Название: Peach Blossom Pavilion
Автор: Mingmei Yip
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Историческая литература
isbn: 9780007570133
isbn:
Besides Pearl’s unpredictable temper, I had another source of unease in the turquoise pavilion – the pair of sad eyes peeking out from the bamboo grove and staring at me whenever I passed the courtyard.
However, I felt happy and content with my art lessons and fine food; Fang Rong and her husband seemed almost parental to me, so I had little inclination to complain.
Life in this turquoise pavilion was really not so horrible as it was described by people outside.
Yet one thing made me sad. I’d been here nearly four weeks now, but Mother had never written to me nor come to visit as she’d promised. Counting on my fingers, I suddenly realised that she would be leaving for Peking tomorrow. So I went to Fang Rong and asked for her permission to let me leave the pavilion to see my mother off.
Although she smiled, the big mole between her brows looked as if it were about to leap toward me in full force. ‘Ah, you foolish girl. Don’t you know the rule in Peach Blossom? You can only be allowed to go outside the main gate on the following occasions: when you get an invitation from some very important guests, that’s only after you’ve become very popular and much sought after; when I take you out for business like fixing your hair or having clothes sewn for you; when the pavilion organises an outing to entertain important parties.’
‘What do you mean?’ I stared at her mole to avoid her eyes.
‘Don’t ask too many questions; it never does a little girl any good.’ Her voice grew very sharp and harsh. ‘Anyway, you’re not going out, not tonight, not anytime, not until I tell you to, you understand? Now go and help Ah Ping in the kitchen. Tonight we’ll have a police chief, a banker, a cotton merchant, and many other important people to entertain.’
In the corridor on my way to the kitchen, I heard an assortment of noises – singing, chatting, pipa plucking, mahjong playing, Fang Rong’s yelling – drift from the different chambers. The sisters were putting on make-up, dressing, practising their singing, or tuning their instruments one last time before the guests arrived. Today was a Saturday and business seemed unusually good. I peered down the street from a latticed window and saw shiny black cars pull up at the entrance, disgorging important-looking men – some clad in elegantly tailored silk gowns, others in perfectly pressed Western suits.
As I was watching the ebb and flow of cars, I felt a pool of sadness. Did my mother have any inkling that I was now living in a prostitution house and not a rich man’s residence? Why didn’t she come to see me?
I blinked back tears and hurried to the kitchen. Seeing me, Ah Ping’s pale face brightened. She gave me an affectionately chiding look, then pretended to hold a plate in one hand, while her other hand made a pouring motion. After that, she shrugged as if to warn, Ah, Xiang Xiang, if you’re late again next time, all the choice morsels will be gone!
She went to close the door, then returned to ladle bits of abalone, shark fin, and fish from the various cauldrons. She set the delicacies on a plate and pushed it across the table toward me. I was not hungry, but in order to please her, I picked up a piece of abalone and popped it into my mouth. As I was savouring the rubbery taste, I heard the grating of paws on wood.
‘Aunty Ah Ping,’ I threw down my chopsticks, ‘it’s Guigui!’
I dashed to open the door and let the puppy in. He yapped, then furiously licked my feet and wagged his tail. I scooped him up and began to feed him with the food from my plate. He lapped and gobbled happily.
Some strange sound emitted from Ah Ping’s throat. She was protesting that I shouldn’t feed the puppy with the delicacies reserved for important guests. I stuck out my tongue. She smiled back, then signalled me to continue eating.
But the only thing I wanted now was to see my mother. Tears swelled in my eyes as I buried my face into Guigui’s.
Ah Ping gestured with her hands. Something wrong?
‘Aunty Ah Ping, I have … a stomach ache, so can I—’
She waved toward the door. Go.
‘Are you sure?’
She nodded.
‘Then thank you very much.’ I put Guigui down on the floor. He protested by pulling the hem of my trouser leg with his teeth. ‘But Aunty Ah Ping—’
Again, she waved frantically, then leant her cheek on her hands. Go, go take a nap.
I hurried down to the courtyard, and after making sure that no one was hiding within the bamboo groves, treaded cautiously along the hidden path until I reached the main gate. Heart pounding, I hid behind the bamboo foliage for the right moment to escape. I waited until the denizens of the establishment – Fang Rong, Wu Qiang, the sisters, the maids, the amahs, the male servants, the guards – appeared for the ritual of greeting the arriving guests. While they were kowtowing and pouring flattery to the important visitors, I slipped out.
Once clear of the gate, I ran all the way to the main street and hailed a rickshaw.
‘Hurry, hurry!’ I kept shouting to the coolie’s scrawny back.
He turned and scrutinised me, his dull eyes menacing under the street light. ‘Little miss, this is a long way, so I have to save my energy. You don’t want me to fall down in the middle of the road; do you?’
So I kept my mouth shut and listened to his tortured grunts until he finally entered a long, dark passage and pulled to a stop in front of a dilapidated house. I thrust a few coins into his calloused hand, then ran toward the low building. Dim light seeped out from underneath our cracked door. I knocked on the thin wooden plank, my heart pounding and my mouth sucking in big gulps of air.
The door creaked open and light flooded from behind Mother’s back. Eyes widened, she dropped open her mouth. ‘Xiang Xiang, what a surprise! I’ve been worried to death about you!’
Choked with emotions, I could only utter a loud ‘Ma!’ then thrust myself into her arms.
Mother led me inside and took me to sit down on the floor. The room was practically empty except for two suitcases and a few odds and ends.
She was dressed in a threadbare black smock and trousers. Her hungry eyes scrutinised me for long moments. ‘Xiang Xiang, you look so different!’ she exclaimed, stroking my face. ‘Now your body is much stronger and your face rounder. I’m so glad that you’re well fed.’ She touched my floral cotton top and trousers. ‘Look at you in this pretty outfit!’ Before I could respond, she plunged on excitedly, ‘Xiang Xiang, I’m so glad that we finally have a piece of good luck!’
‘But Ma—’
‘Xiang Xiang, try not to complain too much; learn to be grateful.’
So how could I have the heart to tell her the truth – that I’d been tricked into a prostitution house? Besides, I was indeed well clothed and fed and not too badly treated. Although Peach Blossom Pavilion was a prostitution house, it was
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