All the Flowers in Shanghai

by Duncan Jepson

  “Yes, yes,” she laughed, throwing her head back to reveal her long elegant neck and broad pale shoulders, “it’s best to have a perfectly worthy reason to throw a party—and then do your best to ignore it completely! What could be better than celebrating the old man’s birthday by taking him to a wonderful hotel, serving him three plates of Jin Hua ham brought from home . . . and then getting him to pay for it and completely forgetting about him?” She leaned back in her chair and put her hand to her breast, her chest heaving with mirth. She smiled at me, eyes bold but warm, and I blushed in return. I was envious of and in love with everything she was. The other women around us stared and frowned. I’m certain they were envious, too. This was the woman Ma had wanted Sister to be, but it had been impossible for her to become such a luscious creature for they are born from Nature, not created solely by a mother’s relentless guiding hand.

  For the rest of the evening, Ming and the new me she had returned to find became old friends. I had found someone in her who would never know my secret but who understood my life down to the last rule and obligation—and still believed in the possibility of rising above them and finding fun and enjoyment in the least likely places. She brought me some much-needed warmth and light when I was most in need of it.

  After Ming’s reaction to my new appearance I became possessed with the idea that my life had only now begun and that everything that went before should be disregarded. I would have another child, one I could raise to enjoy its exalted life and position. To be rightfully placed in it from the start, not beaten like tin into the necessary shape and polished to look shiny and bright.

  I sat in front of my mirror thinking of the woman I had become. I was only just twenty-two, but sensed that I had already gone far beyond Ma and Sister, to a place they had never even known existed. I wanted another child to continue this life.

  Xiong Fa was coming to me regularly now. He did not spend much time with me, just enough to complete what was necessary. He did not dress to see me and we were polite to each other. His servant would announce that he was coming to my room and I would have fifteen minutes to undress and lie naked on my bed. I did not feel exposed or vulnerable anymore, I simply felt I was doing what I wanted. He would arrive in a plain red robe, no longer feeling any need to observe tradition and superstition with images and lucky figures. After placing his robe on the chair by the bed, in which I had sat bleeding after his first visit to me, he would slide between my legs. Sucking my breasts and playing with himself, he would enter me. Sometimes he would take ten or fifteen minutes and would try to make me enjoy it, too, but I did not like him inside me at all, I felt nothing. It could never be what Ming called making love, which sounded tender and for each other’s pleasure.

  After a while Yan decided that it was not necessary to remain outside my door and would retire to her bed in the servants’ dormitory. Once Xiong Fa had finished he would leave and I would remain still for half an hour, as Yan believed this was the best way to conceive a child.

  The continuance of this family was and would remain the most important thing.

  Chapter 15

  Family dinner remained exactly the same as it had always been except that First Wife had now accepted she could not bully me. She still sat next to Father-in-law, always on his left, but would not look at me or talk to me. Ignoring me was the only way she had left to save face. Second Wife also still sat at the head table but she had no voice now and had simply faded into unimportance along with the rest of the older family members. Xiong Fa sat on Father-in-law’s right and although no one had managed to expand the menu, Father-in-law would at least talk animatedly to his eldest son nowadays. He would tell old stories, discuss business, and joke with him about old girlfriends and mistresses. There had not been any explanation given to me as to why Father-in-law suddenly enjoyed his eldest son’s company; apparently everyone except me already knew.

  It was Ming who explained it to me during the first of her visits to the house for lunch with me.

  Xiong Fa had allowed me to use his room to entertain her and when Yan opened the door to her and she swept in, I was so happy. Ming sat and looked around the room. She saw the battered toy train and smiled.

  “Is this Xiong Fa’s room?” she asked cheerfully.

  “Yes, he lets me use it but this is the first time I’ve entertained someone here.”

  “Well, I feel very honored.” She continued looking around for a while then fixed her eyes on me again, smiling. “Yes, the two of you are all we talk about. Your husband has changed so much.” She could engage in gossip like anyone else, only she knew when to stop.

  “How is that?” I asked, extremely curious.

  “It goes back to when Xiong Fa was engaged to your sister. Everyone has always known that he works very hard for the family business—he is meticulous and thoughtful and now has been running more and more of the family concerns. We have always admired him for that, but in Society he was always very shy and sometimes your father-in-law would be so embarrassed by it that he would scold him in public. His parents would tell him everything he had to do, and I’m afraid he seemed a weak man then.”

  I remembered how he would come into our reception room at Ma and Ba’s home, shifting from one foot to the other as he stood waiting for Sister, and how nervously he would squeeze and pump Ba’s hand when he shook it. I smiled to myself as I remembered these things. He was quite funny sometimes.

  “It gave the family no face at all. Then suddenly the matchmaker found your sister, who would march into any dinner or dance as if it were for her, and while she was not well-liked she led Xiong Fa with her . . . mostly blindly, I’ll admit it, my dear, but he had more confidence. In her shadow he learned to dance a little and have a drink with us.” She stopped and, looking around, asked, “Oh, can we have some tea?”

  “Yes, yes.” I called to Yan, “Please can you bring some tea?” I hurried her out a little so Ming would continue.

  “Your sister bullied him really but she made something of him and that was what your father-in-law wanted. He believed that she would change Xiong Fa into someone who would bring this family respect. Someone who might be commanding one day.” Ming laughed at the thought, then sat up straight and smoothed her gloves. “Sorry, that was not very kind of me.” She cleared her throat and added, “I think your father-in-law hoped that as Xiong Fa had begun then even though your sister died, just having a wife would allow him to continue growing. But with you, with you, my dear, things have been entirely different.”

  “Why . . . what have I done?” I was quick to inquire.

  “Well, I don’t know.” She sat back and smiled, her hands resting in her lap. “But I think he has become more confident without being constantly bullied, and we all notice how he likes you to be with him. Suddenly there is an air of strength about the two of you. Xiong Fa was too sensitive, to be honest. He’s the kind of person who has kept his toy train, for instance. Very different from most men, who would have thrown it away by now.

  “You and I have got to understand each other so you know I’m not being rude, but we all thought he was too weak to survive in Society, too quiet, just doing whatever anyone else suggested. But suddenly he is telling us all what he thinks . . . deciding for himself. I wonder why that is.”

  She laughed, cocked her head to one side, and continued.

  “Anyway, the older generations have noticed and good reports have got back to your father-in-law. Whatever you have done to him in the last few years, you have forced your husband out of his shell and your father-in-law is now firmly on your side. Imagine how he will react when you give them a child.”

  I wanted to cry out then. Why had I given you away? What had been the point? It had been revenge against a woman whom I would never see again, and another who was long dead. Xiong Fa had not chosen to treat me that way; he had been forced and pressured into it, as I had. I continued to smile at Ming as she sipped her tea. My lungs wanted to burst and scream. Where were you n
ow? I smiled at my graceful friend and, replacing her cup, she smiled back. My eyes dropped to the tabletop. I looked at the stains on its surface, made from my many meals here with Xiong Fa—a reminder of our history, like the water stains left by the Sang family visit that rainy afternoon.

  For a moment I could not bring myself to raise my head and look at Ming again for I felt I could not stand to see another person, another human being. I knew the horror that her face would reflect if she ever learned what I had done, and deep within me I knew that such a reaction was all I deserved. I felt sick and wanted to vomit but continued to look down, swallowing hard. I looked up at her and smiled, but my eyes watered and I felt Ming looking at me with concern.

  “You don’t look well. Maybe I should go?”

  “No, no, it was just so surprising to hear all that.”

  “I’m sorry. These things mostly happened before you came so you wouldn’t have known.”

  “Yes.” I looked into my past again, thinking of my last sight of Grandfather talking to himself on the side of the road as he watched my wedding palanquin bump its way to this house. I changed the subject.

  “We will hold the dinner at the Cathay Hotel as you suggested. Father-in-law is very excited. It has made everything very much easier to organize . . . well, apart from the food,” I joked. “But I wanted to share something else with you.” I hesitated before I told her: “I’m having another baby.”

  “That’s wonderful,” she said, looking happy for me. “Now your position in this family is assured.” The smile disappeared from her face then and she seemed a little guilty. “I’m sorry for returning to the subject of family politics, it seems we can never get away from them, but that’s very good news!”

  “Yes. Yan knows, though I haven’t told Xiong Fa yet. I intend to tonight. But first I wanted to tell you.”

  She squeezed my hand. Our conversation turned to other matters and after another hour or so Ming left me alone with Yan, but I had not stopped thinking of everything she had told me.

  My maid started clearing the cups away.

  “Yan, please sit down with me.”

  “Mistress, I think we should clean this before master returns from work.”

  “Just for a few minutes, please?” I looked up at her with tears in my eyes.

  Yan sat down.

  “Can we find her?” I burst out.

  Yan stood up and came around the table to me. She stood next to me and took my hand as it rested on the table. She let me cry.

  “Xiao Feng.” I looked up at her for it was like my grandfather talking to me again. She wore that half-smile that was sad and concerned for me, but more than anything loving and caring. “You know it is not possible. If I could have done this I would have brought her back to you before now.” She squeezed my hand. “If she is still alive, she will be more than two years old now and in that time could have gone anywhere.”

  I turned from the table and leant my forehead against Yan’s waist while I continued crying. Yan stroked my hair as she had done before. Her black cotton clothes smelled of washing soap but under this scent was her own particular odor: the herbal mixture of her ointment; oil from the kitchen where she and many of the elder servants went to keep warm and eat bowls of hot noodles and dumplings. Filling my nostrils with this smell I knew so well made me feel safe and less sad. Perhaps if she could, then other people, too, would one day understand what I had asked her to do. If that were possible then perhaps I myself could one day understand why I had done it and be forgiven.

  I sat up and looked into Yan’s face. Over the past years, our relationship had become strong and unfailing. We did not argue; we knew each other’s habits and behavior too well for that. She anticipated when I was going to do or say something that she thought was unwise, and I knew when she did not approve. We had learned that we did not need to explain this to each other. She gave me a reassuring smile and I saw her cracked yellow teeth, the lines in her face, which seemed to circle and circle but all end at the corners of her eyes, now shining brightly for she was crying, too.

  “Feng Feng, we can do nothing now. Just pray to the gods that she is healthy and being looked after well,” Yan whispered. She let go of my hand. “Master Sang will be returning soon, I must clean up.”

  I moved from sitting by the table to the more comfortable armchair where I intended to wait for him, but once alone I noticed that the onset of evening with the wintry air outside had made the room cold. I got up and went to the door to ask one of the servants on the landing to fetch from my room the blanket Yan had given me years ago. However, on opening the door I found Xiong Fa standing in front of me.

  “Hello, you look very pale. What is it?” he asked.

  “I’m cold, I was just about to ask for my blanket.”

  “I’ll get it.” He turned and went down the corridor and across to the other side of the floor, to my room. I watched him go, looking very purposeful. I sat waiting in the armchair again.

  He returned within a few minutes and placed the blanket around me.

  “Warmer?”

  “Yes, thank you,” I replied. I saw him go over to his toy train that Ming had moved and place it in its original position.

  “I am pregnant again,” I said abruptly.

  “Really?” He spun around, his eyes ablaze. “I’m so happy. I did not think it was going to happen.”

  “And then what would you have done?” I said sharply.

  He looked surprised but understood my suspicion.

  “Well, I hadn’t thought that far ahead,” he replied vaguely. “How long have you known?”

  “The Western-trained doctor I found wanted me to wait a little because of what happened last time,” I lied, but he was in my service this time so I was safe. “And so it has been a few weeks.” In fact I had no explanation for why I had waited; I think I had wanted to experience this time without anyone else’s knowledge except Yan’s. These were the first days of motherhood and they were mine. But I had told Ming and now it was only right that I tell my husband.

  “Maybe we should cancel the dinner then. It could be safer.”

  “No, the dinner is important, to you and to your father. If it was canceled your family would lose face. Everything is booked and we should continue.”

  “Yes, you’re right.” His eyes moved from side to side, as if looking at imaginary objects, then he looked back at me and frowned. “But I’ll be worried.”

  “The doctor will be attending me that night in case there is a problem.” I could tell he wasn’t convinced. “Please don’t worry, I’ll be careful. I want this child, too.”

  He smiled.

  “I think I will have a nap before dinner.” He had looked weary when he was standing in the doorway minutes ago. With this news and our discussion, his shoulders sagged and he looked limp with relief.

  “You go to bed. I will go rest myself and see you at dinner,” I said, suddenly feeling a trace of concern for my hardworking husband.

  “Isn’t it marvelous that we might have a child? I would so like to be a father.” He was rambling a little in his need for sleep. “I will try to be the best of fathers. I see some foreign men and they put their children on their knees and bounce them around, singing to them. Do you think that is acceptable?”

  “Yes, I think it would be fun. But what will you do if it is twins?” I joked with him.

  “Well, I have two knees.” He walked toward his bedroom door and stopped by my side, resting his hand on my shoulder.

  “I will help you every step of the way . . . not like last time.” He looked down at me. “I will never forgive myself for not being at your side then, but I knew no better.” He shook his head in self-reproach.

  He withdrew his hand, entered his bedroom, and closed the door behind him. I sat there for a few minutes and then went over to his toy train and touched the roof of the tiny driver’s cabin. The toy was battered and chipped, yet Xiong Fa had told me that it could still be wound and, when t
rack was laid for it, would cheerfully run along. It was a model of those engines that pulled trucks around, a big cylinder upfront and a cabin behind with four wheels below. The tank was painted red with thin black stripes around it and the cabin was red with a circular logo on both sides. The front had been particularly dented as if thrown against something and had been repainted with some much heavier and thicker paint than the original. I replaced it exactly as I had found it, though I felt certain Xiong Fa would notice something was amiss.

  I went back to my room wrapped in my blanket and sat in the chair by my bed. Yan still brought me wuxia novels and comics and I sat for two hours reading. These stories had provided me with many fantasies that had helped me escape into my imagination, late at night or during those days that I chose to stay in my room. They had taken me to magical places like the maze of rocky columns in Kweilin where heroes would hide out in caves high in the air and fight battles against evil robber barons, the vast deserts and steppes near Mongolia where horsemen would rush each other to capture women and treasure, or the lush mountains of Kunlun where monks would contemplate the heavens and teach young princes how to rule fairly and justly. These stories now seemed so unreal and childish, they were bloodless and feeble compared to what my life had become. I had hidden in them once but it was impossible to hide from one’s life forever. I suddenly felt that the consequences of all that I had done, all that I had been a part of, knowingly or otherwise, as an adult or as a child, would always follow me; I could not avoid them.

  I put down the books forever.

  Yan came in to find me sitting, wrapped up warmly in her blanket, looking at nothing in particular. I smiled as she came and sat on the stool in front of me.

  “Mistress, are you going for the family dinner this evening?” she asked.

  “Yes. Yes, I am going,” I said assertively, with a smile. “I will wear the dark blue cheongsam, like the one Ming was wearing this afternoon, with a shawl.”

  “They will see you have a baby coming.”