Bride of the Moso Prince

by Lucy Yam

  “These are Moso artifacts. Help me to think about where and how we should display them.”

  Lit by the faint amber light, the room resembled a mysterious treasure cave out of a thousand and a night. From the dusts on the top she could tell that these objects had been lying here for ages.

  In one corner there were a couple of big wooden boxes. Sharon went over and saw that both boxes were filled with straws. Nobul brushed the straws aside and revealed the treasures beneath them. In one of the boxes, there were silver plates, bowls, and spoons. And in another, were sets of delicate china wares, including tea cups, kettles, and vases.

  “The silver wares were made by local artists.” Nobul explained, “But the China wares were imported from the Han. Some were part of my grandmother’s dowry. Others were gifts from the Han emperors from various dynasties. This vase is dated to the Tang Dynasty.” He took out a small flower vase and handed it to Sharon.

  Sharon was in awe as she took it from his hand. It was an enameled vase with two handlings, exquisitely shaped and yet opulently decorated. Various flowers were painted in their natural colors: plum blossoms in pink, chrysanthemums in yellow, peonies in red, and orchid in blue. Branches of green leaves weaved through them. The interior was turquoise instead of white, and it was glazed. Sharon quickly put it back to his hand, afraid that she would break it.

  “Most of these were older than the house. Some had served the chief’s family for generations. When they searched to confiscate properties in the house during cultural revolution they took away jewelries and everything made of gold and most of the silverwares. They smashed the large items that they couldn’t take or hide.”

  “How did these items survive?”

  “My grandfather put them in trunks, some were buried in the island. Others sank into the lake.”

  “And you retrieved them after the cultural revolution?”

  “Out of the dozen trunks we retrieved only the ones buried in the island. The ones in the lake were gone, taken by the others that were looking for hidden treasures. It was a common to hide things in the lake. Some folks even hid a whole salted pig in the lake.”

  “No kidding?”

  “No. The bacons wouldn’t be ruined in cold water.”

  Sharon nodded. She remembered seeing a whole preserved pig in one of the Moso houses. It looked as if it were petrified.

  “Maybe you should keep looking.” Sharon said, feeling sad that half of the treasures were gone.

  “Nay,” Nobul shook his head, “My brother and I had already dived thousands of times for that. Besides, when my grandfather hid those treasures, he was mainly hoping that they would not be destroyed. As long as they’ve survived, it’s fine with me.”

  He walked over to the iron tools and ran his fingers over the mill.

  “These were considered junks so no one bothered to remove them… thank goddess for that. I’m having a hard time to gather other traditional artifacts, like embroidery and woven bags that had been passed down from the family. Since these were vanity items that had been burned… these are all I have.”

  He led her to another corner where camphor trunk lay. Inside were costumes and other accessories like head scarves, sashes, and baby’s hat, baby’s front wraps.

  “I purchased these from various families in farther mountains undestroyed by cultural revolution. They are poor families that hardly had any cash income, but are still reluctant to sell these antiques to me for however high a price I offered. But when I told them my purpose, that I was opening a cultural museum, they suddenly became generous, some even refused to take the money. I was amazed by their ethnic pride.”

  Sharon could hardly hear what he was speaking. She was absorbed by the beautiful handicrafts. One of the Manchurian gown was adorned with silver beads all over the front, sewn in patterns of diamonds. A sash was made of hides of some animal and was sewn with alternative rows of corals, turquoise, and silver.

  “Gorgeous!” She murmured, feeling the materials with her fingers.

  “I’m debating whether I should let the main room be used to display costumes or everyday life objects.” He looked at her expectantly.

  Sharon considered. “I think it should be devoted to historic and life styles of the Moso, thus these artifacts should go there, and the costumes will go to the flower room.”

  “Good idea!” Nobul nodded, “Ok, it’s time to get to work. Your job is to group these items before putting them in the right place in the main room.”

  “But I don’t even know the functions of most of the things.”

  “I’ll tell you.”

  “Oh,” Sharon nodded, thrilled by the task she was about to perform.

  Using a large bamboo basket they carried the relevant objects little by little into the main room.

  They had barely finished shelving the section for living items when it was past noon. Before leaving for lunch, Sharon said to Nobul, “We’ll need tags that explained the history and functions of these items.”

  “That’ll be your job too. Why don’t you draft them and I’ll copy them over to index cards, like what we’ve done with the photos?”

  “Of course. That’ll do. But,” Sharon paused for a moment, “I was thinking about the photo notes last night. Wouldn’t it better to have an English version for each description, since lots of tourists are foreigners?”

  “Excellent idea,” Nobul smiled. “Could you do that?”

  “Of course! But it’ll take time. If you don’t mind waiting I could do it after I return home,” She volunteered, “And mail them to you.”

  The mention of her departure dampened his spirit. The flickers in his eyes vanished when he looked at her again, “Don’t worry about it. I could find someone nearby to do it. The oversea postage will cost more than the labor. Besides, your sister might be willing to do it.”

  The thought that someone else would do the job, even though it might be Charlene, made Sharon envious. She had been so involved in the museum by now that she was feeling a bit of possessive. Silently she glanced over the room, feeling a lump in her throat, she went out of to the washroom.

  The clouds hanging above were much heavier now than they had been in the morning. The sun had completely hidden. When Nobul was gathering his net in the lake for some fish, Sharon tried building a fire. The smoke stung her eyes and she started to cry. While watching the flame she had an overwhelming desire to stay in the island. She wanted to not only decorate the main room, but also the costume room and the rest. But that was a crazy idea. Nobul had told her that it would take him at least one more month to finish the remolding other rooms. She couldn’t possibly wait that long.

  Droplets of rain splattered on the roof when they were having lunch in the kitchen, in an irregular rhythm. But then a casual prelude quickly turned into a fierce symphony. By the time they had finished, the rain had engulfed the house, the mountains and the lake. When they were about to cross the yard to the bedroom, Sharon wondered how on earth they could get through that forest of water arrows without getting soaked. They had no umbrellas or rain coats.

  Improvising, Nobul picked up the large tin basin on the floor. It was big enough to hide their heads and shoulders. Each holding the edge, they skit through the rain puddles across the courtyard and reached the veranda of main building. Their shoes were soaked but that was the worst part.

  To her surprise the bedroom was warm. From the scent of the smoky pine she knew that Nobul had made a fire.

  “When did you do it?” She asked as they entered the room.

  “When you were boiling the fish.”

  A chord inside her was struck by his consideration. Sooner or later this man would melt her. But she hid her feeling and laughed aloud, “You’ll spoil me. Fire in July.”

  “But that’s common in here. The temperature here is unlike in the city. You could experience four seasons in a single day.”

  He’s right. The distant mountains were shrouded in fogs.

  “Besides
,” he murmured as he took her hands in his, “It’s a privilege to spoil you.”

  The tone of his made her throat dry, “sweet words again.”

  Everything was going exactly the way she had imagined. There was a layer of mist on the window pane, although what was rising was not steam, but smoke. The roaring of thunder echoed their groans, and the splash of the rain was nature’s applause to their consummation of love. Sharon had always enjoyed staying in bed on rainy days. Unlike here, in LA the storms would come in winters. The knowledge that she was protected against the coldness and wetness outside always made her feel blissful. And now, huddled in the arms of her prince, in the soft linens and in a fire lit room, that feeling only intensified. Sharon closed her eyes contently and wished that the moment would last forever. But not before long she felt a kiss stamped on her forehead and heard Nobul whispering to her ear.

  “Guess what? I got a name for my boat.”

  “What is it?” Sharon opened her eyes widely.

  “Solar Snow.” Nobul’s eyes twinkled with excitement.

  Sharon couldn’t believe what she heard. Did he mean to say that he was naming his boat after her? She paused for a moment and said while staring at the canopy, “Solar Snow, that’s a beautiful name.”

  Not getting the expected effect of his suggestion, Nobul took her face in his hand and forced her to look at him. “As beautiful as you’re. You’re my snow, and you’re my sun.”

  The intensity in his eyes made her tremble and she couldn’t utter a word.

  “Tomorrow I’ll paint it on the boat.”

  “You can’t be serious. After I’m gone you’ll have to erase it.”

  The enthusiasm in his eyes died out and he let go of her hand. They lay side by side and listened to the sound of the rain. Sharon felt an overwhelming sadness, but tried hard not to cry. It was a love affair and it didn’t mean to last. It was good enough just to know that the playboy prince wanted to name his boat after her.

  A moment later Nobul kissed her forehead, and said to her in a low and husky voice, “Stay here with me.”

  Sharon almost broke into a cry, but managed a joke instead. “Sure, I have no intention to go anywhere in the rain.”

  “That’s not what I mean,” he stroked her cheek, “stay after today, tomorrow, forever.”

  Her heart raced, “forever?” her voice trembled, “I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “I have to work. My life is in LA.”

  “You can work here. You’ve been doing it for the past weeks.”

  She paused. Perhaps he was right. Working was not the real reason. She could always be a freelanced web-designer if Web Genius wouldn’t hire her as contract employee. Her real concern was something else. The island, the lake, the museum, and the man next to her, were they worth the change? And how long would the relationship last? When it was over, she would have to leave anyway, right? It was just a matter of time.

  She sighed and uttered these words with difficulty, “Nobul, I really enjoyed the time here with you. I love working on the museum. But I’m old enough to know that a relationship is not everything. If I compromise my career because of the fever in my head, I’m afraid I’ll regret one day.”

  “I’m not asking a relationship,” he said, looking into her eyes with such intensity that she held her breath in expectation, “I’m asking you to marry me.”

  She couldn’t believe what she had heard, “you mean, walk-marry? Uh, we’re sort of doing it, right?”

  “No! We’re not walk-marrying,” he corrected her, “In a walking marriage. The man and the woman only meet at night. But no I’m not asking for that. Hell no, I’ve never wanted it. I want a real marriage, a Han marriage, or a western marriage, whatever you call it.”

  Sharon was more or less shocked by the last line of his speech. “Are you serious?”

  “Do I look like I’m joking?” She realized that his cheeks were flaming. It had taken him courage to propose to her.

  “But what about your custom?”

  “What is my custom? I have a quarter Han blood in me. I follow Han custom as well.”

  He was really looking serious. Sharon was scared. “I don’t know. I have to think. It’s too soon. We know each other for less than a month.”

  “What you know about me is everything there is to know. I haven’t hidden anything from you. I’ve told you everything from my family history to my current business and my future plans. What else do you want to know? My past relationships? I haven’t had any serious relationships but a bunch of casual…”

  Sharon covered her ears, “I don’t want to know about them. I don’t care…”

  Nobul stopped for a moment and murmured, “So you don’t want a serious relationship with me. You’re having a casual fling.”

  The dejection in his voice made her heart ache. “That’s not what I mean…I know you’re a talented guy, a desirable man, but, but…you know very little about me. I haven’t told you everything…”

  “I don’t need to know what you don’t want to tell. And I know a lot about you, believe it or not.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You sister told me about you.”

  “When?”

  “As soon as she arrived a year ago,” he smiled, “we saw her down blanket and asked her why on earth did she pack that for. We had plenty of wool blankets in our hotel. She said that her sister had forced her to take it.”

  Sharon chuckled embarrassedly. She had imagined that her sister would be living in caves or an abandoned cottage. “I didn’t expect such development in the mountain areas.”

  “Even if she had arrived a century ago,” he said, “there would be blankets. Otherwise how had we survived for thousands of years? Did you think we had furs like dogs?”

  “No!” Sharon cried, “I’m sorry. It must have been an insult.”

  “Not at all,” He laughed. Turned her to face him and kissed her flaming cheek. “I was impressed by such a motherly sister. Later on I found out that you had packed medicines enough for a whole village to use for a decade.”

  “Stop making fun of me,” Sharon hid her face in his chest.

  But he cupped her head and moved it to face him. “I became curious about you, Sister Sharon. And my curiosity grew to admiration during the year, every time Charlene got a package from town I wondered what was in it, what her sister’s worry was. I savored those butter cookies Charlene shared with us, although they tasted no different from those we got from here, because you had sent them. When she showed us the dresses you sent her, I imagined you in them…”

  He stopped abruptly. Goddess! He had fallen in love with her long before he saw her! The realization shocked him. Should he tell her? No, she wouldn’t believe him.

  Sharon was speechless. Emotion in her stirred and her eyes became watered.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, “did I say something stupid?”

  “No,” she smiled as he gently wiped her tears with his thump. “Now I know why you’re a walk-marry prince. You know how to win the body and heart of a woman.”

  “Why doesn’t it sound like a compliment?” his smiling eyes questioned her.

  “Because I’m being sarcastic,” she said.

  “You’re jealous, my goddess,” he murmured, “but let me assure you. I haven’t won over that many women.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “It’s true.” He looked sincere, “No Moso woman would give her body or heart to a man unless she gets babies from him. And I always make it clear I don’t want to be a sperm donor.”

  “Sperm donor? Won’t you have fun?”

  “Not when I know that I’m making a potential baby that won’t be raised by me.”

  “You’re rare,” Sharon said, “Most men, Han or Moso, would like a walking-marriage. You’re free from marital duties while you’re entitled to pleasure seeking.”

  He frowned, “But some of us want marital duties.”

  “You do?” />
  He nodded solemnly, “I long for having my wife and kids under the same roof. I want to hold my children any time I want, not just an hour or two at night. I want to see my wife in the kitchen making meals when I return home. I want her to wash my clothes, to set my bed, to ….”

  Sharon imagined herself being the woman making his bed, cooking meals and doing laundry. She felt warm for a moment but soon cooled off. That blissful picture was deceptive. A woman can’t be happy doing it everyday. She would become an appendix to the man. A slave. Like her mother. Her heart sank at the thought of her mother. No, she would not make the same mistake that her mother, and millions of other women made. She would not fall into the snare of marriage.

  “So have I convinced you?” he asked softly, nipping her earlobe.

  She looked away. It was difficult to refuse him but it was unfair to give him hope.

  “Not yet,” she whispered, “you have many choices, being successful and rich…why me?”

  Nobul’s heart pounded madly. It was time to tell her that he loved her! He opened his mouth to speak. “Because I…I…believe that you will be an excellent mother.”

  Sharon’s heart sank. You fool! She cursed herself. What did you expect? That he would say he loved you?

  “I’ll come back to see you.” She said, staring blankly at the orchid and the butterfly on the canopy to hold back tears that threaten to flood.

  He sighed and loomed over to look at her. The faint smile at the corners of his lips gradually faded. “I was wrong. A hearty sister could be a stony lover.”

  They lay side by side silently for a moment, keeping a gap between them. Then as if the silence became unbearable he stood up and went to stand by the window, clearing the mist with his palm and gazing out silently. As soon as he left Sharon turned herself on the side and wept silently. She had hurt him she felt dreadful about it. She hated it when she saw the lights in his eyes extinguish just like that. He was right, she was stony. But she couldn’t do otherwise. She wouldn’t lose her head like that. Marriage wasn’t for her. She had chosen to be single and she would stick to her principle. She had been through it before. She had ended relationships like this. She had broken hearts, including her own. It was difficult at first but they would heal. Or would they? Nobul wasn’t a common guy. She had a feeling that it was the first time, or even the last time that he proposed to anyone. And herself, she couldn’t deny that she had felt special about him…