Mingmei Yip - Peach Blossom Pavilion

‘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.