All the Flowers in Shanghai

by Duncan Jepson

  The driver opened the car door for me and I saw my husband sitting inside.

  “So do you know what you are going to buy? I’ll bet you have no idea,” he said in an indulgent voice.

  “I’ll find something,” I said as I climbed in.

  “Well, if you’re anything like your sister, I believe you will.”

  Once I was seated he signaled to the driver to leave.

  As before, the curtains to the car were drawn across the windows but I wanted to see out so I pulled one curtain back.

  “I hope you remember our conversation?” Xiong Fa lowered his voice, sounding serious. I didn’t bother to turn around. “You can do nearly everything you want but please be respectful.”

  I said nothing but sat back at my leisure watching the city pass by. Everything looked strange to me; it was no longer so important or interesting. I felt disconnected from the streets and the people I used to walk among with Grandfather. I turned to Xiong Fa.

  “Where are we going?”

  “We are going to the best tailor in Shanghai. A man who once made the Empress Dowager’s clothes,” he said proudly.

  “My grandfather said she was a very ugly woman,” I replied forthrightly.

  “Yes, I believe she was. In fact, I think that was the main cause of the Revolution. But she wore wonderful clothes!” He laughed, and for the first time I laughed with him.

  I returned to looking out of the window and realized we were on the road where I had last seen Grandfather. I stared out of the car window for a few minutes to see if he might be visible but there were just street people selling food. There were beggars and peasants walking slowly along the side of the road, hoping to find a job or be thrown some money. Shortly after that the car arrived outside a small shop and out came a tiny man with a long beard and mustache. This was not Tailor Street but somewhere very exclusive. Xiong Fa got out of the car and the old man greeted him by grabbing his hand in both of his own and shaking it vigorously. The driver opened my car door and I entered the shop.

  The interior was beautiful. The famous painter Qi Baishi had given the tailor two great works, which hung between the shelves of cloth. Inside, belying its appearance, the shop was large enough to hold forty people. The floor was tiled with black and white marble, but apart from the shelves, the paintings, a large clean window at the front, and four mannequins, the shop contained only a huge worktable in the middle of the room.

  The old man stood me before him and walked around me. He looked at my eyes and felt my arms as First and Second Wife had once done. He checked my legs, ankles, and feet and measured my neck. Then he paced slowly around the shop, looking at various cloths and back at me. Suddenly he started pulling bolts of silk from the shelves and throwing them onto the worktable, causing them to unravel as they landed. Then, once he had finished making his selection, he instructed one of his assistants to take each fabric in turn and hold it against me, while he stood back to observe me and make some notes.

  He then presented me with pictures of various cheongsams and a few Western designs, and explained that Xiong Fa had already asked and paid him to make these for me. He asked me whether I had any comments but I was so overwhelmed that I had nothing to say, only nodded my agreement. I was the center of it all for only the second time in my life.

  These clothes were but a few of the many that I bought over the following months and years. Once I became known in the shops as an important customer, Yan and I would go out in the afternoons and visit many different tailors and dressmakers, to look at new silks and embroidery. I would go to the most skilled people in Shanghai and they would wait on me, and I learned that I liked to be waited on. I passed my time being served by everyone around me. I could ask for anything, confident I would receive it. Soon I became accustomed to this service and expected it. I arranged my days and nights around pleasing myself. Day would often merge into night, with long hours spent eating eighteen-course banquets accompanied by music, performances, and dancing.

  Memories I had cherished so dearly dimmed in my mind, their sharpness drowned in the unending round of pointless activity and idle gossip. The beautiful quiet of my childhood had been interrupted forever, and like most people I did not even notice its absence until it was too late. I learned to talk, eat, chatter, and, most seductive of all, found that I loved to be the center of attention. At the time I could sense the trap that Ma had laid for Sister but it was only now that I could see how delicious and irresistible it was. That Sister could have been no other creature than the one Ma had created, for who could refuse the lure of so much adulation?

  Xiong Fa and I were now regularly seen at tea dances and joined a group of friends who organized banquets and magnificent meals for each other. They would be hosted at ballrooms in hotels like the great Cathay Hotel, with its strange European decoration of white walls, gilded trimmings, and mirrors. Sometimes almost a week would pass without my having to attend a family dinner. Xiong Fa was very happy that I had started to use Western makeup, and with my new clothes and haircut I finally became the woman I knew his father had wanted for his son. Even though the old man openly expressed his disapproval of my new appearance, when he saw me enter the room at family meals, wearing more fitted clothes that outlined my body and highlighted my legs, breasts, and neck in a way that traditional Chinese dress did not do, his stare betrayed his feigned scowls and repugnance.

  Xiong Fa found me irresistible and would insist on staying nearby whenever we were out. At a New Year’s Eve party to ring in 1936, I felt him place his hands roughly on me from behind and instinctively pull me tight against his groin but this time in return I very slightly pushed my hips back against him.

  “Is it you?” I asked, not turning my head.

  “Why?” he stuttered. “Who else would it be?”

  I wanted him to worry and feel anxious. In appearance I was now striking and immediately the center of attention, and the feeling was something I learned to love. But inside I was filled with hatred. I wanted to hurt Xiong Fa, but women have so little power. What did I have in my armory? I had started with nothing. But now, it seemed, I had something.

  “I don’t know,” I answered Xiong Fa and looked over my shoulder to smile at him, his fat face pressed against my neck. I could feel that he was slightly erect. “Husband, I would like to do something for you,” I said.

  “What?” he murmured against my hair.

  “I would like us to host a party. Perhaps we can have it here, at the Cathay Hotel?” I said slowly. I looked hard into his eyes and saw his pupils dilate as he studied my cheeks, mouth, and lips.

  “Yes, we should do this. I’ve never hosted a party,” he replied softly.

  Just then the New Year chimed and everyone shouted, screamed, and kissed each other. I turned around but continued holding Xiong Fa’s hand. We looked at each other and then I slowly pulled my hand away, letting my fingertips trail down his hand and fingers until we were no longer touching. Xiong Fa watched my fingers and then looked up into my eyes, plainly wanting me there and then. I wandered into the crowd, threatening to disappear from his sight, but he came after me. The other guests mingled and drank, people cheering each other and singing old songs. I slithered between them and could sense Xiong Fa stalking me, weaving his way between the guests as I led him on. We went out of the ballroom and into the cavernous foyer. I reached the entrance and he made a grab for me; his strong muscular fingers held my wrist and prevented me from leaving. It was very different this time, though. He was doing exactly as I wanted.

  “Please call my car!” Xiong Fa shouted. The foyer seemed to be empty and his words echoed unanswered. I pulled myself free and waited beside him for the bell boy to appear.

  Once inside the car, he kissed me and I let him. His hands slipped up my legs and around to my thighs and I let him. We continued like this until we arrived back at the house then Yan met me and took me back to my apartment. Xiong Fa stood alone in the entrance hall, erect beneath his trousers a
s he watched me go upstairs. He would visit me soon, I knew.

  “Did you have a good evening, mistress?” Yan asked politely.

  “Yes, it was beautiful. Xin Nian Dao Kuai Le, Happy New Year. Master Xiong Fa will be visiting me soon,” I replied.

  “He will, because you look very beautiful tonight. He won’t be able to resist coming to visit you,” she said softly.

  “I know,” I told her and walked past her into my room.

  I went to my dressing table. The window stood open. A sharp evening breeze was starting to blow through the shutters and Yan went over to close them. As she did she looked out into the night sky and sighed.

  “Mistress, do you really want him to visit you? We could tell him you are ill and cannot see him.”

  I started to brush my hair, studying my reflection.

  “I don’t like to see you so hurt,” she whispered.

  Yan looked around at me. Standing by the long window, which reached to the ceiling, perhaps fifteen feet high, she seemed small and frail. Her face had lines on it I had not noticed before. I had done this.

  “Please do not shout at me, but I do not want to have to help heal you from so many bruises and cuts as I did before. It makes me frightened.”

  Her eyes became watery.

  “I very much loved my husband but he went to war and in the end I lost him,” she said, putting a finger to her eye to remove a tear, then she shook her head and turned away from me to the window again. “I must be tired, that is all. I will be outside, mistress, if you need me. I will be waiting for your call, as always.”

  I watched her walk toward the door.

  “Yan, please come here,” I said gently.

  She changed direction and stood behind me. I looked at her in the mirror. She looked back at me, confident that our relationship was different from any other between mistress and maid in the household.

  “I know you are looking after me and are worried about me,” I said. “It is difficult to tell you how important you are to me. I have survived because of you and you have only ever tried to make me see good sense. But tonight you needn’t worry.”

  She bit the inside of her lower lip as if trying to stop it from quivering.

  “You should not hear what happens tonight,” I told her. “Please do not wait outside but go and sleep.”

  “I will try, but be careful. He’s a big man and very strong.”

  “I will be. Now, you should go.”

  She turned and left the room quietly. I heard her stand by the closed door, deciding whether she should remain outside or not. After a few seconds, I heard her footsteps recede down the corridor.

  Xiong Fa would still be another ten minutes or so. He would have another drink and would get changed into his robes. Maybe he would play with himself first to get himself aroused as he had done many times before in front of me. Ah Cheuk would then arrive at the apartment and lead him here. He would not appear to notice if Xiong Fa was already aroused, his erection beginning to strain his robe, as his job was only to follow orders and rules. He had learned that to his cost years before.

  This evening I would not be lying naked in my bed, waiting for Xiong Fa. I would be sitting here, in front of my dressing table. I had decided to greet my husband as a reflection in the mirror.

  I heard the old servant knock and my door opened. I had only left one candle burning, next to me. From the little light cast by it my husband could see my face and neck, but my shoulders and breasts remained in darkness. I looked up at him and smiled, my lips layered with rouge. I could see his face and body in the shadows behind me. He was already hard and I could see he wanted me immediately. The first words would be mine.

  “You want me?” I asked slowly, curling my words into each other.

  “Yes, I found you irresistible this evening. You looked beautiful. I saw that all the men were looking at you.” He paused and looked long into the mirror at my lips. “They wanted you, but I have you.”

  “Yes, you do,” I whispered.

  I stood up and walked toward to him. I did not want to look at his body or feel it close to mine, yet more than anything I wanted control over him. I wanted him to hear and feel me. To know I had a will of my own.

  I would start with all that I had: his desire for me.

  I made certain that as I stood up he could see in the mirror I was not wearing anything beneath my robe. The distance between my dressing table and where he stood was about twenty feet. I walked slowly and he watched me, his eyes filled with me, and I could see him think of all the things he was about to do to me. When I reached him, I brought my hands up to the lapels of his robe and pulled it apart, slipping it from his shoulders. He stood naked before me. Taking his hand, I led him to my bed. As we reached it he tried to bend me over and enter me from behind. For a few seconds, I remained bent as he had pushed me, but moved my hips a little to make it difficult for him. He grunted and slapped my buttocks hard but I ignored him and climbed forward into the bed. I turned and sat with my back against the wall, legs apart, showing him what he desired so much. He looked at me, staring at my hair and flesh. He looked up into my face.

  “Move onto your back in the middle of the bed,” he demanded.

  “What do you want from me?” I shot back at him, but still enticingly.

  He stepped back, shocked by my aggression. Resting one knee on the edge of the bed, he leaned in between my legs.

  His breath smelled stronger than in the car earlier; he must have had two or three glasses of rice wine in his apartment. I stayed still and he leaned in a little farther, his head and large body becoming a black silhouette in front of me, ringed by the warm yellow glow cast by the single candle. He pushed his face out of the darkness into mine so that the milky yellow whites of his eyes and his dilated pupils filled my vision. We remained still for a moment then slowly I brought up my hand to touch his face. But he grabbed my wrist and pushed my arm back against my chest. He was now kneeling between my ankles, one hand on the mattress supporting his weight while the other was wrapped tight around my wrist. He inched himself up to kneel between my thighs and placed both hands on my shoulders, sliding me down from against the wall to lie on my back. He lunged forward and tried to enter me then but instead of fighting him I moved my hips a fraction, making it almost impossible for him to enter me.

  “I want you, too,” I whispered in his ear. His head was now directly above me, his arms to either side of my shoulders. “I want you inside me, husband.”

  He grunted and thrust forward but did not penetrate me, only slid against my thigh and the mattress beneath.

  “Come on,” I whispered, encouraging more of him, demanding it. He had buried his head against the mattress and I looked over at the dressing table on my left. The light was dim but I could just see my brush, pot of rouge, and a comb that Yan had given me.

  He continued to try to enter me but I clenched my muscles and moved my hips into subtly awkward angles, so that in his drunkenness he found it difficult to slide himself inside me.

  “Are you my husband? Why don’t you want me? You should have me,” I teased softly.

  He could not see what I was doing, fooled by his own lust and belief in his right to have me.

  He grunted in return and pulled himself onto his hands with his arms outstretched, so that he was directly above me. But it was too late. I felt his hardness fail him.

  I stared up at him and let my body go limp underneath his.

  “What has happened?” I asked, feigning innocence. “You wanted me when you came in but now you have stopped.”

  He looked at me and I followed the yellow light from the candle as it outlined the right side of his face. Drops of sweat rolled down his fat cheeks. He blinked hard and then lifted himself from on top of me, climbed off the bed, and stood naked beside it. Between his legs I could see he was soft and shriveled, his hair matted with the sweat and stickiness that he had spilled on the mattress and down his legs. He said nothing but bent down an
d picked up his robe.

  He looked at me angrily and put on the robe. Then he grabbed my left leg at the thigh, pressing his fingers into my flesh, and then angrily jabbed them up inside me. I gasped and saw him watching as I did. I froze for a moment and fear started to take hold, but I pushed it down, buried it deep inside so it rested in the place where I had sealed my memories.

  I breathed in and looked up into his face. In the yellow glow he looked like a demon sent to take me, but I continued to look at him. I moved my hand down to his wrist between my legs and, taking hold of it, slowly pulled his hand away and his fingers from inside me. He didn’t resist. I held his hand above my waist and our two hands hung together in the air for a few seconds until I felt his gently start to pull away from my grip and I let it go.

  I had not finished.

  I knew he could not help but look at me. I arched my back briefly, pushing up my breasts and nipples. In return he breathed in deeply through his nostrils and exhaled hard, his chest rising heavily.

  “We will try again tomorrow,” I continued to whisper.

  “Yes.”

  I looked at him, silently telling him, You will never have me again unless I let you. Do you understand?

  But I do not think he could read my eyes.

  Then he turned and left me. I heard the door close and turned over on my side to face the wall. Again I watched the candlelight trace my silhouette. My body had returned to its old familiar lines from before the birth, yet it was new to me. I seemed to have flesh and limbs I had not known I possessed but had suddenly discovered.

  Over the next four weeks he came to me once a week and received variations of the same treatment, ending in the same humiliation.