by Eileen Chang
“We didn’t need to work in the fields,” Auntie Yü announced, with a hint of pride.
Whenever she saw Julie turn a fish over with her chopsticks after having eaten one side, Auntie Yü invariably said, “The gentleman does not eat overturned fish.”
“Why?”
“Because a gentleman just doesn’t.”
Julie could never understand why; she just assumed it was because a gentleman would leave the other side of the fish for the servants. Half a century later she read in a newspaper that Taiwanese fishermen believed eating an overturned fish was bad luck and would cause their boat to capsize. There were no boats in the parched lands of northern Anhwei, and Auntie Han and her fellow provincials did not have sayings about overturned fish, but Auntie Yü from Nanking with all its rivers and lakes also seemed unaware of the origins of this taboo.
Auntie Yü recounted an ancient tale: “Long, long ago a great flood covered the land. Fate decreed that all the people drown save a sister and her brother. The little brother wanted to marry his elder sister to continue the ancestral line. The sister was unwilling. ‘If you can catch me,’ she said, ‘I’ll marry you.’ The brother agreed. The sister ran off and the brother set out in pursuit but couldn’t catch her.
“Who would have known that a tortoise would trip the sister, causing her to fall to the ground and enabling the little brother to catch her. She had to keep her promise and marry her brother. But she hated the tortoise so much that she smashed its shell with a rock, splitting it into thirteen pieces. That’s why, today, tortoiseshells have thirteen segments.”
Julie felt extremely embarrassed when she heard that story and didn’t look at Julian. Julian, naturally, didn’t look at her, either.
There was no running hot water in the house. To bathe, kettles of hot water were carried upstairs and poured into a Western-style bathtub. To save time and effort, the children bathed together, two maidservants washing them, one at each end of the tub, Julie and Julian never once raising their eyes.
In the summer, the children spent all day in the rear courtyard with the servants. The cook squatted next to the drain scaling fish while the maidservants washed clothes under the faucet, except for Jade Peach who, being unmarried, rarely went outside. Julie brought out a three-legged stool with a red leather cover to sit in the shade below the dazzling blue of the northern sky. Auntie Yü squatted to one side as she held Julian up to urinate.
“Don’t let the mole crickets bite his little dicky bird,” the cook said.
One day Auntie Han said, “The cook hasn’t been able to buy any duck for several days.”
“If there is no duck,” said Julie, “we can eat cock.”
“Shush!” bellowed Auntie Han.
“I only said if there’s no duck we can eat a little cock.”
“Stop it!”
In the winter a jar of malt sugar was placed on the stovetop with a pair of bamboo chopsticks inserted into the jar. Frozen malt sugar took ages to melt, and Julie found the wait excruciating. When it was finally ready, Auntie Han twirled a lump around the chopsticks. Julie raised her head and opened her mouth, eagerly waiting the brown rubbery mass that glistened in the sunlight like a writhing golden snake, descending ever so slowly.
The maidservants saved the black ceramic malt containers to use as moxibustion suction cups. No matter what the ailment, they scrunched up newspaper to burn inside the containers, and then placed them on the naked skin of their freckled backs.
In winter Julian wore a sleeveless left-over-right-closure waistcoat made of golden brown satin over a peacock-blue padded silk gown embroidered with orange butterflies. “Little brother is so cute,” said Julie as she planted many kisses on his delicate face, which owing to its thinness felt like kissing soft silk. Julian looked down with a squint, pretending not to notice anything.
The maidservants were cheered by this scene, and even Auntie Yü silently looked delighted.
“Look,” exclaimed Jade Peach, “aren’t those two adorable.”
Auntie Yü could read, which was unusual for a maidservant. She was also the only maidservant who didn’t have to send money home and saved a little more than the others. One day she bought a story-book at a secondhand books stall. After dinner, she read from it for everyone to hear. Under the dim electric lights, a row of glistening oily faces froze, mesmerized; some only understood a little, some didn’t understand anything, but all were riveted. Especially hearing the line, “Today we take off our shoes and socks, for who knows if upon the morn we shall wear them again.” Auntie Yü recited this line over and over, and several older members of her audience were deeply moved, too.
Sometimes Auntie Yü talked about the Buddhist netherworld. To Julie it seemed like a huge cellar with gray cement walls, just like the staircase at the Talutian amusement complex, except that it went downward, leading to the different departments of hell: Dark Mountain, Sword Mountain, Flaming Mountain. Then there was the Wicked Demon’s sin-revealing Mirror of Retribution at the Platform for Viewing Home One Last Time, and the Great Wheel of Reincarnation that towered high up in the sky. Of course Julie would just go for a quick tour and not suffer the torments of hell. Why would she want to do anything bad? But she didn’t want to be too good, either, and break free from the cycle of reincarnation to be personally received by the Jade Emperor, who would descend the steps of his throne to greet her. Julie wanted eternal reincarnation; she wanted to experience all kinds of existences, and from time to time enjoy a luxurious and beautiful life.
No matter how hard she tried to believe those karmic stories, Julie never could—they sounded too good to be true, simply fabricated to fulfill people’s every desire. Unlike the stories she heard after she entered the mission school. Their heaven, high in the clouds, involved eternal harp plucking and hymn singing—as if there hadn’t been enough church attendance on earth. Every morning the students had to attend a religious service for half an hour. In the evenings, a classmate would always be twisting your arm to go and listen to another student sermon in exchange for attending class for you. The services on Sunday lasted three hours with the only relief being the American pastor’s stilted Soochow dialect that brought silent tears of mirth to the students’ eyes, silent because in every other row a female teacher kept close watch on everyone. Julie gazed at the blue sky beyond the small, narrow windows of the chapel—so much like the windows of a medieval watchtower—and thought it a crime to be shut indoors. On occasion a certain bishop would preside over the service. He used to be a missionary in Shantung where he had picked up a heavy accented Shantungese, which the students also found hysterically funny.
But the Bible is a great work: the Old Testament a historical epic poem; the New Testament a biographical novel, with divine inspiration, as when, for example Jesus tells Judas, “Before the rooster crows today, three times will you deny that you know me.” When Julie read this passage in school she immediately recalled an incident that occurred when she was six or seven years old. After her mother left, Euphoria moved in. Formerly the third mistress of the House of Lunar Euphoria, the tall and slender Euphoria had a pale heart-shaped face, a fashionable horizontal S-shaped bun resting on the nape of her neck, and bangs that covered her eyebrows. Her eyes transformed into narrow slits when she laughed. When her seamstress visited, she ordered a set of clothes for herself and another set exactly the same for Julie. A waist-hugging lilac velvet top with no slits, no edging on the high cylindrical stand-up collar, and tight elbow-length sleeves.
With a pleated, full-length skirt the fashionable outfit resembled a simplified version of Western women’s attire.
Euphoria had the figure of an haute-couture model—thin, but not so thin that her ribs showed. Clothes hung on her frame more elegantly than on anyone else.
In a large, gloomy room, a full-length mirror with a carved-teak frame tilted forward. Julie stood in front of the mirror. She was so chubby the seamstress pinched about her midriff in an unsuccessful search for he
r waist. Euphoria, standing beside them, impatiently joined the search and grappled for it. “A bit higher would be better. Raise the waist a bit to show some shape.”
After the seamstress left, Euphoria cuddled Julie and sat her on her lap. “Second Aunt just refitted old clothes for you. These will be made with brand-new material. So who do you like better, Second Aunt or me?”
“I like you.” Julie thought that to say otherwise would be far too impolite, but it felt like a chimney popped up on the top of her head, pointing straight into the predawn sky. The faint sound of a rooster crowing could be heard in the distance.
The clothes were delivered. That night, Euphoria took Julie out in a rickshaw. It was late in the year, and the wind picked up strength; the rickshaw driver unraveled a tarpaulin to protect the cabin from the gusts.
“Are you cold?” asked Euphoria, wrapping Julie in her cloak. Euphoria smelled fragrant in the darkness, but seemed fragile. Wisps of the sweet aroma of opium mingled with her pungent perfume.
They turned down a long lane, dismounted the rickshaw, and stood in front of a red double-door entrance, above which hung a lamp with the character 王, the proprietor’s surname, in red. The lamplight dazzled her eyes; the northwest wind howled, clearing off every speck of dust. Euphoria rang the doorbell. She turned up the collar of her black velvet cloak, exposing the crimson-purple velvet lining—it looked as if her delicate head rested on a velveteen flower. She then took out a messy bundle of banknotes as large as a brick from her black rhinestone-studded purse.
“A bandit would grab that,” thought Julie. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end. She looked back and saw the rickshaw man had already gone. Neatly attired with Venetian fabric shoes and snow-white socks, he only served a few old customers. At that moment, in Julie’s eyes he was a savior, an armed guard who would protect the houses of the wealthy; but at the same time, she also thought that if he saw the cash he might be tempted to snatch it.
The door opened before Euphoria had finished counting, perhaps a deliberate move to show off her wealth. The large room they entered was newly painted but quite unrefined. A staircase dominated the corridor, which bustled with people coming and going. Others sat around tables, each one illuminated by a large overhead lamp that cast a bluish-white light on their faces. As soon as Euphoria removed her cloak, the identical mother and daughter outfits became the center of attention—a mysterious lady and a chubby little girl both dressed exactly the same.
A former colleague from her days in the brothel came over to greet Euphoria. She threw a curious glance at Julie, with an air of hostility.
“Second Master’s child,” Euphoria hastily explained, and then turned to Julie to say, “Now you sit here, all right? But don’t wander off or I won’t be able to find you.”
The two women walked away, but soon the other woman returned with a handful of sweets for Julie before quickly leaving again.
Julie watched people gambling, though she couldn’t make out what they were playing or where Euphoria was sitting. A couple who looked like movie stars walked by the miniature potted palm. The woman wore a short skirt with a white, three-foot-long silk scarf fluttering behind her. The man’s hair looked as shiny as lacquered leather. Their conversation was inaudible: a modern-day silent movie. Julie sat for a very long time just as she did in the New House, waiting for hours, bored to the bone. By the time Euphoria returned, she had fallen asleep.
After that occasion, Euphoria never took Julie out again but always went out with Ned instead.
“They say… lost a fortune,” the maidservants furtively whispered among themselves, horror on their faces, “went every day during the New Year. Never gambled such high stakes at the club … said … by a cheat … and this time in a friend’s home … had a falling out with Fourth Master Liu… .”
“After the New Year we’ll engage a private tutor.” Julie had heard the threat often enough, but this time a tutor really did appear in the new year.
“Is the paddle open for business today?” the servants, including the cook, cheerfully inquired at regular intervals, though Julie couldn’t fathom why.
The paddle was positioned on the desk next to the brass foot rule. Julie never looked at it closely, assuming an attitude of disdain. Teng Sheng, who had once served as a page boy in the study, retrieved the entire set of tutoring paraphernalia previously allocated to the schoolroom of Second Master, Julie’s father. The paddle was the size of a spectacle case, though slightly thinner. Blackened with age, the paddle had split in one section where a small piece was missing, revealing the uneven wood grain. Despite being worn smooth, Julie worried there might be splinters.
The tutor began with historical anecdotes from The Outline and Mirror.
“The Konghe Regency of 841 BC was jointly ruled by two dukes, just like Auntie Han and Auntie Yü managing the household,” thought Julie.
When the tutor expounded upon Po Yi and Shu Ch’i, who out of loyalty to the previous ruler were dying of starvation on Mount Shou-yang, refusing to eat the grain that grew under the new ruler, Julie imagined herself and her younger brother scavenging for wild vegetables in the withered grasses, refusing to eat any Chou dynasty provisions while the people in the plains below carried on as usual. She suddenly burst out weeping. The tutor, shocked that his exposition had moved Julie to tears, felt a little embarrassed. The more she cried, the more devastated she felt, to the point that the tutor suspected it was a ploy to boycott class. Consequently, he put on a stern face and, ignoring her distress, continued his lecture while at the same time explicating the classical text. Julian, head lowered, pursed his thin lips. Julie knew he was thinking, “She’s putting on a performance again!” As she was sitting right next to the tutor, her wailing drowned him out. Only when she realized that, did she gradually quietened down.
Around this time Ned rarely entertained guests, spending more time supervising the education of his children. After two random inspections, he thought they weren’t reciting the classical texts with proper fluency. He ordered them to study at night. Upon finishing dinner, he made his children sit opposite each other at the dining table and review what they had learned during the day. When they finished memorizing a passage, they were ordered to stand in front of him and recite it from memory. When the tutor heard about this arrangement he said nothing, though he obviously felt humiliated.
The sliding doors between the two rooms opposite the reception room and dining room usually remained open, making one large room with a vaulted door in the middle. The dim lighting and the clouds of blue opium smoke made it feel like a cave. Ned and Euphoria reclined facing each other on the opium bed with only one lamp on the teapoy. Euphoria wore a seductive dark wrought-iron-patterned stiff gauze jacket with red lining over matching bell-bottom trousers. A line of embroidered black spiders on her fashionable white silk stockings marched from her heels to her delicate ankles. Nowadays, Euphoria ignored Julie, and Julie never greeted her. Ned didn’t want his children to make salutations to her. But reciting texts in the presence of Euphoria didn’t feel comfortable.
Tall and Skinny sat on a stool preparing the opium. He wore a white top with short sleeves that stuck out. Occasionally he quietly mumbled a few words obsequiously to the couple on the couch, but they never said anything.
Ned took the textbook handed to him and sat up. He wore a singlet and his eyelids were puffy. He had the irascible look of someone half intoxicated. Julie stood in front of him, swaying as she recited. She stumbled in the middle.
“Take the book and read it again!”
The second time, too, she couldn’t get through to the end. Ned threw the book to the ground.
The more Julie feared disgracing herself in front of Euphoria, the more trouble she had reciting from memory. On the third attempt Ned jumped up, grabbed her arm, and dragged her back to the school room where he hit her on the palm of her hand a dozen times with the paddle.
Julie began to bawl. Auntie Han observed furti
vely from the corridor, but didn’t enter until she saw Ned leave. At that point she quickly ushered Julie upstairs.
“Shush! Stop crying!” She made a face as she rubbed Julie’s palm.
After that the servants no longer asked in jest, “Is the paddle open for business?”
Every night, Julian sat opposite Julie reciting the texts in a low, wretched voice. Julie couldn’t bear the sound of Julian’s recitation but nothing ever happened to him.
Euphoria’s father moved into the house with her. He was a burly man with a large, yellow-tinted face, probably in his fifties. He floated in and out of Euphoria’s room like an apparition.
“He’s afraid of Second Master,” the maidservants whispered.
“They say he’s not even her father.”
He often stood by the chest of drawers in the corridor downstairs scraping opium dregs from used pipes for his own consumption.
Euphoria continued to abide by the traditions of the bordello in avoiding eating at the same table as the menfolk. She usually ate alone two hours after the others, sitting at a slant as she wearily poked at the rice in her bowl, only nibbling at a few pickled and pot-stewed dishes.
At Euphoria’s welcoming banquet, her “sisters” were invited and all sat at the same table with the male guests. The host directed male guests to the dining room and Euphoria directed the female guests. Julie was only four at the time. She hid behind the velvet curtain by the sliding doors. As the female guests walked by in light-colored short jackets and unremarkable dark gray pleated skirts with triple wide-band braiding, they all seemed so ordinary, no different from the wives of the other relatives. After all the guests made it into the room, the sliding doors were closed and all Julie could hear was the sound of her father talking, sometimes loud, sometimes quiet, as if he were grumpy. Only two round-faced pubescent sing-song girls remained in the anteroom, sitting side by side on a sofa. They wore identical pale turquoise jackets with dogtooth embroidery and rhinestones, along with matching trousers. Julie thought they looked delightful, and slowly wrapped the curtain around herself in the hope that they would see and talk to her. But they didn’t appear to notice and only exchanged an occasional few quiet words with each other.