Peach Blossom Pavilion. Mingmei Yip

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СКАЧАТЬ before Guan Yin – the Goddess of Mercy – that I would never be merciful in this life. But not meddle in rich men’s business? It was precisely the rich and powerful at whom I aimed my arts of pleasing. Like Guan Yin with a thousand arms holding a thousand amulets to charm, I was determined to cultivate myself to be a woman with a thousand scheming hearts to lure a thousand men into my arms.

      But, of course, this kind of cultivation started later, when I had become aware of the realm of the wind and moon. When I’d first entered the prostitution house, I was but a little girl with a heart split into two: one half light with innocence, the other heavy with sorrow.

      In the prostitution house, I was given the name Precious Orchid. It was only my professional name; my real name was Xiang Xiang, given for two reasons. I was born with a natural xiang – body fragrance (a mingling of fresh milk, honey, and jasmine), something which rarely happens except in legends where the protagonist lives on nothing but flowers and herbs. Second, I was named after the Xiang River of Hunan Province. My parents, who had given me this name, had cherished the hope that my life would be as nurturing as the waterway of my ancestors, while never expecting that it was my overflowing tears which would nurture the river as it flows its never-ending course. They had also hoped that my life would sing with happiness like the cheerful river, never imagining that what flowed in my voice was nothing but the bittersweet melodies of Karma.

      Despite our abject poverty after Baba’s death, it was never my mother’s intent to sell me into Peach Blossom Pavilion. This bit of chicanery was the work of one of her distant relatives, a woman by the name of Fang Rong – Beautiful Countenance. Mother had met her only once, during a Chinese New Year’s gathering at a distant uncle’s house. Not long after Baba had been executed, Fang Rong appeared one day out of nowhere and told my mother that she could take good care of me. When I first laid eyes on her, I was surprised that she didn’t look at all like what her name implied. Instead, she had the body of a stuffed rice bag, the face of a basin, and the eyes of a rat, above which a big mole moved menacingly.

      Fang Rong claimed that she worked as a housekeeper for a rich family. The master, a merchant of foreign trade, was looking for a young girl with a quick mind and swift hands to help in the household. The matter was decided without hesitation. Mother, completely forgetting her vow never to be involved in rich men’s business, was relieved that I’d have a roof over my head. So, with her departure for Peking looming, she agreed to let Fang Rong take me away.

      Both Mother and Fang Rong looked happy chatting under the sparkling sun. Toward the end of their conversation, after Fang Rong had given Mother the address of the ‘rich businessman,’ she shoved me into a waiting rickshaw. ‘Quick! Don’t make the master wait!’

      When the vehicle was about to take off, Mother put her face close to me and whispered, ‘From now on, listen to Aunty Fang and your new master and behave. Will you promise me that?’

      I nodded, noticing the tears welling in her eyes. She gently laid the cloth sack containing my meagre possessions (a small amount of cash and a few rice balls sprinkled with bits of salted fish) on my lap, then put her hand on my head. ‘Xiang Xiang, I’ll be leaving in a month. If I can, I’ll visit you. But if I don’t, I’ll write as soon as I’ve arrived in Peking.’ She paused, a faint smile breaking on her withered face. ‘You’re lucky …’

      I touched her hand. ‘Ma …’

      Just as I was struggling to say something, Fang Rong’s voice jolted us apart. ‘All right, let’s go, better not be late.’ With that, the rickshaw puller lifted the poles and we started to move.

      I turned back and waved to Mother until she became a small dot and finally vanished like the last morning dew.

      Fang Rong rode beside me in silence. Houses floated by as the rickshaw puller grunted along. After twists and turns through endless avenues and back alleys, the rickshaw entered a tree-lined boulevard.

      Fang Rong turned to me and smiled. ‘Xiang Xiang, we’ll soon be there.’

      Though the air was nippy, the coolie was sweating profusely. We bumped along a crowded street past a tailor, an embroidery shop, a hair salon, and a shoe store before the coolie finally grunted to a stop.

      Fang Rong paid and we got out in front of the most beautiful mansion I’d ever seen. With walls painted a pale pink, the building rose tall and imposing, with a tightly closed red iron gate fiercely guarded by two stone lions. At the entrance, a solitary red lantern swayed gently in the breeze. An ornate wooden sign above the lintel glinted in the afternoon sun. I shaded my eyes and saw a shiny signboard, black with three large gold characters: PEACH BLOSSOM PAVILION. On either side, vertical boards flanking the gate read:

      Guests flocking to the pavilion like birds,

      Beauties blooming in the garden like flowers.

      ‘Aunty Fang,’ I pointed to the sign, ‘what is this Peach—’

      ‘Come on,’ Fang Rong cast me an annoyed look, ‘don’t let your father wait,’ and pulled me along.

      My father? Didn’t she know that he was already dead? Just as I was wondering what this was all about, the gate creaked open, revealing a man of about forty; underneath shiny hair parted in the middle shone a smooth, handsome face. An embroidered silk jacket was draped elegantly over a lean, sinewy body.

      He scrutinised me for long moments, then his face broke into a pleasant grin. ‘Ah, so the rumour is true. What a lovely girl!’ His slender fingers with their long, immaculate nails reached to pat my head. I felt an instant liking for this man my father’s age. I also wondered, how could the ugly-to-death Fang Rong catch such a nice-looking man?

      ‘Wu Qiang,’ Fang Rong drew away his hand, ‘haven’t you ever seen a pretty girl in your life?’ Then she turned to me. ‘This is my husband Wu Qiang and your father.’

      ‘But Aunty—’

      Now Fang Rong put on an ear-reaching grin. ‘Xiang Xiang, your father is dead, so from now on Wu Qiang is your father. Call him De.’

      Despite my liking for this man, in my heart no one could take the place of my father. ‘But he’s not my de!’

      Fang Rong shot me a smile with the skin, but not the flesh. ‘I’ve told you that now he is, and I’m your mother, so call me Mama.’

      Before I could protest again, she’d already half-pushed me along through a narrow entranceway. Then I forgot to complain because as we passed into the courtyard, my eyes beheld another world. Enclosed within the red fence was a garden where lush flowerbeds gave off a pleasing aroma. On the walls were painted lovely maidens cavorting among exotic flowers. A fountain murmured, spurting in willowy arcs. In a pond, golden carps swished their tails and gurgled trails of bubbles. A stone bridge led across the pond to a pavilion with gracefully upturned eaves. Patches of soothing shade were cast by artfully placed bamboo groves.

      While hurrying after Fang Rong and Wu Qiang, I spotted a small face peeking out at me from behind the bamboo grove. What struck me was not her face but the sad, watery eyes which gazed into mine, as if desperate to tell a tale.

      When I was on the verge of asking about her, Fang Rong cast me a tentative glance. ‘Xiang Xiang, aren’t you happy that this is now your new home? Isn’t it much better than your old one?’

      I nodded emphatically, while feeling stung by those sad eyes.

      ‘I’m sure you’ll like it even better when you taste the СКАЧАТЬ