by Mingmei Yip
"But Mr. Anderson, that's not what I'm able to do."
He remained silent for moments before he smiled wryly. "I'm sorry, Xiang Xiang."
Sorry for what? I'd swallowed my question before it slipped out of my mouth. I poured a fresh cup of tea and respectfully handed it to him.
With equal deference he took it from my hand.
He'd never mentioned sex.
Mr. Anderson continued to visit Peach Blossom with Mr. Ho. While Mr. Ho liked to try out different sisters, including Pearl, Anderson always asked for me. I was sure while Mr. Ho was busy raining on the sisters' clouds, he'd think his American friend had been doing the same with me, but what had happened was nothing like that.
Each time Anderson came to my room, we simply talked and sipped tea, and I would play music. He never let go of trying to persuade me to quit prostitution. Repeatedly he'd lament that I was wasting my life and my talents-as if I didn't know. I hoped he would help by offering to pay my debts to Peach Blossom, but he never mentioned anything like this and of course I did not ask.
One time I told Pearl about Anderson and she said that Mr. Honow her frequent customer-told her that his American friend disapproved of prostitution.
I chuckled. "But most foreign devils ...'
Pearl gave me a chiding look. "Xiang Xiang, if you think all barbarians are wild and loose, then you're wrong. Some are even more conservative than us Chinese."
"Then why does he visit a prostitution house?"
"Mr. Ho said because he insists and Anderson goes along. And I don't think he wants to say no, since he's Ho's partner and depends on Ho to do business in China." Pearl threw me a mischievous glance. "Maybe Anderson likes you and wants to convert you to his religion."
"What religion?"
"Religion of Christ."
I'd heard about this strange religion with a creator called God and his son called Ye Hohua who tried very hard to save people's souls. One time a bearded, black-robed missionary even came up to the gate of the turquoise pavilion to stuff leaflets into the sisters' hands. There was only one word printed on the cover-LOVE.
I sighed inside. That was what I'd been waiting for, love. Not from this creator God, nor his son Ye Hohua, but a handsome, intelligent young man!
I asked Pearl, "So you think Anderson is a member of the religion of Christ?"
"Maybe, but I'm not sure. Otherwise why does he act so virtuous in a prostitution house?"
"So you think instead of wanting to lose his soul like the other men, he's trying to save ours?"
Pearl winked. "Do we have one?"
We burst into uncontrollable laughter.
But then Mr. Ho and his barbarian partner stopped visiting.
15
The Prestigious
Prostitute
lime passed, and finally I had a new honor, of sorts. - Each day in front of Peach Blossom Pavilion, huge signboards holding flowers were sent by patrons in tribute to those special sisters who were ming ill Sometimes so many were sent that they created quite a sight-billows of flowers floating on the ocean. Each sign seemed to squeeze forward to be seen. Face was gained, not only by the sister who got the most signboards, but also by the customers who'd sent them. Though the competition seemed to be among the sisters, in fact it was between their powerful backers.
Now hardly a day passed by without my name floating on this blossoming sea, often with poems of praise like this one:
This was the year I'd turned eighteen, prestigiously.
Customers now referred to me as yanming yuanbo-amorous name spreading far and wide. For I had become a ming ji, at last.
Of course I felt flattered by all this attention, but it also made me feel very sad.
I could not but remember when, each time after Baba had finished giving me reading and writing lessons, he'd look at me tenderly. "Xiang Xiang, study hard and be prestigious someday. I hope you'll be the first woman zhuang Yuan."
Zhuang yuan was the title conferred on the person who'd come first in the imperial examination. Of course the imperial exam was canceled after the Ch'ing government had been overthrown by Dr. Sun Yat-sen and his new republican government. But what Baba had hoped was that I'd become a famous scholar, bringing honor to our ancestors as well as leaving a reputation of intellectual eminence for our posterity.
Had Baba still been alive, how would he have felt about my renown-flowery and amorous-bringing nothing but shame to our family name? How would he have reacted to my prestigious status-as a prostitute?
In the middle of the night whenever I thought of Baba, I felt relieved that he hadn't lived to see my fame.
My prestigious status continued to attract all kinds of customers-scholars, poets, merchants, government officials, one time even a Catholic priest who, instead of taking me to the Wu Mountain for rain and clouds, tried to persuade me to convert to his religion of Christ so, after I died, I'd go to heaven instead of hell. These men showered me with gifts (the priest, after fondling my breasts for moments, gave me a Bible with gold edges), invited me out, and pampered me like-in one customer's word-a princess. How ridiculous. I'd much prefer he'd simply praise me with the honest ming ja=prestigious prostitute.
But Pearl chided me, "Xiang Xiang, forget about honesty in a prostitution house, just be happy that those chou nanren are trying to please you. Would you rather they treat you like a real whore by beating you up and burning your nipples with incense?"
When Pearl said "real whore," I smiled to myself, for nothing could be truer than that!
One time a poor scholar told me he'd sold his most treasured Ming dynasty edition of the Five Classics in order to stir the clouds and rain with me.
When I told Pearl how sorry I felt for him, she sneered, "Xiang Xiang, never feel sorry for those chou nanren, they're not worth it at all. You didn't put a knife to his throat and threaten him to sell his books and come to you, did you? Besides, how do you know he didn't lie? Maybe he stole the money to pay you or picked someone's pocket. These stinking males are all liars, all experts in farting from their mouths! If these dog-fucked assholes have consciences, then dogs don't eat shit!"
She plunged on, "Besides, you'll continue to meet a lot of men here, and you won't have enough room in your heart to feel sorry for every single one, however miserable their stories. Xiang Xiang, listen to me, you have to harden your heart. Remember, you have only one heart but many customers. Just think of how many times these chou nanren can break it. So never allow it to break, not even once. Can you promise me that?"
Of course, I nodded and uttered an emphatic "Yes!"
Along with my fame, there was another big change in my lifemy name. I was no longer called Xiang Xiang, but by my art name, Bao Lan. Bao means precious, or treasure, and Ian means orchid. I didn't like my new name for it was both ostentatious and common, a prostitute's name like Golden Flower, Fragrant Rose, or Silver Chrysanthemum. I'd have chosen something poetic: Snow Fairy, Cloud Immortal, Lotus Boat, Dream Lake.
But Fang Rong wouldn't give in; she widened her eyes and raised her voice. "Xiang Xiang, can't you see that Bao Lan is the best? Can you tell me any man who likes neither treasure nor flowers?"
Of course, I knew what she meant by "flowers." I'd heard all the variations on this theme: the prostitution houses were yanhua zhidi- domains of smoke and flowers. Customers were mianhua suliu- sleeping on the flowers and taking refuge in the willows. The diseases they caught were named hualiu-plague of the flowers and willows. And like our floral namesakes, the day would come when we were only canhua bailiu-withered flowers and trampled willows.
Mama was right. I couldn't think of any men who liked neither treasures nor flowers. They liked them so much they even risked catching something more permanent than a night's pleasure.
She cocked me a chiding eye. "You want a fussy name like Immortal, Fairy, or Fragrance? But there's no substance to them, that's why women with this kind of name all die young! "
Against this reasoning, what more could I
say?
Mama paused to catch her breath, then, "If you screw up your name, you screw up your business. That's why we chose Peach Blossom for our pavilion." She plunged on, "It's based on the famous story of the Peach Blossom Garden by ..."
"Tao Yuanming."
"So you know the story?"
"Of course. Some fishermen got lost while discovering a secluded world forgotten by time. In the garden, peach trees blossomed, birds sang, and the simple, innocent people enjoyed a carefree life."
Mama shook her head. "No, no, no. The fishermen lost their way and went through a hole into a cave which was filled with beautiful girls, tasty food, and strong wine. That's why we say don- gru mixiang-entering the hole and bewitched by the fragrance." She winked. "I'm sure you know which hole and what fragrance, don't you? After they'd spent days chasing after the women, wolfing down the food, and getting drunk, they swore they would never go back to their boring life."
Before I could protest that she'd completely messed up the story, Mama plunged on, "That's how Peach Blossom was named." Suddenly she slapped my shoulder, startling me. "And that's why your name is Precious Orchid instead of nonsense like Dream Lake or Lotus Boat. Ha! Ha! Ha! "
I was well aware that my change of name signified that I was no longer a chuji-young prostitute-but a full-fledged one with regular customers. So now I was completely cut off from my past. This was the saddest thing, for with a different name, it would now probably be impossible for Mother to find me, notwithstanding that I'd long ago given up hope of hearing from her.
Since the first day I'd arrived in Peach Blossom Pavilion five years ago, Mother had never written to me. Was her temple life that busy? Or could she have simply lost my address?
One time when I'd asked Fang Rong why didn't I hear from Mother, she said, "Aii-ya, why don't you ask Guan Yin?" then, "Your mother's now a nun. And you know what nuns care about? Emptiness! Nothing!" She made a face. "So why would she be thinking of you?"
Was it possible that Mother had risen so far above worldly concerns that she'd forgotten her only daughter? Or was she . . . dead? Whenever I imagined she might be dead, all kinds of horrible images would emerge: her bloated body floating on a river; crumpled in a rat-infested back alley; or even swinging from a beam of her temple.. .
But these thoughts came only in my blackest moments. Deep down, I still thought of her as alive. Often, in the middle of the night when I was alone, my body exhausted from my clouds being stirred by the chou nanren's rain but my mind achingly alert, I'd look out the window, gaze at the moon, and think of her. Would we have the chance for a family reunion? Even to sit down together and have a simple meal of noodles and buns, just like in the past?
Sometimes I missed her so much that I'd cherish the idea of running away from Peach Blossom, so I could go to Peking and find her. But, of course, I'd smother the thought right away. Because, if I were caught, I'd end up in the dark room fed to the rats; with my nipples being pierced; or a cat beaten in my pants. Even if I succeeded in escaping from the pavilion, I would have no roof above my head. And I had never forgotten that little beggar who'd grabbed my ice cream years ago. Getting to Peking would be no easy feat. Instead, since I was getting more and more popular, I imagined that someday I'd make enough money to hurl a heavy sack of gold at Fang Rong's face, then walk out of Peach Blossom. I fervently prayed to Guan Yin for that day to come.
Besides my mother, I also thought a lot about Baba and that warlord who'd wrongly accused him and had him executed. A burning desire had ignited in me-to find out this thousandknives-slashed bastard who was the cause of my family's disintegration. If I did, I wouldn't let him go unpunished. I even relished all sorts of ways that I could torture him-slash him with a spiked whip soaked in water (which was how some mamas disciplined their daughters); fill him with water then jump on his swollen belly; force him to swallow a needle-filled bun; push him down a poisoned well; or more simply, put a bullet into his head.
Although thoughts of finding Mother and avenging Baba were never far from my mind, I still kept practicing my arts to maintain my status as a ming ji so I could one day carry out my plan of leaving Peach Blossom.
Besides my name, I had yet another change in my life: my room, which was larger and prettier, with elegant furniture, a gilded mirror, ceramic vases, and a landscape by the famous Tang Yin. I also hung a painting of my own showing young women engaging in the four arts: painting, calligraphy, poetry, qin.
Not only did my customers like this painting, they thought the four beauties were actually one person-me. Naturally I agreed with them, for I was pretty and well versed in all of the four arts. The fact that they complimented my beauty and my talents always pleased me tremendously, even when the praises were poured from wrinkled, toothless mouths.
Now I also had my own maid, a thirteen-year-old girl called Little Rain. She was plain-looking and stupid, but I liked her because of her kind heart and loyalty. Moreover, she never failed to carry out her duties and took very good care of Plum Blossom. She'd also bring me gossip about sisters both at Peach Blossom and the other turquoise pavilions.
Since I'd become famous, Fang Rong's attitude toward me had also changed. It was more respectful, almost as if I were the first female zhuang yuan. Now every morning I was served with meat juice to clean my face, clear egg soup to nurture my throat, and rose petal fragrant water to wash my hair. Every night I took a bath in water steeped with expensive herbs.
Some sisters who had snubbed me now suddenly seemed unable to remember their former feelings. Sweet words poured from their lips while they begged me to reveal my secrets for captivating customers. But there were others whose envious glances betrayed a frightening hatred.
16
Red Jade
uring the height of Peach Blossom Pavilion's business, only -three sisters received flower signboards every day-Pearl, me, and a girl called Red Jade.
I'd never paid much notice to Red Jade. She'd been living in another quarter, working under another sister's tutelage, and had not been pretty or talented enough to attract my attention. Then, over a year, she'd miraculously transformed from a slightly plump little girl into a watery-eyed, oval-faced, fair-skinned beauty. It was generally known that she'd thoroughly mastered not only the skill of the bedchamber but also the invaluable art of flattering Fang Rong and Wu Qiang. She was the only sister who'd lived in the pavilion for four years but had never experienced any "special treat- ments"-rat-infested dark room, cat in the pants, pierced nipples. Her special talent was kouji-lips technique. Not the kind that imitates bird songs, cicada chirps, cats' meowing, or bubbling brooks and howling wind. Everyone in the pavilion knew that her lip technique was put to use inside the guests' rooms late at night.
Unlike Pearl, who was slender, elegant, and haughty, Red Jade was voluptuous, horny, and wild. Her big, round eyes always seemed to shine with a dazzling luster. "Smiling eyes" was the customers' remark. However, young as she was, when she laughed, she already had a few lines bursting from the corners of her eyes.
"An extremely licentious physiognomy," Pearl had once told me.
I chuckled. Wasn't that a trait we prostitutes were supposed to have or, if not, strive to achieve?
Like two fat slices of ripe, juicy tomatoes, Red Jade's lips glistened all the time, even when the weather was hot and dry. When you saw them, customers said, you had to take a big bite. Others described them as hot red chilies. When you sucked them, not only did your tongue get burnt, but the fire would scurry all the way down to inflame your jade stalk.
However, it was neither her eyes nor her lips that were Red Jade's most prominent features, but her breasts. Big and pendulous, they always seemed to cast an enigmatic shadow wherever she went. They stuck out so far that I'd even heard a guest apologize, "Excuse me, miss," when he was just passing by her. I was told a lot of customers went to her just "to have a taste of the flesh papayas."
Although a smile always bloomed on Red jade's face, we never knew what wa
s on her mind. Since I hardly knew her, I neither liked nor disliked her.
But Pearl hated her bitterly. "Xiang Xiang," she always warned me, "beware of this cunning fox. While she smiles, she'll stab you with a knife."
Whenever she mentioned Red jade's name, Pearl would grind her teeth and start her sentence with "that whore." This always made me want to laugh. Weren't we all whores? But Pearl thought otherwise. "We're decent women forced or tricked into being whores, but she's a born one. This slut has indelible `whoreness' through to her marrow." Watching how Red jade even flirted with De, I agreed. I didn't really dislike her deep down, but because I was on Pearl's side, I had to be her enemy.
Since the three of us were now the most prestigious courtesans in Peach Blossom, even in Shanghai, customers loved to compare us-to flowers, birds, animals. Pearl, the oldest and most arrogant, became the rose, the swan, and the cat. I, the youngest and most innocent, was the daisy, the oriole, the rabbit. Red jade, the most scheming and flirtatious, was the peony, the peacock, the fox.
One time Pearl cast me an anxious look. "Xiang Xiang, when a girl like Red Jade can become popular, I'm afraid that's the end of our era.
"What era?"
"Of the ming ji." She sighed. "Men are losing their taste. Red Jade's pipa playing is so sloppy that it makes my stomach flip. But some customers seem not to care as long as her breasts keep swinging with the music. Girls like her are taking over. We spend years perfecting our arts and to become connoisseurs of taste. But Red Jade doesn't even wait ten seconds to strip off her clothes and spread her legs!"