All the Flowers in Shanghai

by Duncan Jepson

  Throughout this, I stood dutifully by Grandfather’s side. I had not been able to stop myself from staring at Bi while he had talked and kept watching as he stood in the river. Suddenly he looked up and threw me the fish. I caught it but it thrashed wildly against my hands and fell back into the river where it swam away. I gasped in shock and the boy and Grandfather laughed. Then Bi smiled at me directly. I felt my cheeks flush, and looked down and away from his eyes.

  “Now you will be hungry tonight!” Bi laughed.

  “No, we have a cook . . .” I quickly replied, then stopped.

  Grandfather and Bi laughed together again.

  Next day Bi was in the same place. Grandfather and he sat by the bank and continued their discussion on fishing, the wind, and the river. Eventually, Grandfather formally introduced me and allowed me to sit on the bank and watch the boy fish. I sat there while Grandfather helped the gardener prune the saplings. In the beginning we were mostly silent. Bi fished and I watched the river and the insects hovering and skirting around the reeds and lilies. It did not feel awkward, because I did not want to talk. I had nothing to say and being quiet with Bi did not make me feel nervous or anxious.

  “You don’t say much. The girls in my home town can’t stop talking.” I sensed him looking at me but stayed perfectly still, staring into the water.

  He had a sweet smell from his childhood spent in the countryside, like the scent of fresh flowers and fruit in the market. I realize now I should have forced myself to treasure each breath I took that carried the scent of such innocence.

  The weeks drifted by as the wedding preparations advanced. I could pass through the busy house, unseen by everyone. Bi and I spent more and more time by the river. Sometimes we would just sit together, looking into the water as it flowed around the rocks on the riverbed. He concentrated so hard on his fishing that often I could gaze at him for several minutes without him noticing. Sometimes I could see his bare chest between the buttons of his shirt. I would snap a quick glance then pretend I had not. I kept looking, though I did not know why. His skin glowed with a light sweat, pale and unblemished. He had none of the scars of older men who have been beaten by the world.

  “So where do you live? It must be nearby as all of you city people never travel far without your servants.”

  I remained silent when he asked this.

  “You will have to say something eventually. You wouldn’t survive long in my village. The only time you can be silent there is when you are sleeping. We are always fishing, farming, cleaning . . .” He paused, trying to convey to me how life was lived there. “The women work harder than the men, but it is the men who do the teaching. That is what my father says. Then, at the end of the day, for a short time after supper, it is peaceful and you can watch the moon and the stars. That is the best time. The time I like most. I hope you can see it one day.”

  As the weeks passed, he showed me how to build a dam, to make a fishing rod, to take the scales from a fish. Little things, but I remember them still. Most of all I loved to sit in silence with him and follow the movements of his eyes as he looked for changes in the current where fish surfaced. Sometimes, as he concentrated on the water, I would stand behind him and throw small stones into the river. I would watch his head turn and his eyes dart after each splash before he realized it was me. After school each day I would run home, leaving my friends to play without me, and ask Grandfather to take me to the gardens. I am sure he knew why I wanted to go there so urgently, why I could not wait as soon as I arrived home, not wanting my supper or greeting Ba and Ma, but he always took me. He never stopped me or explained to my parents why we were going, just let me be carried away by feelings I could not properly explain even to myself.

  Then one day Bi arrived outside my school as I was leaving to return home. I had left the school yard and turned the first corner on my way back. He was there, standing in front of me, holding two fried dofu sticks.

  “I thought I would see where you went to school. But now I also know that you can speak, because I saw you there with your classmates. So I thought, if you won’t speak to me, then you can at least eat with me.” He held out one of the sticks.

  We walked on but it was hot and we stopped to sit on a wall and finish our food. He finished quickly and continued talking to me while I took smaller and smaller bites, content just to listen to him.

  “I also heard that your sister is getting married. At home a marriage is celebrated by everyone in the town. The groom’s family bring many presents, such as sheep, goats, pigs, and ducks. They also give the bride’s family fruit, jewelry, money . . . the list is extremely long. I don’t think your family will receive many goats and pigs, do you?” He laughed, pressing his nose to make himself look like a pig, and I laughed with him.

  “The wedding celebrations there last a week, but after the first night the bride becomes part of her new family. I think it must be strange to become part of a different family.”

  Suddenly I had to ask something.

  “But what does the bride’s family give?”

  “The bride’s family? Oh, suddenly you are speaking to me! I don’t want you to stop . . . Well, the bride’s family accepts the gifts and gives many of them back. These are very old traditions. It is respectful not to keep them. I don’t think the bride’s family gives anything except the dowry, but I know that when the bride goes to her new family she will take a chest that contains a quilt and other things for the house. Why do you ask?”

  “My family is giving all the gifts.”

  “Well, maybe your family is very rich.”

  I hesitated.

  “I don’t think we are.”

  “Well, my mother tells me that the traditions change from place to place and can be different with each family. I think people just make them up.” Bi laughed again and shook his head.

  He paused and looked away from me then suddenly looked back at me.

  “Did you like the dofu stick?”

  “Yes, it was tasty, but wait until you have eaten the dumplings made by our cook.”

  I wanted to keep talking to him but did not know what to say.

  “Would you like to come and eat dumplings at my home?” I asked.

  “I remember you said you had a cook. Does she make them very sweet? Because dumplings have to be sweet.”

  He licked his lips and rolled his eyes playfully.

  “Yes, they are delicious, very juicy and sweet,” I promised.

  “Good. But I must warn you, I can eat many dumplings.” He stuck out his chest and rubbed his stomach.

  “They are the best.”

  I did not know why I had said this; I had forgotten all the lessons on good manners I had received. Bi had already accepted my invitation before I realized that Grandfather should be the one asking him, and because I was too young and a girl, Grandfather would not agree. We stood up and continued home. Bi was excited by the busy streets and was constantly looking at people and what they were doing. We walked in silence as he looked around. When we neared my home he turned to me.

  “I think I should leave you to walk alone from here. Your family does not know me so I should not be seen with you.”

  I nodded.

  “Remember to come and eat dumplings with us,” I reminded him.

  It was his turn to nod and then he walked away toward the gardens.

  When I told Grandfather what I had said to Bi he was not pleased.

  “Feng Feng, it is not right at all that you should invite a boy to our home. It is not your place to ask and brings shame on our family.”

  I thought he would refuse me then.

  Instead he sighed. “However, I introduced you to the boy, and as he has already accepted the invitation it would be completely wrong to take it back.”

  A few days later Grandfather asked Bi properly, and shortly afterward we all sat down together in the kitchen, eating tasty dumplings prepared by our cook from Beijing. They had plenty of juice and oil inside, which ne
eded to be sucked carefully so that not even a drop was wasted. I liked the way Bi nimbly manipulated the dumpling between his chopsticks and spoon, so as not to lose any of the flavor. He smiled at me as I watched him. He was so gentle and patient, taking his time to unfold each twist of the dough and reveal the meat inside. Sister walked by and remarked that my friend was handsome, giving me a little wink. I had never been so happy. I felt like touching Bi and kissing him on the cheek, but I did not know how and my face burned at the thought.

  Grandfather must have seen. Suddenly he asked, “Xiao Bi, what is your favorite dish at home?”

  “My favorite food is chicken dumplings, but the best food of all is the Huang He carp. My father and I go to the river and spend all day catching the biggest fish we can. When we get home it is soaked in fresh water for three days to wash the smell of the earth away. Then it is cut into pieces: one fillet is fried and the other is cooked with a sweet-and-sour sauce. With the head and tail we make a tasty soup,” Bi told Grandfather proudly.

  “It sounds wonderful. Maybe if we visit one day we can try it,” Grandfather replied.

  “I hope so.”

  “I am sure Feng hopes so too,” Grandfather said, which made me blush again.

  I said nothing but continued watching Bi. When we had finished, the three of us walked to the front door and he left us. We watched him walk away down the street.

  “I think my own father, your great-grandfather, must have been like this young man: simple but brave, ready to speak his mind,” Grandfather commented. “Bi may succeed one day, like Great-grandfather, who came from the countryside and became a captain in the Imperial Army, commanding a troop of men. What do you think?” He looked down at me and smiled. Without waiting for my response he returned to the house, leaving me on my own.

  I stood watching Bi walk away from us and dreamt of how he and I would meet again in the future.

  Chapter 4

  A week later I came home to find Ma and Ba arguing. This rarely happened as Ma would normally give her husband face outside their bedrooms and generally, in turn, he would not openly contradict her priorities. Their marriage was a clumsy dance of conflicting and sympathetic convictions and demands, with each person responding to the other’s actions in silence. But this time I could hear them shouting from the street outside the house. The absurd volume of their quarrel was a clear indication that they seldom fought with each other this way. They were standing just inside the courtyard, clearly unaware of all that was going on around them. Ma was very angry, so much so that she was nearly crying. Her hands shook at her sides and wisps of hair had fallen from her bun. I had never seen Ba so aggressive. He kept raking his hands through his hair and glaring at her, breathing hard.

  I stood quietly watching them, frightened by their ferocity. Ma turned and saw me.

  “Feng, go to your room!”

  I stood still.

  “Ping, take Feng to her room . . . or to her grandfather,” Ma ordered the maid.

  I moved slowly as she led me away, trying to hear as much as possible. Once Ping had led me to my room I quickly returned to the balcony to try and eavesdrop further.

  “We will have the wedding!” Ma looked at my father, her eyes demanding his immediate agreement. “We cannot miss this opportunity. How could you even suggest that we should stop it? We must make the date earlier so she can still go through the ceremonies . . . The doctors have said as much.”

  “No. The doctors said she should have a proper examination. They said that if we must go ahead, then it would be better to bring it forward, so that her condition is less noticeable. And it would be better for her health that way, too.” Ba talked slowly, trying not to shout again. He looked down at the ground, maybe hoping that when he next looked up Ma would suddenly agree with him.

  “Exactly! Exactly what I said. We should bring it forward.”

  “Only if we want to go ahead with it.”

  “After so many years, how can you consider anything else? You must be joking!” Ma knew he hated confrontation and that he would not answer her immediately.

  “The doctors are saying we should only bring it forward if we don’t plan to stop it,” he patiently replied.

  “Well, we don’t plan to stop it. We will never stop it!” She began to shout at him again. “Only a fool would suggest this. Nothing can be changed when she is married. Once it is done, nothing else will matter. Don’t you understand?” She looked at him hard in order to provoke him. Then her mouth formed a derisive smile, her lips curling bitterly, and she cocked her head slightly to one side and looked directly at him. “But then, you always have been a fool. This is the best match we could possibly have hoped for. If we had more money or a better position in Society then we could choose . . . but we don’t. Only a fool would think this way.” She paused before delivering the final insult. “Are you a fool?”

  Ba stepped closer to Ma. It looked as though he might slap her then but he stopped himself.

  “I will make all the arrangements so that nothing need affect the wedding plans,” she declared and walked off, leaving him staring after her as she disappeared inside the house.

  Ba was a naturally lean man who never seemed to grow fat. His friends would joke that this was the reason he’d never be rich. Grandfather, too, had the same slight build, nervous smile, and thick hair. When they were anxious, they would run their left hand through their hair and pat it down at the back. They both had the habit of looking away from things, as if they hoped that when they finally looked back they could begin anew. Their expression glowed when they were happy, and although sometimes there seemed to be little wisdom in their faces, there was always kindness.

  I am sorry that I cannot tell you much more, but I do know many people saw weakness in their natural generosity and warmth. Ba had always been exploited, particularly by Ma, but I believe that colleagues at work or the occasional business associate also took advantage of him. He did not try to force his own opinions, believing in politeness, in listening to others, giving them a fair hearing. Ma was not a particularly hard or domineering woman but she had what I now understand to be a narrow-minded indifference to other people’s opinions, thinking only of her own advantage. On this occasion Ma chose to ignore his views and simply turned her back, for she knew he would do nothing to resist.

  I watched Ba for a few minutes then ran to Grandfather to tell him what I had heard. He said nothing after hearing my story, just sat in the hardwood reclining chair, undid the top button of his shirt, and looked at Grandmother’s portrait. He was silent for a long while, though I repeatedly asked him what it all meant. Eventually he pulled himself up out of his chair.

  “Xiao Feng, we must keep this to ourselves. Do you promise, little one?” He leaned toward me and whispered, “I think your sister is pregnant. Your mother and the fiancé’s family probably want to bring the wedding date forward so no one will notice and we don’t all lose face. It is shameful. It is so shameful.” He sank back down.

  My first thought was that we would have a baby in the house and I smiled, asking whether I would be its auntie. Grandfather suddenly became very serious and raised his voice to me.

  “Feng, don’t be so stupid! This is very serious . . . it’ll ruin our family name. This is what can happen when a family tries to rise to a different level. It would be better not to have the baby than to bear such shame. Everyone will know.”

  He looked so solemn that I was dumbstruck. He got up and left me sitting on the floor in front of his empty chair. The room remained still and silent and I with it, until a servant came in to sweep the floor.

  I seemed to be the only one who was looking forward to seeing this baby. Grandfather and I resumed our walks in the gardens. When I met Bi next, I desperately wanted to tell him everything. But he seemed as calm and serene as he had every other day, and all the thoughts bubbling inside me suddenly seemed much too silly, so I kept silent. I smiled and sat quietly beside him, kneading my toes in the grass. Gr
andfather looked agitated, mumbling that he was going to see if one of the fig trees had blossomed. As soon as he had left, Bi turned to me and shifted a little closer.

  “My father told me that girls like flowers.” As he said this, he shyly produced three pretty peonies with white petals and beautiful yellow centers.

  “I do like these! Thank you. They are called Paeonia lactiflora. They are very pretty.”

  “What did you say? Is that Chinese?”

  “It’s something my grandfather taught me. He told me it’s an ancient language, as old as Chinese but the people who spoke it have all gone. He said they had huge cities and temples like we do. He told me they were magnificent.”

  I held the petals to my face and breathed in their freshness. They smelled of daybreak. I laid them in my lap and caressed the petals between my thumb and first finger. They were soft and delicate.

  “I never thought I would find someone in the city who liked flowers. You should come and live in the countryside. In summer there are flowers everywhere. Is living in the city good? It looks very busy and noisy to me.”

  “Except for going to school, I am not allowed to go into it without my grandfather . . . and he only likes to come to these gardens.”

  “We should go and have a look together.”

  He tempted me, but I knew we should stay in the gardens. Even my being with him would make my parents very angry if they found out.

  Grandfather returned and stood over us, looking at the flowers that Bi had given me.

  “Bi, did you give those to Feng Feng? Paeonia lactiflora . . . very pretty. Xiao Feng, I hope you named them correctly?” Grandfather gently asked us, though he was obviously still agitated. “Xiao Feng, remember to cut their stems a little before putting them in water when you get home. Then they will not wilt so quickly.”

  “I will, Grandfather,” I replied. “I’ll see you at home.”