Silver Pearl picked up the teacup and held it close to her chin. She enjoyed the feeling of the steam warming her nose and cheeks. The room was dim. Rays of sunlight shone through the gaps at the edges of the heavy drapes. Silver Pearl noticed a layer of dust on the folds of the curtained screen. She was thinking about the photographs of the couples displayed in the window. She could imagine her own face smiling from behind the glass, wearing jade and gold on her earlobes and at the throat of her mandarin gown. The only thing missing was the face of a man, her husband, smiling beside her.
The plump woman beckoned to them and they followed her into a spacious room lit by bright kerosene lamps shining on a single spot. A chair was positioned directly in the light. Behind it hung a large canvas painted with trees and flowers, a garden scene. The woman led them to the chair and said, “Why don’t you take a few minutes to get ready? You can stand over there when you are done.” She pointed to the other side of the room.
The mother said nervously, “I’ll just take a little time to fix her hair.”
Silver Pearl stood next to the chair stiffly, blinded by the lamplight. Her mother pressed her to sit and began to comb her hair. Silver Pearl shaded her eyes with her hands and tried to see beyond the light. She could see a man’s figure moving in and out of a black cloth that covered a black box that held a wide, round lens. Whenever he turned to look in her direction, Silver Pearl saw two dots of light reflecting from his face. He was wearing glasses.
The mother spat into her palms and smoothed Silver Pearl’s hair. She braided the young woman’s hair into a thick braid and set it over her chest. When she was done, she looked at her daughter and broke into a frowning half smile. Silver Pearl watched her mother turn and walk into the darkness. She could see shadowy figures as her mother whispered to the plump woman, but she could not make out what they were saying.
From behind the camera, the photographer shouted orders across the room: “Look at the lens!” “Lower your chin!” “Now just hold still!”
He thrust his arms out of the black cloth to emphasize his commands.
Stiffly, Silver Pearl adjusted herself while she watched the camera with awe. The machine stood there with arms and many legs--a one-eyed monster staring back at her. What was the big, unblinking eye seeing? The white kerosene light surrounding Silver Pearl was like the light that lit up an opera stage. Opera was the only form of entertainment in the countryside where it was played on an open air stage and performed by traveling singers and a few musicians, one of whom clapped together two pieces of wood to mark the singer’s movements. But here, there was no music, no steady beats of clapping wood to guide her steps. It was a slowed-down, muted opera, something she had seen at the edge of her dreams. Silver Pearl could only sit still, looking into the camera with a locked-in smile that was getting harder and harder to maintain.
The photographer shouted dramatically, “Ready: one, two, three!”
A brilliant light exploded and faded into green glowing dots that danced in Silver Pearl's eyes. Slowly, she was able to see again, though the green dots persisted. The stench of burnt metal filled the air.
Chapter 3: The New Couple
Sunshine and the smell of soap filled the back yard. Newly washed clothes belonging to Silver Pearl and An Ling hung from bamboo poles that stretched across the yard—one end on a low brick wall, the other end resting on the squash stand. The bright clothes rippled in the wind, casting dancing shadows on the ground. The sleeves of shirts and jackets hit each other like quarreling lovers refusing to hold hands. The legs of trousers swung back and forth like a child’s legs dangling from a high chair. From time to time, the wind blew the clothes against each other with a whipping sound. After the wind died, the clothes separated and hung suspended in the air, like ghosts waiting to be reincarnated.
Orchid, the slave girl, sat before a large pile of dirty clothes. Her sleeves were rolled above her elbows as she scrubbed a white undershirt on the washboard which leaned inside a basin filled with soapy water. Her face was flushed, and beads of sweat dotted her hairline as her bare arms moved briskly up and down the washboard. Little Jade sat down on the wooden bench across from Orchid. Orchid looked up and said, “Are you feeling better, Little Jade?”
Little Jade pressed her hands between her thighs for warmth, “I’m much better,” she said, “It’s stuffy inside.”
A strand of hair fell over Orchid’s face, and she curled it back behind her ear with a dripping hand. A cluster of bubbles stuck to the hair by her ear.
Orchid kept working as she talked to Little Jade. She nodded at the heap of dirty clothes in front of her and said, “These are from the Master. Young Mistress just cleared out all the clothes that need washing.” Orchid was sorting the clothes into smaller piles: a pile of trousers, a pile of shirts, a pile of underwear and socks. Little Jade asked, “Doesn’t she have anything to be washed?”
“Young Mistress has a lot of dirty clothes,” said Orchid, “Look, all those are hers.” She gestured with her chin to the clothes drying on the bamboo poles. “I spent the entire morning washing her clothes.”
She picked out a few pink underpants and a pair of silk stockings from the heap of men’s clothes. The soft colors stung Little Jade’s eyes, and she forced a cough. “These are hers too,” Orchid said, and put them aside in a ball. “Your new mother is pretty!” The slave girl said cheerfully as she started on the shirts.
“She is not my mother,” Little jade said stiffly, looking at the pink ball of clothing next to father’s white underpants.
“Sh-h-h-h-h, not so loud. Someone will hear you,” Orchid whispered in alarm, her wet finger dripping next to her lips.
They listened for a moment, but no one was nearby. “Little Jade, you better be careful from now on,” warned Orchid, “Things are different now. Master wouldn’t like it if he heard what you just said.”
“I’m not afraid,” Little Jade said in a lowered voice, looking at a blue striped shirt. Little Jade recognized that shirt. Her father was wearing it the day he returned home. Little Jade thought: Things have changed a lot if even Orchid knows it. Everyone in the house is getting used to the changes, except for me. The servants call her Young Mistress this, Young Mistress that, all the time. And she acts as if she owns the house, ordering the servants around and disciplining them whenever they do something wrong. She hasn’t started with me yet, but I know that she is waiting to get me back for the embarrassment I caused her on her wedding day.
***
Little Jade remembered that day clearly for it was just three months ago. The family hall had been noisy with people and firecrackers. Operas were playing in the main courtyard. The entire house was decorated in red. Golden foil cutouts of the lucky character for “double happiness” were displayed on every door. Little Jade was wearing red and hiding in the crowd. The band was playing wedding music. The flutes and gongs were loud, endlessly repeating a melody.
“Here comes the new couple!” someone shouted. And Little Jade saw her father walk into the hall, wearing a special blue silk gown embellished with a thick red ribbon that ran across his chest and a large red satin flower on his left shoulder. His bride was next to him in a red and gold embroidered gown, her face covered with a red silk scarf.
Firecracker smoke burned Little Jade’s eyes. She wanted to go back to her room and close the door. But someone took her hand and said, “Come meet your new mother.” And there she was, her painted face smiling at Little Jade, offering her a cup of sweet tea. Little Jade knocked the teacup over. It shattered into pieces all over the floor. The lotus seeds tea spilled a brown stain on Silver Pearl’s red satin skirt.
The bride looked away. The guests whispered to each other. Little Jade knew it was bad luck to break things on a wedding day. She wanted to upset the fortune of her stepmother. She wanted her to have a bad start.
Someone muttered, “Each year a peaceful year.” It was said whenever something was broken; the sounds of the words “each yea
r” were the same as “broken.”
***
The clothes sailed in the wind against the shining blue sky. Silver Pearl’s silk clothes, her apricot camisole, lime green bathrobe, cherry red blouse—all were rising above the bamboo poles wavering in the air. Behind them, strands of white clouds drifted by. Something in Little Jade’s chest was winding tighter, tighter, about to snap.
“She can’t touch me,” Little Jade said bitterly.
“She is still a bride. But she is sharp with the servants,” Orchid sighed. “Do you know what she did to the kitchen maid? The maid broke a bowl when she was washing dishes and she made her pay for it, deducting money from her pay. But Old Mistress secretly gave the maid some money. Old Mistress is a living Buddha!”
“Did grandma say anything to her?” Little Jade asked.
“No, probably because she is still new. Old Mistress said to the maid that maybe given time, Young Mistress’s edges would soften.”
“Grandma will never say anything harsh to anyone,” Little Jade said wistfully.
“Little Jade, listen to me,” said Orchid. “Don’t be too stubborn. If you clash with her, you will suffer.” Orchid's voice was barely audible.
“Grandma won’t allow it,” Little Jade said uncertainly.
“Remember, she’s the one who shares a pillow with the Master. Little Jade, you can’t rely on your grandmother forever. What if she isn’t around? Then what will you do?”
“I’ll be with grandma wherever she goes,” Little Jade said stubbornly.
Orchid shook her head. “You aren’t listening to me. Forget it. Pretend I never said these words. If Young Mistress ever finds out, she’ll slap my face. Why don’t you go inside? The wind is getting strong. I don’t want you to catch another cold. The Master will blame it on me if you do.”
“I’m sorry, Orchid,” Little Jade said. She paused and asked, “Orchid, did you know my mother?”
The slave girl shook her head. “No, she left before I came. Old Nanny said that she was good to the servants—not like this one.”
“What else did she say?” Little Jade asked hopefully. She had asked Old Nanny about her mother many times, but the nanny would never say a thing. “Oh, nothing much, just that your mother was quiet and always smiled at everyone. She didn’t look like someone who would run away.” Orchid stopped and glanced at Little Jade apologetically and went back to rubbing a blue shirt on the washboard.
The sun was getting hotter and Little Jade could see rainbow colors gliding on the surfaces of the soap bubbles. Only minutes ago she had felt like crying, but now she calmed down. She felt the cool surface of her jade necklace next to her heart. She loved the fact that the letters on the jade spelled “Wei”, the name of her mother, and if she pressed hard enough, she could literally imprint her mother’s name into her skin. The jade was meant to guard against unknown evil. Little Jade had heard that a piece of jade protects its owner so that no harm could be done to the one who wears it.
Orchid threw the pink ball of underwear and stockings into the soapy water and rubbed them together carefully. When she finished, she put them in a bucket of clean water to soak. She lifted her head and smiled at Little Jade. Little Jade winced at the sight of Silver Pearl’s pink, triangle shaped, silk underwear. Averting her eyes from pale legs of stockings floating in the clear water, she hurriedly got on her feet. She wanted to get away.
She walked back to her room. The sun was bright and the trees were sprouting new leaves in the courtyard, but none of this had anything to do with her. She walked down the corridor, stepping over the shadows of columns that cut across the winding passageway ahead of her. She imagined she was climbing a ladder that would lead her to a place where she could hide. She closed the door behind her. The room was quiet and the windows were shut. The shaded air was cool and still around her, like water from a well. She opened the bureau drawer and took out a package wrapped in a piece of blue velvet. She opened the cloth and looked at the glass box inside. It was a gift from her father. In the box, a pretty lady with golden hair and a short gauze skirt was standing on one leg on a mirrored floor, her other leg lifted high behind her head.
Little Jade wound up the key on the side of the box. The lady started to turn, unhurriedly, her arms stretching over her head, her red lips smiling just a little. A stream of music flew out of the box. “Ding ding ding dong, ding dong dong dong...” She held the box close to her face so closely that her breath fogged the glass.
The door opened suddenly, startling Little Jade. Silver Pearl walked into the room, a shower of sunshine splashing behind her. She left the door open and came toward Little Jade. The smell of her jasmine hair oil reeked in the air. Little Jade sneezed and looked up at her. She was wearing a golden yellow gown, and she smiled brightly at Little Jade. She bent over and looked at the box and said in a lilting voice, “What is this clever thing?”
“It's a music box,” Little Jade said, watching as Silver Pearl picked up the glass box and looked at it closely. “Ding ding ding dong, ding ding ding dong...”
“Look at it. The girl is dancing on her toes.” She held the glass box next to her ear.
“Be careful,” Little Jade mumbled.
Her hand was holding the box casually and her lips were parted slightly as she listened. “Don’t worry. I won’t break it.” She flashed another smile at Little Jade and said, “Watch!” She tossed the box into the air.
It gleamed briefly, catching the sunlight, and fell back into her hands. She put it gently on the bed and walked out the door. Her slender figure merged into the golden afternoon sunlight outside. As she walked away, she picked up the melody where the music box left off and sang, “Ding ding ding dong, ding ding dong dong...”
***
It was breakfast time, but Little Jade’s father and stepmother were still sleeping. The heavy brocade curtains were drawn. Orchid said that she could not hear anything from outside their bedroom door. No one dared to wake them. The roosters were no longer crowing and the sun was high. The servants shuffled quietly about the house. Little Jade and her grandmother looked at each other across the dining table and began to eat their breakfast. Two extra sets of chopsticks and bowls were on the table, waiting for the new couple.
They were having porridge cooked with sweet lotus seeds and dates, Little Jade’s favorite. There were also cold dishes of shredded pig’s ears, salted fish, pickled vegetables, and poached eggs. The room was quiet. The sunlight cut across the table to shine on Little Jade, warming up her neck and cheeks, and drawing up her blood. The grandmother sat across from Little Jade on the shadowy side of the table. Her head was lowered and her hand slowly stirred a spoon in her bowl. Little Jade couldn’t see her grandmother’s face clearly. The sun was in her eyes. The grandmother put some pig’s ears into her mouth. Little Jade listened to the light crunching of the soft bone as she chewed, like indecipherable murmurs from far away. Little Jade sucked at the soft yolk of the poached egg. It tasted bitter.
The grandmother put down her chopsticks and shook her head. Little Jade looked up at her, swallowing slowly, waiting.
“When I was a daughter-in-law, I had to get up before daylight to make breakfast for the entire family,” the grandmother said. She stopped and looked into the bowl, still shaking her head. The room darkened as a cloud drifted over the sun, and then lit up again. Little Jade blinked, feeling drowsy in the bright and quiet room. She picked up some pig’s ears with her chopsticks, eating them loudly, filling the silence of the room.
Orchid walked over to the grandmother and said carefully, “Old Mistress, Master and Young Mistress are up. They want to eat breakfast in their room.”
The grandmother nodded solemnly and said, “Go ahead and tell the kitchen maid to warm up the breakfast, and take away these chopsticks and bowls.” She pointed at the table.
Orchid paused and continued: “Master and Young Mistress want to go out to the market place after they eat.”
“What are you waiting
for? Go tell the driver to get the wagon ready.” The grandmother was frowning.
The slave girl answered, “Yes, yes,” and quickly walked away. Little Jade listened to her calling the kitchen maid, the driver. The house was suddenly humming with the noises of servants talking and moving furniture. Her father was coughing loudly in his room, clearing his throat and spitting into the chamber pot. Her stepmother was ordering the maid, “Put it here. Don’t drop it!”
After breakfast, Little Jade followed her grandmother back to their room. She always chanted two hours of mantras after breakfast as part of her daily prayers to Kwan Yin. She sat on the bed, absently fingering the heavy prayer beads. Her eyes moved slowly. Little Jade sat next to her, leaning her shoulder and elbow against her grandmother’s arm, but she ignored her.
Outside the window, the horses were neighing. The father and his new wife were getting ready to leave for the market. They barely touched breakfast. Little Jade wished her father would take her to the market place. She hardly ever went anywhere. Her grandmother never allowed her to go shopping with the maids who went all the time. Orchid always came back with candies and trinkets: a rag doll, a wind-propelled paper wheel, candied apples, a dragonfly kite.
When Orchid returned from the market place, she told Little Jade what she saw there: the monkey that pushed a wheelbarrow and then went around the crowd asking for money with a tin can; the “wild opera,” where singers sang in a roped-in-stage, reenacting a recent murder trial that had shocked the entire province; the dwarf who challenged anyone to a game of chess for money; and the centipede kite and dragon kite she did not buy. Orchid knew everything.
The grandmother put one arm around Little Jade. “Look at you, hanging around me like a little monkey. You are growing up and should learn to behave like a lady.” The grandmother laughed, pushing her away.
“I don’t want to grow up, grandma,” Little Jade said. She hooked her arms around her grandmother’s neck.
Daughter of the Bamboo Forest Page 3