Lisa See - Peony in Love

Pretty soon their husbands, brothers, and sons picked up the book and read it too. Their interpretation and experience of it was completely different. What could make a man feel more like a man than the idea that another man’s work had attracted and mesmerized women—not just the three of us, but all the lovesick maidens—to such an extent that we’d stopped eating, pined away, and died? It made them feel strong and superior and helped restore to them more of their lost manliness.

When New Year’s Eve arrived, Yi joined the family to clean, make offerings, and pay debts, but I could see her mind was elsewhere. As soon as those duties were done, she scurried through the compound to the room where my dummy bride was kept. She entered the room, hesitated for a minute, and then she reached into her skirt, pulled out a knife—a forbid-

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den object in the days leading up to the New Year—and knelt next to the dummy. I watched in shock as she cut off the dummy’s face. She removed the clothes, put them in a neat pile, and then carefully sliced open the dummy’s stomach.

My emotions were thrown into tumult: I had no idea why she wanted to harm my dummy, and Ren would be furious if he found out, but if she pulled out my ancestor tablet she would see what was missing. I hovered next to her, with hope surging through me. Yi reached into the body and extracted the tablet. She quickly brushed away the straw and left the room with my tablet and the painted face. But she hadn’t really looked at the tablet.

She stepped down from the corridor and into the garden, and then made her way to the plum tree where I lived. She set the tablet on the ground and then went back to her room. She returned with a small table.

She went away again. This time she came back with one of the commercially produced copies of The Three Wives’ Commentary, a vase, and some other items. She put my tablet and portrait on the table, lit candles, and then made offerings of The Commentary, fruit, and wine. And then she worshipped me as an ancestor.

What I mean is, I thought she worshipped me as an ancestor.

Ren stepped out onto a balcony and saw his wife making supplication.

“What are you doing?” he called down to her.

“It’s the New Year. We’ve made offerings to others in your family. I wanted to give thanks to Liniang. Think how she has inspired me . . . and your other wives.”

He laughed at her simple ways. “You can’t worship an imaginary character!”

She bristled. “The spirit of the cosmos dwells in everything. Even a stone may serve as the home of a creature; even a tree may serve as the dwelling of a spirit.”

“But Tang Xianzu himself said Liniang never existed. So why do you make offerings to her?”

“How can you or I judge whether Liniang existed or not?”

It was New Year’s Eve, a time when no arguing should occur for fear it will upset the ancestors, so he gave in. “You’re right. I’m wrong. Now come up here and join me for tea. I’d like to read to you what I wrote today.”

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what was inscribed on my tablet, and he didn’t ask where she’d found these objects to substitute for Liniang.

Later, Yi returned to the plum tree to put away the things she’d brought out. I watched sadly as she carefully sewed my tablet back inside the dummy, dressed it, and arranged the paper face so it looked exactly as it had before the ceremony. I tried to fight my disappointment, but I was devastated . . . again.

It was time for her to know about me. I was the one who’d helped her, not Liniang. I remembered what Yi had written in the margins of the opera: A ghost is merely a dream and a dream is nothing but a ghost. This sentiment convinced me that the only way I was certain not to frighten her was to meet her in a dream.

That night, as soon as Yi fell asleep and began roaming, I stepped into her dream garden, which I instantly recognized as the one from Liniang’s dream. Peonies bloomed all around me. I walked to the Peony Pavilion and waited. When Yi arrived and I revealed myself, she did not scream or run away. In her eyes, I was dazzlingly beautiful.

“Are you Liniang?” she asked.

I smiled at her, but before I could tell her who I was a new figure appeared. It was Ren. We had not met this way since I first died. We stared at each other, unable to speak, overcome by emotion. It was as if no time had passed. My love for him permeated the air around us, but Yi was there and I was afraid to speak. He glanced at my sister-wife and then back to me.

He too was hesitant to say anything, but his eyes were filled with love.

I picked a sprig from the plum tree and handed it to him. Remembering how Liniang’s dream had ended, I whirled away in a whoosh, scoop-ing up all the petals from the garden and then letting them cascade on Ren and Yi. Tomorrow night, I would enter Yi’s dream again. I’d be ready if and when Ren came. I would find my voice and tell him . . .

In the earthly realm, Ren woke up. Next to him, Yi’s breathing caught and then caught again. He shook her shoulder.

“Wake up! Wake up!”

Yi opened her eyes, but before he could say anything she hurriedly told him of her dream.

“I told you Liniang existed,” she said happily.

“I just had the same dream,” he said. “But that wasn’t Liniang.” He grasped her hands and asked urgently, “Where did you get the tablet to use in your ceremony yesterday?”

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She shook her head and tried to pull away her hands, but he held them tight.

“I won’t be angry,” he said. “Tell me.”

“I didn’t take it from your family altar,” she admitted softly. “It wasn’t one of your aunts or—”

“Yi, please! Tell me!”

“I wanted to use a tablet for someone whom I thought best represented Liniang and her lovesickness.” Seeing his intensity, Yi bit her lip. Then finally she confessed. “I took the tablet from your Peony, but I put it back.

Don’t be angry with me.”

“That was Peony in your dream,” he said, quickly getting out of bed and grabbing a robe. “You called her to you.”

“Husband—”

“I’m telling you it was her. She couldn’t visit you like that if she were an ancestor. She has to be . . .”

Yi started to get up.

“Stay here,” he ordered.

Without another word, he left the bedchamber and ran down the corridor to the room that housed my dummy. He knelt beside it and put his hand over where my heart would have been. He stayed that way for a long time and then slowly—as slowly as a groom on his wedding night—he unbuttoned the frogs that held closed my wedding tunic. Never once did he take his eyes away from the dummy’s eyes, and never once did I look away from him. He was older now. Gray hair salted his temples and permanent creases etched the skin near his eyes, but to me he would always be man-beautiful. His hands were still long and thin. His movements were still languid and graceful. I loved him for the joy and happiness he’d brought me as a girl living in the Chen Family Villa and for the love and loyalty he’d shown Ze and Yi.

When the dummy’s muslin body was exposed, he sat back on his heels, scanned the room, but didn’t see what he needed. He felt his pockets and found nothing. He took a breath, reached down, and ripped open the dummy’s stomach. He pulled out my tablet, held it before him for a moment, and then wet his thumb with his tongue and used the moistness to wipe away the dirt. When he saw no dot, he clutched the tablet to his chest and hung his head. I knelt before him. I’d suffered twenty-nine years as a hungry ghost, and now looking up at him, I saw those years play out across his features in seconds as he guessed at the tortures of my existence.