All the Flowers in Shanghai

by Duncan Jepson

  After five weeks, the old servant arrived at my room. I was to follow him back to Xiong Fa’s apartment and meet him there for lunch. This meant walking from the back of the house, where my room was, along the grand paneled corridors to the more magnificent front part of the house where Xiong Fa and his parents lived.

  As we walked down one of the many corridors of the house, I saw Yan standing outside in the interior courtyard where the laundry was hung out to dry. She was holding my bedsheets outstretched in front of First Wife. My mother-in-law peered closely at them and after a few seconds started shouting that Xiong Fa had not yet done his family duty. She called for her son’s old servant twice, and then repeatedly for Xiong Fa himself. The servant heard and rushed off, leaving me standing on my own watching First Wife screaming and cursing everyone, including Yan.

  When Xiong Fa arrived First Wife was holding up the sheet. She immediately shrieked at him, bundled the sheet toward Yan, and pointed a fat finger at her son.

  “Do you want this family to have an heir? Or have you decided to be the last Sang man? You are not allowed to make any decisions until you are head of the family.”

  Xiong Fa looked angry but said nothing in reply.

  “It is your duty to have an heir! Once you have done this then you can do whatever you want. You can find some woman you like or see no women at all. I don’t care. Your first duty is to have an heir and carry on this family’s name. You are already as old as your father was when you were born. You do not have time to waste on being a fool.”

  She paused here and walked closer to him. She took the sheet from Yan and clenching it in her right fist, she stuck it under his nose.

  “I can see from this you are not trying to make an heir. It will never happen if you do not behave properly . . . like a man. Such neglect is disrespectful to your father and to me.”

  “Ma, it is not right yet. It is too soon . . .”

  First Wife slapped him across the face and screamed, “It is the right time! We all say it is right. It is already over a month since you were married. The fortune-teller told us it must happen now. If you do not want to be head of this family then I will ask one of your younger brothers. They will do what they are told.”

  Xiong Fa said nothing in reply.

  She calmed down slightly and finished by saying quietly to him, “There are many traditions and customs that have made this family great. It is your responsibility to follow these and ensure the family’s reputation is maintained. You must do this. I do not wish to mention your behavior to your father.”

  He looked hard at his mother, still saying nothing. She thrust the sheet back to Yan and left him standing there. My husband looked very angry. When he had calmed down, he started to speak quietly to Yan. They stood together for several minutes, Yan nodding slowly in response.

  This was the first time I had seen First Wife exert her power. She had been unkind and occasionally cruel to me and I was very nervous around her, but I had not so far been afraid. Now I had seen how hard and malicious she could be, and how easily Xiong Fa could be controlled by her. I realized why her face was always contorted and sour-looking; why I never saw any peace or calmness in it. It was as though her only aim in life was to confront or control every situation. If something was beyond her direct influence, then she would seek to cause as much damage or harm as she was able. Grandfather would have said that her smile was too wide to be genuine and her eyes too motionless and uninterested in others to be caring; she did not want to adjust to anything she encountered, merely to control or destroy. She was like a stale flower that has sat in a vase too long, retaining its petals and straight stem long after nature would have let a wildflower wilt and die, giving way to fresher blooms.

  I stood in the dim half-light of the corridor and watched Xiong Fa talking to Yan. Then he left the courtyard, his usual light gait drained of all energy. I waited. Yan knew I was watching. She gave me the rueful half-smile I knew well, the one that always told me my life would soon become more painful and difficult.

  The old servant reappeared and gave me a note from Xiong Fa, which said he was sorry that he could not have lunch with me today after all as he had to return to work urgently. I did have lunch with him the next day, but he did not mention the argument with First Wife and we ate together in silence.

  A week later, I went to lunch again in my husband’s apartment. We always sat and ate at a small dark marble table at the end of the room opposite from the entrance door, which I believe was set up just for our lunches. We had eaten two dishes in silence but just as Xiong Fa had started the third dish, cold shredded chicken in sesame paste, he put down his chopsticks.

  “I think you have spent enough time in the house since we were married,” he announced with a smile. “The tea dances at the Cathay Hotel are enjoyable and I would like you to meet my friends and their wives there. It will only be for a couple of hours. Would you like that?”

  I did not know what to say, because although Sister had described these dances to me a little, and had always said how delightful and elegant they were, I did not know if I would like them. I had heard her talk about the hotel with its famous European-designed entrance hall and Western-style music. She had said that the ballroom was bright and lively, and that men and women would dance and chat together there, wearing beautiful foreign clothes. I decided I would be more than happy just to go and watch.

  “I don’t know . . . If you want me to come, I would like to,” I told him.

  I returned to my food. He watched me eat and laughed. I smiled and put down my chopsticks, folding my hands together in my lap. Xiong Fa was still watching me when I looked up, and gave me a friendly smile. I had rarely had the chance to look at him properly since the wedding. Normally, we would be closely surrounded by members of the family or else it was in my room, when it was dark and my mind suffocated or simply blank, my body in pain. This time his eyes met mine and he looked me in the face, free from the shadows cast by candlelight. He seemed rather tired and worn, his skin pale and waxy, but his hair was neatly parted and his office clothes were clean and tidy.

  “Thank you. And thank you for my present,” I said softly.

  “Well, it was your birthday and I wanted to give you one. Did you like it?”

  “Yes, I was very surprised. How did you know it was my birthday?”

  “Ah, well, a man should know his own wife’s birthday.” He laughed. “Actually I make sure all the documentation for all the people in this house, from my parents to the maids, is kept in order, so I looked at yours. It told me when your birthday was. Perhaps you can wear the stole this afternoon,” he said with a gentle smile from lips that were different at night. He walked around the table and kissed me on the forehead.

  “I will see you later this afternoon then.”

  I nodded and he left the room. I ate a bit more in silence. A few minutes passed, and as the old servant did not appear to lead me back to my room, I decided I would look around. I don’t know whether Xiong Fa had intended that I should but I took the chance. The room in which we had eaten was a sitting room. Three closed doors led off the room, one back to the corridor and the others to the bedroom and bathroom. I didn’t dare open these and just contented myself with wandering around this room.

  The furniture was traditional but on the shelves were some textbooks and a small toy steam engine, which had been dented and battered many years ago and which someone had tried to repair. On the walls opposite the windows hung portraits of his parents. First Wife looked beautiful in the picture; it was difficult to understand how she could have changed so much. She looked so young in her wedding dress. It seemed strange to think of her as ever being a child, an innocent. Ah Cheuk suddenly entered and indicated he would lead me back to my room.

  I usually had a short sleep in the afternoon but today Yan came in to apply my makeup and ensure I was dressed properly. I wore a very traditional cheongsam, which swept to the floor and had long sleeves that draped over my a
rms and hands. It was shapeless compared to the new designs that Sister had worn, with their short sleeves, closer fit, and shorter length. But the old-style dress had very pretty embroidery and was in a rich deep red, all of which was in accordance with how Father-in-law felt young women should dress.

  My hair was put up and set under a traditional headdress and I felt like a concubine waiting to be rescued by a hero. I did not look like Sister used to, glamorous and sophisticated, but like an imperial doll drawn on a scroll by an artist many years ago. However, when I added my fur stole I was surprised how elegant I looked. For a moment I forgot everything that had happened and studied myself in the mirror for several minutes, feeling happier than I had since that first day.

  Yan led me to a large black car parked in front of the house. It was one of those the family had used to come to our house to meet Sister. The interior was dark, as the windows and glass panel between the passengers and driver were covered by thick curtains, and the dark brown leather seating absorbed what little light crept around the edges of these. Yan had told me that even though this was a car, the family treated it like a traditional palanquin. I should never open the curtains to look out, as the family considered it improper for a Sang woman to be seen in public in this manner.

  In the six weeks since I had been married I had only left the house twice. On both occasions I had been to the house of another relative and was simply led to where we were to eat. The men stayed behind to talk and drink afterward and the women departed to another room, but First Wife had required me to go straight home.

  As it was daytime, it was difficult to restrain myself from looking behind the curtains. I very much wanted to see all the activity on the streets; all the places and things I would have liked to visit and do. I obeyed, but could barely restrain myself from looking, because for weeks I had heard this commotion and energy from my bedroom window but seen nothing of it. This time it was just the same but I could at least pull down the window a little and content myself with new sounds and smells.

  The weather was getting colder and the street vendors had already started cooking chili hot pot, fragrant steamed buns, and lots of delicious fried snacks such as dofu sticks. If Bi were here we would have gone out to share a sesame bun and a bowl of hot noodles. Like Ma and Sister, Father-in-law and First Wife considered this peasant food and did not allow it in the house except for the servants in their quarters. The cooking smells filled the car very quickly and I closed my eyes and pictured all the things that I could taste on the tip of my tongue.

  Underneath the aromas of the food was the pungent smoky scent of the charcoal stoves on which everything on the street was cooked. When the car stopped I could hear utensils scraping against pans and people calling out prices. And all the way I could hear the clamor of bells as people took to their bicycles rather than walk in the cold.

  I breathed all these smells in, and with my chest full of them I sensed a small piece of my old self return: some of the excitement and happiness I had once shared with Grandfather.

  We arrived and a doorman opened the car door and helped me out. I was guided straight into the hotel lobby through revolving doors—the first time I had seen such things. I watched another person go through the doors before me and it looked like they just magically vanished inside the building. I vanished inside, too, where it was clean and bright, just as Sister had described. The foreign-designed buildings had plenty of windows and there were mirrors everywhere, and instead of being lined with dark wood, the walls were painted white. The floor was made of white marble and the roof was as high as a temple’s. Everything around me was open and exposed, which made me feel very small. The hotel employees wore smart bright uniforms and around the lobby there were comfortable Western-style chairs and tables laid with cups and saucers. One of the uniformed young boys came up to me and led me through the lobby, past the bright reception desks, and into the ballroom.

  I could hear the band before I entered the room. The music was loud and frightening yet its rhythm and boldness excited and enticed me inside. As I entered the room I saw men and women moving quickly and erratically on the dance floor, poking their limbs out to their sides and in front of them. There were waiters in white coats standing around and a few tables around the dance floor were occupied by guests. Everything was clean and white; floors, walls, uniforms, and tablecloths.

  Xiong Fa appeared then and led me over to a table occupied entirely by women.

  As we walked he whispered to me, “You look very beautiful in my present. I will have to spend all year thinking how next year’s can be even better.” He looked down at me and winked.

  As we approached the table I recognized two of the women from our wedding but I had not spoken to them before. They were dressed in Western clothes like Sister might have worn. I felt foolish again in front of these sophisticated ladies but I had now become used to my embarrassment and had learned to conceal these feelings and my ignorance by not speaking too much or drawing attention to myself. I had become the pretty little flower among the trees, the tiny buttercup content to go unnoticed.

  But the journey here had refreshed me and as I looked around at the strange room and all the people, I was excited by the beauty and brightness. I was sitting perfectly still but I was excited inside.

  Xiong Fa sat at an adjacent table, smoking with the other men. He laughed with the others, though not as much, and seemed to enjoy sitting there quietly. He looked over at me and smiled.

  One stylish woman smiled at me and in a soft voice said, “I think your fur is very elegant. Where did you get it?”

  “My husband gave it to me as a present,” I replied proudly.

  “Ah, are you pregnant then?”

  I looked puzzled in reply.

  “He must have tried by now . . . Well, if not it will be soon.” She smiled again.

  I blushed because I did not really know what she was asking. The woman smiled at the others, who looked uncomfortable at her candor.

  “Well, don’t worry about it. The Sang family has its own rules and you must play along with them if you want to stay there. Does the old man still eat only five dishes?” She laughed, showing off her beautiful teeth and flashing her bright eyes at me.

  “You must be the respectful, dutiful daughter-in-law,” she continued kindly. “Your mother-in-law’s last job in life is to get a grandson for her husband. And when she does, things will get better, trust me. My name is Ming—pleased to meet you.”

  “My name is Feng . . . Mrs. Sang Xiong Fa.” I stumbled over this, the first time I had heard the change of family name from my own lips.

  “It’s strange, isn’t it? Suddenly you belong to someone else,” she said quietly, then announced to the others, holding out her hand to me as men do, “Well, Sang Feng Feng, hello.”

  The others at the table all smiled at me and nodded gently in my direction but said nothing. She placed her hand on mine. I looked up at her, surprised.

  “Don’t worry about them, they’re too busy thinking of themselves, worried they will behave inappropriately and some terrible punishment will be brought upon them from above,” she whispered with a smile. “So how old are you? I don’t think you are any older than seventeen.”

  “I am eighteen and one month,” I whispered back.

  “Really? Happy birthday for last month then. We should have some birthday cake,” she said excitedly.

  “What’s birthday cake?” I whispered, trying and failing to copy Ming’s pronunciation of the foreign language.

  She held my arm tighter and moved closer to say mysteriously, “It’s some strange Western thing. I’ll tell you more one day, when we know each other better. I like you, you’re not afraid.”

  She straightened up then and lit a cigarette.

  “So, you have only been married a month?”

  I nodded.

  “I’m sorry we could not come to your wedding but we were in Beijing.” She studied me a moment and continued, in a kindly tone. �
��You must have found your wedding very frightening? These large family gatherings can be very intimidating, especially when it is your own wedding.” She drew on her cigarette and breathed out the perfumed smoke. “Did you go to school? You look like a girl who went to school.”

  Her rapid conversation made me feel dizzy, but she spoke so quickly and confidently that I wanted to hear more.

  “Yes, I did.”

  “Good. Well, let me give you some advice then: keep reading and writing, read anything you can, because it will help you. We women, and you are a woman,” she commented, leaning back a little to take in every aspect of my appearance, “today in fact a beautiful woman . . . need to be educated. You never know, do you?” She squeezed my hand encouragingly. “One day you may have something really important to tell someone.”

  I found it difficult to understand what Ming was saying; she did not speak slowly and carefully like Grandfather but quickly and mysteriously, referring to so many different things at once.

  “Well, Feng Feng, I need to go dance with my husband . . . he’s the tall one over there.” She pointed to a man with a broad face, not Shanghainese, dark wavy hair, and dark skin color. “He is trying to grow an ugly monkey-faced beard like a hairy Westerner.” She sighed. “So much trouble!

  “I hope I will see you again soon.” She got up to go then hung back for a moment. “I knew as soon as I saw your pretty face and that old-style dress that you were not like the rest of us older women. I’m thirty years old, can you believe it?” Her voice became slow and wistful. She looked at me. “You are beautiful and not yet affected by all this. You must stay this way.”

  I did not think very much about her final comment; at that time all I understood was that whatever Xiong Fa did, it was my duty to let him. This woman spoke with such wisdom and calm that I listened to her carefully even while I did not understand all of what she said.

  Her husband was waiting on the dance floor and I watched her walk to him, silent and graceful, like a swan gliding across the unbroken surface of a calm lake. They danced and I watched in awe.