Li Ang - The Lost Garden

“Then why was he dropped?” she asked anxiously.

“My sense is that it has to do with the piracy business of the time. It was late in the sixteenth century, when the Ming government had a policy of no contact with the outside world, which gave pirates an indispensible role to play in trade between Japan, the Chinese Mainland, Taiwan, and the South Pacific.” Father spoke to her somberly in elegant Japanese. “Pirates being pirates, they would surely plunder and pillage along the coast. But, they also helped by transporting deerskins and sugar from Taiwan and silk and medicine from China, and facilitated trade with Japan and the Netherlands. So you can say that pirates were Taiwan’s earliest global businessmen.”

He began to slow down, and his tone turned despondent.

“But with the fall of the Ming, the Qing empire naturally wanted to contain the pirates and bring them into the fold. When the pirate leader Zheng Zhilong surrendered to the Qing, the pirates’ enterprise came to an end.”

He stopped and sighed softly.

“You can imagine how restricted Zhu Feng’s maritime activities would have become by then. He probably faced two choices, either change his name and settle on land, or remain on the run with Qing soldiers after him.”

“So which one did he choose?” She asked. “Was he killed?”

“No, but I think he was too used to the freedom of the ocean to settle on land and live out his years. He had to continue his old trade. The records of his last days all have him being chased by Qing ships all the way to Luzon.”

Yinghong’s large eyes darkened.

“But that still doesn’t explain why our ancestors didn’t include Zhu Feng’s name in our lineage record,” Father continued without looking at her. “That was reasonable and obvious: Zhu Feng refused to submit to the Qing imperial system, which probably displeased the local officials in Taiwan. Hence the Zhu family was worried that such an independent-spirited ancestor would have a negative impact on their accumulated wealth.”

The thirteen-year-old girl had yet to fully comprehend what her father was saying, but she continued to listen attentively because pirates were involved and she wanted to hear more exciting stories.

“Now we have to talk about Zhu Feng’s wife,” Father said, changing the subject. “Our family records have very detailed descriptions of her. We know she was born a Chen, the offspring of a Hoklo immigrant, with indigenous and Dutch blood. She was pretty, tall with big eyes, but not those slanted, single-fold eyes typical of the yellow race. Hers were more like the indigenous or white people, big with double folds.”

He reached out and touched her face with loving tenderness.

“Maybe big eyes like yours.”

Ignoring the puzzled look on her face, he continued:

“I’ve been thinking that she must have encouraged him to stay on land, but he didn’t listen to her. Worse yet, he abandoned her and their four young children. He ran off to the South Pacific with a Mainland Chinese concubine, a courtesan who had slanted eyes and bound feet. The woman from the Chen family, with her non-Chinese blood, must have had unbound feet.”

With no more talk of pirates, Yinghong began to lose interest, but she remained seated, as required by her father’s instruction.

“It was clearly difficult for the woman from the Chen family to raise four children all on her own, so they began to fall ill and three of them died. Only the second one survived, and he would be Zhu Jiancheng’s father. He didn’t live long either. Before his son was born, he died of lung disease from over-exhaustion as a carter. So Zhu Jiancheng was raised by his grandmother, the Chen woman. Zhu later made a name for himself and remained loyal to his grandmother, letting her control everything in the house. She died at the advanced age of ninety-four.”

Noticing that her attention was flagging, he patted her on the head.

“The family lineage records show that she was a tireless, capable head of the family who was more decisive and powerful than any man. She established the many rules that the Zhu family followed over the next two hundred years. One of them was never in writing; it was passed down by word of mouth, dictating that no one in the Zhu family was to add Zhu Feng to the lineage record and reincorporate him into the family. Rumor has it that she made a brutal vow that the Zhu family would be ruined if anyone dared to do that.”

It was the height of summer when she returned to Lotus Garden with him for the first time. Under a canopy of fiery, red flame blossoms, she told him about her distant ancestors, a pirate who was active along the coasts of Taiwan, China, and Japan three hundred years before, as well as his wife and her vow.

After she finished, he looked at her and said in a serious tone:

“Your father’s views are very interesting. According to him, pirates were the progenitors of Taiwan’s trade. If that’s the case, then it was no coincidence that Taiwan rose three hundred years later in international trade.”

He had always been cautious when the topic involved her father, and now he changed the subject and began to tease her:

“If I ran off with another woman, would you denounce me like your great-, great-, great-grandmother and deny me peace and quiet even after my death?”

She was quiet, smiling with her head down, before she teased him with a question of her own:

“Would you dare?”

Lin Xigeng roared in laughter.

“You do look as though you have pirate’s blood in you,” he said. “You have your great-, great-, great-grandmother’s genes, and the day you murder me I won’t know why.”

She pummeled him with her fists, but then began to giggle and fell into his arms.

When the night deepened, they got up to return to Lotus Pavilion, where they would spend the night. It was so cool in the verdant Lotus Garden that he had a sudden urge to take her on the ground under the flame trees. She didn’t say no. Outdoors sex was titillating to begin with, and the mysterious, abandoned garden added even more stimulation and excitement.

She lay on the ground in his arms. A bright, clear moon moved above them, making the phoenix flowers visible by its light. Only in spots heavy with layered flowers and leaves did dark shadows form to display a heaviness that seemed to hint at a bloody battle.

Under the red flower — laden trees, she waited, but he suddenly stopped moving.

“Why do I have the feeling that your pirate ancestor is somewhere nearby, lingering like a wronged ghost, watching us?”

In addition to Father, Yinghong had two additional sources for stories about pirates: Mudan and her husband, Luohan.

She begged Mudan for stories, but this time the maid slapped her thigh with her large, bony hand.

“How would someone like me know stories about pirates, those bad people who loot and burn?” Then she changed her tune. “But if you promise not to cause me any trouble or ruin the star fruit before it’s ripe, I can tell you who’s a source for pirate stories.”

Naturally, Yinghong promised her anything.

“Go ask Luohan. One of his ancestors was an infamous evildoer in Water Ditch on the coast near Lucheng.”

Luohan had a nickname, “The Caponer,” because of what he used to do when he was young. A tall man with a refined look, he was bossed around by Mudan all day long, but nothing disagreeable ever showed on his agreeable face. He was a man of few words, and when he talked he was succinct and articulate, to which Mudan attributed his love of local drama. Whenever a show was put on in Lucheng, he wouldn’t go home until he finished watching the entire play, no matter what was playing, an amateur Beiguan drama, a Nanguan play, Taiwanese opera, or a puppet show. One time, when the nearby Temple of the Zhu Patriarch put on a Taiwanese opera to celebrate the deity’s birthday, Luohan took her along to watch, and didn’t return until midnight, for which they both received a severe tongue-lashing from Mudan.