Peach Blossom Pavilion

by Mingmei Yip

  I sneaked up to her and asked, "Mama, shouldn't we get her to the hospital?"

  She shot me a dirty look. "Hospital? Ah, what big talk! But who's going to pay? You? All right, if you pay, then we'll send her to a hospital-"

  "But Mama, I don't have any money! "

  "Neither do I!"

  Wu Qiang chimed in, "Don't worry, Xiang Xiang. We'll ask our herbalist to treat her; it's much cheaper."

  "What about-?"

  Mama snorted. "If she dies, she dies, that's her fate, nobody can change that, not you, not me, not Guan Yin, not Buddha, not a Western doctor nor an expensive hospital." She waved vehemently to the guards. "Take her back, now!" Then she spat on Spring Moon. "Stinky stuff! Bringer of bad luck! "

  After Spring Moon had been carried away, Fang Rong put on a big smile, announcing to the sisters and the guests while frantically waving her hands, "Nothing happened; everything's all right! Now go back to the party and enjoy yourselves! "

  Immediately the group dispersed-some customers went to drink; others watched Mr. Wu demonstrate calligraphy; yet others listened to the sisters sing and swing their curvy bodies to the rhythm of the music ...

  It both surprised and disgusted me that people were indeed having a good time as if nothing had happened.

  Since no one was paying any attention to me, I went to sit on a bench to calm myself. Spring Moon's image kept spinning in my mind-her sad eyes, her pained face. Who was she? How did she end up in Peach Blossom? Was her family so poor that they had to sell her into the prostitution house? But she didn't look poor-she had a smooth face and nice skin. Was her father also a criminal like mine? Had she been kidnapped by a bandit?

  I sat in a daze I didn't know how long until I flinched from a slap on my shoulder. I turned and saw Fang Rong's menacing face hovering above mine. And an old man's wrinkled one next to hers.

  "Xiang Xiang, what's the matter with you? Don't you know that you're here to work, not to relax?"

  I sprang up in no time.

  Mama turned to Old Wrinkles. "Look, Big Master Fung, this is our famous Xiang Xiang, face beautiful enough to outshine the moon and shame the flowers. Don't you think?"

  Old Wrinkles scrutinized me the same way my mother had examined a choice piece of pork in the market for our yuanxiao dinner. "Wonderful, wonderful! The fame has not been spread for nothing," he mumbled, while stroking his stubble with his bony, long-nailed fingers.

  Mama nipped my chin and ordered, "Xiang Xiang, give Big Master Fung a big smile."

  "Big Master Fung, see the dimples?" She shot Old Wrinkles a flirtatious look, causing goose bumps to creep on my skin. "Aren't they so charming that they'll suck you in and make you forget all your troubles?"

  Old Wrinkles nodded appreciatively, while his eyes caressed me all over. "Yes indeed, indeed."

  Mama went on excitedly, "Big Master Fung, there's one more precious thing about Xiang Xiang."

  "Eh? What is it?"

  Mama lowered her voice to create suspense. "Xiang Xiang has a natural body fragrance as if her diet were nothing but flowers."

  Now, like a bulldog, Old Wrinkles leaned close to me and sniffed. "Yes, she does smell wonderful. But I think it's just perfume."

  Mama chuckled. "Oh, of course not, Big Master Fung. You have my word, or your money back." She winked. "Xiang Xiang hasn't yet received any customers, so who'd buy her perfume?"

  "All right, no need to explain," Old Wrinkles said, then he whispered something into Mama's ear to which she frantically nodded.

  I could only catch tidbits of the conversation-"fresh dewy peach," "mighty emperor stretches the bow," "golden-gun-neverdrop pills"-but their manner made my skin creep and my cheeks burn. After more prurient glances directed from my head to toe and then back from toe to head, the two burst into guffaws.

  When Old Wrinkles finally left, so did Mama's laughter. Now she turned to cast me a murderous look. "Xiang Xiang, what's the matter with you? Don't stand there like a fool; come and help!"

  The party went on long past midnight. After most of the guests had gone, Pearl materialized out of nowhere and joined me to go back to Peach Blossom Pavilion. When we were inside the rickshaw, I noticed that her eyes were blurry, her face flushed, and her mouth reeked of alcohol.

  "Sister Pearl, are you all right?"

  "Oh yes. Don't you worry about me, I'm fine. I just wonder how's Spring Moon now. Hai, poor girl, I hope she can pull through."

  I asked tentatively, "Where's the police chief?"

  "He was tipsy. Otherwise Spring Moon would have been shot in the head already and started her journey to the Western Paradise. Then I got him completely drunk, so his gang took him back. Hopefully by tomorrow morning he won't remember a thing. Otherwise he may still cause trouble."

  "Is he very important?"

  Pearl chuckled. "Did you see how he swung his gun? He's a local despot! Have you ever heard the saying When a scholar argues with a soldier, even if he has reasons, he has no way to make them clear'?"

  She plunged on, "Because the soldier is armed with a gun! So he doesn't give a damn about the scholar's reasoning, he'll just shoot him!" She looked me straight in the eyes. "And remember, Xiang Xiang, we're not even scholars, but whores."

  That night, I could not sleep at all because my mind kept spinning with the image of Spring Moon.

  The next day, as soon as it became light, I went to knock at Pearl's door and heard her tell me to come in.

  Wearing a high-collared gown embroidered with gold-threaded peonies, she was standing beside the large blue-and-white bowl, feeding her goldfish.

  I walked up to her. "Sister Pearl, have you heard anything about Spring Moon?"

  "She's in the dark room." Not looking at me, Pearl continued to throw morsels of bread into the bowl.

  We silently watched the fish swim and wag their tails for a while before she motioned me to sit on the sofa.

  It seemed strange to be resting my bottom on the soft velvet cushion while Spring Moon was down there. Creepy sensations crawled all over my body. "But she's wounded, why did they put her there?"

  "Because she offended the police chief. Nobody can afford to do that. If you do, you're asking for a bullet in your head. She's lucky that she's now only lying in the dark room, not in a grave."

  "You think she'll die?"

  "You think Mama, after she's made her investment, will let her daughters die so easily? Of course not, because any living daughter is better than a dead one. Once dead, all her investment will be thrown into the chamber pot. But a living daughter ... even if she's disfigured, Mama can still sell her to a cheap whorehouse and get some money back, even if just a few coins." She paused, then, "Anyway, her wound was not serious." She sighed, "The dark room is to teach any disobedient girl a lesson."

  Some silence passed before Pearl spoke again. "Let's not talk about unpleasant things." She stood up, went to the luohan bed, and from underneath it took out an elongated object in a brocade cover. She removed the case and carefully put the object onto the table.

  I studied it for long moments before I asked, "What is this?"

  "It's a qin-seven-stringed zither," she said softly, running her fingers along its length.

  The wooden surface, lacquered and decorated with dots of mother-of-pearl, shone with a lovely luster.

  "So are we going to play this today?"

  Pearl chuckled. "Ah, silly girl, you think you can just learn how to play this instrument in a day? It takes years and years of hard work."

  She went on, her voice filled with emotion, "I want to play you a piece. It's called `Remembering an Old Friend.'"

  I asked tentatively, "Is it ... Spring Moon?"

  "No, but my elder sister. Spring Moon is naive like her."

  "Where is your sister now?"

  Pearl didn't answer my question. The sadness on her face suppressed my urge to further inquire. So I changed the subject. "Sister Pearl, do you know how Spring Moon ended up here in Peach Blossom?"


  Pearl smoothed the brocade cover and sighed, "Her father was a well-off ship merchant. One time when he was shipping some precious goods from Shanghai to Hong Kong, a storm struck and destroyed everything-the goods, the ship, the sailors, and himself. So her family lost everything overnight, literally. Not only that, since they hadn't bought insurance, they had to pay for all the losses, including the goods to be delivered to Hong Kong and the compensation to the sailors' widows. After the father's costly funeral, there was nothing left. So her father's concubines sold her here to pay their debts.

  "Spring Moon was thrown overnight from atop the clouds to the ground. She was used to having maids serve her, and now she is bossed around. I was told she had a real nice and handsome fiance. So of course it revolted her to be molested by that disgusting police chief. Poor girl, that was her first day out, and she's already caused this big trouble."

  Pearl put away the qin, then took the pot and poured us both tea. We sipped in silence.

  Then I asked, "I don't understand why Spring Moon kept staring at me from behind the bamboo grove."

  Pearl looked me in the eyes. "She's envious of your beauty, especially those dimples of yours."

  "She told you that?"

  "No. But I can tell. I always catch her squeezing in her cheeks to have the illusion of dimples." Pearl sighed. "Hai, poor girl. She still doesn't have to sleep with customers. When she does, there'll be more ...

  "More what?"

  "Nothing."

  Moments passed. Pearl once again slid the qin out from its brocade cover and started to tune it. The seven strings, lightly touched, emitted soft, subtle sounds as if they were whispering the secrets of heaven. When Pearl had finished tuning, she meditated for seconds, then began to play. The melodies seemed to tell a very sad tale. Mesmerized, I imagined waves of melancholy sloshing gently through the room, caressing our wounded hearts.

  I also noticed something unexpected-the transformation of Pearl's face. During her pipa playing when she vigorously plucked the strings, she always looked animated and flirtatious. Her long hair would fall over her face and tremble like dark waves and her eyes would give out sparks like twinkling stars. But as she played the qin, her countenance composed itself into that of a scholar'sserious, serene, respectful. The fingers that pulled and plucked aggressively on the pipa now effortlessly glided and pirouetted, like dragonflies skipping over a brook, swallows touching water, or petals falling on waves.

  My mind was lifted away by Pearl's elegant playing to a quiet, far-off place where I could almost see Baba sitting under a shaded bamboo grove, playing a sad tune from his fiddle and smiling wryly at me.

  After she finished, we sighed simultaneously. I felt sorry that such wonderful music had to end.

  "Sister Pearl." I searched her eyes. "The qin sounds so beautiful-"

  She stared at me curiously. "You find this music beautiful?"

  Eagerly I nodded.

  "You're very gifted, Xiang Xiang. Not many young girls have the insight to appreciate qin melodies-"

  "Can you teach me how to play the qin?"

  Her face darkened. "No."

  "But ... why not?" I felt both surprised and hurt by her refusal.

  "Because I think you should concentrate on the pipa." Before I could protest, she went on, "Xiang Xiang, the qin won't make you famous and popular, but the pipa will."

  "Why? And how?"

  "Because the pipa's tone is short and its music tuneful. You can attract the customers' attention right away. But it'll take years of cultivation just to appreciate the qin, let alone to play it, and play it well. As women, we have only very limited years of youth and beauty. So by the time you've mastered the instrument, you've already lost both. Worse still, hardly any customers will be cultured enough to appreciate the qin-or your talent."

  "Sister Pearl," I searched her smooth, beautiful face, "but you've neither lost your youth nor beauty ...

  "Because I'm exceptional."

  I wanted to say that I, too, was exceptional.

  But she'd already taken a handkerchief and begun to wipe the instrument, as tenderly as if it were her lover. After that, she said "Now I'll play `Lament Behind the Long Gate.' "

  "What is it about?"

  "The misery of an ill-fated woman."

  6

  A Lucky Day

  . -t had been ten months since I'd arrived at Peach Blossom Pavilion yet I still hadn't received any letter from Mother. First I was angry at her-how could she have forgotten her only daughter? Then I began to worry-had anything happened to her? Those bald-headed old maids in the nunnery, what had they done to my mother? It pained me to think of Mother, her head shaved and her slender body hidden underneath a dreary gray robe, with nothing to do all day but mumble texts from yellowing sutras that no one could understand anyway.

  I wanted both my mother and her hair back!

  Every night after I finished work, I'd take off the Guan Yin pendant Mother had put around my neck, hold it in front of me, and ask the Goddess to protect her-wherever she was now-and remind her to write me.

  Now my only comfort was Guigui. Fed with all the delicacies, not only did he grow bigger each day, he also looked cuter. I began to teach him different tricks-carrying things, kneeling, hand-shaking, kowtowing. He was so chubby with his fluffy yellow fur that sometimes he looked like a moon rolling on earth. Whenever he'd given a good show, I'd take him to the kitchen and feed him with more goodies. To repay my generosity (at the customers' expense), Guigui would tilt his fat head to stare at me curiously, then lick all over my face. He was so cute and affectionate that even when he misbehaved, I had no heart to punish him. One time he peed right under the altar where the White-Browed God was worshipped. I felt so scared that I almost flung him out of the altar room, then frantically wiped the mess clean. The White-Browed God was Peach Blossom Pavilion's most revered deity-to lure in an endless flow of money and keep the wealthy guests bewitched by the sisters. If Mama had seen the puppy pee right beneath the Money God, she'd have beaten him-and maybe me-severely.

  When I was about to scold Guigui, he dropped his head and whimpered, peering at me with big, soulful eyes. So, instead of spanking him hard on his little bottom, I scooped him up and threw him in the air!

  Guigui and I became inseparable. When I prayed to Guan Yin, besides my mother, I now included him when asking for the goddess's protection.

  One afternoon, my heart burdened with Mother's situation, I slipped into Pearl's room. She was reclining on the sofa, reading a magazine. I watched as she picked up red-dyed watermelon seeds, splitting each between her teeth with a sensuous pop. Then her small tongue would, like a lizard snatching its prey, draw out the egg-shaped flesh into her mouth.

  When I stepped across the threshold, she spat out a husk into a celadon bowl, looked up at me, and smiled. "Xiang Xiang, shouldn't you be practicing your arts in your room?"

  "Sister Pearl, can you do me a favor?"

  "Come sit with me." She put down her magazine. "What is it that you want?"

  "To hear you play `Remembering an Old Friend' on the qin."

  "Why? You have someone to remember?"

  "My mother. I miss her," I said, feeling tears stinging my eyes.

  Pearl scrutinized me for long moments, then glanced at the clock. "All right, I still have some time before my guest arrives."

  She stood up and went to take the qin from underneath her bed. Carefully she peeled off the brocade cover, laid the instrument on the table, burned incense, then tuned the seven strings. After that, she began to play. Again, I was entranced, not only by the music, but also by the movements of her fingers, as graceful as clouds drifting across the sky. Listening to the melodies pour out from her tapered fingers, all my worries seemed to vanish.

  When Pearl finished, again I begged her to teach me to play the qin. Again, she refused.

  "Please, Sister Pearl," I could hear the urgency in my voice, "I only want to learn `Remembering an Old Friend,' so I can play it
and think of my mother."

  She didn't reply, but looked down to study the floral patterns of her skirt.

  "Please, Sister Pearl, just one piece."

  Now she looked up to study me.

  "Just one." I raised one finger and pleaded incessantly until her face broke into a smile like the blossoming chrysanthemums on her jacket.

  "All right, you little witch. But Xiang Xiang, promise me you'll keep this a secret between us. Can you do that?"

  I nodded my head like a hungry woodpecker.

  "All right, now go back to your room and wash yourself thoroughly."

  "Sister Pearl, but you've just promised to teach me to play the qin !"

  "Bathing yourself is part of the ritual of playing. After that, you have to burn incense to cleanse the air and meditate to purify your mind, before you can even touch the instrument. Never forget that when you play the qin, you're not just making music, but communicating with the deepest mysteries of heaven."

  I was too surprised to respond; she went on, "I told you it's hard. Do you still want to learn?"

  "Yes, Sister Pearl!"

  "Good, I like your determination." She cast me a sharp glance. "In the past, a student had to live with her teacher and wait upon her for two years-preparing tea, cooking, cleaning the house, massaging her sore muscles-before there'd even be any mention of lessons. You're lucky that I exempt you from all these. Now go to wash!"