Pei turned serious. “They prefer to stay here. Chen Ling and Ming will most likely go to live at a vegetarian hall in the countryside.”
“And Moi?”
Pei hesitated. “Moi’s stubborn,” she finally said with a sigh. “She thinks nothing will touch her as long as she remains at the girls’ house. We’ve all tried to persuade her to leave.”
Ji Shen said, with genuine concern, “She can’t stay here alone.”
“Moi will do as she pleases, no matter what anyone tells her. Her life is at the girls’ house; without it, she might as well not live.”
Ji Shen sat a moment in thought. Her lip quivered before she raised her head and asked, “Will we be safe in Hong Kong?”
Pei answered, “I promise.”
Pei woke up sweating, her cotton gown soaked. She didn’t know why, since the heat was nothing compared to that a few months ago. It might have been a bad dream, or the anticipation of their leaving. But as she watched the sunlight slowly grow into their room, everything else seemed far away. She turned toward Lin, who was sleeping soundly. For the first time in weeks, Lin had slept well and seemed happy. There was only one more day before Lin would be finished at the factory and they would leave for Canton.
For a day and a night, Moi had been preparing a special meal for them before their departure, humming and talking to herself all day as she moved in and out of the kitchen. Whatever Moi’s secret was, it remained tucked away in the confines of her kitchen and Auntie Yee’s room. Chen Ling no longer cared, and declared those rooms Moi’s own domain, to do as she wished. But even if the others didn’t dare to bother Moi as she sneaked from one room to the other, Pei hoped to solve the mystery once and for all before they left.
That morning, after their meal, Lin and Chen Ling left for their last day at the silk factory. Moi suddenly dashed out the door after them. “You must not be late,” she yelled out to them. “Moi has a surprise for you. You must not be late!”
Moi walked back in, mumbling to herself and taking no notice of Pei and Ji Shen as she went back into her kitchen. Pei decided then that this would be her last chance to find out what Moi was hiding in the two rooms. With Ji Shen suppressing her laughter, they waited out of sight for Moi to come out of her kitchen and gingerly make her way upstairs to Auntie Yee’s room, which she always kept locked.
Pei had almost given up hope of Moi’s ever coming back out from her kitchen when the door opened and, without a sound, Moi emerged. She looked around to make sure no one was nearby before stepping out of the safety of her kitchen. In her arms, she cradled two large jars with great care. Quickly Moi made her way up the stairs. When they were sure she was safely out of sight, Pei and Ji Shen quietly followed. They waited around the corner so Moi would not see them when she came out again. Usually Moi made several trips up and down the stairs before she relocked the door to Auntie Yee’s room. When Moi emerged, they waited until she was back downstairs and they heard the creaking of the kitchen door closing before daring to come out. Then, while Ji Shen watched for Moi’s return, Pei quickly stole through the door into Auntie Yee’s room.
The heavy aroma of Moi’s cooking seemed to linger in the darkness. The thick, dark curtains Moi used to shield the room from the outside made it difficult to see anything at first. Pei waited a moment before her eyes adjusted to the darkness. An eerie feeling moved through her, but she’d come too far now to turn back. Besides, Ji Shen was watching and would warn her if Moi returned.
Nothing looked out of place. Slowly Pei made her way around the room, noting the familiar and recording anything that might have made Moi want to keep the room off limits to the rest of them for the past year. Pei moved toward Auntie Yee’s bed, which seemed the only large and concrete thing in the shadowy light. Then her foot kicked something solid that clinked across the bare floor. When she tried to turn around, her foot hit something else that crashed into still another object. Pei grew hot, and scared that Moi would be running upstairs wielding her knife. There was a small tapping sound from outside the door. She could hear Ji Shen asking in a whisper if everything was all right, but Pei’s voice went dry when she looked down in the semidarkness to see that the floor was covered with jars. As she bent down to set them straight, Pei saw that their contents were rice and sugar and dried herbs. Pei straightened all the jars she had knocked over, only to see one jar had been broken, its contents spilled across the wooden floor. There was no time to clean up. Pei did what she could before quickly making her escape.
“What does Moi keep in the room?” Ji Shen asked when they were safely down the hall in Pei’s room.
“Jars,” Pei answered, keeping from Ji Shen that they were filled with dry food.
“But why?”
Pei shrugged her shoulders. “Who knows the habits of an old woman,” she answered, keeping Moi’s secret.
“Were they empty?” Ji Shen asked.
“As far as I could see,” Pei lied, though she was certain all the jars were filled with rice and sugar.
“It’s a good thing she didn’t catch us, she would have skinned us alive!” Ji Shen said, laughing. “Why would Moi want to collect jars, anyway?”
“I don’t know,” Pei said.
But she did know. As Pei stood amid the sea of jars, she knew at that moment that Moi was showing her how much she cared for them. In the only way Moi could, she was trying to protect them. She would never let them go hungry, no matter how bad the war became. Moi was storing food for the hard times, readying herself for the long winter ahead.
Pei saw Moi in a different light after this discovery. When Moi went back downstairs, she said nothing about the jars or their scattered contents, though Pei felt she somehow knew. She wanted to talk to Moi about her jars of food upstairs, but kept silent. They shared the secret now, and Moi trusted her with it. Instead, Pei tried to help her in any way she could. Under Moi’s watchful eyes, Pei set the table as if for a banquet, covering the table with a lace tablecloth and placing upon it Auntie Yee’s best bowls and dishes. When there was no more to do, Pei sat and waited for Lin, the sharp aroma of cooking coming from Moi’s kitchen, filling her up.
Moonfire
When Lin closed the books for the final time, she leaned back in her chair and took a
deep breath. Already her mind had traveled outside to the warm evening air and the almost full moon that loomed brightly in the darkening sky. It had been months since she felt so good, relieved at the fact that her work at the factory was finally over. At long last they would be leaving for Canton. The uneasiness she’d been feeling about leaving also disappeared, with something closer to excitement taking its place. She looked around her small bare office and was thankful for not having to return to it ever again. Very carefully, Lin placed Chung’s account books in her desk drawer and locked it. She’d have to hurry back to the girls’ house, since Moi was preparing a special meal for them that evening. Lin didn’t want Moi to be upset at her being late, but she was relieved to have told Chen Ling to leave earlier, since there was no use in both of them being delayed.
Lin stood up, her hand still resting on the rough surface of her desk. With her other hand she touched her face; her skin felt wan and dry from working under the harsh lights. As soon as they arrived in Hong Kong, she would take care of herself. She and Pei would spend some of their hard-earned money on luxury items, like a set of silver brushes and combs and some newly translated books. She had grown as eager as Pei to know more about the outside world, with all its colors and languages. Pei read voraciously, and sometimes peppered their conversations with the strange-sounding names of places like New York and the Taj Mahal. Lin couldn’t help but smile at the thought.
Lin looked up when something foreign captured her attention. There was a vague smell of something burning and a sound like the clapping of hands. Lin moved quickly toward the door and listened hard before opening it. The clapping continued, yet it seemed muted and faraway. Slowly she opened the door and stepped carefully out of her office, making her way toward the machines. When she reached the outer room, the rising smoke hit her squarely in the face, and just behind it a fire raged, engulfing the reeling machines and everything in sight. A solid wall of fire was making its way toward her, blowing out the lights and blocking the only exit left unboarded when the factory was shut down. Lin turned around, her mind and heart racing. She looked up at the dirty skylights, barely visible in the moonlight. They were the only windows in the building and were impossible to reach. Quickly she ran back toward the drying room, where the reeled silk once hung in long blond strands. The back door leading to the alley was her only hope out. Lin pushed against the door, but it wouldn’t budge, tightly secured from the outside. Frantic, Lin grabbed a wooden hanging bar and began hitting the door with all her strength, only chipping away at the thick wood. She turned back to see the spreading fire and the billows of smoke making their way toward her. The intense heat shattered the skylight windows as one of the two main wooden beams that held up the roof collapsed. With one last furious effort she struck the door again and again, until she began to struggle for breath and her eyes stung. Moving along the wall, Lin covered her face and felt her way back to her office, closing the door and falling weakly against it.
At that moment Lin knew she had come to the end of her life. There was no way out of the burning factory. Even as the thought filled her head, she could feel the intense heat against the door. In minutes the choking smoke would envelop the small room and suck the life out of it. “Not now,” Lin said aloud. “It isn’t fair!” Then, in the darkness, she found her way back to her chair and crouched close to the floor, waiting. Lin closed her eyes. She could hear the fire exploding and feel the suffocating smoke slowly overtake her. Over and over again she whispered; “Pei, Pei! Oh, dear Pei, I have to leave you now.”
When Lin had not returned as expected, Pei began to worry. With every little sound she looked toward the door, expecting it to open and to see Lin looking radiant, apologetic for being late. Everything was ready and Moi paced in and out of the kitchen, each time bringing with her the alluring aromas of the dishes waiting to be served.
“Lin said she would only be a short while,” Pei said, looking toward Chen Ling as they sat around the table.
Chen Ling looked up and said reassuringly, “There were only the final figures to copy down; then we were supposed to be finished. Don’t worry, though—you know Lin, she may have found out we made some mistakes and it’s taking longer than expected.”
Pei tried to smile, but she couldn’t help feeling something unsettling in the pit of her stomach.
“Come look!” cried Ji Shen, who stood by the window watching for Lin.
Above the trees and buildings of Yung Kee loomed a large dark cloud, its borders growing and spreading a deep black against the twilit sky.
“Come on!” Chen Ling reacted first, running out the door and into the street. She stopped and looked toward what she knew could only be a very big fire coming from the direction of the factory.
Halfway there, Pei came to the realization that it was the silk factory that was on fire. The smoke billowed from its direction as the air they breathed thickened. Their eyes began to water and ash clung to their hair and clothes. By the time they arrived at the factory, most of the main building was in flames. A group of Chiang Kai-shek’s soldiers gave orders as men, women, and children brought bucket after bucket of water to quench the flames, and were just beginning to gain some momentum against the inferno. Pei frantically searched the crowd gathered, asking those she recognized if they had seen Lin.
When no one had, Pei turned to Ji Shen and screamed above the noise: “Lin could have left earlier; maybe she stopped to buy something—she could have, couldn’t she?”
Ji Shen nodded her head and took hold of Pei’s arm, trying to get her to sit down, but Pei jerked away from her.
“Tell me! Tell me Lin is alive!” screamed Pei, in a voice not her own.
“Yes, yes she is,” said Ji Shen.
Pei turned toward the fire, which now seemed a smoldering black cloud that filled the entire sky, and then back to Ji Shen and Ming, who had come to comfort her. Chen Ling had gone to find out whatever she could about how the fire started and whether anyone was hurt. The minutes seemed like hours as they waited, not knowing if Lin was dead or alive. Pei watched the flames and could feel the burning emptiness moving through her even before Chen Ling came walking toward them, her face dark and grave.
“No one has seen Lin, and no one seems to know how the fire began. It will take some time before they can even know if anyone was still inside or not. We might as well return to the girls’ house now,” said Chen Ling, her eyes focused on the burning remains of the factory.
“No!” said Pei frantically. “I can’t leave. What if Lin needs me?”
“It may be hours before they know anything,” pleaded Chen Ling.
“I have to stay,” Pei said in a whisper.
There was no more struggle in her as she sat down, and very quietly the tears came. Pei turned and felt Ji Shen close beside her as they began the long, torturous wait.
By dawn the fire had burned itself out; the smoking remains had just begun to be sifted through when a cry from one of the soldiers rang out in dim light. “Over here! Over here! It’s a body!”
Pei and Ji Shen, who were moving slowly through the ruin of the factory, ran toward the voice. Pei’s heart was racing with the fear that it was Lin, but even before she reached the spot she knew the answer. Lin was dead. Miraculously, the small office and back section of the building had remained, blackened yet intact. And there beside the crouching soldier was the slender, charred body of Lin.
Pei stopped at the first sight of her. A small choking sound came up and out of her, but it was the cries of Ji Shen that filled the air. Then calmly Pei walked toward Lin and knelt beside her. Very carefully she lifted Lin into her arms and cradled her against the hard, still smoldering ground.
Pei sat in the room she had shared with Lin and could not sleep or eat. Sometimes the tears came in choking heaves and sometimes not at all. The others took turns watching her. Even Moi volunteered, and tried in vain to feed her turnip soup. Every sound startled her. Pei gazed at the door for hours in hopes that Lin would
walk in. She closed her eyes and willed herself the strength not to let the barren feeling overtake her. It was as if Pei were trapped in her own body, immobile against all the motions of life. She had no desire to live without Lin, to never again hear her calming voice or feel Lin’s warmth beside her. Pei sat remembering in the stillness of their room, a dark numbing pain moving through her mind.
It was Chen Ling who finally came to her, laying her hand gently on Pei’s shoulder. “Lin has been washed and lies waiting downstairs.”
Pei nodded, but didn’t look at Chen Ling.
“I have wired Lin’s family in Canton,” Chen Ling said, as she knelt down beside Pei and took hold of her hand. She then said quietly, “I’ve known Lin such a very long time, I’m so sorry.”
When Chen Ling didn’t let go of her hand, Pei turned toward her. Chen Ling was crying, the tears softening her stern face. Pei had never seen tears from her in all the years they’d known each other, not even when Auntie Yee died. Her quiet sorrow filled the room. Then, very slowly, Pei raised her arms and put them around Chen Ling.
Chapter Nineteen
1938
Pei
Pei lost her voice after Lin died. Words felt useless and flat against the great dark wall that surrounded her. Ji Shen stayed with her, afraid she might harm herself. The soothing words Ji Shen tried to say fell lifeless around her. There was no way Ji Shen could know that the pain moving through Pei had taken away all her strength. Lin was dead. Pei was paralyzed with something she had not felt since her childhood: loneliness.
When Pei finally slept, it was a sleep filled with nightmares. She would rather have died herself than thought of Lin’s agonizing death from the heat and smoke, but her sleep gave her no peace. Pei found herself choking on the thick, black smoke, gasping for breath, always just out of reach of Lin as she tried desperately to pull her to safety. “Lin! Lin!” she cried, but Lin didn’t answer. Then there was nothing, blackness.
Women of the Silk Page 24
