Mingmei Yip - Petals from the Sky

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"A rare peek into an exotic culture that is thrilling, captivating, and moving." – Shobhan Bantwal
From the acclaimed author of Peach Blossom Pavilion comes a lush and lyrical novel of East and West-and of one young woman's search for her heart's true calling…
When twenty-year-old Meng Ning declares that she wants to be a Buddhist nun, her mother is aghast. In her eyes, a nun's life means only deprivation-"no freedom, no love, no meat." But to Meng Ning, it means the chance to control her own destiny, and to live in an oasis of music, art, and poetry far from her parents' unhappy union.
With an enigmatic nun known as Yi Kong, "Depending on Emptiness," as her mentor, Meng Ning spends the next ten years studying abroad, disdaining men, and preparing to enter the nunnery. Then, a fire breaks out at her Buddhist retreat, and Meng Ning is carried to safety by Michael Fuller, a young American doctor. The unprecedented physical contact stirs her curiosity. And as their tentative friendship grows intimate, Meng Ning realizes she must choose between the sensual and the spiritual life.
From the austere beauty of China 's Buddhist temples to the whirlwind of Manhattan 's social elite, and the brilliant bustle of Paris and Hong Kong, here is a novel of joy and heartbreak-and of the surprising paths that lead us where we most need to be.

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“Hmmm…OK, I’ll go, but…”

“My lips are sealed.”

In the midst of the crowded market we detected many stares and remarks directed toward us.

“Hey, a nun!” a teenage girl exclaimed, nudging her girlfriend.

“Mama, that woman has no hair!” a child pulled at her mother’s tunic and yapped.

“What’s that pretty girl doing with a nun?” a young man said to his friend, while throwing malicious glances at us.

A vendor smiled at my friend. “Miss, much cooler to have your head shaved, eh?”

Worst was when a plump man with missing teeth spat vehemently on the floor-a gesture to cast away bad luck. Some ignorant men believe that if they see a monk or a nun, especially in the morning when the day is starting, it will bring them bad luck. Shaved heads signify “nothing left,” which might result in “nothing left” in their pockets and rice bowls.

I peeked at my nun friend. She looked a little upset.

“Shifu, are you all right?”

“Oh, yes. I’ve experienced worse,” she said, resuming her spirited stride. “One time a man even came up to knock on my head.” She smiled. “But most people are still very respectful to us.”

Soon we squeezed into a stall crowded with children and their parents and saw a display of candy figures: dragon and phoenix, as well as the monk Xuan Zhuang, the crafty monkey and the lazy pig depicted in the famous novel Journey to the West.

“Miss Du, look,” my friend said excitedly, “he’s making the candies.”

The craftsman, a skinny, wrinkled fortyish man, ladled melted sugar from a pot, poured it on a slab of marble, then, with a small knife, started to pinch, pull, press, and cut the sugar. In just a few minutes, human figures, animals, tigers, birds, fishes, even insects were born under his dexterous fingers.

I bought the dragon for myself and the monkey for my friend. “Shifu”-I handed her the candy-“Enlightened to Emptiness.”

We chuckled. In the novel, the crafty monkey was named Wu Kong-Enlightened to Emptiness.

Happily my friend licked the monkey’s head, then said suddenly, “Oh, Miss Du, I don’t think I’m supposed to eat this.”

“Why not? It’s vegetarian.”

“It’s in the shape of a monkey, after all!”

“Oh, come on, Shifu, it’s not really an animal. No one from Hong Kong will see us here. Relax.”

“All right then,” she said, noisily biting off the monkey’s head.

Enlightened to Emptiness and I continued to lick and wander, following the flow of the crowd. My friend looked completely enthralled by the diversity and animation of the market. Her large eyes took in everything. Her pink lips let out excited oohs and aahs. So young and energetic, she really should have had some fun in the secular world before entering the nunnery. I wondered what made her become a nun at such a young age and whether she ever felt regret. Had she ever tasted the flavor of being with a man she loved?

Memories arose in my mind of strolling with Michael in the night market in Hong Kong. I remembered his hand reaching out to mine, his asking me to take him to see a Chinese opera with a happy ending, my teasing him about how I liked dogs, especially on a plate…

Then, we had been two strangers brought together by the fire. Now we were troubled lovers ten thousand miles apart.

“Miss Du-” Enlightened to Emptiness’s high-pitched voice awakened me from my reveries. “Let’s take a look here.”

We were now in front of a book stall crowded with several young people and teenagers. My friend immediately plunged into flipping through pages of old books and movie magazines as well as cheaply printed books on astrology, physiognomy, palmistry, and cooking.

As I was about to suggest that we leave, I found the young novice’s eyes shining bright and her lips moving soundlessly while she seemed to thoroughly enjoy herself.

I poked my head over her shoulder. “Shifu, what are you reading?”

Blushing, she tried to hide the book, but then handed it to me.

It was a martial arts romance comic book.

The blush still lingered on the young nun’s face. “I’ve never read anything like this before.”

“You like it?”

“Hmmm…sort of, but…I don’t know.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell Yi Kong Shifu.”

Her face beamed. “Yes, I do.”

The stall owner leaned forward. “Miss, I have other things very juicy. You want to take a look?”

Fearing that he might not have the discretion not to show something indecent to a nun, I tugged at my friend’s sleeve, whispering, “Shifu, let’s go.”

31. Great Protector of the Dharma

Back in my room in Circular Reflection Monastery, I found two letters on the desk. One was from the United States and the other from Hong Kong. So even before opening them, I’d already guessed the senders: Michael and my mother. Michael’s had been sent a week earlier.

I felt a bit guilty that I first opened the one from the States.

Dear Meng Ning,

So far you haven’t called me. I know you must be very busy, but please don’t forget about me.

Recently my heavy workload really seems to be getting to me. In the last two weeks, I flew to attend meetings in three different states: Arizona, Florida, and Texas -all boring places. Of course, one of the reasons I felt despairing was because you were not with me. Otherwise I’d have enjoyed the trips, no matter how tedious the meetings.

How’s your work in Anyue going? Please take very good care of yourself in such a remote place. Be sure to drink only bottled water. Don’t even brush your teeth with tap water. Also stay away from local doctors and hospitals.

Since I haven’t gotten a letter from you and you don’t have a phone, of course I wonder how you are. I really miss you and worry about you. Maybe you have written-mail from China takes a long time to reach the U.S. Or maybe you tried to call and it never got through. I know the connections from China to the States are horrible.

Please call me collect and write to me.

I love you.

Michael

PS. When you’re appreciating the beautiful landscapes and sculptures in Anyue, don’t forget to think of me.

After I’d finished reading, I pressed the letter to my chest and let out a sigh. The serenity I’d felt being tucked away in a remote part of China crumbled at the thought of Michael, far away in New York, lonely without me.

Next I ripped open the other envelope, slipped out the letter, and saw my mother’s large characters.

My beautiful daughter,

How’s your trip? I hope everything’s fine. But still, be very careful in China and don’t trust anyone there, nor any gweilo in America, not even this Mic Ko. Although he’s now your fiancé, he’s still a gweilo after all!

Your grandmother once told me that in all foreign devils’ eyes, the most desirable woman is a combination of a good cook in the kitchen, a polished hostess in the living room, a great fuck in bed (excuse the vulgarity). What exploitations! So now I’m glad that I’ve never taught you how to cook, that we’ve been too poor to own a house with a big, elegant living room for you to play hostess, that-as for the bed, all I can remind you is, don’t forget the cup of water! You must think your mother is crazy, for what couple would really put that between them in bed, let alone now that you’re engaged? But you better not slight an old woman’s wisdom, like I did when your father and I were very young (he nineteen and I nine) on a wonderful evening in May!

I’m fine in Hong Kong. But Hong Kong is not fine. Although you’ve never shown any interest in either politics or economics, I’m sure you must have heard about the stock market crash. Companies closed, workers fired, people committing suicide. One manager plunged his big BMW into the sea just outside City Hall. Every day, banks are swarming with people desperately trying to exchange Hong Kong money for U.S. dollars. The black market skyrocketed as high as $12 Hong Kong for $1 U.S. Can you believe that?

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