Mu Xin - An Empty Room

Several times Miss Xia sent someone over to plead with Mother that she be accepted as a member of our family. She said that she had given birth to a daughter with my father and at the very least this child should take our family name. Mother offered some financial help but refused the other two requests unequivocally. Once, Miss Xia’s intermediary said something that infuriated Mother. Mother’s reply used words which were too cruel: “If she has the nerve to cross our doorstep, her front leg will be smashed if her front leg crosses first, and her hind leg will be broken next if it crosses after.”

I felt a chill hearing those words. Not only was Mother being merciless, but she compared Miss Xia to something not human.

When the embarrassed intermediary left, Mother explained to me and Sister, “I can tell that you feel pity for her in your hearts, and you find my words vulgar. You are still too young to understand the consequences if she comes to us with that child. She is not young anymore so she might be a good woman now who will not shame us. And it’s nice that you have a little sister. But you have no idea what kind of people the three Xia brothers are. Just imagine three criminals coming and going from this house, calling themselves your uncles. I cannot accept that while I’m alive. What would happen to the two of you if I die? I think the intermediary today was sent by the three brothers. But I could only address those words to her.”

Because of my selfishness, my instinct for self-protection, and because of the extreme notoriety of the three brothers, after hearing Mother’s explanation I imagined three hungry vultures swooping down upon two helpless chickens, while the mother hen, her feathers standing on end, was ready to put up a desperate fight. I thought about Mother’s scholarly family background and forgave her for her cruel words.

We were wandering refugees after the outbreak of the Pacific War, and missed our hometown badly. One day, Mother decided that we should sneak back home and try to live there a few days. She would rather risk living at home than bear the suffering of being homeless.

The ancient village had fallen into the hands of the Japanese fascist army, which relied on a “peace-keeping association” to control the situation. We returned at nightfall and snuck into a room upstairs. Nobody knew of our arrival save a few close relatives and friends who visited us through secret arrangements. Only at night, behind secured doors, did Sister and I dare make any sounds at all. We roamed the grounds of our home in darkness, feeling happier here than in the metropolis. Sometimes we were even so bold as to break into our own garden where pavilions, scholars’ rocks, and the pond were bathed in such bright moonlight that the place seemed hardly changed from its daytime existence. It was so pleasant that we decided to invite Mother to share our roamings with us. We ran to our upstairs room, sweating and panting, and told Mother how much fun it was revisiting the garden. Mother said with a broad smile, “Well, you sound as if you’ve broken into the Emperor’s Garden. Tomorrow night I’ll go, too, and we’ll bring some food and wine so that we can enjoy the moon.”

We washed ourselves and spied on the table a volume of The Complete Collection of Tang Poems . Mother began to teach us how to read Du Fu’s qiyan- and wuyan- style poems. We knitted our brows, pretending we were moved so that Mother wouldn’t feel so lonely. Mother looked at us, closed the book, and brought us a box of cakes and biscuits that were local delicacies. We could appreciate these treats more than Tang poetry.

For a while Mr. Lu, our housekeeper, seemed full of cares, rising early, retiring late, rushing to the gate with our four male servants to find out who was ringing the doorbell. If he needed to go out, Mr. Lu would always return when he said he would. If he was going to be even a little late, he would send someone home so that Mother wouldn’t worry.

We had returned home at the end of summer and delighted in the scenery of autumn in our garden. Soon it was the end of the year. Cold, heavy snow fell for several days. Sister became ill, and I felt numb with the gunshots and the exploding bombs around us — the usual New Year’s atmosphere nonexistent. I sat beside Sister on her bed as she lay breathing heavily and wished that I were sick, too.

One afternoon, Mr. Lu tiptoed upstairs and beckoned me. I quietly followed him downstairs and learned that Xia Mingzhu was dead! How could that be? Mr. Lu avoided my stare and said with his head turned sideways, “I have to tell your mother in person.”

“No, tell me in detail. I’ll know how to tell her.”

“It’d be better if I told her. I also need to consult with her about some matters. Why don’t you go upstairs? Wait until she wakes up from her nap and has had her tea. Then you come to the window and I’ll meet her next to the plants in the yard.”

I went up and found Mother already in the bathroom washing her face. As soon as she finished, I told her that Mr. Lu wanted to see her about something. Mother thought it was about the usual business of shopping for the New Year, so she mumbled, “It has to somewhat be like a New Year.”

I walked to the window and waved to Mr. Lu who stood in the snow alone, his shoulders covered with white powder. He quickly approached Mother and said without the usual initial courtesies, “I learned yesterday that the Japanese Kempeitai arrested Miss Xia on the pretext that she played ‘La Marseillaise’ on the piano. When the head of the Kempeitai saw her, he suspected she was a spy. They had a poor translator, so they deliberately asked her in English. She fell for it and defended herself in fluent English. This plus her appearance, her European style of dress, confirmed to them that she was a spy from England or America. They tortured her, and then tried to rape her that night. Miss Xia slapped the Japanese soldier and the beast cut off her hand with his sword. Miss Xia knew it was hopeless and cursed Japan for invading China. He then sliced off one of her arms. . I looked for the three Xia brothers, but they’ve all fled. . Her body was thrown into the snow. . I saw the body myself, it’s afternoon now, perhaps when it gets dark, I think. . ”

I wanted to help. Mr. Lu needed my mother to tell him to retrieve the body, and I made a decision right then that if Mother didn’t grant her permission, I would kneel down to plead, and if pleading failed I would threaten her.

I looked Mother directly in the eye and she gazed back at me. Tears streamed down her face. I didn’t have to kneel; I guessed wrong. How could I have even thought of threatening her?

Mother calmed down, took out a handkerchief to wipe her tears, and said, “Mr. Lu, could you please see that a coffin is prepared for the body? Make sure to gather her whole body. But we have to move quickly. Once you have ordered a coffin, wait until dark and bring a few people to help. Make sure no one sees you. Don’t be careless. We cannot afford another tragedy.”

I knew that Mr. Lu could get everything done properly. He set off to carry out Mother’s instructions when she shouted, “Wait!” and rushed upstairs. Even though I knew Mr. Lu was in charge of all our financial affairs, I still thought that Mother was going to get money.

But instead she returned with a gray overcoat and a dark flannel hat.

“Wrap her in this overcoat. Tuck her hair into the hat. Buy bedding and a quilt. The rest you know, follow our customs. But skip the wake rituals. Bury her immediately. Bury her in our ancestral graveyard. Don’t level the grave. We’ll have a tombstone made for her in the future.”

As Sister was sick, Mother told me not to tell her just yet. “When you children can wander out safely, go together to visit her grave.”