Peach Blossom Pavilion
Mingmei Yip

Copyright

Avon

An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd

77–85 Fulham Palace Road

Hammersmith, London W6 8JB

www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2014

Copyright © Mingmei Yip 2008

Cover photographs © Natalia Campbell / Getty Images (woman); myu-myu / Getty Images (bird); Shutterstock.com; Kevin Hua Long Jiang / Getty Images (background).

Mingmei Yip asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Source ISBN: 9780007570126

Ebook Edition © February 2014 ISBN: 9780007570133

Version: 2014-07-25

Dedication

For Geoffrey, Who gives me both the fish and the bear’s paw.

When there is action above and compliance below, this is called the natural order of things.

When the man thrusts from above and the woman receives from below, this is called the balance between heaven and earth.

–Dong Xuanzi (Tang dynasty, AD 618–907)

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Epigraph

Prologue

Part One

1. The Turquoise Pavilion

2. The North Station

3. The Dark Room

4. The Elegant Gathering

5. Spring Moon

6. A Lucky Day

7. The Jade Stalk and the Golden Gate

8. The Haunted Garden

9. The Art of Pleasing

10. The Longevity Wrinkles

11. Rape of the Rock

12. Beat the Cat

Part Two

13. Life Went On

14. Mr. Anderson

15. The Prestigious Prostitute

16. Red Jade

17. The Ways Out

18. The Jade Stalk Refuses to Salute

19. Last Journey in the Red Dust

Part Three

20. Chinese Soap Opera

21. Melting the Ice

22. American Handsome

23. The Escape

24. The Bandits

25. This Woman Is Not My Husband

26. The Monk and the Prostitute

27. The Encounter

28. Separation

29. Replaying the Pipa

30. Flight to Heaven

31. The Reunion

32. Back to Shanghai

33. Revenge

Part Four

34. Ginseng Tea

35. Back to Peking

36. The Nun and the Prostitute

37. An Unexpected Visitor

Epilogue

Acknowledgements

About the Publisher

Prologue
Precious Orchid

The California sun slowly streams in through my apartment window, then gropes its way past a bamboo plant, a Chinese vase spilling with plum blossoms, a small incense burner, then finally lands on Bao Lan – Precious Orchid – the woman lying opposite me without a stitch on.

Envy stabs my heart. I stare at her body as it curves in and out like a snake ready for mischief. She lies on a red silk sheet embroidered with flowers in gold thread. ‘Flower of the evil sea’ – this was what people in old Shanghai would whisper through cupped mouths. While now, in San Francisco, I murmur her name, ‘Bao Lan,’ sweetly as if savouring a candy in my mouth. I imagine inhaling the decadent fragrance from her sun-warmed nudity.

Bao Lan’s eyes shine big and her lips – full, sensuous, and painted a dark crimson – evoke in my mind the colour of rose petals in a fading dream. Petals that, when curled into a seductive smile, also whisper words of flattery. These, together with her smooth arm, raised and bent behind her head in a graceful curve, remind me of the Chinese saying ‘A pair of jade arms used as pillows to sleep on by a thousand guests; two slices of crimson lips tasted by ten thousand men.’

Now the rosy lips seem to say, ‘Please come to me.’

I nod, reaching my hand to touch the nimbus of black hair tumbling down her small, round breasts. Breasts the texture of silk and the colour of white jade. Breasts that were touched by many – soldiers, merchants, officials, scholars, artists, policemen, gangsters, a Catholic priest, a Taoist monk.

Feeling guilty of sacrilege, I withdraw my nearly century-old spotty and wrinkled hand. I keep rocking on my chair and watching Bao Lan as she continues to eye me silently. ‘Hai, how time flies like an arrow, and the sun and moon move back and forth like a shuttle!’ I recite the old saying, then carefully sip my ginseng tea.

‘Ahpo, it’s best-quality ginseng to keep your longevity and health,’ my great-granddaughter told me the other day when she brought the herb.

Last week, I celebrated my ninety-eighth birthday, and although they never say it out loud, I know they want my memoir to be finished before I board the immortal’s journey. When I say ‘they,’ I mean my great-granddaughter Jade Treasure and her American fiancé Leo Stanley. In a while, they will be coming to see me and begin recording my oral history.

Oral history! Do they forget that I can read and write? They treat me as if I were a dusty museum piece. They act like they’re doing me a great favour by digging me out from deep underground and bringing me to light. How can they forget that I am not only literate, but also well versed in all the arts – literature, music, painting, calligraphy, and poetry – and that’s exactly the reason they want to write about me?

Now Bao Lan seems to say, ‘Old woman, please go away! Why do you always have to remind me how old you are and how accomplished you were?! Can’t you leave me alone to enjoy myself at the height of my youth and beauty?’

‘Sure,’ I mutter to the air, feeling the wrinkles weighing around the corners of my mouth.

But she keeps staring silently at me with eyes which resemble two graceful dots of ink on rice paper. She’s strange, this woman who shares the same house with me but only communicates with the brightness of her eyes and the sensuousness of her body.

I am used to her eccentricity, because she’s my other – much wilder and younger – self! The delicate beauty opposite me is but a faded oil painting done seventy-five years ago when I was twenty-three.

And the last poet-musician courtesan in Shanghai.

That’s why they keep pushing me to tell, or sell, my story – I am the carrier of a mysterious cultural phenomenon – ming ji.

The prestigious prostitute. Prestigious prostitute? Yes, that was what we were called in old China. A species as extinct as the Chinese emperors, after China became a republic. Some say it’s a tragic loss; others argue: how can the disappearance of prostitutes be tragic?

The cordless phone trills on the coffee table; I pick it up with my stiff, arthritic hand. Jane and Leo are already downstairs. Jane is Jade Treasure’s English name, of which I disapprove because it sounds so much like the word ‘pan fry’ in Chinese. When I call her ‘Jane, Jane,’ I can almost smell fish cooking in sizzling oil – Sizzz! Sizzz! It sounds as if I’d cook my own flesh and blood!

Now the two young people burst into my nursing home apartment with their laughter and overflowing energy, their embarrassingly long limbs flailing in all directions. Jade Treasure flounces up to peck my cheek, swinging a basket of fruit in front of me, making me dizzy.

‘Hi, Grandmama, you look good today! The ginseng gives you good qi?’

‘Jade, can you show some respect to an old woman who has witnessed, literally, the ups and downs of a century?’ I say, pushing away the basket of fruit.

‘Grandmama!’ Jade mock protests, then dumps the basket on the table with a clank and plops down on the sofa next to me.

It is now Leo’s turn to peck my cheek, then he says in his smooth Mandarin, ‘How are you today, Popo?’

This American boy calls me Popo, the respectful way of addressing an elderly lady in Chinese, while my Jade Treasure prefers the more Westernised Grandmama (she adds another ‘ma’ for ‘great’ grandmother). Although I am always suspicious of laofan, old barbarians, I kind of like Leo. He’s a nice boy, good-looking with a big body and soft blonde hair, a graduate of journalism at a very good university called Ge-lin-bi-ya? (so I was told by Jade), speaks very good Mandarin, now works as an editor for a very famous publisher called Ah-ba Call-lings? (so I was also told by Jade). And madly in love with my Jade Treasure.

Jade is already clanking bowls and plates in my small kitchen, preparing snacks. Her bare legs play hide and seek behind the half-opened door, while her excessive energy thrusts her to and fro between the refrigerator, the cupboard, the sink, the stove.

A half hour later, after we’ve finished our snacks and the trays are put away and the table cleaned, Leo and Jade sit down beside me on the sofa, carefully taking out their recorder, pads, pens. Faces glowing with excitement, they look like Chinese students eager to please their teacher. It touches me to see their expressions turn serious as if they were burdened by the sacred responsibility of saving a precious heritage from sinking into quicksand.

‘Grandmama,’ Jade says after she’s discussed it in English with her fiancé, ‘Leo and I agreed that it’s best for you to start your story from the beginning. That is, when you were sold to the turquoise pavilion after Great-great-grandpapa was executed.’

I’m glad she is discreet enough not to say jiyuan, prostitution house, or worse, jixiang, whorehouse, but instead uses the much more refined and poetic qinglou – turquoise pavilion.

‘Jade, if you’re so interested in Chinese culture, do you know there are more than forty words for prostitution house … fire pit; tender village; brocade gate; wind and moon domain—’

Jade interrupts. ‘Grandmama, so which were you in?’

‘You know, we had our own hierarchy. The prestigious book chamber ladies,’ I tilt my head, ‘like myself, condescended to the second-rate long gown ladies, and they in turn snubbed those who worked in the second hall. And of course, everyone would spit on the homeless wild chickens as if they were nonhuman.’

‘Wow! Cool stuff!’ Jade exclaims, then exchanges whispers with Leo. She turns back to stare at me, her elongated eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. ‘Grandmama, we think that it’s better if you can use the “talk story” style. Besides, can you add even more juicy stuff?’

‘No.’ I wave them a dismissive hand. ‘Do you think my life is not miserable enough to be saleable? This is my story, and I’ll do it my way!’

‘Yes, of course!’ The two heads nod like basketballs under thumping hands.

‘All right, my big prince and princess, what else?’

‘That’s all, Grandmama. Let’s start!’ The two young faces gleam as if they were about to watch a Hollywood soap opera – forgetting that I have told them a hundred times that my life is even a thousand times soapier.

PART ONE

1
The Turquoise Pavilion

To be a prostitute was my fate.

After all, no murderer’s daughter would be accepted into a decent household to be a wife whose children would be smeared with crime even before they were born. The only other choice was my mother’s – to take refuge as a nun, for the only other society which would accept a criminal’s relatives lay within the empty gate.

I had just turned thirteen when I exchanged the quiet life of a family for the tumult of a prostitution house. But not like the others, whose parents had been too poor to feed them, or who had been kidnapped and sold by bandits.

It all happened because my father was convicted of a crime – one he’d never committed.

‘That was the mistake your father should never have made,’ my mother told me over and over, ‘trying to be righteous, and,’ she added bitterly, ‘meddling in rich men’s business.’

True. For that ‘business’ cost him his own life, and fatefully changed the life of his wife and daughter.

Baba had been a Peking opera performer and a musician. Trained as a martial arts actor, he played acrobats and warriors. During one performance, while fighting with four pennants strapped to his thirty-pound suit of armour, he jumped down from four stacked chairs in his high-soled boots and broke his leg. Unable to perform on stage anymore, he played the two-stringed fiddle in the troupe’s orchestra. After several years, he became even more famous for his fiddle playing, and an amateur Peking opera group led by the wife of a Shanghai warlord hired him as its accompanist. Every month the wife would hold a big party in the house’s lavish garden. It was an incident in that garden that completely changed our family’s destiny.

One moonlit evening amid the cheerful tunes of the fiddle and the falsetto voices of the silk-clad and heavily jewelled tai tai – society ladies – the drunken warlord raped his own teenage daughter.

The girl grabbed her father’s gun and fled to the garden where the guests were gathered. The warlord ran behind her, puffing and pants falling. Suddenly his daughter stopped and turned to him. Tears streaming down her cheeks, she slowly pointed the gun to her head. ‘Beast! If you dare come an inch closer, I’ll shoot myself!’

Baba threw down his precious fiddle and ran to the source of the tumult. He pushed away the gaping guests, leaped forward, and tried to seize the gun. But it went off. The hapless girl fell dead to the ground in a pool of blood surrounded by the stunned guests and servants.

The warlord turned to grab Baba’s throat till his tongue protruded. Eyes blurred and face as red as his daughter’s splattered blood, he spat on Baba. ‘Animal! You raped my daughter and killed her!’

Although all the members in the household knew it was a false accusation, nobody was willing to right the wrong. The servants were scared and powerless. The rich guests couldn’t have cared less.

One general meditatively stroked his beard, sneering, ‘Big deal, it’s just a fiddle player.’ And that ended the whole event.

Indeed, it was a big deal for us. For Baba was executed. Mother took refuge as a Buddhist nun in a temple in Peking. I was taken away to a prostitution house.

This all happened in 1918.

Thereafter, during the tender years of my youth, while my mother was strenuously cultivating desirelessness in the Pure Lotus Nunnery in Peking, I was busy stirring up desire within the Peach Blossom Pavilion.

That was the mistake your father should never have made – trying to be righteous and meddling in rich men’s business.

Mother’s saying kept knocking around in my head until one day I swore, kneeling before Guan Yin – the Goddess of Mercy – that I would never be merciful in this life. But not meddle in rich men’s business? It was precisely the rich and powerful at whom I aimed my arts of pleasing. Like Guan Yin with a thousand arms holding a thousand amulets to charm, I was determined to cultivate myself to be a woman with a thousand scheming hearts to lure a thousand men into my arms.

But, of course, this kind of cultivation started later, when I had become aware of the realm of the wind and moon. When I’d first entered the prostitution house, I was but a little girl with a heart split into two: one half light with innocence, the other heavy with sorrow.

In the prostitution house, I was given the name Precious Orchid. It was only my professional name; my real name was Xiang Xiang, given for two reasons. I was born with a natural xiang – body fragrance (a mingling of fresh milk, honey, and jasmine), something which rarely happens except in legends where the protagonist lives on nothing but flowers and herbs. Second, I was named after the Xiang River of Hunan Province. My parents, who had given me this name, had cherished the hope that my life would be as nurturing as the waterway of my ancestors, while never expecting that it was my overflowing tears which would nurture the river as it flows its never-ending course. They had also hoped that my life would sing with happiness like the cheerful river, never imagining that what flowed in my voice was nothing but the bittersweet melodies of Karma.

Despite our abject poverty after Baba’s death, it was never my mother’s intent to sell me into Peach Blossom Pavilion. This bit of chicanery was the work of one of her distant relatives, a woman by the name of Fang Rong – Beautiful Countenance. Mother had met her only once, during a Chinese New Year’s gathering at a distant uncle’s house. Not long after Baba had been executed, Fang Rong appeared one day out of nowhere and told my mother that she could take good care of me. When I first laid eyes on her, I was surprised that she didn’t look at all like what her name implied. Instead, she had the body of a stuffed rice bag, the face of a basin, and the eyes of a rat, above which a big mole moved menacingly.

Fang Rong claimed that she worked as a housekeeper for a rich family. The master, a merchant of foreign trade, was looking for a young girl with a quick mind and swift hands to help in the household. The matter was decided without hesitation. Mother, completely forgetting her vow never to be involved in rich men’s business, was relieved that I’d have a roof over my head. So, with her departure for Peking looming, she agreed to let Fang Rong take me away.

Both Mother and Fang Rong looked happy chatting under the sparkling sun. Toward the end of their conversation, after Fang Rong had given Mother the address of the ‘rich businessman,’ she shoved me into a waiting rickshaw. ‘Quick! Don’t make the master wait!’

When the vehicle was about to take off, Mother put her face close to me and whispered, ‘From now on, listen to Aunty Fang and your new master and behave. Will you promise me that?’

I nodded, noticing the tears welling in her eyes. She gently laid the cloth sack containing my meagre possessions (a small amount of cash and a few rice balls sprinkled with bits of salted fish) on my lap, then put her hand on my head. ‘Xiang Xiang, I’ll be leaving in a month. If I can, I’ll visit you. But if I don’t, I’ll write as soon as I’ve arrived in Peking.’ She paused, a faint smile breaking on her withered face. ‘You’re lucky …’

I touched her hand. ‘Ma …’

Just as I was struggling to say something, Fang Rong’s voice jolted us apart. ‘All right, let’s go, better not be late.’ With that, the rickshaw puller lifted the poles and we started to move.

I turned back and waved to Mother until she became a small dot and finally vanished like the last morning dew.

Fang Rong rode beside me in silence. Houses floated by as the rickshaw puller grunted along. After twists and turns through endless avenues and back alleys, the rickshaw entered a tree-lined boulevard.

Fang Rong turned to me and smiled. ‘Xiang Xiang, we’ll soon be there.’

Though the air was nippy, the coolie was sweating profusely. We bumped along a crowded street past a tailor, an embroidery shop, a hair salon, and a shoe store before the coolie finally grunted to a stop.

Fang Rong paid and we got out in front of the most beautiful mansion I’d ever seen. With walls painted a pale pink, the building rose tall and imposing, with a tightly closed red iron gate fiercely guarded by two stone lions. At the entrance, a solitary red lantern swayed gently in the breeze. An ornate wooden sign above the lintel glinted in the afternoon sun. I shaded my eyes and saw a shiny signboard, black with three large gold characters: PEACH BLOSSOM PAVILION. On either side, vertical boards flanking the gate read:

Guests flocking to the pavilion like birds,

Beauties blooming in the garden like flowers.

‘Aunty Fang,’ I pointed to the sign, ‘what is this Peach—’

‘Come on,’ Fang Rong cast me an annoyed look, ‘don’t let your father wait,’ and pulled me along.

My father? Didn’t she know that he was already dead? Just as I was wondering what this was all about, the gate creaked open, revealing a man of about forty; underneath shiny hair parted in the middle shone a smooth, handsome face. An embroidered silk jacket was draped elegantly over a lean, sinewy body.

He scrutinised me for long moments, then his face broke into a pleasant grin. ‘Ah, so the rumour is true. What a lovely girl!’ His slender fingers with their long, immaculate nails reached to pat my head. I felt an instant liking for this man my father’s age. I also wondered, how could the ugly-to-death Fang Rong catch such a nice-looking man?

‘Wu Qiang,’ Fang Rong drew away his hand, ‘haven’t you ever seen a pretty girl in your life?’ Then she turned to me. ‘This is my husband Wu Qiang and your father.’

‘But Aunty—’

Now Fang Rong put on an ear-reaching grin. ‘Xiang Xiang, your father is dead, so from now on Wu Qiang is your father. Call him De.’

Despite my liking for this man, in my heart no one could take the place of my father. ‘But he’s not my de!’

Fang Rong shot me a smile with the skin, but not the flesh. ‘I’ve told you that now he is, and I’m your mother, so call me Mama.’

Before I could protest again, she’d already half-pushed me along through a narrow entranceway. Then I forgot to complain because as we passed into the courtyard, my eyes beheld another world. Enclosed within the red fence was a garden where lush flowerbeds gave off a pleasing aroma. On the walls were painted lovely maidens cavorting among exotic flowers. A fountain murmured, spurting in willowy arcs. In a pond, golden carps swished their tails and gurgled trails of bubbles. A stone bridge led across the pond to a pavilion with gracefully upturned eaves. Patches of soothing shade were cast by artfully placed bamboo groves.

While hurrying after Fang Rong and Wu Qiang, I spotted a small face peeking out at me from behind the bamboo grove. What struck me was not her face but the sad, watery eyes which gazed into mine, as if desperate to tell a tale.

When I was on the verge of asking about her, Fang Rong cast me a tentative glance. ‘Xiang Xiang, aren’t you happy that this is now your new home? Isn’t it much better than your old one?’

I nodded emphatically, while feeling stung by those sad eyes.

‘I’m sure you’ll like it even better when you taste the wonderful food cooked by our chef,’ Wu Qiang chimed in enthusiastically.

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.

‘Let me die!’ My scream bounced in myriad directions. Suddenly, I felt something damp and sticky flow down from my scalp, then a salty, metallic tang seeped into my mouth …

I peed and lost consciousness.

When I woke up, I found myself still surrounded by filth and darkness, but luckily the squealing was gone – the rats were now probably easing their full bellies by taking a nap. But my stomach was like a drum frantically beating and my throat was scorched as if I’d just swallowed burning coals. I tried to scream but my voice only came out in a whisper.

As I fidgeted on the bed, I felt something strange – slimy and sticky – underneath my backside. I felt around with my hand, then put my fingers below my nose.

‘Blood! Blood!’ I heard my scream bouncing off the walls.

Instinctively I reached for my head, but the blood there had already dried. Again I touched the spot where I’d lain and felt the wet, warm bed. Strange, I didn’t see how I could have hurt my bottom so badly that it bled. As I was brooding, a gradual pain rose in my stomach, followed by a warm surge of fluid oozing from between my thighs. It was then that I realised it was my yin part that had been bleeding.

Panicked, I shot up from the bed, dashed toward the gate, and thrust my fists on the cold iron. ‘Mama! Mama! Please let me out! I’m going to die! I’m dying!’

I didn’t know how long I’d been banging until a state of lethargy and semi-consciousness took over my whole being. And the screeching began again …

I lost count of time. But I thought it must be the second or even the third day when a loud clang of the door jolted me awake. In burst Fang Rong and Wu Qiang. When I tried to shield my face from the blinding harsh light, Fang Rong slapped off my hand.

‘Oh, Mama!’ I was stunned; I couldn’t believe I’d just called her Mama! Was I so desperate to have a mother’s comfort?

I suddenly realised that instead of comforting me like my mother, she might hit me. Again I swung up my hand to shield my face.

But to my utter surprise, Fang Rong squeezed a big grin and cooed, ‘Ah, my dear daughter, how you’ve suffered!’ She laid her damp, fleshy palm on my forehead. ‘Thank heaven you don’t have a fever.’ Then, ‘Are you hungry?’

I nodded my head like a pounding jackhammer.

‘Now do you want to go back to the pavilion and have something to eat?’

Again I nodded until I felt my head almost dislodge from my neck.

As I was struggling to get up, Mama’s eyes widened, her finger pointing to the bed. ‘Oh heaven, what happened?’ Then she twisted her fat neck to face me. ‘Xiang Xiang, what did you do to yourself?’

It was then that I remembered the blood. ‘I’m bleeding.’ I paused, then uttered weakly, ‘But I didn’t do anything.’

Mama snatched up my hand to examine my wrists. Not able to find any cuts, she reached to touch the stains on the bed, then spun me around and yanked down my trousers.

‘Mama!’ My cheeks burned with humiliation. My hands tried to pull my trousers back up only to be slapped off by Fang Rong’s bear-like paws.

Then, to my utter shock, she burst out laughing while her husband looked down modestly at his nails.

Mama spun me back to face her. ‘Don’t you realise that your great-aunt has just come to visit?’

Neither of my parents had ever mentioned a great-aunt. ‘But I don’t have one,’ I said, pulling up my trousers.

‘Hasn’t your mother ever told you about your great-aunt?’

I shook my head. ‘Where is she now?’

The two exchanged meaningful glances. Then Fang Rong laughed so hard that her fleshy face looked like a fat, melting candle.

Mama stopped to catch her breath, then, ‘Hmmm … your mother must have felt too embarrassed to tell you. But why should she? Since she’d already been fucked by your father to have you.’

‘What is fuck?’ I imitated her tone.

‘Xiang Xiang,’ Wu Qiang stared into my eyes, ‘fuck means when a man puts his—’

Mama cut him off sharply. ‘Wu Qiang, stop being overeager. You can leave that to me.’

Some silence, then Fang Rong spoke again. ‘Xiang Xiang, you’re not a little girl any more.’ She winked. ‘You’ve just turned into a woman.’

I had no idea what she was talking about.

Mama went on, ‘Xiang Xiang, since your so-called mother was too lazy and too proper to explain about affairs of the wind and the moon,’ she tapped her chest, ‘you’re lucky to have a real mama to enlighten you.’

Although I still didn’t understand what she meant, I felt too exhausted to ask, let alone to defend my mother’s ‘laziness.’

Seeing that I was on the verge of collapse, Mama said, her tone turning very tender, ‘My dear daughter, you must be starving, so why don’t we all go to eat?’

My feet were so weak and wobbly that Fang Rong and Wu Qiang had to half carry me back to the pavilion.

Fang Rong asked her maid Little Red to bathe me. While I was being washed, neither of us mentioned anything about the dark room. Eyes closed, I enjoyed the sensation of the hot water sloshing against my bare flesh. I tilted my head to let the steam, like a spring breeze, massage my face. Little Red’s sponge rubbed and swished on my neck, back, and shoulders, synchronising with my contented sighs.

When she finished, Little Red poured out the red-tinted water, then took out a thick, folded cloth.

When she tried to position it between my legs, I yanked away her hands. ‘Little Red, I’m not going to wear this ridiculous thing!’

She chuckled. ‘Xiang Xiang, then would you rather let everybody in the pavilion know that that thing of yours has come?’

‘Why are you people all talking in riddles today? What is that thing of mine, do you mean my great-aunt? But I don’t have one!’

Little Red giggled more.

‘What’s so funny?’

‘Xiang Xiang, every girl has a great-aunt,’ she leaned close to me and lowered her voice even though there were only the two of us in the room, ‘that means her monthly red classic.’

Before I could respond, she went on, ‘When a girl grows up, every month she’ll begin to bleed. But the blood oozing out from her lower hole is not ordinary blood. It’s blood from inside her stomach. If a girl has not been with a man …’ Little Red paused to whisper into my ears, ‘That means fuck – then her eggs will not mix with his seed but flow out from her yin part with the blood. But if the girl has been fucked by a man and gets pregnant, she’ll stop bleeding – until the baby is born. So now your great-aunt has begun her visit, that means you can have a baby.’

Her last sentence sent a tremor across my chest. ‘Oh heaven, does it mean that I’m going to have a baby?’

She answered my question with another one, ‘Xiang Xiang, have you already been fucked?’

I had no chance to respond before she plunged on, ‘If you have, you’ll be in big, big trouble, for I’m sure Mama and De are waiting to sell your virginity for a high price.’

Waiting until she finished, I spat out, ‘What’s fuck?’

Little Red looked surprised. ‘That’s what all the sisters are doing here, and you don’t know? How long have you been here?’

‘A month.’

‘Hmmm, if Mama doesn’t have time to teach you yet, then let me tell you what fuck is.’ Little Red paused, then continued, ‘It means when a man puts that thing of his inside a woman.’

In order not to appear too ignorant, I put up a knowing smile.

She threw me a suspicious glance. ‘Xiang Xiang, are you sure you’re still a virgin?’

‘A virgin?’

‘That means someone who has never been fucked.’ Little Red’s voice rose higher and higher. ‘Xiang Xiang, how come you have no idea about all this? What did your mother teach you at home?’

‘Poetry, literature—’

‘All right, I know you’re well learned in the five classics. But how come she never told you about the monthly red classic?’

I remained silent.

She said, ‘Xiang Xiang, I just told you, “fuck” means when a man puts that thing of his,’ she cast me a mysterious look, ‘I mean his yang instrument – into the woman’s yin hole.’

‘But why would a man want to do that?’

‘Why? Because he enjoys doing it, that’s why! Besides, then he can make her have a baby.’ Another pause before she went on excitedly, ‘Your father also fucked your mother to have you!’

‘Oh no!’ I protested vehemently. ‘My father was a scholar gentleman, he wouldn’t have done such a sickening thing to my mother!’ No matter how hard I tried or how far I stretched my imagination, I just couldn’t picture my refined father putting that thing of his into my elegant mother’s hole.

‘Yes, of course, he did.’ Little Red’s voice jumped high like a frog. ‘If not, then where do you think you came from, picked up from a rubbish bin, or burst from a stone?!’

I was struck speechless both by the bin and the stone.

Little Red plunged on, ‘Xiang Xiang, believe me. Your parents fucked to have you. I bet they must have fucked hard and also tried out all kinds of beneficial positions and enjoyed them tremendously. Otherwise, it’s impossible that you’d be born so beautiful!’

‘What does that have to do with being beautiful?’

‘Because if a couple enjoys fucking, the qi they thrust into each other is unusually good, and that will always generate beautiful babies.’

I stared hard at Little Red’s potato face, frog eyes, pug nose, then almost blurted out, ‘Then your parents must have hated each other bitterly,’ but stopped myself just in time.

Right then we heard Fang Rong’s voice shooting up from downstairs. ‘What are you two doing upstairs, discussing Confucius’ classics? Come down at once!’

And that ended our conversation. Hastily Little Red helped me put on fresh clothes, then accompanied me down to the ground floor.

In the corridor heading to the dining room, I almost fainted from the smell of food. Then I saw the dishes – steamed whole fish, garlic shrimp, crabs in ginger and scallion, braised eel in roasted garlic sauce, rabbits’ legs, deers’ tongues, tortoise soup – and started to drool. Fang Rong waved Little Red away, then signalled me to sit between her and Wu Qiang.

She smoothed my hair. ‘See, Xiang Xiang, if you behave, you’ll always have goodies like this. Now eat and drink.’ She and Wu Qiang began to pile food onto my dish and pour wine into my cup.

‘Thank you, Mama and De,’ I said, now feeling truly grateful.

Then I gobbled and drank until I passed out again.

4
The Elegant Gathering

After that time in the dark room, I realised that at Peach Blossom Pavilion, life was not as good as it had seemed. I’d also become, however reluctantly, a woman. Nevertheless, as time passed, I was too busy occupying myself in learning the arts – and too scared – to reflect on my future. Every week I had to take lessons in singing, pipa playing, painting, and calligraphy, and every day I had to practise five or six hours with no rest.

One time I was so exhausted that I asked Mama for a break. A huge grin broke out on her fleshy face. ‘Aii-ya! Xiang Xiang’ – she tapped her chest – ‘you think I’m the one who’ll be benefitting from all this practising?’ Then she put her pudgy finger at my forehead and gave it a push. ‘It’s you, silly girl, YOU!’ She paused to catch her breath. ‘Wait until you get famous, maybe then you’ll show some appreciation for your mama who has made you take all these lessons!’

Among all the arts, I liked playing the pipa – the four-stringed lute – the most. Partly because I liked the pleasant sound of the instrument, partly because I liked Pearl, my teacher. It gave me endless pleasure to watch her tilted chin, pouted lips, and slender fingers hover over the instrument like butterflies dancing from flower to flower. Also, her room was not like mine. Its silk curtains, embroidered sheets, marble-topped dressing table, gilded mirror, ornate Western clock, and paintings of pretty women fascinated me. Whenever I was there, my eyes would be busy exploring the beautiful objects while I inhaled the fragrances mingling from the flowers, the incense, and her perfumed body.

Moreover, I was intrigued by Pearl’s magical power – men would turn hungry and naughty whenever they were within a fifty-yard radius. Upon spotting her, they would, like cats reaching their paws for fish, eagerly reach out for – a cheek, an arm, a leg, a hip, a breast.

Now in Peach Blossom, due to my busy schedule, I didn’t have much time to think about my ‘great-aunt,’ nor the ‘fucking’ described by Little Red.

But since that day, Little Red had been so busy carrying out errands that, whenever we ran into each other in the corridor or in the courtyard, we could never finish our conversation. As to Fang Rong, although she’d promised she’d soon enlighten me about fuck, she was in fact either too busy scolding the sisters, kowtowing to the important guests, or gloating over her account book while flicking the fat beads of her abacus with sausage fingers.

However, I was still able to snatch tidbits of this mystery here and there in Peach Blossom.

‘Good heavens, how can he possibly think he can go in me when my great-aunt is right there between us!’

‘Is it true that his little brother is malnourished?’

‘Do you know how it feels when a toothpick drops into a well?’

Although now I was not completely ignorant about this fucking business, it still seemed, in many ways, unintelligible to me. But whom to ask? Of course I’d already tried Pearl toward the end of my pipa lessons, but she’d either look tired or in a hurry to entertain a guest.

‘Ah, Xiang Xiang,’ she’d say apologetically, ‘Mama has asked me to teach you but I’m just not in the mood right now.’

I had no idea whether she was really that exhausted and busy or simply reluctant to tell me, but since Mama had assigned her to be my teacher, I deemed it her duty to satisfy my fucking curiosity.

But there was no chance to question Pearl again because now everybody in Peach Blossom was busily preparing for the Lunar New Year. Mama had ordered the servants and maids to wash windows, scrub floors, and polish furniture. Doors were hung with colourful lanterns and pasted with red scrolls for good luck. Servants took out the red drape embroidered with one hundred fruits (for longevity) to cover the big luohan chair in the welcoming-guests room. The sides of the chair were tied with two poles of bamboo symbolising frequent promotions (since bamboo grows high). On New Year’s Eve, we all sat and waited to see which guest would arrive first and be the one to light the red dragon and phoenix candles.

On New Year’s Day, male servants lit firecrackers to send off the old year, welcome the new, and scare away evil spirits. Laughter, jokes, and words of good luck filled Peach Blossom’s guest, business, and banquet rooms. After Mama and De had led us to pray in front of all the gods and goddesses, Aunty Ah Ping brought out four big silver trays filled with dim sum. In the spirit of the new year, customers indulged themselves in spending sprees – overpaying for the food, tipping everybody in sight, and gambling for high stakes.

On the tenth of January, I counted my lucky money and was elated to find almost ten silver coins – only to have it snatched away by Mama. To pay bills, she said. Feeling distressed, I went to the kitchen to find Guigui for solace. The puppy was so happy to see me that even in the middle of gobbling down the leftover food, he looked up and wagged his tail.

I picked him up and rubbed my face against his warm, fluffy fur. ‘Guigui, have you been a good baby?’

He nodded, then licked my face, leaving bits of half-chewed meat on my cheeks.

A few days later, when the tumult of the New Year had finally died down, I went to Pearl’s room for another pipa lesson. It surprised me that Pearl didn’t have her pipa out as she usually did. Instead, she was carefully pencilling her brows in front of the mirror, while humming a tune. Why was she fretting over two thin lines instead of tuning the four strings?

I put on my best smile. ‘Sister Pearl, aren’t we having a lesson today?’

She lifted her brow and cast me a curious glance in her gilded, elaborately carved mirror. ‘Forget the pipa lesson. Tonight I’ll teach you some other lessons instead.’

Before I could ask, ‘What about a fucking lesson?’ she squinted at me with her elongated phoenix eyes. ‘I heard that you were locked in the dark room some time ago?’

I nodded.

‘So have you learned your dark room lesson?’

I couldn’t think of anything to say, so I nodded again.

‘Why did you run away?’

‘To see my mother off.’

‘That was a high price to pay.’

I remained silent; she asked, ‘Where did she go?’

‘To take refuge as a nun in a Buddhist temple in Peking.’

Pearl burst into laughter until tears rolled down her cheeks. Her hand trembled and made a wrong move, leaving her brow crooked. When she’d finally calmed down, she pulled a silk handkerchief from her jade bracelet to dab her eyes and wipe her brow.

‘Sister Pearl, why is it so funny?’

She tapped a red-nailed finger at me in the mirror. ‘Ha, don’t you think so? Your mother’s going to be a nun and you a whore, huh?’

‘But I’m not—’

‘Xiang Xiang, do you think you’re being fed and clothed and given art lessons here for nothing? You think Peach Blossom Pavilion is a charitable organisation? Or a government-sponsored art studio?’ She rapped my head. ‘The earlier you are disillusioned the better, you understand?’ She paused to redo her brow. ‘You know, sometimes it’s not too bad to be a prostitute. Especially if you become famous and meet someone who’s so rich and loves you so much that he’ll redeem you and take you home as his fifth or sixth concubine.’ She turned to pinch my cheek with her spidery fingers. ‘Is that clear, you little whore?’

As I was about to protest, suddenly I remembered my mother’s saying.

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.

Besides, when the truth is thrown like a clod of dirt on your face, how else can you respond but to swallow it?

So I swallowed hard and squeezed a smile. ‘Yes, Sister Pearl.’

Pearl turned back to gaze at her powdered face in the mirror. Now beautiful and motionless, she looked like a gracefully carved statue of Guan Yin – the Goddess of Mercy – who always listens to cries of help.

I blurted out my long-held question, ‘Sister Pearl, what is fuck?’

‘Xiang Xiang!’ She threw me a chiding look in the mirror. ‘That word is extremely vulgar.’

‘But that’s what Mama and Little Red use.’

‘Yes, I use that, too, but it’s for adults, not a little girl like you.’

‘But Sister Pearl. I’m not a little girl anymore. I’m a woman!’

‘Oh, is that so?’ She raised a brow. ‘That means you have been fucked, haven’t you?’

Her words stung like a bee. I screamed. ‘No, of course not!’

She laughed, revealing a neat row of pearly teeth. ‘All right, you haven’t been fucked, not yet, all right?’ Then she looked at me chidingly. ‘Xiang Xiang, instead of saying fuck, why don’t you say mating of heaven and earth, balancing yin and yang, or stirring up the clouds and rain?’

She cocked an eye at me. ‘But why are you in such a hurry to learn all these, can’t you wait to be a fucking whore?’

This time I kept my mouth shut.

She smiled flirtatiously. ‘Hasn’t Little Red already told you what fuck means?’

Before I could answer, Pearl’s expression turned serious. ‘Anyway, soon Mama will give you books about the secret games. You better study them thoroughly, then if you have questions, come and ask me.’

‘Do you have those books?’

‘I don’t need them anymore,’ she tapped her head, ‘they’re all here.’ After that, she turned back to the mirror and continued to fuss over her make-up until her brows resembled two slender leaves. I understood that this signaled the fucking matter was to be dropped.

After Pearl had laid the finishing touch on her brow, she turned to look me in the eyes. ‘Xiang Xiang, I’m going to entertain in a big party tonight, and,’ she nipped my chin, ‘you’re coming with me, you lucky little witch.’

I was surprised to hear this. I’d never expected that I would be invited out so quickly. ‘Sister Pearl, who invited me?’

Suddenly the warmth in her tone was gone. She narrowed her eyes. ‘A very rich businessman. But don’t think that you’re already so irresistible that he invited you out. He invited me, you understand? You’re just to tag along.’

I nodded. Tears welled in my eyes, but I wouldn’t let them fall.

Seeing me on the verge of crying, Pearl’s tone warmed up again. ‘Ha, Xiang Xiang, you’d better start to learn about your own value. Don’t you know that you’re already quite famous? People have been asking around about you, “Who’s that pretty girl with two enchanting dimples?” One even said, “So pretty, she’ll definitely be a ming ji someday”!’

Ming ji – a prestigious prostitute. What would that be like?

Pearl raised her arm and rubbed perfume onto her armpits. ‘It’s never too early to be noticed, silly girl. Life is short here and no one has a whole eternity to flash her youth.’

She preened in front of the mirror – tilting up her chin, lowering her eyes, wetting her lips, raising her shoulder so that her bathrobe slipped to expose her smooth white flesh, caressing her breast with her red-nailed fingers. Then she started to recite a poem, ‘When a flower blooms, pick it. Don’t wait till there is only the bare branch left.’ After that, she turned to me, her voice sentimental, ‘You understand the poem, Xiang Xiang?’

I nodded, feeling too sad to say anything.

Pearl had finally finished putting on her make-up. Now she walked to the wardrobe and peeled off her bathrobe. I let out a small cry; there was not a single thread on her body!

She cocked an eye at me and chuckled. ‘Never saw a naked body before, huh?’

I shook my head, while eyeing her tilted breasts, her slightly swelling belly, and the luxuriant dark area between her white thighs which looked like the rich ink my painting teacher Mr. Wu dabbed on the rice paper.

My scrutiny didn’t seem to bother Pearl at all. She said, ‘You’d better get used to it, Xiang Xiang. Because, trust me, you’ll be seeing a lot of them very soon. But mind you,’ she sneered, ‘those bodies you’re going to see and learn to please are very different from ours. They belong to the chou nanren’s!’

Stinking males.

A beat passed before we burst into uncontrollable laughter. In that fleeting moment, I thought I liked her very, very much.

Pearl looked particularly attractive tonight. The red silk dress embroidered with a golden phoenix clung to her body as tightly as if the bird were painted on her skin. Her jacket’s high collar wrapped around her neck like petals enveloping a bud – her coveted goose-egg-shaped face. Her long hair was pinned loosely into a bun at the nape of her neck and scented with osmanthus flower oil. She’d decorated her three-thousand-threads-of-trouble with fresh plum blossoms and a gold filigreed butterfly. Her lips, painted crimson and slightly opened in a pout, looked as if they were dying for the sweet dew of some exotic elixir. Two jade earrings – like two green eyes – twinkled enigmatically.

‘Sister Pearl, you’re gorgeous!’ I sniffed the perfume wafting from her.

She pinched my cheek affectionately. ‘Thank you, Xiang Xiang.’ Then her eyes looked sad. ‘Beauty is all we have,’ she sighed, ‘that is, besides charm.’

A long pause before her mood changed again; now she scrutinised me playfully. ‘Xiang Xiang, you’re a very pretty little slut yourself, too. Now get dressed.’

She picked a silk top and trousers from her wardrobe and handed them to me. After I put them on, Pearl said, ‘All right, now let me help you put on make-up.’

When we were finally ready to go out, we stared at our images in the mirror. To my surprise, I looked completely different – at least five years older. The green top and pants with pink plum blossoms, though a little loose, looked very nice on me – as if spring had blossomed all the way from my torso to my limbs. Accentuated by the pink eye shadow and black eyeliner, my eyes gave off a lustrous sparkle that I hadn’t noticed before. The cinnamon pomade on my hair seemed to turn the three-thousand-threads-of-trouble into a mysterious black mirror.

‘Beautiful, aren’t we?’ Pearl purred.

I felt both too shy and too excited to respond.

She grabbed a fur coat and a woolen shawl from her sofa. ‘Now let’s go and exercise our charm!’ she exclaimed, then draped the shawl over my shoulders and pulled me out of the room.

Just then Fang Rong scurried toward us in the corridor. Her huge breasts undulated like tidal waves under her embroidered red jacket. ‘Hurry up, Pearl, Mr. Chan is still in a meeting, but the car is already waiting downstairs. Your de and I will follow you in another car.’ Like a fortune teller sizing up a new client, Mama scrutinised me for long moments, muttering, ‘Ah, so beautiful; proves my old, fussy eyes are still as sharp as a cleaver!’

Outside Peach Blossom, a big, shiny, black car was waiting. Having spotted us, the uniformed and capped chauffeur came to our side and opened the door.

When I was trying to crawl in, Pearl snatched me out. ‘Xiang Xiang, stop! That’s extremely vulgar. Watch me.’ She lowered herself onto the seat, then slowly swung in her legs. An expanse of thigh flashed through the slit of her dress.

‘But Sister Pearl,’ I said in a heated whisper so it wouldn’t be heard by the chauffeur, ‘I can see your entire thigh, even your underwear!’

After I’d gotten in, Pearl sat staring into the rearview mirror while smoothing her hair. She was still looking at her reflection when she said, ‘That’s the point, silly.’

The car started to move. I was so elated to be out that for the entire trip I spoke not a word, shifting my eyes to take in all the passing scenery.

After many turns, the car finally pulled to a stop in front of an ancient building with red-tiled roofs and white walls. Pearl and I got out of the car and walked toward the gate. Four big characters in walking-style calligraphy above the lintel read: WHITE CRANE IMMORTAL’S HALL.

I turned to ask Pearl, ‘What is an immortal’s hall?’

‘A Taoist temple.’

What did prostitutes have to do with Taoists and temples?

As we stepped through the crimson gate, I finally asked, ‘Sister Pearl, why would someone hold a party in a temple?’

‘Ah, Xiang Xiang,’ Pearl threw me a chiding look, ‘the party we’re now going to attend is special, a yaji – elegant gathering. Tonight you’ll meet lots of important and famous people – artists, scholars, poets, actors, high government officials. Anyway, you’re lucky to be invited, so you can start to soak in the flavour of the arts.’ She paused to look at me meaningfully. ‘If you want to be a ming ji, that is. Do you want to?’

I didn’t know whether to say yes or no. Maybe both. ‘Yes’ because I’d like to be prestigious, ‘no’ because, needless to say, I hated even to think of myself as a prostitute. Nevertheless, I knew the two words together signified something quite different. At Peach Blossom, I’d read fine poems and seen exquisite paintings by women – including Pearl – who bore this title. Among the cultivated, rather than being despised, they were highly respected – of course, for their beauty, but even more for their many talents and detached artistic air.

As I was still wondering whether I should say yes or no, I was surprised that my head, against my will, was already nodding like a pestle hitting against a mortar.

Now Pearl whispered into my ear, ‘Of course, there’ll also be crude businessmen and evil people like policemen, politicians, and even tong members.’

Silence reigned in the air until we stepped inside the courtyard where the party was held.

I let out a small cry.

It was the most beautiful place I’d ever seen. I inhaled the aroma of food and the fragrance of sweet-smelling incense. Colourful lanterns of various shapes and sizes hung from plum trees, swaying and shimmering in the breeze. Glowing peaches had grown as big as a baby’s head; a rabbit watched me wherever I moved; a carp glowed orange; a horse trotted in the wind; a fiery dragon stretched its claws and soared in the air.

Atop several tables were placed sheets of rice paper, brushes, ink stones, tea sets, wine vessels, trays of snacks, and plates of dim sum. Pearl and I floated here and there, watching some sisters paint, others rehearse poetry or sing arias of Peking and Kun operas, while yet others flirted with the guards and male servants. A few men arched their brows and smiled at us as we drifted by. Dew swayed on top of plum blossoms while in the fishpond gold carp wagged their tails.

More and more guests arrived. The men looked important and intimidating in expensive gowns or fashionable suits. The sisters were at their best – willowy bodies clad in silk, bejewelled hair shiny, make-up immaculate, as their delicate hands fussed with water pipes, clinked glasses, smoothed pomaded hair, patted fat cheeks, even delved into bulging pockets.

Then I felt a surge of guilt. In the bare fifteen minutes I’d been in this immortal’s hall, I’d completely forgotten about my mother. By now she was probably in the unadorned nunnery reciting sutras and beating the wooden fish to accumulate merit for me.

‘Beautiful, isn’t it?’ Pearl pinched my elbow, awakening me from my thoughts. ‘We’re still early, so let’s go appreciate the lanterns before my big fish Mr. Chan arrives.’ She led me past the women servants who were arranging the food and drink under the scrutinising eyes of Fang Rong and Wu Qiang.

Then she stopped in front of a big tree. Swaying down from the lanterns were slips of rice paper inscribed with calligraphy.

As I was about to read the characters, Pearl’s silvery voice rose to my ear. ‘Xiang Xiang, do you know that tonight is yuanxiao, the Lantern Festival?’

Sadness swelled inside me. Of course I knew yuanxiao – the festival to celebrate tuanyuan, family reunion. But my father was already dead and my mother a thousand miles away. Four months had gone by and I still hadn’t heard a word from her as she’d promised. With no family left, how could I celebrate a family reunion? The same time last year Mother had prepared a delicious dinner, and Baba had hung up our own lanterns in my favourite shapes of a peacock and the moon goddess Chang E. After we ate the sweet, round dumplings symbolising happy reunion, my parents took me to the old city’s Yu Garden. We strolled around the various famous scenic spots and appreciated lanterns, fireworks, acrobats, jugglers, lion dances. When we felt tired from all the walking and excitement, Baba took us to a street stall to enjoy the fragrant jasmine tea.

After that, we went to read the riddles. Baba, well learned in literature and all the classics, could almost always solve the difficult ones, so he’d won lots of prizes. That was why I’d also become very good at solving riddles. Last year the prize he’d won was a fan with a poem:

Last year during the yuanxiao, the lanterns shone as bright as daylight.

When the moon climbed on the trees’ top, lovers met each other in the twilight.

This year during the yuanxiao, while the moon and the lanterns are still here, last year’s persons are nowhere to be seen.

All that’s left are tears wetting the sleeves of my spring garment.

This was a very popular poem by the Sung dynasty poet Ouyang Xiu. Baba had told me that although the poem appeared sad, its message was in fact happy. ‘In the past, women and young girls were not allowed to roam outside their household by themselves. This rule was lifted during the yuanxiao festival, so married women would go out and have fun while young girls would meet their lovers, all under the pretext of appreciating lanterns. So the poem encourages freedom to find love.’ Baba patted my head affectionately. ‘Xiang Xiang, when you’ve grown up, I won’t hire a matchmaker to choose your husband. You’ll be free to look for someone you love.’

Now, remembering Baba and this poem made me extremely sad. Maybe it did convey an auspicious message as interpreted by Baba, but he’d also missed the bad omen it contained. This year, the lanterns were still there but both Baba and Mother were gone, leaving only tears to wet my winter garment.

Seeing that I was about to cry, Pearl put on the big, sweet smile which she normally reserved for her big-shot customers. ‘Cheer up, Xiang Xiang! Let’s look at some of the riddles.’

I dabbed the corners of my eyes and we began to read in silence. Just when I was about to give the answer, I felt a hand on my shoulder. It was Pearl, and beside her towered a thirtyish man – eyes large and hungry, forehead high, jaw square, with a long arm wrapped around Pearl’s narrow waist.

He leaned his flushed face close to Pearl’s made-up one and said as if he had just swallowed a fireball, ‘Little Pearl, I know tonight you have to keep Mr. Chan company, but before that, can you …’

Pearl snatched out her fan, flipped it open, then began to fan furiously while half-nudging the young man away with her hip. ‘Yor! When does our famous gifted oil painter pay attention to a plain woman like me?’

‘No, Pearl, you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, the lady of my dreams.’

Pearl waved him a dismissive hand. ‘Then you better go to sleep now and I’ll see you later in your dream.’

The man had a trapped expression. Pearl cocked an eye at me while motioning to him. ‘Jiang Mou, let me introduce to you my little sister Xiang Xiang.’ Then she turned to me and spoke commandingly, ‘Xiang Xiang, pay respect to Mr. Jiang, the most famous oil portraitist in Shanghai. So if you’re lucky and behave, maybe someday he’ll be willing to paint you and make you very famous.’

‘Will you, Mr. Jiang?’ I asked, feeling colour rising in my cheeks.

‘If your sister says so,’ Jiang Mou said as his eyes kept moving all over Pearl.

Pearl continued to make small talk with Mr. Jiang while throwing him flirtatious glances and brushing his body with her smooth arms and fingers. Finally she whispered something into his ear and made a dismissive wave, at which the famous portraitist sauntered away like an obedient dog.

Pearl turned to me. ‘Xiang Xiang, now why don’t we start to read again?’

The lantern I’d picked was in the shape of a rooster, its riddle was written in walking-style calligraphy:

Its body can break the bellies of evil spirits

Its breath roars like thunder

Its sound rips up the sky and tears off the earth

But when you look back, it’s already a heap of ashes. (anobject)

I yelled to Pearl, ‘Firecrackers!’

She turned to look at me appreciatively, ‘Good, Xiang Xiang, now read this one.’ She pointed to a phoenix.

Face as beautiful as the crescent moon and ears alert as a night owl’s.

Ten thousand arms reach for ten thousand desperate voices. (a personage)

Again I blurted out, ‘Guan Yin, the Goddess of Mercy, who listens to the cries of the needy and goes to help!’

Pearl cocked an eye at me. ‘Very good, you’re really smart, eh?’ Now she pointed to a lotus. ‘Then what about this?’

Just then a loud explosive sound shattered the air.

‘Oh, my heaven!’ Pearl screamed, ‘someone’s got shot!’

‘How do you know?’

‘This is not the first time that it happened. It’s too terrible. Let’s go find out who’s the lucky one.’ Pearl grabbed my arm and we sped to the source of the sound.

5
Spring Moon

Pearl and I shoved through the hovering crowd and gaped.

What stared back at me was a pair of sad, flickering eyes. They were the same eyes that, from underneath the bamboo grove, had followed my every move.

Pearl sighed, yet her voice didn’t sound very upset. ‘I knew sooner or later something like this would happen to Spring Moon.’

I craned my neck to take a better look and saw the sad-eyed girl squirming and moaning on the ground. Blood oozed from her arm, staining the green sleeve of her dress.

I blurted out, ‘Oh, heaven, we should call the police!’

A coarse voice roared. ‘Who said call the police?!’

I felt my sleeve tugged. Pearl shot me a razor-sharp look to shut me up.

The evening suddenly turned icy.

Coarse Voice laughed an air-shredding laugh. ‘Ha! Ha! Ha! Doesn’t everyone here know that I am the police chief?’

I followed the voice until my gaze fell on the most evil face I’d ever seen. It belonged to a dark, solid man with a prominent jaw protruding from a wide, uncouth face. His eyes were mere slits, with the pupils darting like mice trapped in a narrow trough. His square body, stuffed into a stiff uniform the colour of chicken shit, gave the impression of a corpse.

Then, more to my surprise, nobody – none of the sisters, servants, Fang Rong, Wu Qiang, nor the guests – offered to help the poor girl. Everyone just stood there, their feet rooted to the ground and their eyes trapezing between Spring Moon and the police chief.

While his eyes scanned the onlookers like machine guns firing muted shots, everyone lowered their heads to stare at their shoes. The chief spat at Spring Moon, his saliva spraying in all directions and flickering in the lanterns’ light. ‘Fuck your mother, stinky slut. Has no one taught you never to say no to a police chief? Eh? You stinky stuff!’

Fang Rong shoved away the others and went up to Spring Moon, but to my utter shock and surprise, instead of offering help or comfort, she also spat on her – more vehemently than the angry corpse. ‘You cheap, stupid, short-lived bitch! Don’t I always tell you never say no to our noble guests!?’ Then she turned to the police chief, her lips curling into a grin so huge I feared her teeth might be all squeezed out. ‘I’m so sorry, Chief Che, but I swear to you on the honour of Buddha and Guan Yin and the righteous White-Browed God and all my ancestors that this will never happen again.’

The chief shot Fang Rong a murderous look, while swinging his gun. ‘Is that how you teach your daughters? To play ladies when they’re whores?’

A deafening silence. Fang Rong and Wu Qiang plopped down, engaging themselves in a succession of frantic kowtows.

Mama’s voice spilled fear. ‘Sorry, Chief Che, it’s all our fault. Tonight I promise we’ll whip this slut to death to teach her a good lesson.’

Mama kept apologising, while the police chief kept fuming. He cursed incessantly, his body shivering and his high-booted feet fidgeting. When the cold breeze blew in my direction, a strong stench of alcohol wafted into my nostrils. Everyone remained deadly quiet, intently watching what was going to happen next. It astonished me that, amid this crisis, some sisters looked entertained, as if they were watching a Peking opera comedy.

The chief’s venomous words rolled out across the chill night air. ‘Promise me you’ll whip this slut till her skin blossoms and her flesh rots! And I mean it, you get it?!’

Now Mama and De yapped simultaneously, ‘You have our word, Chief!’

The dark face snorted. His voice slashed the night air like a sword. ‘Huh! If not,’ he swung his gun toward the two kneeling figures, ‘beware of your brains!’

The pitiful duo paraded more kowtows.

Then suddenly, hands shaking, the police chief turned to aim the gun at Spring Moon’s head. A collective gasp resonated in the air. Spring Moon closed her eyes. The pool of blood slowly crept along the ground as if it had a miserable life of its own.

Eager faces, shining with curiosity, excitement, and fear, waited for the ‘bang!’ to climax the evening. I felt my heart almost jump out of my chest.

Just then, to everyone’s surprise, Pearl pushed through the group, stepped forward, and wriggled up to the police chief. The evil-faced stinking male turned to stare at her, now not quite sure whether to shoot or not.

Pearl wet her lips and put on her best smile. ‘Aii-ya, Chief Che,’ her voice sounded as if it had been soaked for hours in a honey jar, ‘why fret over a little girl? Didn’t you just say that she’s but a stinky stuff, a worthless slut, a whore?’

The chief kicked Spring Moon’s shoulder; his boots glinted menacingly under the pale moonlight. ‘Yeh! Stinky stuff! Soon-drop-dead bitch!’

Spring Moon moaned; Pearl quickly added, ‘So don’t you think it’s not worth your bullet, Chief? Besides, why fret over a piece of dirt, just needlessly stirring your qi and harming your health? It’s not worth it at all.’ Now seeing that the police chief had calmed down a bit, she ventured to put her hand on his shoulder. ‘Chief Che, you came here to get entertainment, not to get angry, right? We need you to be happy so you can take good care of our society by protecting us against all wrongs.’ She turned to wink at the onlookers. ‘Right?!’

Everybody nodded and uttered a loud ‘Yes!’

Slowly, Pearl moved her hand to cover the gun, then began to caress the chief’s arm while slowly guiding the weapon back to its holster – like a snake returning to its hole. After that, she slipped her arm around the chief’s. ‘Come on, Chief Che, let’s forget this piece of scum and have some fun. I’ll treat you to a glass of champagne, or,’ she winked, ‘anything that takes your fancy.’ Now she ventured to touch the chief’s cheek, her red-painted nails sparkling eerily under the yellowish lantern light. ‘I promise you the wine is imported from France and you’ll love it just as you love justice.’ Her gaze swept around the audience before she turned back to the chief, wetting her lips. ‘And I’ll never say “no” to a big-shot customer like you. Not that I’m stupid or smart, it’s simply because I can’t afford to turn down righteousness!’

‘Well said!’ The group clapped.

Finally, with a stunning smile, Pearl wriggled her water-snake waist and led the staggering police chief away.

Waiting until they were out of sight, people let out a collective sigh of relief. Then some stooped to examine Spring Moon. Blood continued to ooze from her arm where the bullet had grazed her. Some simply stared blankly, as if disappointed that the incident had turned out to be an anticlimax with no killing. Fang Rong ordered two of the guards to take the poor girl back to the pavilion.

I sneaked up to her and asked, ‘Mama, shouldn’t we get her to the hospital?’

She shot me a dirty look. ‘Hospital? Ah, what big talk! But who’s going to pay? You? All right, if you pay, then we’ll send her to a hospital—’

‘But Mama, I don’t have any money!’

‘Neither do I!’

Wu Qiang chimed in, ‘Don’t worry, Xiang Xiang. We’ll ask our herbalist to treat her; it’s much cheaper.’

‘What about –?’

Mama snorted. ‘If she dies, she dies, that’s her fate, nobody can change that, not you, not me, not Guan Yin, not Buddha, not a Western doctor nor an expensive hospital.’ She waved vehemently to the guards. ‘Take her back, now!’ Then she spat on Spring Moon. ‘Stinky stuff! Bringer of bad luck!’

After Spring Moon had been carried away, Fang Rong put on a big smile, announcing to the sisters and the guests while frantically waving her hands, ‘Nothing happened; everything’s all right! Now go back to the party and enjoy yourselves!’

Immediately the group dispersed – some customers went to drink; others watched Mr. Wu demonstrate calligraphy; yet others listened to the sisters sing and swing their curvy bodies to the rhythm of the music …

It both surprised and disgusted me that people were indeed having a good time as if nothing had happened.

Since no one was paying any attention to me, I went to sit on a bench to calm myself. Spring Moon’s image kept spinning in my mind – her sad eyes, her pained face. Who was she? How did she end up in Peach Blossom? Was her family so poor that they had to sell her into the prostitution house? But she didn’t look poor – she had a smooth face and nice skin. Was her father also a criminal like mine? Had she been kidnapped by a bandit?

I sat in a daze I didn’t know how long until I flinched from a slap on my shoulder. I turned and saw Fang Rong’s menacing face hovering above mine. And an old man’s wrinkled one next to hers.

‘Xiang Xiang, what’s the matter with you? Don’t you know that you’re here to work, not to relax?’

I sprang up in no time.

Mama turned to Old Wrinkles. ‘Look, Big Master Fung, this is our famous Xiang Xiang, face beautiful enough to outshine the moon and shame the flowers. Don’t you think?’

Old Wrinkles scrutinised me the same way my mother had examined a choice piece of pork in the market for our yuanxiao dinner. ‘Wonderful, wonderful! The fame has not been spread for nothing,’ he mumbled, while stroking his stubble with his bony, long-nailed fingers.

Mama nipped my chin and ordered, ‘Xiang Xiang, give Big Master Fung a big smile.’

‘Big Master Fung, see the dimples?’ She shot Old Wrinkles a flirtatious look, causing goose bumps to creep on my skin. ‘Aren’t they so charming that they’ll suck you in and make you forget all your troubles?’

Old Wrinkles nodded appreciatively, while his eyes caressed me all over. ‘Yes indeed, indeed.’

Mama went on excitedly, ‘Big Master Fung, there’s one more precious thing about Xiang Xiang.’

‘Eh? What is it?’

Mama lowered her voice to create suspense. ‘Xiang Xiang has a natural body fragrance as if her diet were nothing but flowers.’

Now, like a bulldog, Old Wrinkles leaned close to me and sniffed. ‘Yes, she does smell wonderful. But I think it’s just perfume.’

Mama chuckled. ‘Oh, of course not, Big Master Fung. You have my word, or your money back.’ She winked. ‘Xiang Xiang hasn’t yet received any customers, so who’d buy her perfume?’

‘All right, no need to explain,’ Old Wrinkles said, then he whispered something into Mama’s ear to which she frantically nodded.

I could only catch tidbits of the conversation – ‘fresh dewy peach,’ ‘mighty emperor stretches the bow,’ ‘golden-gun-never-drop pills’ – but their manner made my skin creep and my cheeks burn. After more prurient glances directed from my head to toe and then back from toe to head, the two burst into guffaws.

When Old Wrinkles finally left, so did Mama’s laughter. Now she turned to cast me a murderous look. ‘Xiang Xiang, what’s the matter with you? Don’t stand there like a fool; come and help!’

The party went on long past midnight. After most of the guests had gone, Pearl materialised out of nowhere and joined me to go back to Peach Blossom Pavilion. When we were inside the rickshaw, I noticed that her eyes were blurry, her face flushed, and her mouth reeked of alcohol.

‘Sister Pearl, are you all right?’

‘Oh yes. Don’t you worry about me, I’m fine. I just wonder how’s Spring Moon now. Hai, poor girl, I hope she can pull through.’

I asked tentatively, ‘Where’s the police chief?’

‘He was tipsy. Otherwise Spring Moon would have been shot in the head already and started her journey to the Western Paradise. Then I got him completely drunk, so his gang took him back. Hopefully by tomorrow morning he won’t remember a thing. Otherwise he may still cause trouble.’

‘Is he very important?’

Pearl chuckled. ‘Did you see how he swung his gun? He’s a local despot! Have you ever heard the saying “When a scholar argues with a soldier, even if he has reasons, he has no way to make them clear”?’

She plunged on, ‘Because the soldier is armed with a gun! So he doesn’t give a damn about the scholar’s reasoning, he’ll just shoot him!’ She looked me straight in the eyes. ‘And remember, Xiang Xiang, we’re not even scholars, but whores.’

That night, I could not sleep at all because my mind kept spinning with the image of Spring Moon.

The next day, as soon as it became light, I went to knock at Pearl’s door and heard her tell me to come in.

Wearing a high-collared gown embroidered with gold-threaded peonies, she was standing beside the large blue-and-white bowl, feeding her goldfish.

I walked up to her. ‘Sister Pearl, have you heard anything about Spring Moon?’

‘She’s in the dark room.’ Not looking at me, Pearl continued to throw morsels of bread into the bowl.

We silently watched the fish swim and wag their tails for a while before she motioned me to sit on the sofa.

It seemed strange to be resting my bottom on the soft velvet cushion while Spring Moon was down there. Creepy sensations crawled all over my body. ‘But she’s wounded, why did they put her there?’

‘Because she offended the police chief. Nobody can afford to do that. If you do, you’re asking for a bullet in your head. She’s lucky that she’s now only lying in the dark room, not in a grave.’

‘You think she’ll die?’

‘You think Mama, after she’s made her investment, will let her daughters die so easily? Of course not, because any living daughter is better than a dead one. Once dead, all her investment will be thrown into the chamber pot. But a living daughter … even if she’s disfigured, Mama can still sell her to a cheap whorehouse and get some money back, even if just a few coins.’ She paused, then, ‘Anyway, her wound was not serious.’ She sighed, ‘The dark room is to teach any disobedient girl a lesson.’

Some silence passed before Pearl spoke again. ‘Let’s not talk about unpleasant things.’ She stood up, went to the luohan bed, and from underneath it took out an elongated object in a brocade cover. She removed the case and carefully put the object onto the table.

I studied it for long moments before I asked, ‘What is this?’

‘It’s a qin – seven-stringed zither,’ she said softly, running her fingers along its length.

The wooden surface, lacquered and decorated with dots of mother-of-pearl, shone with a lovely lustre.

‘So are we going to play this today?’

Pearl chuckled. ‘Ah, silly girl, you think you can just learn how to play this instrument in a day? It takes years and years of hard work.’

She went on, her voice filled with emotion, ‘I want to play you a piece. It’s called “Remembering an Old Friend.”’

I asked tentatively, ‘Is it … Spring Moon?’

‘No, but my elder sister. Spring Moon is naïve like her.’

‘Where is your sister now?’

Pearl didn’t answer my question. The sadness on her face suppressed my urge to further enquire. So I changed the subject. ‘Sister Pearl, do you know how Spring Moon ended up here in Peach Blossom?’

Pearl smoothed the brocade cover and sighed, ‘Her father was a well-off ship merchant. One time when he was shipping some precious goods from Shanghai to Hong Kong, a storm struck and destroyed everything – the goods, the ship, the sailors, and himself. So her family lost everything overnight, literally. Not only that, since they hadn’t bought insurance, they had to pay for all the losses, including the goods to be delivered to Hong Kong and the compensation to the sailors’ widows. After the father’s costly funeral, there was nothing left. So her father’s concubines sold her here to pay their debts.

‘Spring Moon was thrown overnight from atop the clouds to the ground. She was used to having maids serve her, and now she is bossed around. I was told she had a really nice and handsome fiancé. So of course it revolted her to be molested by that disgusting police chief. Poor girl, that was her first day out, and she’s already caused this big trouble.’

Pearl put away the qin, then took the pot and poured us both tea. We sipped in silence.

Then I asked, ‘I don’t understand why Spring Moon kept staring at me from behind the bamboo grove.’

Pearl looked me in the eyes. ‘She’s envious of your beauty, especially those dimples of yours.’

‘She told you that?’

‘No. But I can tell. I always catch her squeezing in her cheeks to have the illusion of dimples.’ Pearl sighed. ‘Hai, poor girl. She still doesn’t have to sleep with customers. When she does, there’ll be more …’

‘More what?’

‘Nothing.’

Moments passed. Pearl once again slid the qin out from its brocade cover and started to tune it. The seven strings, lightly touched, emitted soft, subtle sounds as if they were whispering the secrets of heaven. When Pearl had finished tuning, she meditated for seconds, then began to play. The melodies seemed to tell a very sad tale. Mesmerised, I imagined waves of melancholy sloshing gently through the room, caressing our wounded hearts.

I also noticed something unexpected – the transformation of Pearl’s face. During her pipa playing when she vigorously plucked the strings, she always looked animated and flirtatious. Her long hair would fall over her face and tremble like dark waves and her eyes would give out sparks like twinkling stars. But as she played the qin, her countenance composed itself into that of a scholar’s – serious, serene, respectful. The fingers that pulled and plucked aggressively on the pipa now effortlessly glided and pirouetted, like dragonflies skipping over a brook, swallows touching water, or petals falling on waves.

My mind was lifted away by Pearl’s elegant playing to a quiet, far-off place where I could almost see Baba sitting under a shaded bamboo grove, playing a sad tune from his fiddle and smiling wryly at me.

After she finished, we sighed simultaneously. I felt sorry that such wonderful music had to end.

‘Sister Pearl.’ I searched her eyes. ‘The qin sounds so beautiful—’

She stared at me curiously. ‘You find this music beautiful?’

Eagerly I nodded.

‘You’re very gifted, Xiang Xiang. Not many young girls have the insight to appreciate qin melodies—’

‘Can you teach me how to play the qin?’

Her face darkened. ‘No.’

‘But … why not?’ I felt both surprised and hurt by her refusal.

‘Because I think you should concentrate on the pipa.’ Before I could protest, she went on, ‘Xiang Xiang, the qin won’t make you famous and popular, but the pipa will.’

‘Why? And how?’

‘Because the pipa’s tone is short and its music tuneful. You can attract the customers’ attention right away. But it’ll take years of cultivation just to appreciate the qin, let alone to play it, and play it well. As women, we have only very limited years of youth and beauty. So by the time you’ve mastered the instrument, you’ve already lost both. Worse still, hardly any customers will be cultured enough to appreciate the qin – or your talent.’

‘Sister Pearl,’ I searched her smooth, beautiful face, ‘but you’ve neither lost your youth nor beauty …’

‘Because I’m exceptional.’

I wanted to say that I, too, was exceptional.

But she’d already taken a handkerchief and begun to wipe the instrument, as tenderly as if it were her lover. After that, she said ‘Now I’ll play “Lament Behind the Long Gate.”’

‘What is it about?’

‘The misery of an ill-fated woman.’

6
A Lucky Day

It had been ten months since I’d arrived at Peach Blossom Pavilion yet I still hadn’t received any letter from Mother. First I was angry at her – how could she have forgotten her only daughter? Then I began to worry – had anything happened to her? Those bald-headed old maids in the nunnery, what had they done to my mother? It pained me to think of Mother, her head shaved and her slender body hidden underneath a dreary grey robe, with nothing to do all day but mumble texts from yellowing sutras that no one could understand anyway.

I wanted both my mother and her hair back!

Every night after I finished work, I’d take off the Guan Yin pendant Mother had put around my neck, hold it in front of me, and ask the Goddess to protect her – wherever she was now – and remind her to write me.

Now my only comfort was Guigui. Fed with all the delicacies, not only did he grow bigger each day, he also looked cuter. I began to teach him different tricks – carrying things, kneeling, hand-shaking, kowtowing. He was so chubby with his fluffy yellow fur that sometimes he looked like a moon rolling on earth. Whenever he’d given a good show, I’d take him to the kitchen and feed him with more goodies. To repay my generosity (at the customers’ expense), Guigui would tilt his fat head to stare at me curiously, then lick all over my face. He was so cute and affectionate that even when he misbehaved, I had no heart to punish him. One time he peed right under the altar where the White-Browed God was worshipped. I felt so scared that I almost flung him out of the altar room, then frantically wiped the mess clean. The White-Browed God was Peach Blossom Pavilion’s most revered deity – to lure in an endless flow of money and keep the wealthy guests bewitched by the sisters. If Mama had seen the puppy pee right beneath the Money God, she’d have beaten him – and maybe me – severely.

When I was about to scold Guigui, he dropped his head and whimpered, peering at me with big, soulful eyes. So, instead of spanking him hard on his little bottom, I scooped him up and threw him in the air!

Guigui and I became inseparable. When I prayed to Guan Yin, besides my mother, I now included him when asking for the goddess’s protection.

One afternoon, my heart burdened with Mother’s situation, I slipped into Pearl’s room. She was reclining on the sofa, reading a magazine. I watched as she picked up red-dyed watermelon seeds, splitting each between her teeth with a sensuous pop. Then her small tongue would, like a lizard snatching its prey, draw out the egg-shaped flesh into her mouth.

When I stepped across the threshold, she spat out a husk into a celadon bowl, looked up at me, and smiled. ‘Xiang Xiang, shouldn’t you be practising your arts in your room?’

‘Sister Pearl, can you do me a favour?’

‘Come sit with me.’ She put down her magazine. ‘What is it that you want?’

‘To hear you play “Remembering an Old Friend” on the qin.’

‘Why? You have someone to remember?’

‘My mother. I miss her,’ I said, feeling tears stinging my eyes.

Pearl scrutinised me for long moments, then glanced at the clock. ‘All right, I still have some time before my guest arrives.’

She stood up and went to take the qin from underneath her bed. Carefully she peeled off the brocade cover, laid the instrument on the table, burned incense, then tuned the seven strings. After that, she began to play. Again, I was entranced, not only by the music, but also by the movements of her fingers, as graceful as clouds drifting across the sky. Listening to the melodies pour out from her tapered fingers, all my worries seemed to vanish.

When Pearl finished, again I begged her to teach me to play the qin. Again, she refused.

‘Please, Sister Pearl,’ I could hear the urgency in my voice, ‘I only want to learn “Remembering an Old Friend,” so I can play it and think of my mother.’

She didn’t reply, but looked down to study the floral patterns of her skirt.

‘Please, Sister Pearl, just one piece.’

Now she looked up to study me.

‘Just one.’ I raised one finger and pleaded incessantly until her face broke into a smile like the blossoming chrysanthemums on her jacket.

‘All right, you little witch. But Xiang Xiang, promise me you’ll keep this a secret between us. Can you do that?’

I nodded my head like a hungry woodpecker.

‘All right, now go back to your room and wash yourself thoroughly.’

‘Sister Pearl, but you’ve just promised to teach me to play the qin!’

‘Bathing yourself is part of the ritual of playing. After that, you have to burn incense to cleanse the air and meditate to purify your mind, before you can even touch the instrument. Never forget that when you play the qin, you’re not just making music, but communicating with the deepest mysteries of heaven.’

I was too surprised to respond; she went on, ‘I told you it’s hard. Do you still want to learn?’

‘Yes, Sister Pearl!’

‘Good, I like your determination.’ She cast me a sharp glance. ‘In the past, a student had to live with her teacher and wait upon her for two years – preparing tea, cooking, cleaning the house, massaging her sore muscles – before there’d even be any mention of lessons. You’re lucky that I exempt you from all these. Now go to wash!’

‘Thank you, Sister Pearl,’ I yelled, then dashed toward the door.

She called out at my back, ‘Remember, this instrument is sacred. And don’t forget your pipa either.’

I turned around. ‘Sister Pearl, I won’t.’

‘Come back and I’ll teach you how to tune the qin – as well as your mind.’

So from that day on I was secretly learning to play this venerated instrument. At the start of each lesson, I’d meticulously tune the seven silk strings, while stealing glances at Pearl and wishing I could look as beautiful and play as elegantly. I would practise until my fingers bled and grew calloused, and my shoulders felt stiff and sore. But strangely, my heart was filled with joy at the sad tunes of the qin.

Needless to say, I dared not forget singing, painting, nor playing my pipa. Pearl warned me again and again if I didn’t learn the other arts well, she’d stop teaching me the qin. But her worry was unnecessary, for I was good at all my lessons! Mr. Wu, the painting teacher, was so pleased with my talent that he showered me with gifts – brushes of all sizes, ink stones engraved with scenes of the four seasons, rice paper sprinkled with simulated gold flakes. He also praised my poems, telling me that some were so good that they could be used as opera lyrics. He predicted that I’d be famous soon, very soon. Mr. Ma, the opera teacher, said I had a voice like a lark’s, which possessed the charm to entice the sun to rise and cajole it to set. But he also flattered me by continuing to accidentally brush his hand all over my body.

Word about my talents began to spread. Some customers asked to look at my paintings. Some halted by my door to listen to my singing. Others sighed with pleasure when they had a chance to glimpse my fingers performing acrobatics on the pipa. My poems were passed around and discussed as if they were works by Li Bai or Du Fu.

One afternoon while I was practising ‘Spring Moonlight over the River’ on the pipa, Fang Rong burst into my room. She dropped onto the chair, breathing heavily while eyeing me happily. She studied me so hard and so long that I felt colour rise in my cheeks.

‘What is it, Mama?’ I asked, putting down my instrument.

She shot up from the chair and went to the mirror, motioning me to follow her.

Our reflections stared back at us from the polished surface. Mama smiled mischievously, cocking an eye at me. ‘Xiang Xiang, less than a year living in Peach Blossom, see what a lovely girl I’ve made of you.’

I looked at my own image for long moments, and for the first time I agreed with her. But I felt embarrassed to say yes, so I remained silent.

She lifted and tousled my hair. ‘But you know what? Today you’ll look even prettier, for I’m taking you out to have your hair styled!’

I turned to stare at her. ‘Styled?’

‘Yes, most girls have never even heard of it, let alone have the money to have it done. So lucky you!’

But I had heard of it. ‘You mean like … those stars in a movie?’ Of course I’d never seen ‘those stars’ in a real movie, only in newspapers and magazines Baba had brought home from the warlord’s house.

‘Exactly! Do you want to look like a movie star?’

I turned back to look at the mirror and saw my head nodding like that of a childless woman kowtowing to Guan Yin for a baby boy.

It was a hot, sunny Friday afternoon. Besides me, Fang Rong also took two other girls to have their hair styled. One, voluptuous and very silly acting, was called Jade Vase, and the other, to my surprise, was Spring Moon. I was glad that Mama had arranged for Spring Moon to share the rickshaw with me while she shared hers with Jade Vase. Spring Moon seemed to have recovered from that horrible night and the scar on her arm turned out to be quite small. Now, I’d finally have the chance to discuss with her in detail the strong stench and scurrying rats of the dark room – and maybe even fuck. But we ended up gawking at the rarely glimpsed city life outside the turquoise pavilion. Our eyes couldn’t detach themselves from busy Nanking Boulevard with its famous red-and-gold signboards. Our fingers kept thrusting here and there to point out remembered sights.

Spring Moon pointed at a grand building and said proudly in her high-pitched voice, ‘Look, that’s Xing Xing Department Store where I used to shop with my parents.’

I craned my neck and saw three Western-dressed tai tai studying merchandise with great intensity. Behind them shuffled amahs burdened with overflowing shopping bags.

While my eyes were appreciating the society ladies’ elaborate make-up and brocade dresses, Spring Moon’s finger had already shifted to an even grander building next to Xing Xing, her voice climbing higher and higher in the air. ‘Look, this is Sincere Department Store. My father once bought me a gold necklace in the jewellery department on the third floor!’

She plunged on excitedly, ‘My father also used to take me to the Heavenly Tune Pavilion open-air café on the top floor of the Wing On Department Store. There, I could see the whole city, including the China Peace Company, the International Hotel, and the race track!’

When the speeding rickshaw had left the two stores and the three tai tai behind, a silence fell between us.

To leave her to her thoughts, I turned to take in the scenes on the street.

A vendor, with two baskets in front, yelled at the top of his voice, ‘Fresh and aromatic roasted chicken! Your money back if it’s not aromatic!’

Next to him an elderly woman, kneeling, begged by knocking her head loudly on the ground.

A noodle seller, bare-chested and leathery-faced, was banging a brass gong to attract attention.

Under the scorching sun, a red-turbanned, black-bearded Indian policeman frantically wielded a baton to direct traffic. Sweat poured down his dark face like black bean sauce.

Then I spotted two small children followed by doting parents swarm into a candy store. When I saw the big smiles on the parents’ faces, my heart was seized with grief mixed with bitterness. Since the first day I’d been taken to Peach Blossom, despite the fact that I had a mother, plus another set of ‘parents’ unexpectedly dropped onto my lap, I still felt orphaned. I poked my head out of the rickshaw so that Spring Moon wouldn’t see the tears streaming down my cheeks.

Just then her voice rose next to my ear, startling me. ‘See, Xiang Xiang, that’s Mali Pig For!’

I wiped my tears while craning my neck. ‘Who?’

‘The famous Hollywood movie star! Over there, on the signboard of the Peking Theatre!’

Now I saw the picture showing the huge head of a foreign woman with wavy hair and a dreamy look. Next to her were several English words that I tried but failed to read. I turned to Spring Moon. ‘Can you read those chicken’s intestines?’

She smiled proudly. ‘Of course.’ Then, her lips pouted like a chicken’s ass, she began to read. ‘Poor Little Rich Girl.’

‘Wah! Where did you learn English?’

‘My father used to hire a private tutor to teach us.’ A pause, then she asked regally, ‘Xiang Xiang, have you ever seen a movie?’

Pathetically I shook my head.

A smile bloomed on her face. ‘My father used to take me to all the movie theatres: the Peking, the Embassy, and the Lyceum. If you have a chance to go inside these places, I bet you’ll be impressed. They’re like palaces!’

Spring Moon’s eyes turned red. I looked away into the distance across the harbour behind the hazy skyline. A ship was blowing its whistle as it passed another. Like a pair of scissors, a third ship slid soundlessly through the sapphire waves, its American flag fluttering in the breeze like a brightly coloured dress.

America! I muttered to myself. I hoped someday I’d be able to leave Shanghai to see the world, places such as America where I could meet this famous, strange woman called Mali Pig For.

Two rickshaws sped past ours; the coolies’ bare feet kicked up clouds of dust.

Everything outside Peach Blossom was so real, so lively … and yet illusory. Life seemed a deep, confused dream.

When I was about to turn back to talk to Spring Moon, the rickshaw suddenly pulled to a stop, jolting us forward. Fang Rong paid the two heavily sweating coolies, then, with an imperious air, led us into the hairstyling establishment.

The walls of the shop were covered with mirrors, giving it a spacious, mysterious look. Pasted on the mirrors were pictures of Chinese movie stars; all had shiny, styled hair like black waves gleaming under the moon.

Upon seeing us, several men, white towels draped over their arms, hurried to greet Fang Rong. They smiled obsequiously at her but scrutinised us like wolves. After we sat down, Mama told them to fix each of us a different hairdo.

She thrust a pudgy finger at Jade Vase. ‘She has an ugly mole on her forehead, so give her the weeping willow fringe to hide it.’ Then she motioned to Spring Moon. ‘Her face’s too round and her forehead too low, so give her the one-line fringe to cover everything.’ Finally she turned to me, smiling generously. ‘This one’s lucky; she’ll get the glamorous star-studded sky.’

Wah! I almost burst into happy laughter. Star-studded sky! But I had no time to relish this honor, for the three hairstylists, smiling knowingly, had already begun to muss our hair with expertly moving fingers.

It took more than an hour for the three men to cut, wash, and style our hair. We looked at each other in the mirror and discovered that Jade Vase’s forehead was covered by a narrow patch of soft hair hung low like weeping willow branches. Spring Moon’s face was framed with a thick fringe and straight hair down the sides, which magically made her round face look slender. For myself, I was pleased to see my hair pulled backward to reveal my much-envied high forehead and melon-seed face. Moreover, my three-thousand-threads-of-trouble were decorated with a gold clasp blossoming with pearls! My face seemed to have changed. Suddenly it looked glamorous … as if I were a real movie star who’d dance with swirling dress to dreamy music in a grand ballroom hung with glittering chandeliers!

A sob woke me from my intoxication; I turned and caught Spring Moon’s gaze. Her teary eyes lingered on my face like a cat pathetically pawing a fish bone.

‘Spring Moon,’ I took a deep breath, ‘why—’

Mama’s coarse voice roared in the air. ‘Spring Moon, stop that! Don’t envy the others. You should be grateful not only that you’re still alive, but that you’re alive with styled hair and a slender face, instead of one that looks like a puffed bun!’

Spring Moon shut up at once. After that, Mama quickly paid and led us out of the shop. This time she didn’t hail rickshaws. To my amazement, she led us along the busiest section of Nanking Boulevard, where our rickshaws had passed earlier! More surprises came when she led us into a fabric store and announced, ‘Pick what you like and I’ll have them tailored into Chinese gowns and Western dresses for all three of you.’

These generous words pouring from her mouth now sounded to me as enchanting as qin music! Holding bolts of floral satin against my skin, I felt weak with happiness. Jade Vase oohed and aahed and aii-ya-ed while her fingers ran over rolls of silk that cascaded before us like rainbowed waterfalls. Even Spring Moon’s sad, watery eyes now sparkled.

Half an hour later, when the shopping spree had finally come to an end, Mama asked cheerily, ‘All right, it’s hot, so do you girls want some ice cream to ease the heat before we go back?’

Ice cream? I couldn’t believe what I’d just heard. Baba had tasted it only once – at the warlord’s house – and had told me it was something soft as silk and sweet as sugar. It melted so fast in your mouth that you had to lick it hard like you did a wound.

It took the three of us a few seconds to absorb the good news before we blurted out together, ‘Yes, Mama!’

Sauntering down the busy boulevard with the glittering star-studded sky on my head, visions of new dresses, and the ice cream melting tenderly in my mouth, I’d never felt luckier. The corners of my lips kept lifting despite my efforts to press them down – people on the street might think that I was crazy smiling to myself!

I delicately licked my ice cream, trying my best to prolong the enjoyment of its soothing coolness and sweetness. My eyes were taking in the colourful displays of merchandise behind shop windows. While watching, I noticed we were also being watched. Young girls stared at us with envy while suppressing giggles. Some men threw lewd glances in our direction. Workers blew whistles. Several tai tai pointed red-nailed fingers at us and whispered to each other, sneering.

I turned to ask Fang Rong, ‘Mama, why do these people keep staring at us?’

She put on an air like the Empress Dowager’s. ‘Ah, my daughter, what a silly question. Why? Because they’re jealous of you, that’s why!’ She pointed to a bony girl of ten in rags begging at the curb, ‘You think people will find her pretty?’ then to a middle-aged, stooped amah, ‘or her?’ finally to a flat-chested and plain-faced girl selling pancakes at a street stall, ‘or this bamboo pole?’

Mama burst out laughing. ‘Ha, ha, ha, my gorgeous little treasures,’ she paused to scan the three of us before turning to pinch my cheek, ‘especially you, Xiang Xiang, you’ll be the queen of attention soon, very soon!’

As she said this, it seemed now that all eyes were riveted on me. Feeling dazed and dreamy, I licked hard at the ice cream, savouring its fast-melting sweetness, while assuring myself that all this good luck did not merely exist in a dream. I touched my Guan Yin pendant and secretly prayed that this day would go on forever.

Just when I was relishing the tender softness on my tongue, suddenly I felt my arm being bumped. Before I knew what had happened, commotion stirred around me like oil hissing on a hot wok.

Mama’s voice clanged like a broken gong, shaking the air around her. ‘Catch the little thief!’

It was then that I realised my ice cream had gone. It was now tightly held in the filthy hand of a bony, ten-year-old boy. He was desperately licking it while trying to dash across the street infested with swishing cars.

‘Watch out!’ I screamed to him.

Mama smacked my star-studded sky while casting me a murderous glance. ‘Are you out of your mind? Don’t you think this brat deserves to be hit?’

When a gap appeared in the heavy traffic, the boy sprinted, followed by a cacophony of screeching, honking, shouting, and cursing.

‘Oh my heaven! He’s going to get killed!’ I yelled again.

Mama, after glaring at me with another killer look, hurried with the three of us to see what had happened.

To my great relief, the little boy was not killed – he was not even hit. But his feet seemed rooted to the ground, and his face was so pale that he looked like someone who had just emerged from the yin world, with ghosts still clinging to his legs to try to pull him back. The ice cream had spilled on the ground and was draining down the gutter like blood scared white.

The driver jumped out from the car and spat. ‘Fuck your mother’s cunt, you dog-fucked little bastard! Next time watch before you cross!’ With that, he shoved the dazed-looking boy back onto the pavement. Before the driver got back into the car, he again hollered, ‘Get out of the way! I’m driving to pick up the president of the Shanghai General Chamber of Commerce!’ Then he slammed the door and sped away. After that, traffic immediately resumed.

Spring Moon clapped. ‘Mama, he’s fine!’

Now it was her head that was jolted by Mama’s slap. ‘Why do you feel so happy about this little piece of dirt? He should be smashed like ground beef!’

Then, to my surprise, she flung her big torso toward the boy and grabbed him. Mama was as strong as a bull. The boy, thrashing bony arms and legs, screamed like a chicken being slaughtered. Almost in no time, a few hooligans began to gather around us, cheering and hollering.

‘Yes, strangle that little beggar!’

‘Wah! A woman beating a man to death!’

‘Hey, come and watch Peking opera, free!’

Just when they were fanning up the fire of this street drama, a fortyish man with blonde hair and a white suit appeared from nowhere. He stepped toward the two blurs of jostling flesh and, with a move of his sinewy arms, disentangled them.

Silence instantly fell among the watching crowd. Everyone’s eyes were glued to the foreigner, waiting to see what direction the drama would take. To my surprise, instead of losing her temper and cursing this yanggui zi – foreign ghost – Mama squeezed a big grin and spoke in accented English. ‘Sorli, sorli, mister. Miss understanding, miss understanding.’

Still more to my surprise, the ‘barbarian’ spoke, in perfect Mandarin. ‘What happened?’

Mama replied in Mandarin, her grin stretching bigger and bigger, until it almost reached outside her face. ‘Meishi, meishi.’ Nothing, nothing.

‘Nothing?’

Right then Jade Vase chimed in, pointing to the little boy. ‘He tried to rob my sister Xiang Xiang’s ice cream.’

The man turned to scrutinise me. His eyes were two blue beads, strangely cool yet soothing – like my vanished ice cream. Just when I felt colour rising to my cheeks, he turned to look at the boy, who was shivering in his rags under the hot sun. ‘Are you very hungry?’

The boy nodded until his head almost dislocated from his neck. ‘My mother is sick and we haven’t had food for three days.’

To everybody’s surprise, the foreign devil took out his leather purse, pulled out several copper coins, and gave them to the boy. ‘Now buy some food for the family and go home.’

The boy snatched the money, plopped down on the ground and kowtowed, then scurried like a mouse across the busy boulevard.

Abruptly Jade Vase went up to the foreigner and grinned. ‘Mister, thank you for your kindness, please come and visit us in the pavilion.’

He frowned, scanning the three of us. ‘What pavilion?’

Mama, now looking very excited, piped up, ‘The Peach Blossom Pavilion in Si Malu.’

Instead of answering Mama, the foreign devil turned to look at me for long moments, his eyes sparkling with kindness, then, without saying another word, walked away. The onlookers ejected a few disappointed curses before they quickly dispersed.

To be sure to keep our new hairstyles in good condition, Mama hired a car to take us back to the pavilion. All the way, the little boy’s image kept flashing across my mind – his bloodless face, his emaciated body barely covered by his rags, the way he pathetically kowtowed when given a few coins. Suddenly I thought how lucky I was – housed, fed, clothed in Peach Blossom, for free! I must be living in paradise without knowing it.

I turned to Fang Rong and tried to lift the corners of my lips as high as the Heavenly Tune rooftop café. ‘Mama, thank you very much.’

‘Thank me by behaving like a good girl,’ she grinned, patting my arm affectionately.

Then she addressed the three of us. ‘If you behave, you’ll have all the nicest clothes, tastiest food, and prettiest hairdos in the world. But if you don’t, you’ll all end up like that little hungry ghost robbing scraps on the street, and eventually being hit by a car. Do you want to be like that little bastard soon to be smashed into ground beef?’

‘No!’ we roared collectively.

‘Will you behave?!’

‘Yes!’ Our high-pitched voices slashed the air, while Mama grinned mysteriously, her face shadowed by the shade of the rickshaw.

7
The Jade Stalk and the Golden Gate

The next day when I woke up in the morning, I felt both happy and sad – happy because of my good life in Peach Blossom, sad because of my recollection of the little boy. His hollow cheeks and protruding eyes clung to my mind like snails. Then I also remembered the foreign devil, and the gaze of his pale blue eyes.

I took out my pipa and absent-mindedly started to play; my ears filled with the sweet murmurs of the instrument. Then in a moment, tears flooded my eyes. They ran down my cheeks and rained onto the pipa until it seemed to stare back at me with a tear-streaked face. I rocked it against my chest, imagining it to be my little sister who’d faithfully absorbed all my thoughts, feelings, and sadness.

‘Ma and Baba,’ I said to the pipa, ‘I miss you both. Wherever you are now, don’t worry about me. I promise you I’ll take very good care of myself. And believe me, I’ll be famous someday, very famous!’

While I was indulging in my monologue, suddenly I heard noises from outside the door. ‘Guigui? Come!’

Barely had I finished my sentence when the puppy plunged into my room. I put down the pipa and picked him up. He began to lick my face furiously.

‘All right. Enough, you bad boy. Have you been a good baby today?’

Guigui tilted his fat head, then started to kowtow and shake hands with me.

‘Good,’ I smoothed his fur, ‘I know you’re a good baby. Are you hungry? You want some goodies?’

He performed more kowtows.

Just when I was about to take him to the kitchen, the bead curtain was swept aside and this time in burst Fang Rong, balancing a big, steaming bowl on a tray between her hands. Her body, held in by her green silk gown, looked like swollen pork dumplings wrapped in greasy lotus leaves. When she moved, the rolls of fat seemed to be starting a revolution under her dress. Her bottom was just the right size for four sisters to play mahjong on. I almost chuckled at the sight.

Mama cast both me and Guigui a dirty look. ‘Xiang Xiang, take that dog outside!’

‘But Mama—’

‘I said take him outside. Or you want me to kick him out?’

I tried to shoo Guigui out, but he protested by thrusting his body against my legs.

Mama yelled. ‘Just push him out!’

Reluctantly I did.

‘Now close the door and come sit down.’

After I took my seat, she glanced at my pipa and said, making a great effort to soften her voice, ‘Xiang Xiang, stop practising for a while and have some tonic soup.’

I was surprised. It was always I who begged her to give me a break from practising the arts. She’d never spared me from labouring, let alone brought me soup.

‘Why?’ I asked.

‘Why? To celebrate your great day, silly girl.’

Carefully, she put the tray on the table, then swiftly pulled out a chair. After her big bottom had ensconced itself comfortably, Fang Rong squeezed a huge grin. ‘You’ll soon find out why. Now don’t ask any more questions. Drink this special soup while it’s still hot. When it gets cold, it won’t be nutritious any more.’ She picked up the bowl and sloshed its contents under my nose. A rich aroma wafted into my nostrils. I took a tentative sip.

‘It’s very tasty, what kind?’

‘Different herbs, lots of vinegar, and the best kind of black chicken. It took Ah Ping a whole day to cook it,’ said Mama; the big grin never left her face.

She eyed me – like a mother examining her newborn to check for deformities – until I drained the last drop. Then she put the bowl back onto the tray, picked it up, and stepped out of the room. I felt warmth spreading all over my body. It must be the tonic soup taking its effect. But I knew there was a better reason – I was lucky to be living in Peach Blossom Pavilion!

Just then, to my surprise, Fang Rong burst into the room again, this time throwing several books down on the table. ‘Ha,’ she chuckled, ‘see how absent-minded I was to have forgotten these? Now read them all to prepare yourself for your first guest.’

‘What guest?’ I asked, but Mama had already vanished like a whiff of smoke.

I scanned the titles – Variegated Patterns of the Flowery War; Secret Prescriptions for the Jade Chamber; The Plain Girl’s Classic; Romance of Genuine Cultivation …

I picked up one of them, flipped the pages, and ran into this:

When a man and a woman are making love for the first time, their bodies touch and their lips press against each other’s. The man sucks the woman’s lower lip and the woman sucks the man’s upper one. When sucking, they savour each other’s saliva … Then a thousand charms will spread and a hundred sorrows resolve. Now the woman’s left hand should hold the man’s jade stalk. The man will use his right hand to caress the woman’s jade gate. Thus the man will feel the yin energy and his jade stalk will be stirred. It thrusts high toward heaven, like a lonely peak towering toward the milky way. The woman feels the yang energy and her cinnabar crevice will become moist with the liquid flowing downward, like a river coursing from a deep valley. It is now that coupling can take place …

They savoured each other’s saliva? Aii-ya! With morbid fascination, I continued to read:

Thrusts, be they deep, shallow, slow, quick, straight, slant, east, west, are all based on different presumptions. Each has its own idiosyncrasies. The slow thrust is similar to a carp caught by a hook. A quick thrust is similar to birds flying against the wind …

Ha! These thrusts had certainly no comparison with those Baba had demonstrated in martial arts for defence. If someone attacked, what would happen to him if he thrust like ‘a carp caught by a hook’?

Just when I was on the verge of bursting out laughing at these absurd expressions, the phrase ‘nine ways of moving the jade stalk’ caught my attention:

It dives in and pulls out, like seagulls playing with waves … It plunges quickly or pokes hard, like a frightened mouse scurrying back into its burrow …

Then the ‘six ways of penetration’ forced themselves on my eyes:

First, the jade stalk pushes down, then moves back and forth resembling a saw, like prying open an oyster to get the shiny pearl …

Puzzled and distressed, I slapped the book shut and let out a heavy sigh. Pearl had told me Mama would give me books to read. But I’d never imagined they would be so strange, filled with words like jade stalk, jade gate, yang peak, cinnabar crevice.

I looked at the cover: The Art of Love, written by someone calling himself Master Dong Xuanzi, meaning Mysterious Hole. The Art of Love, by Mysterious Hole, I kept savouring the strange syllables in my mouth, as if by so doing I’d be enlightened to the profoundest mystery of the wind and moon domain.

But now my mind felt like a clear sky ambushed by dark clouds.

I felt blood coursing inside me. My face was hot and my mouth dry. I grabbed the books and ran all the way to Pearl’s room, only to find it empty. I hurried here and there but couldn’t catch a glimpse of her shadow, nor a whiff of her perfume. In the corridor leading to the garden, I was still thinking of all the strange things I’d just read when suddenly I bumped into soft flesh. I looked up and caught Fang Rong’s ominous gaze.

‘Xiang Xiang!’ she chided. ‘Where were you? I’ve been looking for you all over. Come!’ She led me back to my room, shoved me in, and slammed shut the door.

‘Have you studied the books and the classic?’ she asked in a heated whisper.

I chuckled. ‘Mama, there are only five classics, the Spring and Autumn Annals, the Book of Songs, the Book of Changes, the—’

‘All right, enough. Stop that silly bragging of yours! And wipe that complacent smile off your face! You know what? I don’t care about the Book of Changes, I only care if my daughters can bring me lots of change! You understand?’

‘But Mama, how can one bring in money by reading The Plain Girl’s Classic?’

Now Fang Rong searched me, her eyes darting around like shooting marbles. ‘Ha ha, Xiang Xiang, you are, after all, not as smart as you look!’ Then she leant toward me and lowered her voice, as if to confide in me the deepest secret of the universe. ‘You know what’s the most precious thing about you?’

‘My talent in the arts.’ I wanted to add ‘and my beauty’ but decided to be modest.

Mama winked. ‘No! Your virginity, silly girl.’ She cast me a penetrating look. ‘Xiang Xiang, you’ve never been touched by a man, have you?’

‘Yes, I have.’

Now Fang Rong’s small eyes suddenly rounded into two fireballs. She gripped my blouse, choking me. ‘You little whore, who?’

‘My baba.’

‘Oh damn!’ She let go of me, then wielded an accusing finger. ‘You wicked slut, you fucked your own father!’ Now her voice cracked like thunder. ‘When you slept with him, did he touch your golden gate? Did he insert his jade stalk into your cinnabar crevice?’

‘Mama, I was just about to ask you all about golden gate and cinnabar crevice and …’

All the tensed muscles on Mama’s face seemed to relax. ‘But you told me your father slept with you, so you’re sure he didn’t do anything to you?’

‘Of course he did. He pulled the blanket for me. He told me stories—’

‘Ha! That’s all he did to you?’

‘Yes. When I was little, I was so frightened of ghosts that I cried and cried unless Baba came and slept with me.’

‘Where was your mother?’

‘She went to work.’

‘At night? So she was a whore like you?’

‘No! It was right after Baba had broken his leg.’ I blushed, stuttering, ‘She had to work as a … a … night fragrance collector to pay for his hospital bills.’

Mama flung back her fat head and roared into such delirious laughter that it seemed as if all her laugh meridians had been suddenly struck open by lightning. ‘Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Xiang Xiang, you scared the pee out of me by telling how your father slept with you while your mother collected shit!’

I felt so angry and humiliated that I couldn’t utter a word.

Now she kept laughing like a lunatic chased by a drunk. Waiting until she’d finally calmed down, I changed the subject. ‘Mama, you still haven’t told me what is jade stalk, golden gate—’

‘You have no idea what these mean? But hasn’t Pearl explained all this to you a long time ago?’

‘No.’

Mama widened her eyes. ‘That bitch! She didn’t? You stupid little whore, you’ll soon have your petals opened by a man and you have no idea what a jade stalk or a golden gate is? Even if Pearl hasn’t taught you, didn’t the other sisters mention any of this to you? Eh?’

‘But Mama, I have no time to talk with the other sisters! I have to practice my arts the whole day every day, and do errands for you!’

‘All right, all right, enough of your nonsense. Anyway, you’ll soon find out.’

‘How?’

‘When you lose your virginity. Many men will be happy to pay many pieces of gold for it. When men have sex with pretty young virgins, their jade stalks will be maddeningly stirred.’ She cocked an eye at me. ‘After that, they will be rejuvenated and have great longevity. Some men get rich, while others get official posts. Even their bad luck will be reversed.’

I said nothing; Mama went on, now smiling dreamily, ‘Big Master Fung has already won the auction to be your datou ke.’ She pointed to the mole between her brows. ‘My third eye told me a long time ago that he’d surely win.’

‘What auction and who’s datou ke and Big Master Fung?’

She chuckled. ‘Ah, Xiang Xiang, you think you’re smart but you’re actually pretty stupid. Datou ke is the first man to collect qi from your yin part. These old men are desperate to collect youthful yin energy. If a man can have three hundred virgins, everything comes back – teeth, black hair, vitality.’

‘Wah, then I’d also like to collect some yin energy when I grow old.’

Mama laughed, shivering the flesh on her face. ‘Sure, Xiang Xiang. That’s why from time to time some old lesbians will come to us asking for virgins.’

‘Lesbians?’

Mama winked. ‘They’re called mirror-rubbing girls. Because to lose their souls, two women can only rub their mirror-flat yin parts against each other.’

‘Losing their soul! You mean they die?’

‘Xiang Xiang, I’m tired of your stupidity!’ Mama yelled, then paused to smile mischievously. ‘But I’m sure Big Master Fung won’t be tired of you.’

‘Who’s Big Master Fung?’

‘You’ve seen him at the party.’

‘You mean that all-wrinkled-old-and-dying?’

‘Xiang Xiang, watch out for your stinky mouth!’ She cast me a dirty look; her mole moved menacingly between her eyes. ‘He’s already paid a huge amount for your first night. So you better make him happy. Otherwise …’ She stamped her foot on the floor.

Now all my hair stood up on end. I could almost feel hundreds of slimy creatures crawling all over me, to be followed by the all-wrinkled Big Master Fung.

Mama grinned meaningfully. ‘Xiang Xiang, smart as you are, which would you prefer, a swarm of slimy rats crawling on you or only one Big Master Fung?’

‘One Big Master Fung, of course!’

‘Good girl. Behave and you’ll get what you want.’ She patted my head, then counted her pudgy fingers. ‘Nice clothes, good food, a new hairstyle, ice cream, and now Big Master Fung and his longevity wrinkles, ha! ha! ha!’

While one minute Mama almost choked herself breathless with her lunatic laugh, the next minute she abruptly stopped, casting me a blood-curdling glance. ‘Xiang Xiang, now take off all your clothes!’

‘What?’

‘Have you suddenly turned deaf? I said take off all your clothes! Now!’ She squinted at me with her ratlike eyes. ‘Just do it! Or do you want me to strip you naked?’

I began to peel off my clothes.

Fang Rong walked around me, poking and pinching my body here and there as if she were choosing a piece of pork for dinner. After more squeezing and kneading, she nodded; a satisfied smile broke out on her face. ‘Ha,’ she muttered as if talking to herself, ‘Big Master Fung must be a clairvoyant to pay so much for a thirteen-year-old.’

Just then the door swung open and in walked Wu Qiang. Instinctively I tried to snatch up my clothes to cover my nudity.

‘Leave that on the floor! Now let your de examine you.’

I felt so humiliated that tears pooled in my eyes. My clothes fell on the floor and lay there like a crumpled human form.

Mama’s voice roared next to my ear. ‘What do you feel so embarrassed about? It’s only your de. Haven’t you just told me you slept with your own father? Now stand still and let your de look at you.’

Though I looked down at my toes so I didn’t have to catch Wu Qiang’s penetrating glances, I could still feel his hungry eyes ravaging all over me. My body began to tremble. I swung my arms to wrap them around my chest.

Wu Qiang pulled my arms off. His voice was smooth while his eyeballs dropped to my nipples. ‘Xiang Xiang, don’t worry. Sooner or later, all young girls have to become young women.’ His hand was warm on my bare shoulder. ‘It’s no use to play lady when you’re going to be a whore.’

A smile broke out on Fang Rong’s face. ‘Wu Qiang, be gentle, she’s just a little virgin.’

Now De split his lips to reveal white, uniform teeth. ‘Yes, you’re right, just a little virgin.’ Seconds passed before he turned to Mama and said, still smiling, ‘So, what do you think?’

Mama nodded appreciatively. ‘Good, everything up to par – fine bones, smooth skin, tender flesh.’

De tousled my hair and added, ‘Also soft, silky black hair.’ Then he reached to touch my pubic hair. ‘Soft and glossy here, too.’

Mama shot him a sharp look. ‘I can see that myself.’

De nodded. ‘Yes, of course, of course.’

There was a dead silence; then, under Mama’s icy stare, De excused himself.

After he left, Mama said, ‘Put your clothes back on.’

I did. Now the same pair of eyes cast me a meaningful glance. ‘Xiang Xiang, you’re an extremely desirable virgin except for one thing.’

‘What is it?’

‘That’s it, too many questions! A virgin should be docile and gentle. Before you meet Big Master Fung, you better learn how to behave. Now go to Pearl and ask her how being nice and gentle to a jade stalk will bring you lots of money, let alone endless pleasures.’ She winked. ‘Pearl is an expert in the secrets of the bedchamber. Ha! Ha! Ha!’ After that, she picked up the books, thrust them back into my arms, and gave me a push toward the door.

Pearl was preening in front of the mirror. After I closed the door, she stared at my hair and exclaimed, ‘Xiang Xiang, you look very pretty!’ She patted the chair next to her. ‘Come sit by me.’

A long silence passed during which she was staring at my hair in the mirror.

‘Sister Pearl, don’t you like my new hairstyle?’

Pearl didn’t answer my question; her expression turned sad and serious. ‘Did Mama also buy you ice cream, feed you with soup, then show you those strange books?’

I nodded.

‘Xiang Xiang, you’re going to be fucked by a man!’

‘No, I’m not!’

‘Hai, my little sister, why do you think they’ve been treating you like a princess?’

‘I think because … because I’m just lucky.’

‘Lucky, eh?’ She sneered. ‘If there’s luck in this whorehouse, then we’d all be princesses, not prostitutes. But too bad, because you’re going to be a real whore, you understand? Do you want me to draw out the entrails for you?’

Silence dropped in the room like a gutted corpse.

‘And this,’ she snatched the books from my arms and threw them on the table, ‘is to prepare you to change from a virgin to a woman;’ she paused to cast me a bitter glance, ‘or from a virtuous woman to a wicked whore.’

She picked up one of the books and flipped through the pages with the illustrations. ‘If you study all these positions thoroughly and master them, they’ll help you to become prestigious, so prestigious that men will pay several silver coins just to sniff the fragrance wafting from your body, and lots of gold ones to taste it!’

I gasped for air, reluctant to face the ugly truth that I’d been so stubbornly avoiding.

‘Xiang Xiang.’ Pearl patted my head. ‘It’s no use to worry too much, just learn it, all right? I’m right here to help you.’

I nodded, squeezing out a bitter smile.

‘Good. We’ll start the lesson now.’ She winked. ‘There’s a saying “Die under a peony grove and be a licentious ghost,” meaning a woman can make a man so happy that he doesn’t mind dying while having sex with her.’

I was silent, trying to absorb what she’d said.

Then she began to explain to me words like red pearl, lute strings, slippery noodles, and all the strange metaphors such as chopping open the melon and tasting its juice; the jade stalk delving into the golden gate; yin juices flowing like a well …

By the end of the lesson, I was in awe of Pearl’s deep knowledge of these abstruse matters but completely exhausted.

Suddenly Pearl exclaimed, ‘Oh damn! Xiang Xiang, now I have to entertain a big shot. So why don’t you go study and come back to my room tomorrow?’

When I was at the door, she called to my back.

I turned and saw her sad face.

‘Xiang Xiang, I like you very much.’ She paused, then said, ‘You better grasp your last chance to enjoy your girlhood—’

I didn’t know how to respond.

‘Now why don’t you go and have fun with Spring Moon?’

‘But if Mama knows, she will—’

‘Don’t worry, since I’m sure Big Master Fung has already paid a lot for you, she’ll be in a good mood and won’t be too harsh on you. Go and have fun in the garden near the temple.’

But I’d heard that garden was haunted by some ill-fated sisters who’d committed suicide! Of course, no one dared to ask Mama whether it was true or not. But when I turned back to ask Pearl, she’d already shut the door.

8
The Haunted Garden

I pushed open the door to Spring Moon’s room and stepped inside. She was sitting on her bed, which was strewn with several books that looked familiar to me. She shifted her body and patted the empty space next to her. ‘Xiang Xiang, come sit down.’

I sat, then gestured to the books. ‘You understand all of them?’

‘Of course I do, Xiang Xiang.’ She looked at me curiously. ‘You mean you don’t?’

‘Only some, but then Sister Pearl explained everything to me.’

I went over in my mind the things that Pearl had told me. Clouds and rain on the Wu Mountain means coupling between a man and a woman. Rain comes from the man’s yang part, and clouds come out of the woman’s yin part. During coupling, a man’s jade stalk (I used to call it ‘little chick’ but Pearl said that refers only to a child’s) will insert into a woman’s precious gate. After that, the man will spill out a slimy liquid (it sounded to me like a form of concentrated pee mixed with milk, but Pearl insisted that they were completely different) into the woman’s body so that she’ll make a baby – but that only worked for women outside the turquoise pavilion; flower girls here were not allowed to have babies. That was why Mama made me drink that tonic – or toxic as Pearl called it – soup.

But Spring Moon already knew everything. I asked, ‘How did you find out about all this?’

Her expression turned sad. ‘From my fiancé. Yuguan is a very handsome man and a very good lover. He would do anything to please me. Anything at all.’

‘You mean like sucking your tongue, savouring your saliva, biting your ear, and letting his tall peak play around your jade gate?’ I got out in one breath.

I couldn’t believe that she actually nodded.

‘Aii-ya, Spring Moon, don’t you find these sickening?’

She blushed, yet her voice turned vehement. ‘No, of course not! They are the most pleasurable things in the world!’

Judging from her vehemence, there might be some truth to what she’d said, but somehow I had to deny it. ‘No, it’s sickening,’ I spat, ‘and perverse!’

‘Then your parents did sickening and perverse things, too.’

My ears on fire, I felt obliged to defend my parents’ honour. ‘No, they did not!’

‘If they didn’t, then what do you think you came from? Unless you didn’t crawl out of your mother, but burst from a stone, or were picked up from a rubbish bin.’

This was exactly what Little Red had said.

As I was struggling to think of a clever reply, images of my parents flashed through my mind. On the Wu Mountain, my quiet, demure mother and my scholarly, elegant father were passionately sucking each other’s tongue, tasting each other’s saliva, and then … that stalk of my father’s was nearing that crevice of my mother’s.

While my whole body felt hot, another image forced itself into my mind – I, a baby, without a single thread on my semened and secretioned bloody body, crawling out from that valley of my mother – like a crab scurrying out from a crevice. Instantly my parents picked me up and huge grins broke out on their faces. I had never seen them look happier.

Spring Moon’s voice woke me from my reverie. ‘Xiang Xiang, what are you thinking about?’

Now I felt like a punctured frog. ‘Maybe you’re right after all.’ A silence, then I asked, ‘Where’s your fiancé now?’

‘I heard that he is engaged to someone else. He comes from a respectable scholarly family, but they’re very poor. So I don’t think he has the money to pay my debt to leave Peach Blossom. And even if he did, how could he disgrace his family by bringing a flower girl into its household?’

Seeing that she was on the edge of crying, I hastily said, ‘It’s too hot here, so let’s go out!’

Spring Moon remained silent while twisting her handkerchief. Then she changed the subject. ‘Xiang Xiang, has Mama told you who is going to chop open your melon?’

‘I think it’s the old and all-wrinkled Big Master Fung.’ I made a face. ‘What about you?’

‘There’s some rich businessman … anyway, I’ll find out next week. Mama said he wanted me the moment he saw my feet.’

I looked down – Spring Moon did have the tiniest feet of all the sisters in the pavilion. Pearl had told me some customers liked to kiss, even suck their women’s feet. And the smaller the feet, the more desirable, since these perverse chou nanren could stuff the whole ‘three inches golden lily’ into their mouth to savour its taste.

‘Aii-ya!’ I spat.

‘Something wrong, Xiang Xiang?’

‘Oh no.’ I quickly changed the subject. ‘But I thought you’re not a … virgin anymore.’

‘But I am.’

‘Then what about all those things you did with your fiancé?’

Spring Moon blushed. ‘His jade stalk never entered my jade gate. He mostly used his other stalk.’

I nodded knowingly, although I had no idea what ‘his other stalk’ was. Since I felt too intimidated to further inquire, I asked instead, ‘Spring Moon, why don’t we go out now?’

‘But we can’t leave this place without Mama’s permission.’

‘We can go to that old temple in the garden. Since no one goes there, no one will see us there.’

‘Because it’s haunted! One time they stripped a sister naked, then hung her upside down and whipped her thirty times till her bottom rotted. Then they cut her down and left her in the garden. The next day Mama found her body, in a red dress, dangling over the altar in the temple.’

‘But you told me she’d been stripped naked.’

‘Mama didn’t whip her to death. The sister was so humiliated that she committed suicide.’ Now Spring Moon lowered her voice as if there were an invisible third party in the room. ‘People said she deliberately wore a crimson outfit on her way to the Yellow Springs to see the King of Hell so she’d return as a bloodthirsty ghost!’

My heart began to pound. Spring Moon went on, ‘Another time when a sister was pregnant by her secret lover, she went and jumped into the garden’s well. I heard Mama felt very sorry when she died.’

‘Was Mama specially fond of her?’

‘No. But because right after she died, a customer came and asked for a pregnant sister.’ Spring Moon lowered her voice. ‘Over the years at least three sisters have ended their lives there.’

‘But Sister Pearl told me that since Mama can’t bear to lose her investments, she won’t let the sisters die.’

‘Exactly. That’s why they killed themselves – to spite her.’

A long, ghostly silence fell in the room. Finally I spoke. ‘I don’t think there are any ghosts anyway.’

‘Xiang Xiang, you must be really out of your mind!’

‘Spring Moon, don’t be a coward. Let’s go!’

‘Then what if there really are ghosts?’

‘Then I’ll protect you. I know kung fu.’ I shot up from the bed and did a high kick.

The moon was luminous and the stars burned glittering holes in the sky. Spring Moon and I held hands as we inched cautiously along the meandering path through the bamboo groves. The night noises of the pavilion – chatting, singing, laughing, pipa playing – receded as we walked deeper and deeper into the heavy-foliaged alley leading to the haunted garden. After fifteen minutes, all we could hear were cries of insects, the rustling of leaves, and faint, mysterious sounds. The moon was half-veiled by bands of clouds – like wisps of long hair streaking the face of a woman ghost. The air was hot like Mama’s tonic soup; I felt Spring Moon’s palm sweating in mine.

‘Xiang Xiang,’ her voice came out as a whisper, ‘I’m scared; why don’t we go back?’

‘Too late now.’

‘Xiang Xiang! I thought you knew your way!’

‘No, I’ve never been here. I only heard about it from Pearl and the other sisters.’

‘Xiang Xiang, take me back, right now!’

‘But Spring Moon,’ I lied, ‘you can’t turn back midway.’

‘Why not?’

I racked my brain for a good reason. ‘Because … because I was told those who’d turned back all died a mysterious death. Once you’re on the way, you have to follow the qi leading you to the garden. You can’t walk back against the qi.’

‘Oh heaven, then what are we going to do?’

‘Go to the garden first before we decide.’

We continued to walk in a silence as heavy as our hearts. Now Spring Moon held my arm so tightly that her fingernails cut into my flesh. But I didn’t dare utter the slightest complaint. The path was moist, smelling of a mixture of fresh and rotting vegetation. From time to time, we had to sweep aside overgrown branches and leaves. My five senses were achingly aware of the lightest sound, smell, and movement. I could hear Spring Moon’s heavy breathing punctuating the dense night air.

‘Xiang Xiang,’ finally Spring Moon broke the silence, ‘you really don’t think there are ghosts?’

‘Maybe there are; I don’t know.’

Her voice trembled a little. ‘What about if we do run into one?’

‘Since there’s no turning back, we can only face it and maybe even ask, “How are you, pretty ghost, should we sit down to have a cup of tea and chat?”’

Several beats passed before we burst into nervous laughter.

‘I like you, Xiang Xiang. Not only that you’re so pretty, you’re funny.’

Before I had a chance to reply, I noticed we’d already reached an opening. ‘Spring Moon, look, we’ve made it.’

The underbrush opened to a level field flooded with silvery moonlight. In the distance rose a small temple with upturned eaves from which dangled two big, unlit lanterns. Swaying in the breeze, they peered through the foliage like the blinking of two sightless eyes. In front of the temple gate, leaves of ancient trees rustled like someone whispering, or crying, desperately trying to tell a woeful tale.

I felt my elbow nudged. ‘Xiang Xiang, what’s glittering on the ground?’

‘I don’t know. Let’s go and take a look,’ I said, pulling Spring Moon forward.

To my surprise, the glitterings were reflections of the moon in puddles.

Spring Moon danced around, chanting. ‘How wonderful, moon in a puddle.’ Then she screamed, startling me. ‘Xiang Xiang, what’s that?’

I followed her finger and saw clusters of light floating here and there. A silence, then I said, ‘Don’t worry; they’re fireflies.’ But I didn’t go on to explain that I’d been told the favourite places for fireflies were cemeteries. My breath was chilled as I exhaled.

Spring Moon now looked up to gaze at the heavenly disc. Long moments passed before she asked, ‘Xiang Xiang, do you remember that poem about the moon—’

I gazed at the moon and recited, ‘One moon is reflected on all the waters, all waters are embraced by one moon.’

‘I like that. I like you, too, Xiang Xiang; you’re so smart. Oh, I’m so happy here.’

‘Me, too,’ I responded, ‘I feel free here. No Mama, no De, no dark room, no favoured guests—’

‘But also no food, no fragrant tea. Oh, I’m starving.’ She put her hand on her belly. ‘And I have to pee.’

‘Me, too,’ I said, then an idea hit me, ‘Spring Moon, let’s pee on the moon.’

She chuckled.

I said in a singsong tone, ‘I’m Chang E, regretting swallowing the elixir I stole from my husband; I flew to the moon …’

‘Stop that, Xiang Xiang, you’re not Chang E; you can’t pee on the moon!’

I walked to one of the puddles, squatted down, pulled down my pants, and peed on the reflection of the moon. When I finished, I cocked an eye at Spring Moon. ‘See?’

She chased and hit me with her fist. ‘You cunning fox! I should have thought of that first!’

I was running and panting. ‘But you didn’t!’

Finally we reached the temple.

‘All right, Spring Moon,’ I said, ‘now tell me about you and your fiancé.’

Spring Moon pressed her finger tightly against her lips. ‘Shhhh … Xiang Xiang, do you hear something?’

I strained my ears to listen. ‘It’s just the wind.’

‘No, listen more carefully.’

‘Some cats crying?’

‘No.’

‘Oh, maybe it’s the ghost of that sister who hung herself after she’d been stripped naked and whipped till her bottom rotted! Listen, it’s screaming like she’s being slashed!’

‘But Xiang Xiang, if a ghost is dead, how can it scream?’

‘From a nightmare, I guess.’

‘Do ghosts dream?’

‘How do I know? I’m not dead yet!’

‘Oh,’ Spring Moon nudged me harder, while still whispering, ‘Listen, Xiang Xiang, now the ghost moans, and gasps.’

‘Then this one must be a hungry ghost!’

To my surprise, now Spring Moon giggled, ‘I think maybe it’s not a ghost, but someone’s stirring up the clouds and the rain.’

‘But this is not the Wu Mountain.’

Spring Moon took my hand. ‘Don’t be silly. Now let’s go and take a look.’

‘You’re not afraid of ghosts anymore?’

‘Shhh, be quiet. I’m sure it’s not a ghost. Come, follow me.’

We walked around for a moment, then she pointed to a gap in the temple wall. Spring Moon stooped to walk in and I followed her. We felt our way along, trying very carefully not to bump into anything. After a while, it seemed we were getting closer to the source of the sound. Finally Spring Moon stopped by a doorway from which heavy sighs poured.

Feeling fear deep in my stomach, I squeezed her hand and whispered, ‘Spring Moon, let’s go back.’

I was both surprised and embarrassed that now she was the calm one. Again, when I was about to urge her to leave, she shot me a ‘shut up’ glance. Then she went up to one of the windows, licked her finger, poked a small hole through the rice paper covering the lattice, and peeked.

I whispered, ‘Spring Moon, what is it?’

But she completely ignored me.

It couldn’t possibly be a ghost that caused such great delight. So I also licked my finger, poked a hole in the rice paper, and looked.

To my surprise, a man and a woman, completely naked, lay together on the floor. The man was moving on top of the woman – sometimes like a fish caught on a hook, sometimes a bird flying against the wind – exactly as described in The Art of Love by Master Mysterious Hole. Now the woman seemed to be struggling under the man’s pressure and thrusts. Although in the dark I couldn’t clearly see her face, from her slaughtering-the-pig cry, I was sure she was in great pain. I had to press my hand tightly against my mouth to stop from exclaiming. Strangely enough, though frightened, I felt my heart beating faster, my ears and cheeks burning, and heat crawling up from between my legs. I nudged Spring Moon, but she kept waving a dismissive hand.

The wrestling and moaning went on and on until suddenly the man let out a sharp cry. After that, he went limp on the woman’s body.

Oh, my heaven, he must have given up his soul!

I nudged Spring Moon, then placed my hand against my throat and made a slaughtering gesture. Again, she waved her hand impatiently. Now the man, as if awakening from a slumber, rolled over to lie beside the woman. The two were now facing each other, with the woman’s back toward us. The man started to fondle her breasts very gently. The woman let out small moans but made no move to stop him.

Just then an insect – a butterfly I supposed – probably flew in from the window (the other one facing the courtyard), and began to hover above the couple. The woman instantly sat up and tried to catch the dancing creature. It was then that I saw her face.

I covered my mouth and tried very hard not to call out.

Pearl!

I turned to look at Spring Moon and found that she was doing the same with her mouth. Moments passed before she shoved me out of the corridor. When we’d finally groped our way out of the temple and found ourselves in the garden, we broke into a run.

When we were safely back in Spring Moon’s room, she pointed to my trousers and said excitedly, ‘Xiang Xiang, look, your trousers are wet.’

I turned, snatched up my trousers, and examined them. ‘It’s the dew.’

‘Yes,’ she chuckled, ‘but the dew from your golden gate.’

9
The Art of Pleasing

One week later, five days before my ‘big day,’ Pearl invited me to go to her room for some last-minute advice on stirring the clouds and rain.

Once I sat down, she threw me a sharp glance. ‘Xiang Xiang, you better be ready for your Big Master Fung when he comes to chop your melon. Don’t screw up your first time, otherwise you’ll be in big, big trouble. Not only will Mama and De punish you, so will Big Master Fung, since he’s paid a lot.’

Pearl went on to tell me that if some customers were dissatisfied with the sister’s service, they’d ‘smash the cave’ – wrecking the prostitution house – and the poor sister had to pay for all the losses.

Some silence, then I remembered the haunted garden and blushed deeply.

‘What is it, Xiang Xiang?’

I felt as if a firefly were caught in my throat.

‘Is there something you want to ask me?’

Finally I was able to manage, in a whisper, ‘Sister Pearl, was … the man in the garden … Jiang Mou?’

She cocked an eye at me. ‘Xiang Xiang, be careful what you say! No one can find out.’

I nodded. ‘Did you let me and Spring Moon see you on purpose?’

She smiled, looking very mysterious under the yellowish light of her bejewelled lamp.

‘So do you love Jiang Mou?’ I took her silence as yes. ‘Then why don’t you marry him and leave Peach Blossom?’

‘Because he’s poor and he’s already married.’ Pearl sighed, her fingers caressing her luminous jade bracelet. ‘Don’t think about love, Xiang Xiang. Love never lasts; think about pleasure.’

‘But that doesn’t last either.’

‘But unlike love, it won’t bring pain afterwards.’ She looked at the clock. ‘We’d better start our lesson now.’

Pearl led me to sit beside her in front of the vanity table. ‘Xiang Xiang,’ she said, carefully studying our reflections in the mirror, ‘now you know about the clouds and rain.’

I nodded.

She went on, ‘The most important thing is to tease. Because if you let those chou nanren get there too quickly, they’ll be disappointed. Remember, their wives all have the same cinnabar crevices as we do. But we have the art of coquetry to excite. You tease not only in how you look, but also in the ways you move, even when you’re sleeping.’

‘But Sister Pearl, sleeping has no movement!’

‘But we feign sleep to seduce. Have you not heard of the phrase “crabapple sleeping in spring”? It means a beautiful woman sleeping seductively. And it’s spring that makes all the difference—’

‘Why?’

‘Because spring is the season for lust, for the stirring of love!’

With a dreamy expression, Pearl slightly parted her lips, then the delicate tip of her tongue reached to touch her upper lip – like a rosebud emerging from a deep hole. ‘We sisters are like good cooks who mix the five flavours harmoniously into a delicious soup.’

‘I like soup.’

‘Xiang Xiang, you don’t know; do you? Before you came to Peach Blossom, all you did was study. Not much use for you now, is it?’

I said dreamily, ‘My parents always wanted me to be the first woman zhuang yuan.’ Number One Scholar.

Pearl stared at me pityingly, then spoke again, a little sharply, ‘I’m also teaching you to be the Number One Scholar of charming those chou nanren. Have you forgotten that your “examination” is coming next week with Big Master Fung?’

She went on, ‘A woman’s most fascinating feature is her eyes.’ Pearl lowered her eyelids and peeked down at me. Her pupils, looking glazed, slowly moved around as if she were drunk. Her eyes possessed a kind of magnetism that pulled me toward her like her lover clinging to her body. I felt colour rising to my cheeks.

‘Xiang Xiang, you told me your baba taught you kung fu?’

I nodded.

‘So think about your eyes as weapons for sexual kung fu. Attack like a tiger and retreat like a virgin.’

While I was trying to digest this recipe for sexual kung fu, Pearl was speaking again, ‘Always look exciting. The worst is spiritless eyes they are like fish left out of water for days.’

I giggled.

She gave me a chiding look. ‘Xiang Xiang, you have to gaze at your customers until they feel their bones are pickled in vinegar, until they are so numbed that they have no power left to resist you. Of course, if a customer likes modest women, then you’d pretend to be shy, breaking away your gaze from time to time. That’s why in Peking opera … Xiang Xiang, are you paying attention?’

‘Baba!’ I burst into tears and ran from Pearl’s room.

The next afternoon when I went to visit Pearl, she said nothing about my abrupt departure the day before. We sipped the tea she poured and sat absorbed in our own thoughts. Was she also thinking about my baba? I’d always been curious to know what was inside Pearl’s head. However, although she was very nice to me, she still remained as mysterious as the halo behind Guan Yin’s head.

Pearl seemed in no mood to be the teacher today. She nursed her cup for long moments before she stood up from the sofa. ‘Today I better teach you how to walk. Remember, never rush, but move leisurely, like this.’ She began to pace, her steps delicate and small. ‘This is called “shredded steps of the golden lotus.” Try to picture lotuses blossoming under your feet, or bending with the wind in the golden twilight.’

I closed my eyes and tried. But what flashed across my mind was my baba, my mother, and I rowing a boat on the West Lake covered with lotuses. Mother, looking very pretty and happy, bent her slender torso and, with her delicate fingers, reached to spread the leaves. Baba picked one of the flowers and pinned it on her hair dyed gold by the twilight …

Now Pearl went to rest by a wall. ‘When you stand, your body should be slightly slanted – but not stooped – as if drawn to something. Moreover, it should also be in constant motion – your backside swaying, your fingers twisting a handkerchief, your fingertips stroking your teeth, your eyes darting around.’

I blurted out, ‘Sister Pearl, I’m confused. My mother used to teach me just the opposite. She warned me never to sway my body, for it’s very unladylike. She liked to quote the saying “A swaying tree has fallen leaves; a swaying woman has an ill fate.”’

Pearl sighed heavily. ‘Yes, your mother was right. But now we’re no ladies, but whores.’

A long, sorrowful silence.

She stared at my feet. ‘Xiang Xiang, your feet are the only flaw of your whole body; they’re a little big.’

I immediately slid them under the table.

‘Good, always hide your flaw. But never forget to show off your good features. So if someone has a really nice figure,’ Pearl thrust out her chest, ‘like me, then I always lean forward. This is called “offering the body to preach the Dharma.”’ Pearl pinched my cheek. ‘Xiang Xiang, sex is our only power over men. Even when you have sex with the ugliest, one-of-his-feet-already-inside-the-coffin customer, try your best to act as if he were the only man left under heaven. Remember what I teach you and you’ll enjoy your ming ji status until the day you die.’

I nodded emphatically.

She came back to sit down by my side. ‘Xiang Xiang, have you noticed in our country, nothing expresses itself directly, but always in a meandering way?’

I tried to respond, but Pearl waved me into silence. ‘In China, corridors are not built in a straight line but always winding.’ She glanced outside the window. ‘So when we walk along, we’re always in suspense about what we’ll run into: a moon-shaped gate inside which are nestled clumps of bamboo, or a tiny gourd-shaped opening through which your eyes can discern a distant mountain shrouded in the mist.’

When I was reflecting on this, Pearl went to take out the qin and put it on the table. I went to sit opposite her, my heart instantly filled with joy.

‘See, Xiang Xiang,’ she said, beginning to play, ‘qin music meanders, too.’

Now Pearl glided her fingers on the instrument. ‘This fingering is called “the cicada calling for autumn.” When the cicada flutters its wings, it makes a lingering tone.’ She stroked the strings again. ‘And this lingering tone is “the monkey climbing up a tree,” because a monkey climbing a tree alternates between halting and ascending.’

Finally she stopped the strings with her hand. ‘Because of its meandering melodies, when the playing is over, qin music continues to reverberate in your heart … If only we could make the same impression on men’s hearts.’ An insinuating smile played on her lips. ‘Then all the stinking males will pour the money from their fat pockets into ours. Otherwise why not just stay home and fuck their wives, which is free?’

I giggled, although I had no idea how a man would feel when fucking his wife.

Pearl cast me a chiding look. ‘You know, Xiang Xiang, although we sisters are looked down upon by those decent women, don’t you know they also envy us?’

‘I can see that, Sister Pearl, because you’re so much more beautiful than them and have all these pretty clothes and jewellery.’

‘Xiang Xiang, what you said is true, but there’s more to it. These decent women secretly admire us. For we can display our feminine beauty to our heart’s content without rebuke from stodgy Confucian husbands. Besides, you know the proverb, “To be virtuous, a woman should have no talent in anything.” But we’re not virtuous so we can cultivate and display our accomplishments. Men need wives to give them children but they also need us to do what their yellow-faced old ladies can’t – stir their hearts, tease their senses, and nourish their souls with our music, dance, and painting. Maybe we’re despised, but we don’t need to play stupid like those wives they leave at home.’

Now her expression turned mischievous. ‘I can act horny and stir up the clouds and rain with any man I want while those women are stuck with one, even after he’s dead!’ When she finished, she burst into cheerful laughter as if she was truly happy to be a prostitute.

I joined her in laughing. We kept giggling until tears spilled from our eyes and we had to stop to catch our breath.

When we finally calmed down, Pearl waved her jade-bangled hand. ‘Now you can take a break.’

Feeling restless, I thought I might go out into the courtyard. But it was raining, so I peered through the lattice at the raindrops hitting the leaves. After a few minutes when the rain stopped, I went out and strolled along the courtyard to appreciate its winding path. Then I sat down on a stone bench inside the small pavilion and looked through a vase-shaped opening, hoping to see a distant mountain shrouded in the mist.

Then I felt hungry and headed to the kitchen. When I stepped over the threshold, a rich aroma wafted into my nostrils. Ah Ping was not in sight. Now, my stomach suddenly ambushed by pangs of hunger, I went up to the boiling cauldron, ladled its content onto a plate, and helped myself to the delicacies.

When I was devouring noisily, Ah Ping came in.

I looked up at her. ‘Aunty Ah Ping, this is delicious. Is it a new dish?’

To my surprise, her face turned white.

‘Something wrong?’

She didn’t reply, but kept shaking her head.

I teased her. ‘It must be something really good reserved for a special guest, right? But don’t worry, I only took a bite. It’s really tasty, so what is it?’

Still ignoring my question, she went up to the basin and began to clean.

I continued to eat for a while before a thought entered my mind. ‘Do you see Guigui? I want to share with him some of these goodies.’

Ah Ping avoided my eyes, pointing to the plate in front of me, then my stomach.

‘But where’s Guigui?’

She pointed again, this time more emphatically.

It took a few seconds before the bomb exploded. ‘You mean …’

She kept nodding and wiping the pots. Then she poured from a huge pot into the basin. The kitchen was instantly filled with the sound of splashing water.

Tears streamed down my cheeks. ‘You cooked Guigui?!’

She was still nodding and wiping the pots.

‘Oh, how could you do that? You’re disgusting!’

Now she was noisily banging the pots around.

‘Oh my heaven, you cooked Guigui and I ate him!’

I dashed out of the kitchen and vomited until there was nothing left in my stomach except bile. Then I cried my heart out. ‘Oh, Guigui, I’m so sorry. How could I have known she’d cooked you? I didn’t know it was you!’

When I finally stopped, I took off my Guan Yin pendant and muttered a long prayer. First I asked for the puppy’s forgiveness, then I pleaded with the goddess to send him to the Western Paradise, where he could soon be reborn as a human and reunite with me.

Finally calmed by my prayers, I dragged my feet back to Pearl’s room. Once I sat down next to her on the sofa, I burst out crying. ‘Sister Pearl …’

‘Something wrong, Xiang Xiang?’

My grief poured out.

Pearl pulled out her handkerchief and wiped my face. ‘Please tell me what’s wrong.’

‘Aunty Ah Ping cooked Guigui and I ate him!’

To my surprise, Pearl didn’t look a bit shocked. She tousled my hair. ‘I’m sorry. But why did you eat him?’

‘Because I didn’t know it was him!’ I was mumbling between sobs.

‘It’s really no big deal.’

I looked up at her through my teary eyes. ‘No big deal?’

‘They often cook puppies here. Customers think dog makes excellent tonic soup to strengthen their jade stalk.’

‘Oh heaven, it’s disgusting. They’re like babies!’

Pearl pulled me into her arms. ‘Xiang Xiang, far worse things happen here.’

10
The Longevity Wrinkles

Four days later, when I was still feeling utterly miserable that poor little Guigui had ended up in my stomach, Little Red came and led me to Pearl’s room. I knew the moment I’d been dreading was about to come. My heart sank; the soles of my slippers dragged and wailed on the floor.

Little Red half-pushed me along. ‘Xiang Xiang, please hurry, today is your big day, and Mama is already getting impatient.’

‘Mama.’ I addressed the lump of flesh waiting for me across the threshold.

Fang Rong was all dressed up in a pink jacket with intricately knotted gold buttons the size of grapes. Upon seeing me, a huge grin broke out on her face. She motioned me to sit by Pearl’s large, gilded dressing table. ‘Xiang Xiang, today I’ll dress you up as beautifully as a fairy,’ she said, then gloated over me as if I’d suddenly transformed into a pillar of gold.

The table was covered with feminine objects: powder, rouge, lipstick, Flower Dew perfume, Snow Flower cream, tortoiseshell combs, a coral hairpin, three fresh flowers, and to my surprise, a gold bracelet and a pair of gold-mounted jade earrings.

In the mirror, Mama carefully studied me for long moments. ‘You’re lucky that your brows curve like crescent moons. Otherwise, I’d have to shave them, then pencil them in with ink.’

Ink? I wanted to ask but decided to keep my mouth shut.

Mama started to perform the kai lian, ‘open the face,’ for me. First she tied a red thread to her thumbs and middle fingers, then put it between her teeth. Then she started to ‘saw’ my face with the string, scraping off dirt and downy hair.

Fang Rong’s face was so close to mine that I could count the hairs inside her wide nostrils, study the gold teeth inside her mouth, and inspect the coarse surface of her big mole. I tried to hold my breath so as not to be poisoned by hers.

‘Xiang Xiang, opening your face will open you to endless good luck. You know that?’

I nodded.

‘Keep your head still!’

So I froze until she finished scraping my face with the moist red thread. Next she applied powder on my face and neck – layers and layers until I couldn’t help but ask, ‘Mama, that’s enough; why do you have to put on so much powder?’

‘Because one shade of white can cover up one hundred uglinesses, and all men like it this way, that’s why.’ In the mirror, she cast me a chiding glance. ‘You think I’d waste money on powder if men didn’t like it?’ Then she chuckled, shooting spittle onto my cheek. ‘Fortunately, it was not me who paid for your make-up.’

‘Then who did?’

‘Big Master Fung, of course, who else? You little stupid!’ She pointed to the dressing table. ‘See this bracelet and earrings? They’re all gifts from Big Master Fung. He wants you to be the prettiest little whore in Peach Blossom.’ Now she cast me a threatening look. ‘Big Master Fung has already spent several hundred large silver coins hosting expensive banquets and gambling parties here, so you better not let him down.’

When Mama and Little Red had finished making up my face and fixing my hair, they helped me to dress in a red silk jacket with green trousers, both embroidered with floral ribbons. Then Mama picked up the fresh orchids and pinned them in my hair.

I preened in front of the mirror. Was that girl looking curiously at the outside world from inside the glass really me? Or … was she just a delicate dish to be devoured?

Mama looked at my reflection and grinned till her mouth almost stretched outside her face. Even her mole looked happy. ‘See what a beautiful princess you’ve become, Xiang Xiang. I bet no one will believe that you’re but a whore, ha, ha, ha!’ Then she raised her hands and stretched her pudgy fingers. ‘Look, my old, arthritic hands can still work magic!’ After that, she pulled me up and gave my shoulder a hard push. ‘Now to the welcoming-guests hall!’

This was the first time I was properly invited into this place and for a moment I was stunned. I’d never seen a room so grand and richly decorated. The deeply polished furniture glowed like bronze mirrors. On top of a low brown chest stood a tall cloisonné vase filled with rose orchids. Their pink petals seemed to nod at me, while their branches twisted elegantly, like the cursive calligraphy demonstrated by Mr. Wu. Against one wall was a huge canopy bed, its pillars gleaming like gold bars. The red pillows were embroidered with Mandarin ducks cavorting in water. On the crimson bed sheet, the tails of a dragon and phoenix entwined intimately. Behind the bed was a long folding screen carved with scenes from the famous novel Story of the West Chamber – including one with the scholar playing a qin! Next to the bed was a gilded mirror and on the walls hung paintings, some of young beauties, others of faraway mountains. Fragrant plumes of incense wafted from a bronze burner.

In the middle of the room was an eight immortals table; on its round top precious objects had been arranged: a celadon bowl shaped like an opening lotus; a teapot and cups painted with golden peonies; black-lacquered trays spilling with candies and dried fruit. Beside the table on the floor were two many-layered boxes decorated with flowers and red ribbons.

Oh, how I wished that Baba were still alive and Mother in Shanghai so we could have all lived together happily in this beautiful room! But alas! My eyes landed on a heap of wrinkles – marring the beauty and shattering my dream. On a high table next to Old Wrinkles were a pair of red dragon and phoenix candles. Melted wax dripped like tears of blood while high, bright flames seemed to throw the heaps of wrinkles over the room like reptiles.

I instinctively drew back but Mama shoved me forward. ‘Big Master Fung, here’s your pretty Xiang Xiang.’

Fung’s crease-buried eyes widened, searching over me like a pair of torches looking for gold. Suddenly he slapped his thigh and shouted, ‘Good, very good!’

Mama chuckled flirtatiously. ‘Good? Are you kidding, Big Master Fung? Xiang Xiang is the best!’

Fung caressed his stubble. ‘The best? That I still have to find out, so now—’

‘Yes, yes, of course, Big Master Fung, I’ll leave you two alone. Enjoy your dragon and phoenix night; I guarantee you’ll have your money’s worth.’

‘It’d better be true.’ He paused to look around. ‘So where’s the cloth?’

I piped up. ‘What cloth?’

Both the lump of flesh and the heap of wrinkles burst into laughter.

To my surprise, Mama yanked a white handkerchief from underneath the sleeve of my jacket. I had no idea when she’d hidden it there. She smiled mischievously, swinging the cloth. ‘Big Master Fung, this is Xiang Xiang’s zhuang yuan seal.’

Now I remembered that Pearl had told me about the cloth. Zhuang yuan was the Number One Scholar in the Imperial Examination, and the seal proving this title was red. So zhuang yuan seal referred to the imperial approval of the distinguished, Number One Scholar. Or in my case, my distinguished virginity.

I blinked back tears. Yes, I’d soon receive a prestigious seal! But not because I came out number one in the imperial examination, but because I would be the number one virgin fucked by an old man.

Now Old Wrinkles cast me a licentious glance. ‘Xiang Xiang, your blood stains on the white cloth will prove that I’m the first man to chop open your melon. Otherwise you think I’d pay a fortune for a thirteen-year-old? Ha!’ He pointed to the table and the two lacquer boxes. ‘All the clothes, money, jewellery, food, wine are for you.’

The corners of Mama’s lips lifted to her ears while her eyes threw me a sharp glance. ‘Xiang Xiang, bow to Big Master Fung and thank him, quick!’

I made a deep bow and uttered a ‘thank you.’ Just then all of Pearl’s teaching flashed across my mind. So I willed the corners of my lips to lift, while trying to aim a dazed glance to catch Fung’s. But my eyes made a wrong move and landed instead on the wrinkles of his forehead.

Fung massaged his stubble. ‘Come, my little beauty,’ he said, reaching out his other hand to touch my face.

Mama winked to Fung, then me. ‘Look at my baby Xiang Xiang, she’s so beautiful that anyone would agree she’s worth more than twelve hundred virgins put together, right, Big Master Fung?’

Fung burst into laughter. It surprised me that, though old and dried-up, he had a deep, resonant voice. Was it really the effect of all the virgins?

Mama chuckled, then threw a meaningful glance toward the candles on the altar. It was then that I understood the presence of the dragon and phoenix candles – a symbol of conjugal union! I felt queasiness simmering in my stomach. As well as Fung’s hand practising the lingering tones on my thigh. It was then I also realised Mama had already gone, leaving me in the room with this heap of moving wrinkles.