She tore a sheet of paper into three parts, wrote Bed 1, Bed 2 and Cot, then folded and placed them in a paper bag from which we made our picks, including Aunt Reine herself. Claudine picked first, came up with ‘Cot’ and slept there the entire time without protest.
That was how the Schilling family treated me during the time I spent with them. They made me feel like I was their third child. For the first time in my life, I did not automatically get the short end of the stick but was given an equal share, just like Victor’s and Claudine’s.
As we steamed southwards, the weather became noticeably warmer. The sea was calm and we three children spent much time playing hide‐and‐seek on the decks. Once Victor hid in a lifeboat for half an hour while we searched everywhere. Then he suddenly jumped out as we passed below him, scaring and delighting us at the same time.
‘I am Sinbad the Sailor!’ he cried. ‘Don’t you love the smell of the salty sea and the noise of the engines and everything about this ship?’
‘What I love best is the library. Let’s go there!’ I told them.
The library was tucked away in a quiet, secluded corner next to a sun‐drenched atrium. All the books were in English. Most of them were mysteries, romances and travel books. We browsed for a while until Victor found a stack of games. Claudine turned out to be a whiz at Monopoly. While we played, I could not help noticing how nice Victor was to his sister. Though he liked to tease her, he was gentle and protective at the same time.
For long stretches of time on that voyage, as we chased each other on deck, read books in the library, played games in the atrium or made paper‐cuts from the book Mother Marie had given me, I actually felt I was part of the Schilling family and no longer the unwanted daughter who always came last.
At night, I would fantasise about being adopted by them, belonging to them and going off with them forever. How wonderful life would be if I did not have to face Niang ever again! Then I would remember my true status and my heart would be touched by ice.
It could be put off no longer. The dreaded day had arrived for me to come face to face with Niang. Our ship steamed into the dock at Hong Kong Harbour. We walked down the gangplank in search of a familiar face but no one was there to meet us.
Aunt Reine comforted me. ‘It was so difficult to get our boat tickets and I couldn’t be sure until the very last minute. By then it was too late to write to your parents. Two months ago I did send them a letter to say we were definitely coming to Hong Kong soon but didn’t know the exact date. I’ll go find a telephone to tell them we’re here, and that you’re with us, Adeline. They’ll be so thrilled!’
Victor and Claudine groaned in unison, crushed at not being met. I breathed a sigh of relief but quickly pretended disappointment.
We hailed a taxi and squeezed in with all our luggage. Aunt Reine turned to me. ‘I forgot today is Sunday. We’re lucky because when I phoned your parents, I found everyone home! Including your father!’
I sat in the taxi in silent terror. The roads were clean and traffic was orderly. Our cab trailed a tall, double‐decker red bus which stopped at a traffic‐light.
Claudine wound down the car window. ‘How hot and stuffy Hong Kong is!’ she said. ‘Look at the street signs, they’re all bilingual with English on top and Chinese at the bottom but nothing in French.’
Victor answered in a superior tone. ‘Of course there is nothing in French. Everything has to be in English because we are on British soil. Hong Kong has been a British colony for over one hundred years. It became British when China lost the Opium War. Look at the shop signs! They have English on them too!’
Having spent so much time together while sailing from Tianjin to Hong Kong, the three of us had become good friends. Victor addressed me: ‘Let’s continue our Monopoly game when we get to your parents’ place. On board ship, I kept losing. Maybe my luck will change here. Will you show me how to make those paper‐cuts and lend me that book Mother Marie gave you called Paper Magic? What a smashing book! You think your mother will let us have some big sheets of paper so we can make fleets of aeroplanes and platoons of soldiers? I’ll paint designs on them in two different colours and we can play war‐games with them. Won’t that be fun?’ I smiled and nodded. Victor didn’t know that the make‐believe Niang I talked about was very different from the real one we’d be facing.
All too quickly, our cab turned into a street marked Boundary Street and stopped opposite an imposing school building. Was I to be dropped off at another school so soon? A large sign above the gate read Maryknoll Convent School. No children were about and the gate was closed.
The cab driver asked me for his fare in Cantonese, expecting me to translate since I was the only one with a Chinese face. Aunt Reine answered in fluent Mandarin and paid him. Regarding her with new respect, he pointed to the freshly painted three‐storey apartment building next to us and helped with our luggage. So they live opposite a girls’ school, I thought. Is Little Sister enrolled there? How convenient for her!
Suddenly, Father, Niang, Fourth Brother, Little Sister and two maids were swarming around us. ‘Hello! Hello! Hello! Hello! Welcome! Welcome!’ Niang was embracing Aunt Reine and chattering away gaily in a mixture of French and English. ‘We have been watching out for you from our balcony! Come in! Come in!’ Her greeting appeared to include me though she neither made eye contact nor addressed me directly.
Father grinned from ear to ear and warmly shook Uncle Jean’s hand. Fourth Brother hailed Victor and Little Sister was making conversation with Claudine. In the hubbub, they had forgotten me! I felt faint at my good fortune and lingered behind with the maids, helping them with the luggage.
I was the last to struggle up the stairs with my suitcase. Their flat was on the second floor. The front door was half open and I entered a hallway cum dining‐room. Inside it was dim but I heard voices and laughter emanating from the living‐room. I blinked to clear my vision and put my case down tentatively, pushing it closely against a wall to make it as unobtrusive as possible.
Someone coughed and I looked up, realising with a start that I was not alone. My eyes adjusted to the semi‐darkness and there, standing quietly at one end of the oval dining‐table against a small window, was my grandfather!
‘Ye Ye!’ I cried as my heart leapt with joy. I rushed across to stand by his side, knowing he had been waiting for me.
‘Let me look at you,’ he said, measuring my head against his chest. ‘My, how you have grown! I do believe you’re already almost as tall as your Aunt Baba. Tell me, did you top your class before you left Tianjin?’
I couldn’t very well tell him about being the only student left in the entire school. Besides, I was a little shy because he sounded strange and familiar at the same time. There was something else indefinable about him which brought a lump to my throat. I looked down at my feet, unable to speak for a moment.
‘Have you already forgotten how to talk in our Shanghai dialect?’ he teased. ‘Are you able to jabber away in French and English now? Take off your coat! Why are you wearing it when sweat is pouring down your face? I do believe you’re still dressed for the bitter Tianjin weather! What is to become of you! Grown so big and still so little!’
His voice was full of love, bringing back memories long suppressed – of home and Shanghai and Aunt Baba. I took off my coat and sweater. Underneath I was still wearing the long‐sleeved white blouse and dark‐blue woollen skirt which were the winter uniform of St Joseph’s and the only things that still fitted me. ‘We’d better go in and join your parents now,’ he said with a hint of reluctance, leading the way. ‘Otherwise they’ll be wondering where you are.’
Inside the living‐room everyone was crowded around a glass coffee table. They made room to include us and gave Ye Ye the seat of honour while I squatted on the floor with the other children. Aunt Reine had a pair of scissors in her right hand. She took her coat and examined the buttons one by one. As we watched, spellbound, she selected a button, cut a knot and pulled
a thread. Out emerged a sparkling diamond to glitter magnificently against the dark brown cloth of her winter jacket. Everyone gasped and Niang laughed out loud while clapping her hands like a child.
Aunt Reine repeated the process until there were eight precious stones glittering in front of us, dazzling us with their radiance and lustre.
‘My entire diamond collection!’ Niang exclaimed. ‘How clever you are, Reine! Did anyone suspect?’
‘There were a few hair‐raising moments,’ Aunt Reine replied with a smile. ‘But let’s not dwell on those in front of the children! Not only do you have your gems back, we also have rescued your daughter from Communist hands! This calls for a double celebration, n’est‐ce pas?’
Though Aunt Reine was speaking of me, neither Niang nor Father looked in my direction. So far, they had not addressed me at all. Theirs was the gaze that glances but does not see.
‘Champagne all around!’ Father exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear. ‘How can we ever thank you enough? May we invite you to the Peninsula Hotel for dinner tonight? They have recently employed a new chef who is excellent . . .’
During the ensuing commotion, Ye Ye signalled me to leave the room with him. ‘When Aunt Reine phoned this morning and I heard of your unexpected arrival in Hong Kong,’ he said, ‘I ordered the maids to set up a cot in my room at once. While your Niang is in this euphoric mood, quickly unpack your bag and settle in before she changes her mind about your staying here. This flat is small and there is little room . . .’
‘Thank you, Ye Ye.’ I picked up my suitcase and followed him to his room. There was no need to say more. He did not elaborate and I asked no questions. We understood each other’s predicament only too well. He strolled back to the living‐room while I started to unpack. The new quality in his voice that hadn’t been there before came back to me. What was it? The correct word dawned as I closed the lid of my empty suitcase. Of course! It was ‘defeat’. Ye Ye had given up.
The Schilling family stayed at a small hotel nearby. Next morning, they walked over for breakfast at nine o’clock. Father had already left for the office and Fourth Brother and Little Sister were at school. Niang made plans to take her sister’s family shopping and sightseeing. She invited Ye Ye to accompany them.
‘No thank you,’ Ye Ye declined politely. ‘I am feeling a little tired today. My neck bothers me.’
‘Adeline, you can make yourself useful for once and massage Ye Ye’s neck for him,’ Niang ordered, looking directly at me for the first time.
I was overjoyed! Not only had Niang finally acknowledged me, she had even given me a task to perform! Perhaps she had forgiven me? ‘Yes, Niang,’ I answered promptly.
Victor groaned. ‘Does that mean Adeline won’t be coming with us? Quel dommage! Before I go, Adeline, how about folding a few more paper aeroplanes with me? There is still time.’
After their departure, Ye Ye and I settled comfortably in the airy and bright living‐room.
‘Read me the newspapers,’ Ye Ye said. ‘The newsprint here in Hong Kong is definitely smaller. I can hardly read the papers even with glasses. My doctor says it’s due to my diabetes. Lately, I’m also having trouble hearing. My lower back aches as much as my neck. The worst thing about growing old is that the gadgets of my body are failing one by one.’
I started to read but all the news was depressing.
‘It is estimated that the loss incurred at the Battle of Huai Hai has cost the Nationalists over half a million troops. Chiang Kai‐shek has definitely resigned as president of China. Vice‐president Li Tsung‐jen takes office and is trying to negotiate peace with the Communists. People’s Liberation Army soldiers are marching towards Nanking and Shanghai and are preparing to cross the Yantze River en masse. Mobs intending to flee Shanghai for Hong Kong and Taiwan congregate and riot for tickets at shipping offices. One US dollar is now worth 9.5 million Chinese yuans.’ I stopped often because many Chinese words were unfamiliar.
‘You are forgetting your Chinese!’ Ye Ye admonished. ‘Go get the dictionary on the table by my bed. Look up those new words I just taught you and copy them into your notebook.’
My mind was full of gloomy thoughts and I suddenly burst out, ‘I’m sick and tired of blindly copying Chinese characters over and over into my notebook like a robot! I hate studying Chinese! It’s a waste of time. Besides, your dictionary is not a real dictionary. It’s only a Chinese–Chinese dictionary, not a Chinese–English dictionary. I only want to learn English, not Chinese.’
‘How can you say that?’ Ye Ye exclaimed.
The hurt on his face made me cringe but I was unable to stop. ‘My teacher Mother Marie says the only way to succeed in the second half of the twentieth century is to be fluent in English.’
‘Hand me a piece of paper, get me a pen and come over here,’ Ye Ye said softly. ‘Let me show you something. Though you have a fine mind and a subtle intellect, the sentiments you express not only expose your ignorance, they also wound my heart. You forget that I know you only too well. Not only what you look like outside, but also how you are made inside. How can you say you hate the study of Chinese when you are Chinese yourself? Go look in the mirror if you have any doubts!
‘You may be right in believing that if you study hard, one day you might become fluent in English. But you will still look Chinese and when people meet you, they’ll see a Chinese girl no matter how well you speak English. You’ll always be expected to know Chinese and if you don’t, I’m afraid they will not respect you as much.
‘Besides, China is a huge country with a vast population and an ancient culture. Though life has to be lived forward, it can only be understood backward. Reading Chinese history will enlighten you in ways no English writing can.
‘I predict that in a hundred years from now, the world’s many languages will be distilled down to three: Chinese, English and Spanish. Chinese will never disappear because China’s population has a unified written language.
‘Above all, there is the wisdom and magic of our language itself. When you read a Chinese book, try to look at the characters and think about them. I have met many who appear to know a good many Chinese words, but never actually grasp the true meaning of any of them.
‘Let me give you the example of just one character (bei) to illustrate my point.
‘In ancient times, cowrie shells were used as units of money and were exchanged for goods and services. In time, a hole was drilled in these shells and a row of shells was held together by a string. A string of shells was called (bei). Look at the character (bei) carefully. Does it not resemble a row of shells held together by a piece of string knotted at the end?
‘I agree that Chinese words are more difficult to learn than English. We do not have an alphabet and there is no correlation at all between our written and spoken language. In fact, I once met a Frenchman who could not speak a word of Chinese but wrote and read Chinese so well he worked as a translator of Chinese law at the French consulate in Shanghai. Chinese is a pictorial language, not a phonetic one. Our words come from images. The meaning of many characters is subtle and profound. Other words are poetic and even philosophical.
‘To go back to (bei). Because the word evolved from something that was “valuable” in ancient times, modern Chinese words containing the component (bei) are associated with finance or commerce in some way. Take the word ; it means “to buy”. means “to sell”. Place the two words side by side (buy‐sell) and the term means business. Now, what is the essence of business if not buy‐sell? Regardless of what commodity you are trading, if you wish to be successful in business, you hope to buy low and sell high. Otherwise you are in big trouble. This is universally true regardless of what business you’re in.
‘Look at again. What is the only difference between the two characters? Compared to (buy), the word (sell) has the symbol on top. What is ? The word means earth or land. If the essence of business is buy‐sell, then its most important ingredient is (earth or land). Should you go into bu
siness one day, keep this in mind. Everything else can be made better or cheaper or faster, but not land. It is the only commodity that can never be duplicated or replaced.
‘Now look at two other words which also contain (bei). They appear very similar. At first glance, if you are careless, you might even mistake them for each other: (pin) and (tan). But you have to be very, very careful. Don’t ever mix them up just because they resemble each other. (pin) means poverty. (tan) means greed. Remember how much the two words look alike. Yes, greed and poverty are intimately linked in mysterious ways indeed. All covet, all lose.
‘You have the newspaper in front of you. Pick another word, for instance (yi). Look at it. The top part (yin) is “sound”. The bottom part (xin) is “heart”. Does not look like a jumping heart? Put (yin) on top of (xin) and you have (yi) which means “sound from your heart”. The new word (yi) is the symbol for “intention” or “meaning”. What is “intention” but a “sound from your heart”?
‘How about a new word, a difficult word (jian). On top is the symbol for grass or straw or vegetable matter . Below is a little house with a partition in the middle . On the left of the wall is , a symbol for small. On the right is (chong), a sign for worm. So here we have a little house made of vegetable matter with a little worm in it. What is the word? ___Cocoon! Look at it again. Now close your eyes! Do you see the little straw hut with a small worm inside?
‘Then you can have two or more words which, combined together, are transformed into something wonderful and illuminating. For instance, (wei) means danger. (ji) means opportunity. Add them together and you have a “crisis” . Break them apart and keep in mind: whenever you are in a crisis, you are in the midst of danger as well as opportunity. Now, do you still think the study of Chinese is boring?’
For a whole week, Niang went out with the Schillings. She always invited Ye Ye but never included me. Everyone knew she didn’t really want Ye Ye to accompany them and only asked him out of politeness. He invariably thanked her and said he preferred to rest at home.
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