All the Flowers in Shanghai

by Duncan Jepson

We watched him walk away.

  When I went back to the house later I saw Grandfather speaking to Ba. They stood close together, Grandfather straight-backed and Ba looking down, his hands by his sides. They talked slowly and erratically. They talked as father and son, Grandfather speaking and Ba listening respectfully. When Ba tried to interrupt, Grandfather held up his hand, signaling that he must wait. When Grandfather had finished speaking, Ba told him something that obviously stunned him. They stood together in silence for a moment before Grandfather retreated to his room.

  I don’t know what they said but everyone in the house began to work even more feverishly, as if sheer haste and activity could bring the wedding day upon us more quickly. Each separate task had to be accomplished perfectly: a misplaced stitch or poorly wrapped present might upset the gods and bring a curse upon us, ruining the day. Grandfather lost all interest in the gardens and sat in his chair, pale and anxious. I had not yet seen any of the doctors Ma had mentioned during her argument with Ba, but after Grandfather spoke to him I saw them start to arrive.

  The first was a local man who visited every day bringing Sister many traditional medicines made from fresh herbs and dried animal parts, which needed to be brewed into medicinal teas. He was a withered old man who looked like the desiccated creatures and twigs he brought with him. He would shuffle around the outside of the house, checking for objects that would create bad feng shui then remove them before coming inside to visit Sister. There was also a man who practiced Western medicine, who came carrying a neat little bag of bottles and pills. He wore spectacles and was smartly dressed in a gray ma qua and Western shoes. The doctors generally saw Sister alone in her room, coming at least once a day. They must have been expensive, as I noticed that Grandfather needed to give Ba extra money to pay for them.

  There was now only three weeks to go before the wedding. Sister spent much of the day resting in her room and would only go out in the evenings with Ma. I rarely got a chance to see her, but when I did she looked thinner and paler. Her skin had become gray and translucent, the whites of her eyes cloudy, pupils raw and angry. Her pregnancy was not really noticeable, but when I commented on this to Grandfather and Ba they said I should not speak of it as it would only bring bad luck. I wanted to be sure that the baby would be born healthy, but I was secretly glad Sister was so weak, because it meant she was too distracted to bother with me. If she’d had the strength, I knew she would have told our parents that I liked talking to Bi and was meeting him in the gardens. Fortunately the attention of every other family member, maid, and servant was focused on one thing only.

  I continued to spend my time as I pleased. Even Grandfather now seemed too distracted to notice.

  In the early evening, once the seamstress was gone for the day, I would sometimes go to the top of the house to see the wedding dress Sister would wear for the important tea ceremonies. The dress was made in a proud startling red—the luckiest shade. After the seamstress had completed her daily work, she would slip the dress over a mannequin, which stood in the corner of the otherwise empty room. The seamstress was now working on the embroidery, which was very fine and complicated. In the half-light of dusk cast through the window at the end of the room the dress looked ghostly. Several times I stood in the doorway, just looking at it, too frightened to enter on my own.

  I thought it best to spend as much time as possible away from the house so I would sit in the gardens, reading or lying in the grass, staring at the sun. I used all these opportunities to see Bi, who would be busy fishing or weaving grass crayfish baskets.

  “I would like to tell you more about my life. Do you want to hear?” he asked me one day.

  I nodded in reply.

  “My town is in the heart of China in the countryside . . . it’s called Daochu.” He looked at me as if I should know it, then smiled. “You’ve never heard of it?” He laughed. “It is near the old capital city, Xian. I used to go to the ancient ruins with my friends and we’d stand on the tall wall that surrounds the city and pretend to be Imperial soldiers. That was a long time ago. Now I go with my father to tend the fields and fish.” He paused and looked at my hands, then slowly up at my face and straight into my eyes. “Seventeen years ago, when I had just been born, there was a terrible drought and both my grandparents died. I like watching you with your grandfather. I think it would have been good to have grandparents.

  “I have not told you this before but my mother is the seamstress making your sister’s wedding dress. You are very lucky that she is making it. She is a great seamstress and can do the old Imperial stitches . . . even the great forbidden stitch. Her family have known these things for many generations.” Suddenly his excitement faded and he paused, looking away from me. He started twisting the grass between his fingers. “But today she will finish her work and tomorrow we will go back home.”

  My heart started to beat very fast and I could not think. I wish I had said something to him then but in that moment I had no words, just the feeling that I was suddenly part of the garden, left rooted there to watch things pass me by, like a flower gently nodding in the breeze, no longer part of this conversation. As if expecting me to say nothing, Bi continued speaking.

  “I liked talking to you, and I liked sitting here with you. You’re very pretty. In my town it is traditional for the men to marry young. When my mother makes the wedding dress for my bride, I want you to be wearing it.”

  I was lost. Had nothing but silence to offer in reply. He stood up and held out his hand to me. I took it and we stood facing each other. I had never been so close to a boy before. I looked at his eyes, the strong lines of his eyebrows, then down to his mouth, his hands, his feet. The hems of his trousers were all muddy and wet.

  He touched the corner of my long blouse, below the last button. I realize we were young and childish but he held it as if he were holding me, tethering me to that spot in the grass by the river, and although he did not touch my skin, I felt that he did. Looking down, I could see his hand so close to my body, my skin. I wanted him to touch me instead of the cloth, but that would be wrong and improper. As he talked he kept holding this tiny piece of me and I thought it might be acceptable to take his hand. I almost reached out, wanting our fingers to be entwined in a knot that no parents could ever untie. I did not do any of these things, though. I remained still, just watching his warm eyes looking at me so tenderly.

  He reached up and cupped my cheeks with his hands. I let my face fall gently between them. I should have pulled away but I could not. I felt my eyes start to fill and carefully he used his thumbs to catch my tears. I smiled and coughed a little, and he smiled back at me. Then our lips touched.

  It was my first kiss. As I recall it now, so that I can tell you, I think of it as tender and loving, but the power of these two emotions were unknown to me then. The kiss was soft, lovely, and left me wanting more. It took only the briefest of moments but it has lasted my whole life.

  As he withdrew his lips he also let his hands fall from my cheeks and return to holding the corner of my blouse. He played with the fabric again, perhaps not knowing what to do next. We stood perfectly still and the only sounds were those of the river and the trees.

  “Shall we sit down again . . . maybe a fish will leap into our laps for supper?” he suggested.

  After a few hours spent sitting together, talking about the river, Bi got up, telling me it was time for him to go. We did not seem to be able to say anything more to each other. He looked at me for a long time, almost drinking me in. Then I watched him follow the course of the river out of the gardens and sat there myself for a few moments more, staring at the water until the light grew gray and I had to return home.

  He had left me his fishing rod, which I took with me. I leaned it up against the wall outside my bedroom door. Later that evening, Sister walked past and the hook caught the stitching of her dress and pulled a small thread. She immediately looked down, grabbed the rod and broke it, all the time screaming for me. When I arrived,
eating a sticky rice cake, she knocked it from my hand and shouted at me for ruining her dress. She threw the broken rod at me then, which caught me and cut my arm slightly. I looked down at her clothes and could see it was the tiniest of stitches in an old dress.

  She noticed me looking at it and grabbed me by the chin and cheeks, forcing me to look at her instead. Her hands were bony and her fingers bit hard into my flesh. I saw that her face looked gaunt and hollow. I had not studied her closely for weeks and realized that the makeup she wore had concealed the change in her. I had only caught glimpses of her, leaving and entering the house, her room, or having conversations with Ma and Ba. From a distance, her carefully groomed facade had always seemed exactly the same.

  “Why are you so stupid? You hide in those gardens with that foolish little boy, ignoring the things that will teach you what you really need to know. How do you expect to learn anything useful there? You leave this dirty thing here, to cut me and ruin everything . . . Your safe little life is not going to last forever, you know! Soon you will understand what it means to be an adult. That there is more to this world than just playing. You may even have my life, though you don’t deserve it.”

  She screamed so wildly and relentlessly at me that I was too scared to move. The maids had stopped work and I could see them watching from a safe distance.

  I began to cry. Her fingers still gripped my face and she forced my head up and back. Even though I was taller, in her Western shoes with heels she could nearly look me in the eye. Tears rolled down my cheeks toward the floor. I could see Grandfather walking past in the background. He stopped briefly when he noticed us then scuttled down the stairs where he must have waited as I did not see him appear in the courtyard below.

  “Cry! Cry! And keep crying because this is how I would like to remember you. It won’t change a thing. You have done nothing! You do not work or practice. You don’t deserve anything. So when it happens, enjoy it all—all that I have given you. For you it comes completely free. But remember me and Ma every day. Every single day.”

  As she stopped screaming this at me, Sister released her grip on my face and pushed me away. She stared at me for a second as I staggered back a step and then she slapped me once, twice, on the cheeks that Bi had just held so gently. It did not matter how hard she hit me. Now I had something of my own and no one could ever change that. She continued to punch and slap me until Grandfather came hurrying back up the stairs and grabbed her hands. I stood still, looking into her bony face and wild eyes. Grandfather led her away. As she was helped back into her room she let out a loud animal howl that echoed around the courtyard and hung in the air like angry spirits, even after she had closed her bedroom door.

  I snatched the broken rod from the floor and went back to my room where I lay on the bed and trembled. After several hours Ba came to my door. He stood silently on the other side for a long time before he asked me how I was. I could only lie there, feeling anxious and scared. I did not understand what had happened, I did not understand what Sister had said to me. I had never seen her so angry, but she’d looked frail, too, as if anger was the only thing keeping her upright. I said nothing to Ba and after some minutes I heard him walk away.

  I lay on my bed and thought that the only thing I could do was run away with Bi. He would be leaving in the morning. I could escape early and meet him at the station. In his home town I could still go to school, and we could fish together and enjoy the country grass and flowers. I closed my eyes and imagined what his town must be like; perhaps it was one of those beautiful ancient towns on stilts by a river’s edge; the tall wooden houses almost falling into the muddy banks and rope bridges crisscrossing to different buildings from each side. In my mind I drifted through these places, walking the unsteady planks of the bridges and watching white cranes pick food from the shallows below.

  But I had never even left the safety of my bed before, the bolsters that I had hugged and straddled since I was small. It was not an elaborate bed, though each of the four posts was carved into the likenesses of animals: pigs, rabbits, cows, mice. My bedcover, though a little faded over the years, was still the deep blue shade that always made me think of sleep and childish dreams. When I was upset I would lie on my bed and trace the shape of the carved animals with my finger. This time I let my fingers follow the shape of a mouse’s body and whiskers. The touch of the smooth polished wood felt familiar and comforting. Eventually I slept.

  Later Grandfather came to my room with a maid and brought me some food as I had missed supper. He sat with me and watched me eat a bowl of congee and a steamed roll. I was still trembling as I put the soup spoon into my mouth. He looked at me so closely, it was as if he was trying to preserve this image of me. I continued eating with him staring at me in silence. Once I had finished, we sat and looked at each other. I huddled on the bed with my arms around my knees while he sat near the door. After a few minutes, he started to smile. It was a weak and uncertain smile, one that made me feel worried rather than reassured.

  “You should not blame your sister. She is suffering greatly and is feeling very sick.”

  I did not care, I just wanted her to leave me alone. I looked at Grandfather expectantly but it seemed he did not have anything else to say to me. I felt what I had always known: that I was second and less important to the family. I must always give way. It was not that Ma and Ba did not love me, more that they preferred to follow tradition and custom rather than to break them. Their devotion to the first child was simply greater than it was to the second, and they could not help that. I could neither win more love from them nor alter their devotion to the eldest. I realize now that this was not something they chose but a thousand-year-old instinct.

  As the maid had already gone back to the kitchen, Grandfather took my bowl away himself. As he took it in his hand, he lingered to press his other hand to my cheek. His rough skin—hardened by a lifetime spent planting and pruning—briefly traced the salty lines of my earlier tears. He looked down at me a moment longer then turned and left me to sleep again.

  In the morning Sister’s fiancé arrived with his father, who summoned Ba very rudely, telling the maid to get him immediately and without delay. When he arrived they all sat down and one of the maids was told to bring some tea. The father did not wait for the maid to return but spoke to Ba abruptly. Whatever was said brought Ba back to his feet immediately so he was standing over his unwelcome guest. He looked at the fat old man, seated in our house like a conquering emperor settling into another’s throne, and it unsettled Ba, intimidated him in his own home. As they talked, something was said that shook Ba. He sat back down and then looked at the floor; then he leaned forward as if about to confront them, but at the last moment remained silent. The father continued talking at him and in the end Ba simply nodded and offered his hand. They shook and then, after a few more words, the father led his son away, leaving Ba standing there staring after them. Eventually he turned and saw me, looking back with his eyes full of an emotion I was too young to understand then.

  I had noticed that during the last week or so the doctors had all ceased coming to the house. I assumed that meant my sister was better and we’d just have to wait while the baby was born. Hopefully that meant she’d be in a better mood.

  I went to knock on her door, but as it was slightly open I went straight in. She was at her mirror applying her makeup, still looking very ill. I asked if she was feeling better. She did not reply. Then I said she must be happy that her wedding was coming soon, and pleased to be becoming a mother. She began screaming at me then and crying so hard it was difficult to make out what she was saying.

  “I hate you! You have done nothing and will get everything . . . you will get it all. I warn you, though, you will not like it. and every time you feel hurt, remember what I told you last time: think of me and of how much I hate you. Because you don’t deserve it! Now get out of my room.”

  As she screamed at me I retreated until I collided with Ba, who had heard Sister sh
outing and come to her room. The screaming stopped as she started coughing. Little red spots sprayed across the floor at my feet. I looked at Ba, who quickly pushed me out of the door and closed it. I stood outside waiting for him but he did not come out. Grandfather pulled me away and went into the house, calling for a maid to fetch the doctors. I saw Ba come out after several hours, and then the doctors arrived and they went into the room with Ma and Ba. It was already dark and I was tired. I sat waiting in the kitchen with Grandfather. The maid made us strong tea, the kind we had at banquets. Normally I was only allowed to drink two cups but today the maid let me drink as many as I liked.

  Eventually I fell asleep. It was Ba who woke me. I was still sitting at the table in the kitchen with Grandfather watching over me. Ba told me to go to Sister’s room.

  I entered quietly. Sister was lying in bed with Ma sitting holding her hand. The room smelled airless and bad, and was dark except for the light from two candles. I could not make out Sister’s face from where I stood by the door. I went closer and could see she was very ill. Her skin was white, and without the usual makeup she looked old and drained. Ma was crying.

  Sister grabbed my arm hard and pulled me close to her. She tried to say something that I could not understand. Her nails dug hard into my skin, and I wanted to pull away but Ma told me to stand still. Sister could not make herself understood. Her eyes flickered in all directions, barely looking at me. She continued mumbling. I wanted to leave and run to Grandfather, but Ma insisted I must stay. Sister’s words were slurred and drowned by saliva. Finally, without saying anything audible, she fell back, looking exhausted. I realized I already knew what she’d been trying to say. I pulled my arm away and stepped back next to Ma.

  Ma whispered to me, “You should have behaved properly. This is your elder sister and you must give her the respect she is due. Please go and pray to our ancestors for her. You should leave now, you are only upsetting her.”