by Greg Arritt
Chapter Five
The old city of Suzhou was nothing like the preconceived image that had formed in Redding’s head. His initial impression of the old city left him feeling cheated and disillusioned. He had envisioned an ancient city surrounded by tall stone walls, but the only stone walls were those of a drainage channel. There wasn’t anything ancient about the city, not even the functional obsolescence of buildings mired in disrepair. If anything, the city looked as though it had been built well within the last century, not a couple of thousand years ago. Old or not, he set his impressions aside. The city’s appearance was hardly relevant, yet understanding its boundaries was critical.
“Do not be disappointed. There’s much to see,” Lin Ming said.
Redding hadn’t purposely said anything to announce his disappointment, but apparently some audible sound must have slipped out. Lin Ming instructed the driver to pull over. From this point they were to proceed on foot. They waited for just the right moment and then dashed across the boulevard, all the while fanning the dust that had been roiled up by passing traffic away from their faces.
“The canals that border the old city were put in place to ward off invading armies.” Lin Ming said as they walked in some predetermined direction.
“You mean that drainage channel we just crossed over? It was what, a whole fifteen feet across, and that was meant to stop an army?” Redding asked.
“But you are seeing it through the wrong set of eyes. You must see it through history’s eyes. Imagine that a war is being waged. There would have been warriors on horseback, and of course, they would have been stymied by the canals. The foot soldiers with their heavy armor and swords wouldn’t have fared any better. They would have sunk to the bottom like a rock. I’m sure there were some who tried to cross, but they would have been easy targets for the archers defending the city.”
“And this canal still borders all sides of the old city?”
“No need to worry. There are no more warlords or invading armies. China would never allow it,” she said.
“That’s not what I meant. Are the canals still intact?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe some segments have been paved over. I don’t really know. Now it’s only used for drainage and maybe irrigation.” She took a breath, and then started into a well- rehearsed tour script. “So much in China has changed in recent years, but now our government recognizes that change is not always good. The old city is not so old anymore. That’s why it’s been designated as a protected zone, but the city isn’t the real attraction. It’s the gardens.”
“I’m not really interested in the gardens,” Redding said. “I’d rather spend the day roaming the streets, seeing the old city, from one end to the other.”
“But the gardens are the most important part of the tour. They aren’t just known for their beauty, they are also a window into China’s past. After you see them I am sure you will agree that they were worthy of your time,” she said with a tour-guide inflection.
Redding was drawn in by Lin Ming’s subtle demeanor. Despite her reserved mannerisms, she had a confident yet infectious quality that he found appealing. There was something so familiar about her, and yet she was so different from any of the women he had previously known.
“I was wondering how you learned to speak English?”
“Lots of Chinese people speak English. It’s taught in the schools, but I didn’t learn it that way,” Lin Ming said.
“You’re self taught?”
She shook her head to dispel the notion. “It wasn’t like that. Let me explain. My friend Ting, we used to be classmates many years ago. She married Sam. He’s an American, and he teaches English. Ting has a teahouse, so in the evenings I would meet Sam there, and he taught me English.”
“He’s an American, and he’s married to a Chinese citizen?”
“You seem surprised, but lots of Americans are married to Chinese.”
* * *
The massive rock forms of the Lion Grove Garden were supposedly intended to conjure the mental image of lions. Some rock forms were freestanding, but most had been cleverly engineered into a limestone forest with a maze of pathways and caverns. Interspersed among the pathways were old pines, cypress trees, and native vegetation. At Lin Ming’s urgings, Redding continually stared at one rock after another. She said that the lions were sometimes shy, so the use of one’s imagination was vital in drawing them out. Of the one thousand lions that supposedly resided in the bizarre rocks, Redding never visualized a single one.
On the far side of the garden, well beyond the pathways and caverns, was the Plum Blossom Pavilion. Housed within its various rooms was an exhibit celebrating Chinese art and traditional antique furnishings. Redding barely gave the antiques a glace before honing in on the artwork. The paintings were almost exclusively watercolors and nearly all of them depicted ancient life in China. Although the style and content differed vastly from European watercolors, two distinctions stood out. One was inclusion of Chinese script that ran down one side of the paintings, and the other was the dominant use of muted colors as opposed to a more vibrant palette.
Like many pavilions in the region, the Plum Blossom Pavilion had an open-air design that had indirectly subjected the artworks to the elements. A number of watercolors were in less than pristine condition, with water damage to their outer edges. Doorways, stairways, and even the frames of paintings revealed the blistering effects of the weather. Aside from the threat of moisture damage, some of the walls were tainted by an invasive mold that had entrenched itself in the plaster.
“China’s artisans are quite talented, don’t you agree?” Lin Ming said, referring to the paintings, antique furnishings, and porcelains that were on display. “You should see our terra cotta soldiers?”
“I’ll pass on the terra cotta,” Redding said, leaning in to get a closer look at one of the watercolors. “You know you’ve got a real problem here?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I don’t know who these artists are, or even if these paintings have any real value, but they’re not going to last, not with the doors and windows wide open. It’s all the humidity. It’s like the kiss of death to paintings, and if somebody doesn’t do something soon, all these paintings are going to be ruined.”
“I’m sure the garden’s supervisors are aware of the problem.” Lin Ming said.
“Well, at some point all that moisture will cause the colors to bleed into each other, and then the paintings will be worthless. It’s kind of heartbreaking, don’t you think?”
Lin Ming only nodded before quietly slipping outside and leaving Redding to view the artwork by himself.
* * *
Outside the pavilion, Redding found Lin Ming sitting on a bench shaded by a cypress tree. From where she sat, she had a view of the pond and bridge, some yellow and blue flowers, and the plum trees. He sat down near her and they watched as a parade of visitors took turns posing on the bridge for photographs.
“You are a person of art?” Lin Ming asked. “I mean you are very serious about things like paintings?”
Considering the way he had fussed over the watercolors, that had to have been an easy observation, but her question wasn’t really about art. She sounded almost apologetic, like friends trying to get past some misunderstanding.
“Sure, I’m passionate about art. It’s my Achilles heel,” Redding said.
He stared out over the landscape but focused on nothing. What little interest the garden may have held had already been long exhausted. Any other time he could have spent hours there, but his concern was on mapping the old city. He withdrew the map from his inside coat pocket only to shove it back a moment later. The map was completely useless as long as they remained in the garden. The initially overcast day had become clear and warm, and he was anxious to leave.
“If I could just learn my way around old Suzhou, then I’d be able to explore the city on my own. That’s what I’d like to accomplish today,” Redding said, loosely h
inting that his interests were elsewhere.
“There’s no need to hurry. We have plenty of time, which is kind of unusual, because in most tour groups there’s never enough time,” Lin Ming said. “The difference is that you are traveling alone, which is also unusual, because most people who come to Suzhou alone only come here for business.”
In one sense, she was correct. He was technically on vacation, but it was for the purpose of finding the cello painting, and he considered that serious business.
“I think maybe you travel alone because you are not married,” Lin Ming said.
“You’re right. I’m divorced,” Redding said. “And you? You must be married?”
“No, my husband is dead.”
“That’s too bad. No, what I mean is, I’m sorry.” Redding winced, regretting that he had asked the question, but there wasn’t any way he could have known.
“Don’t be concerned. It was not a good marriage.” She paused. “We are both happier now.”
Redding couldn’t help but look into her face. He wanted to make sure that he hadn’t caused her any pain, but all it produced was an awkward moment between them.
“It would seem that marriage has not been kind to either of us,” she said. “That means we share something in common. We are each responsible for our own happiness.”
No sooner than she had spoken, one single thought congealed in Redding’s head. Maybe it was the culmination of all the interaction between them, or maybe the underlying tone in her words, but the overall meaning was clear. His attraction to her wasn’t one sided. It was mutual. It wasn’t the kind of attraction that was instantaneous or obvious, but still there was something more than a subtle appeal. He knew he was attracted to her when they met. Now he understood that she was also attracted to him.
“I should warn you that Chinese people are curious about foreigners.” She said. “We seem to ask embarrassing questions.”
“Like what?”
“Like how old are you?”
“Oh, that? I turned forty-nine just a few months back,” Redding said. He wasn’t about to ask her age, but he was curious. Actually, he had been wondering about that since they met.
“You look very handsome for your age.” She patted her temple to indicate his graying hair. “This year I am thirty-four.”
In some ways she was outspoken, and in other ways she seemed reserved. He found her quite intriguing, and as much as he enjoyed being with her, he still wasn’t any closer to the cello painting. He had seen enough of the rocks, trees, and flowers, so he stood to indicate that he was ready to leave.
* * *
They passed though the garden exit, and were back out on the streets where Redding could resume his orientation efforts. He pulled the map from his pocket and started scribbling some notes as they walked. Before they had even reached the end of the first block, Lin Ming suggested that they stop for lunch. He agreed but only out of consideration for her, otherwise he would have passed on lunch completely.
She assured him that the restaurants were nearby, but he wasn’t in any hurry. He had a lot of questions, and each was carefully posed to extract a detailed answer. He asked several questions about the commercial districts as if every minor aspect had to be understood, stopping only long enough to take some notes. He knew he was pushing hard, but if he were ever to find the cello painting, he had to have answers. No sooner had he finished with the commercial districts than he started another series of questions, each related to the canals in hopes of better defining the old city’s borders. Lin Ming handled the barrage well enough, but a rising intonation in her voice clearly signaled a waning of patience.
“You ask so many questions, as if everything is so important,” she said. “Maybe you’re a complicated type of person?”
“A few questions hardly qualify me as complicated. In reality, I’m no different than anybody else, married or divorced.”
“Your wife, was she beautiful?”
“Every guy thinks his wife is beautiful, at least it starts out that way,” Redding laughed.
“I’m not sure I believe that.”
“Well, in relationships, married or not, it’s pretty much a fundamental.”
“I don’t know about that,” Lin Ming said. “I think a marriage should be well balanced.”
“Well, we were definitely balanced,” Redding said, reminiscing. “Every week, we would each take one night and make dinner for the other. We would each try to outdo each other by making some special meal. Then, the rest of the week we pretty much just ate out of the refrigerator. We were just like any other married couple. Sometimes we argued. Actually, we argued a lot, but most of the time we were pretty good at making up.”
“Maybe you should still be married.”
“It’s too late for that. The marriage ran its course and fell apart. We just got too involved in our own lives and stopped paying attention to each other.”
At a cross street, Redding oriented his map and jotted down some additional notes. He hadn’t said as much, but Lin Ming could sense that he was about to start with the questions again. Before he could put his thoughts into words she interrupted him by offering to outline the old city on his map.
He leaned in close to watch over her shoulders as she traced over the canals that surrounded the old city. Based on the outline she had drawn, he became a little uneasy. The old city was significantly larger than he had anticipated. He had made a serious error by underestimating its size, but a comprehensive search for the painting was still viable as long as he carefully managed his time.
They had turned onto a street that had pockets of retail businesses, but due to a badly disjointed sidewalk they were no longer able to walk side by side. An invasive root structure from the trees that lined the street had broken through the sidewalk, leaving it coursed with rises and falls. Lin Ming led the way, with Redding only a step behind as they carefully treaded over the uneven sections. As they passed each store, he would momentarily look up from the sidewalk and peer through the store windows. One particular store had caught his interest just long enough to cause him to misstep. He stumbled in mid-stride, but managed regained his balance. His lurching footsteps caused Lin Ming to turn around, but he acted as though nothing had happened. He refocused his attention back on the sidewalk. The stores would have to wait, but it galled him that he could have easily walked right past the cello painting and not even noticed.
At the main boulevard, well beyond the trees, the sidewalk was undamaged and they were able to walk side by side once again.
“Was it always your plan to be a tour guide, or was it just an accidental choice?” Redding asked as he folded his map and slipped it into his coat pocket.
“Actually, it was both,” Lin Ming said. “I should explain.”
Chapter Six
Redding had fixed his eyes on the far end of the boulevard with the intention of reconciling the overall size of the ancient city, but Lin Ming interrupted his thoughts.
“It was never about having a career. It was only about my responsibility to contribute to the family income,” she said. “That’s why I went to work at my brother’s company. Of course, it was awkward at first. I didn’t know anything about the business. So, I started by cleaning everything, then answering the phones, and then I learned how to schedule tours. Eventually, I became a tour guide, but there was a problem. At that time, I could only speak Chinese, which meant I couldn’t lead any of the Western tour groups.”
“That’s why you learned English?”
“It wasn’t so easy. I studied every night for hours. I went to Ting’s café at least three times a week, and still it took me two years, but being able to contribute to the household was so important.”
“And before the tour business, what did you do?”
“I was married to Yang. We lived in Shanghai, but he wasn’t from there. He was from Dalian City, near Beijing. That’s where his family has an apothecary.”
“An apothecary?” Reddin
g asked.
“It’s about traditional medicine. If you walked by one, you would know. The aromas are so pungent that they spill out the doors and into the streets. They have hundreds of ceramic containers and glass jars sitting on shelves, and barrels and cloth bags crowd every inch of floor space, and boxes are stacked to the ceiling. The store is full of things like herbs and flowers, leaves, bark, and roots. They also have some very unusual things such as dried insects, reptiles, and fungus. It can be quite expensive. Some parts from animals like tiger and bear are quite rare, and others are common, you know, like deer?” She held her hands up with her thumbs just touching the top of her head and her fingers spread apart.
“Antlers?”
“Yes, but you wouldn’t need the whole antler. You might just need a tiny piece. Anyway, some are taken as a single ingredient and others are combined. After they decide which ones you need, the ingredients are crushed, shredded, or pulverized into a powder. Then, the potion would be steeped in tea, or sprinkled over a meal or something like that. Lots of people still believe in Chinese medicine. They say it can cure or alleviate every kind of ailment.”
“And that was Yang’s line of work?” Redding asked.
“It was supposed to have been his destiny since birth, to run the family business. At least that is what his parents had planned, but it didn’t quite work out that way. I mean it should have, but it didn’t. He had grown up behind the counter, and had learned the art of traditional medicine, just like his father, and his father before him. He was well versed in every ailment, but his specialty was in alleviating pain. He said he had no qualms with traditional medicine, still he had no intention of returning to Dalian, or the family business.” Lin Ming glanced at Redding and could already see a question rising on his face.
“One afternoon Yang left the store on errands and never returned. A few days later, he called his parents. He told them that he had moved to Shanghai and that he wouldn’t be returning. He had moved in with a former classmate and had taken a job as a clerical worker for an export company. Of course, his parents were quite upset. That’s what caused the wedding to take place.”