Peach Blossom Pavilion

Soon we arrived at a small room decorated with polished furniture and embroidered pink curtains. Against the back wall stood an altar with a statue of a white-browed, red-eyed general mounted on a horse and wielding a sword. Arrayed in front of him were offerings of rice, meat, and wine.

In the centre of the room was a table set with chopsticks, bowls, and dishes of snacks. Fang Rong told me to sit between her and Wu Qiang. With no other etiquette, she announced that dinner would begin. A middle-aged woman brought out plates of food, then laid them down one by one on the table. After filling the bowls with rice and soup, she left without a word.

During the whole meal, Fang Rong kept piling food into my bowl. ‘Eat more, soon you’ll be a very healthy and charming young lady.’

I’d never before tasted food so delicious. I gulped down chunks of fish, shrimp, pork, chicken, and beef, washing them down with cup after cup of fragrant tea.

When dinner was finished, I asked, ‘Aunty Fang—’

‘Did you forget that I’m now your mama?’

Her stare was so fierce that I finally muttered a weak, ‘Mama.’ I swallowed hard. ‘After dinner, are we going to see the master and the mistress of the mansion?’

Barely had I finished my question when she burst into laughter. Then she took a sip of her tea and replied meaningfully. ‘Ha, silly girl! Don’t you know that we are your new master and mistress?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘That’s what I mean – I am the mistress and my husband is the master of this Peach Blossom Pavilion.’

‘What is Peach Blossom Pavilion?’

‘A book chamber.’

I looked around but didn’t see any books, not even bookshelves.

Fang Rong cast me a mysterious look. ‘A cloud and rain pavilion.’

Now Wu Qiang added soothingly, ‘This is … ah … a turquoise pavilion.’

‘What—’

Fang Rong spat, ‘A whorehouse!’

Wu Qiang looked on with a mysterious smile while his wife burst out in a loud laugh. Then she chided me affectionately. ‘Why do people always have to have the entrails drawn?’

She was referring to the Chinese saying that when one paints a portrait, he even includes the intestines – an act redundant and stupid.

Shocked, it took several beats before I could utter, ‘But didn’t you tell us that the master is a merchant of foreign trade?’

Fang Rong laughed, her huge breasts and bulging belly shivering. ‘Ha! Ha! It’s true. From time to time we do entertain British, French, and American soldiers here. Don’t you know you’ve just arrived at the night district of Si Malu? This is the most high-class shangren lane, where all the book chambers are found!’

I felt a queasiness simmering in my stomach. ‘You mean … I was sold into—’ Fang Rong’s harsh voice pierced my ears. ‘No, you were not sold, silly girl! You were given to us as a gift—’

Using his long-nailed pinky to pick some meat from between his teeth while stealing a glance at me, Wu Qiang added, ‘We didn’t even have to pay your mother.’

‘That’s why we never forget to make offerings to the Buddha, Guan Yin the Goddess of Mercy, and,’ her sausage finger pointing to the sword-wielding, horse-riding general, ‘the righteous, money-bringing White-Browed God.’ Fang Rong winked, then pinched my cheek. ‘So, little pretty, see how they look after us!’

Now, as if he were my real father, Wu Qiang looked down at me tenderly, his voice unctuous. ‘Xiang Xiang, don’t worry. From now on, you’ll have plenty of good food to eat and pretty clothes to wear. You’ll see we’ll take care of you like you’re our own daughter.’

But they were not my mother and father. That night, alone, helpless, and abandoned, I cried a long time before I fell asleep in the small, bare room to which I’d been led.

My only hope was that my mother would write to me and soon come to visit.

2

The North Station

In the following days, it surprised me that my anger at being tricked into the prostitution house had gradually waned. I had to admit, with embarrassment, that life here didn’t seem to be so bad after all. Fang Rong kept her promise to my mother – I was well clothed and fed. Moreover, I felt relieved to be spared, not only from accompanying clients but also from the menial chores like washing clothes, scrubbing floors, cleaning spittoons, emptying chamber pots. Those jobs were given to maids – girls too plain to ever serve as ‘sisters.’

In comparison to their work, mine was easy: serving the sisters and their customers while they played mahjong; refilling the guests’ water pipes and serving them tea and tobacco; helping the cook in the kitchen; carrying messages for the sisters; running errands for Fang Rong. Needless to say, I didn’t like serving Fang Rong, but I actually enjoyed the other tasks. Especially the mahjong playing – when the game was finished, the customers always tipped me generously by secretly pushing money into my hand.

Moreover, when the game finished and dinner was served in the banquet room, a puppy would always materialise to gobble bits of food thrown down by the guests and sisters. He was so cute that whenever I saw him, I’d pick him up, squeeze him in my arms, and bury my face into his fluffy yellow fur. Strangely, he was never given a name, but was just called ‘Puppy.’ One time when I’d asked a sister why didn’t the puppy have a name, she laughed, ‘Because we don’t want to bother. Why don’t you give him one?’ And I did. So he became Guigui – good baby. Guigui began to recognise me and follow me almost everywhere. His favourite place was beside me in the kitchen while I helped the chef, Ah Ping.

Ah Ping, a fortyish, mute, and half-witted woman, always secretly fed me and Guigui with goodies. For a chef, she was unusually thin. I always stared at her hollow cheeks and wondered why she never seemed to have any appetite. Or why she only spoke with jumbled sounds which no one could understand.

I carried out my chores mostly during my spare time. My main duty in the pavilion was to learn the arts – singing parts from Peking and Kun operas; playing the pipa – a four-stringed lute resembling a pear; painting; and practising calligraphy.

The painting and calligraphy teacher was Mr. Wu, an old man in his forties. I felt very fond of him not only because he painted well, but, also because he was a very kind teacher – never scolding but gently redirecting my brush to show me how to form the strokes more elegantly. The opera teacher, Mr. Ma, was younger than Mr. Wu, but also pretty old – thirty-eight. I didn’t like him, for he looked at me strangely and would accidentally brush his hand against my face, my belly, sometimes even my breast (when he demonstrated how to lead my breath from my chest down to my dantian – cinnabar field).

A young woman named Pearl was assigned to teach me to play the pipa. Beautiful with shiny black hair and sparkling white teeth, Pearl was the most popular sister in the pavilion. Although I was extremely fond of her, somehow she also made me feel uneasy. I found it hard to tell what kind of a person she really was – sometimes sweet and lively like a rabbit, at other times arrogant and difficult like a cat. Though usually bright and bubbly, at moments she would become sad, as if burdened with forbidden secrets.

Besides Pearl’s unpredictable temper, I had another source of unease in the turquoise pavilion – the pair of sad eyes peeking out from the bamboo grove and staring at me whenever I passed the courtyard.

However, I felt happy and content with my art lessons and fine food; Fang Rong and her husband seemed almost parental to me, so I had little inclination to complain.

Life in this turquoise pavilion was really not so horrible as it was described by people outside.

Yet one thing made me sad. I’d been here nearly four weeks now, but Mother had never written to me nor come to visit as she’d promised. Counting on my fingers, I suddenly realised that she would be leaving for Peking tomorrow. So I went to Fang Rong and asked for her permission to let me leave the pavilion to see my mother off.

Although she smiled, the big mole between her brows looked as if it were about to leap toward me in full force. ‘Ah, you foolish girl. Don’t you know the rule in Peach Blossom? You can only be allowed to go outside the main gate on the following occasions: when you get an invitation from some very important guests, that’s only after you’ve become very popular and much sought after; when I take you out for business like fixing your hair or having clothes sewn for you; when the pavilion organises an outing to entertain important parties.’

‘What do you mean?’ I stared at her mole to avoid her eyes.

‘Don’t ask too many questions; it never does a little girl any good.’ Her voice grew very sharp and harsh. ‘Anyway, you’re not going out, not tonight, not anytime, not until I tell you to, you under­stand? Now go and help Ah Ping in the kitchen. Tonight we’ll have a police chief, a banker, a cotton merchant, and many other important people to entertain.’

In the corridor on my way to the kitchen, I heard an assortment of noises – singing, chatting, pipa plucking, mahjong playing, Fang Rong’s yelling – drift from the different chambers. The sisters were putting on make-up, dressing, practising their singing, or tuning their instruments one last time before the guests arrived. Today was a Saturday and business seemed unusually good. I peered down the street from a latticed window and saw shiny black cars pull up at the entrance, disgorging important-looking men – some clad in elegantly tailored silk gowns, others in perfectly pressed Western suits.

As I was watching the ebb and flow of cars, I felt a pool of sadness. Did my mother have any inkling that I was now living in a prostitution house and not a rich man’s residence? Why didn’t she come to see me?

I blinked back tears and hurried to the kitchen. Seeing me, Ah Ping’s pale face brightened. She gave me an affectionately chiding look, then pretended to hold a plate in one hand, while her other hand made a pouring motion. After that, she shrugged as if to warn, Ah, Xiang Xiang, if you’re late again next time, all the choice morsels will be gone!

She went to close the door, then returned to ladle bits of abalone, shark fin, and fish from the various cauldrons. She set the delicacies on a plate and pushed it across the table toward me. I was not hungry, but in order to please her, I picked up a piece of abalone and popped it into my mouth. As I was savouring the rubbery taste, I heard the grating of paws on wood.

‘Aunty Ah Ping,’ I threw down my chopsticks, ‘it’s Guigui!’

I dashed to open the door and let the puppy in. He yapped, then furiously licked my feet and wagged his tail. I scooped him up and began to feed him with the food from my plate. He lapped and gobbled happily.

Some strange sound emitted from Ah Ping’s throat. She was protesting that I shouldn’t feed the puppy with the delicacies reserved for important guests. I stuck out my tongue. She smiled back, then signalled me to continue eating.

But the only thing I wanted now was to see my mother. Tears swelled in my eyes as I buried my face into Guigui’s.

Ah Ping gestured with her hands. Something wrong?

‘Aunty Ah Ping, I have … a stomach ache, so can I—’

She waved toward the door. Go.

‘Are you sure?’

She nodded.

‘Then thank you very much.’ I put Guigui down on the floor. He protested by pulling the hem of my trouser leg with his teeth. ‘But Aunty Ah Ping—’

Again, she waved frantically, then leant her cheek on her hands. Go, go take a nap.

I hurried down to the courtyard, and after making sure that no one was hiding within the bamboo groves, treaded cautiously along the hidden path until I reached the main gate. Heart pounding, I hid behind the bamboo foliage for the right moment to escape. I waited until the denizens of the establishment – Fang Rong, Wu Qiang, the sisters, the maids, the amahs, the male servants, the guards – appeared for the ritual of greeting the arriving guests. While they were kowtowing and pouring flattery to the important visitors, I slipped out.

Once clear of the gate, I ran all the way to the main street and hailed a rickshaw.

‘Hurry, hurry!’ I kept shouting to the coolie’s scrawny back.

He turned and scrutinised me, his dull eyes menacing under the street light. ‘Little miss, this is a long way, so I have to save my energy. You don’t want me to fall down in the middle of the road; do you?’

So I kept my mouth shut and listened to his tortured grunts until he finally entered a long, dark passage and pulled to a stop in front of a dilapidated house. I thrust a few coins into his calloused hand, then ran toward the low building. Dim light seeped out from under­neath our cracked door. I knocked on the thin wooden plank, my heart pounding and my mouth sucking in big gulps of air.

The door creaked open and light flooded from behind Mother’s back. Eyes widened, she dropped open her mouth. ‘Xiang Xiang, what a surprise! I’ve been worried to death about you!’

Choked with emotions, I could only utter a loud ‘Ma!’ then thrust myself into her arms.

Mother led me inside and took me to sit down on the floor. The room was practically empty except for two suitcases and a few odds and ends.

She was dressed in a threadbare black smock and trousers. Her hungry eyes scrutinised me for long moments. ‘Xiang Xiang, you look so different!’ she exclaimed, stroking my face. ‘Now your body is much stronger and your face rounder. I’m so glad that you’re well fed.’ She touched my floral cotton top and trousers. ‘Look at you in this pretty outfit!’ Before I could respond, she plunged on excitedly, ‘Xiang Xiang, I’m so glad that we finally have a piece of good luck!’

‘But Ma—’

‘Xiang Xiang, try not to complain too much; learn to be grateful.’

So how could I have the heart to tell her the truth – that I’d been tricked into a prostitution house? Besides, I was indeed well clothed and fed and not too badly treated. Although Peach Blossom Pavilion was a prostitution house, it was indeed also a mansion for rich men and I did work there as a maid. So why distress Mother with the rest of the truth? Therefore, when she went on to ask me this and that about my new life, I simply told her not to worry.

When I asked Mother why hadn’t she come to see me, she sighed, ‘Hai, Xiang Xiang, I’ve been very busy going from house to house to borrow money to pay off our debts before I leave this dusty world.’ She paused to put one strand of my hair in place. ‘I did try to go to your place, but the address Aunty Fang gave me was wrong. I’ve been asking around anyone who might know her, but,’ Mother stopped in midsentence to look at me tenderly, ‘anyway, you’re here now.’

I scribbled my address and gave it to her. ‘Ma, this is the right address, so you can write me after you’ve arrived in Peking.’

She carefully folded the paper as if it were a hundred silver-dollar bill and put it into her purse.

My heart slowly shattered inside.

Autumn was fading into winter. The weather had already turned chilly and most of the leaves on the white parasol trees had fallen, and were strewn along the Huangpu River bank.

After a rickshaw ride and an interminable walk, my mother and I dragged our numbed bodies toward the North Train Station, dreading the moment of departure. Only one thought occupied our minds: We never knew when we would see each other again.

Staring at the parasol leaves scattered in intriguing patterns along the asphalt ground, Mother said, her voice smeared with melancholy, ‘Xiang Xiang, we Chinese say “falling leaves returning to their roots.” You understand what this means?’

I looked up and caught her eyes beaming with tears. ‘Yes, Ma, it means that no matter what happens, we should always find our way home.’

A wry smile broke out on her bloodless face. ‘Will you remember this?’

I nodded, too choked with sadness to say anything. Also because I was thinking: But Ma, where’s our home? I don’t think we have one to go back to any more! The turquoise pavilion, although it also had a ‘mama,’ was definitely not my home, nor was the nunnery my mother’s. But I swallowed my words as well as my tears.

We arrived at the station and stepped inside the crowded lobby. Mother hurried to join the queue to buy tickets. I watched rich tai tai chatting languidly while waiting for their servants to buy them first-class passage.

After a while, Mother rushed back to me, waving the ticket in her hand. We hurried to the train. In the past, I had always felt excited by trains. I’d liked listening to their ‘Wu! Wu!’ sound and watching the white smoke puffing out from their noses like steamed snow, while imagining the exotic places they would take me to. But now I dreaded this black monster. Soon it would grab my mother and take her away from me to a walled temple filled with bald-headed women reciting unintelligible sutras as if they were talking to ghosts!

‘Xiang Xiang,’ Mother said, while tenderly putting a Guan Yin pendant around my neck, ‘now hurry back to Aunty Fang and behave. Always obey her as if she were your real mother and never cause any trouble; you understand?’

I felt tears stinging my eyes. ‘But Ma, that fat, ugly pig is not my mother!’

Thwack! Mother slapped my face.

I started to cry. ‘Ma, why don’t you take me with you?’

‘You think I’ve never thought of that?’ She sighed, pulling out a handkerchief to wipe my tears. Her voice came out soft and low. ‘Sorry that I hit you, Xiang Xiang. But do you have any idea what kind of a life it is to be a nun? It’s fine with me since my prime has passed and now I’m but a worthless old woman. But you’re young and beautiful and have a bright future waiting before you, so I won’t let you squander it in a nunnery. Besides,’ she sighed again, ‘one of the novice nuns told me that the Mother Abbess said …’ She stopped in midsentence.

‘Said what?’

‘That you’re too beautiful to be a nun, and she fears your beauty will bring bad luck to her temple.’

Usually my heart would leap to heaven when people said that I was pretty, but now it sank to the bottom of the sea. ‘How do they know that I’m pretty?’

‘I told them, because I’m so proud of you.’ Mother patted my head. ‘Xiang Xiang, I know a servant girl’s life isn’t easy. But it’s only temporary. We’ll find a way out sooner or later. Now listen to me. After you’ve seen me off, go right back to your master. And don’t forget it’s very important that you obey him and his wives, and try your best to get along with everyone, otherwise you won’t have a roof to live under nor even thin rice gruel to warm your stomach. Remember, not only that you must put up with any hardship, you have to endure it with a smile, so no one will see a trace of bitterness.’ She paused to search my face. ‘Xiang Xiang, instead of complaining, you should thank heaven for all this, you understand?’

I nodded, licking and tasting the salt of my tears. ‘Ma, when will we see each other again?’

‘Not for a while, but we will.’ Mother squeezed out a smile. ‘We can always write to each other. Or maybe I can even try to come back here to see you.’ She paused, ‘There are many temples on the western side of the Taiyi Mountain south-west of Peking. I think I’ll settle there, but I’m still not sure in which one. I’ll write you as soon as I arrive.’

She sighed, looking at me with her tear-misted eyes. ‘Hai, Xiang Xiang, I know no matter how decently they treat you in your new house, you’re still a maid after all.’ She considered for a moment, then spoke again thoughtfully, ‘Just remember one thing: We can’t beat fate, but we can play along and make the most out of it. Try to be happy.’ Mother went on, ‘Also, be careful what you tell about yourself in the new house. Don’t say anything about how your baba died. Be cautious.’

I nodded.

Mother gave me a quick hug. ‘Xiang Xiang, I’m afraid our paths must part now. May Guan Yin be with you till we meet again.’

With that, she hurried toward the train, tripped, pulled herself up, then, without turning back, mounted the black monster. With her back to me, she frantically waved her one-way ticket until her familiar slender figure vanished among the crowd.

I stared hard at the tracks that would take her away to the nunnery in Peking but would never bring her back.

3

The Dark Room

With the ‘Wu! Wu!’ sound of the train still ringing in my ears, I hired a rickshaw to go back to Peach Blossom. When I got off the vehicle and started to walk, I felt both the bitter cold wind and my own tears stinging my cheeks.

To my surprise, as I sneaked up to the main gate, I saw Fang Rong standing there, thrusting forward her fat, wrinkled neck. Once she spotted me, she hollered, ‘Catch this little bitch!’

Immediately, a huge lump of a man appeared out of nowhere and grabbed me. His hold was so tight that his fingers pinched deeply into my flesh. Before I could scream, I felt blows on my head and slaps on my face.

Then Fang Rong’s voice screeched next to my ear like an out-of-tune fiddle. ‘I told you that you can’t go out by yourself! Where have you been?!’

‘To … see my mother off to Peking.’

‘See your mother off? Are you blind? Don’t you see your mama is right here in front of you?’ More slaps on my face, then, ‘To the dark room!’

I was immediately blindfolded, lifted up, and carried away. Although the man walked fast, it still seemed a long time before he dropped me down and removed my blindfold. I was thrown into a dim, airless cubicle, and immediately I knew that people didn’t have to die to go to hell. It was right here on earth.

The stench of the damp, rotten floor pierced my nostrils. Although I could hardly see anything in the dark, I could hear squealing, which made me aware that I was not alone.

I banged on the iron door. ‘Mama, let me out! Please let me out!’

Fang Rong’s voice sneered, ‘Mama? Haven’t you just told me that your mama has already left for Peking?’ A deafening pause, then, ‘Now see whether you dare to run away again!’ followed by a peal of chilling laughter and footsteps marching triumphantly away.

I didn’t know how long I’d been banging on the door before I felt so exhausted that I groped around and slumped on a wobbly cot.

It was then that I noticed the squealing again.

My heart flipped. Was there another person here? Or were there ghosts?

I quickly pulled the filthy blanket over my head. Then I felt something cool and hairy brushing against my hand. I screamed and jumped off the bed.

Rats.

They were everywhere – to keep me company!

I vomited though I hadn’t had food in my stomach for hours. Suddenly a frenzied squealing almost froze my heart – the rats were swarming to vie for my vomit!

Another wave of nausea sloshed in my stomach, but this time nothing came out of my mouth. My throat felt scorched. I wrapped the blanket tightly around myself and tried to forget my fear in sleep, but the coldness of the room made my teeth chatter, freezing me awake. Finally thirst became so unbearable that I got off the bed, stomped my feet to scare away the rats, then slipped off my trousers and tried to pee. Maybe I could ease my thirst by drinking my own …

But nothing came, not even one drop, then suddenly I felt something slimy scurry up my leg.

I screamed. But that didn’t stop the rat from climbing inside my trousers. He was now squirming around my crotch. Cold sweat broke out all over my body. I screamed more. The filthy creature kept bumping until I realised that he must have been as scared as I. Crying hysterically, I snatched off my trousers and flung him off.

Overcome with disgust, I banged my head on the door and hollered, ‘Let me out! Let me out!’ But there was no response except more screeching – this time my own – echoing eerily in the ghostly room. I kept banging and hollering. When nothing happened, I used my whole force to hit my head on the door.