by Janie Chang
My library. My house. My garden.
I had more servants than I needed. There was a gardener who came every day and never entered the house. The gatekeeper, Old Tan, nodded to me and hardly ever spoke. And there was Little Ko.
“You needn’t hire anyone else, Young Mistress,” she declared when I first met her. Feet planted wide, her sturdy figure reminded me of Third Wife. “Just pay me a little more and I’ll do the work of three.”
She was housekeeper, cook, and lady’s maid. She didn’t have to cook very often. Most days we ate simple meals of vegetables and tofu or reheated food that Little Ko purchased from the many small restaurants around the area. On the occasions when Sanmu came for dinner, he only wanted plain cooking, and this I could manage on my own.
Then there were the nights Sanmu took me out. Shanghai’s streets were as busy at night as during the day. Light spilled out from restaurant doorways and shop windows; automobile headlamps swung their beams in arcs as they turned the corner. Muted strains of music from a dozen night clubs reverberated along the sidewalk, one melody suddenly blaring out in dominance as a door opened, then quieting down again as it shut.
At restaurants, Sanmu always asked for a table in a quiet corner so that we could avoid the many curious stares directed our way. A member of the Liu family and his Eurasian mistress. Invariably, we would be interrupted by one of his friends or a business acquaintance, stopping at our table for a few words, like courtiers paying their respects.
“You must know everyone in this city,” I said. He had recently hired a driver, a White Russian, and now Sanmu sat in the back of the car with me whenever we went out, his arm always around me, his kisses deep and hungry.
“I don’t, but it seems everyone wants a closer look at you,” he said. “In fact my Fourth Uncle wants to meet you. He’s coming for supper tomorrow evening, but don’t worry. He’s like me. Simple home cooking is fine. No meat.”
I caught my breath. “But why? Surely he disapproves of me.”
“Not at all. He’s had mistresses of his own.”
“Were any of his mistresses hun xue?”
Pause. “He knows you’re special to me, Jialing.”
THE NEXT DAY Little Ko and I cleaned all the rooms downstairs. Then we cleaned the upstairs rooms in case Fourth Uncle wanted to see the entire house. Then I started cleaning all over again.
“Eh, Young Mistress,” she said, “I’d worry more about the food and drink. Menfolk don’t notice cobwebs even if they’re hanging over their heads. It’s the women who look into corners hoping to find fault.”
“All right,” I said. “Just make sure we have both rice and noodles ready.”
“There’s nothing for you to do,” she said. “Take off your apron. I’ll finish up in the kitchen and then I’ll draw you a bath.”
Just then we heard the front gate buzzer, Old Tan warning us that he had let in a visitor. A woman walked up the garden path. Her face was hidden by the light veil of her hat, but she was dressed very elegantly in Western clothing, a long belted dress and high-heeled shoes. Little Ko hurried to answer the door. I tore off my apron and stuffed it under a seat cushion. Although I had met many of Sanmu’s friends at restaurants and clubs, he hadn’t invited any of them yet to Yuyang Lane, and I hadn’t met anyone I wanted to invite.
I heard Little Ko open the front door, and a moment later my visitor entered the drawing room. She lifted back the veil from her face.
It was Leah. I threw my arms around her.
“You look so grown up. And so beautiful,” I cried. “How did you know where to find me?”
Her freckles were gone, and without them, her skin glowed with the warm luster of ivory. Her eyebrows had been darkened with pencil, and this emphasized the lightness of her eyes. Her coral red lips were perfectly drawn.
“You’re the latest gossip,” she said, pulling off her gloves. “A hun xue mistress comes to the Liu family, and she’s for Liu Sanmu, who has never before taken up with an outside woman. A few questions and I found out where you lived.”
“But what about you?” I said. “Grace and I always wondered because you didn’t seem very happy when your aunt took you away.”
“That wasn’t my aunt, that was Madam Fu,” she said. “She runs the brothel where my mother worked. My mother was an opium user and she ran up more debts than she could ever pay off from her earnings. It was her idea to send me to the mission school to learn English.”
Foreign men were willing to pay a good price for girls who could talk to them in their own language, and Madam Fu agreed readily to a plan that would increase Leah’s value. They left her on the orphanage steps. When Madam Fu came to get Leah years later, the coolness I’d observed in Miss Morris’s behavior had been suspicion. But once Leah vouched for her “aunt” there was nothing the headmistress could do to stop her from leaving.
After three months of training and grooming, Madam Fu sold Leah to the highest bidder. Leah’s patron was British, a manager with the Shanghai Land Investment Company. He had a wife in England who refused to come to Shanghai, a situation that didn’t seem to bother Mr. Stephenson.
“He’s nice enough,” she said. “In his forties, consumed with making money. All he really wants is a warm bed and someone to have a drink with him when he gets home in the evenings. His routines are unvarying. He’s generous enough and fond enough.”
“What about your mother?” I asked.
Her lips tightened. “She died last year, still an opium sot, still asking me for money. But what could I do? She was my mother. Now you, you’ve landed on your feet, Jialing. The Liu family! Tell me everything.”
It was the happiest afternoon I’d spent since leaving Dragon Springs Road. It was only when Little Ko came in and cleared her throat that I realized how much time had gone by.
“Just reminding you, Mistress. I’m going to draw your bath. You have visitors tonight.”
“Oh no.” I sighed. “I’d forgotten. Sanmu’s uncle is coming tonight.”
Leah clapped her hands. “You’re almost part of the family.”
“Don’t make fun of me,” I said.
She smiled. “Shanghai society is not as judgmental as a mission school.”
A mistress could be as respected as a second wife or as reviled as a cheap prostitute. Family members had been known to criticize a jealous wife for being rude to a modest and well-behaved mistress. Some mistresses were women from good families fallen on hard times, their sophistication prized by men flush with new wealth but wanting in refinement. It all depended on name and money, upbringing and social circles. A thousand different influences came into play, and much depended on the quality of the woman in question.
“If you gave Liu Sanmu a son,” Leah said, on her way out the door, “he would provide for you even after he tired of you.”
I didn’t want any children. Not by Sanmu, not by anyone. Why bear a child who would only blame me, as I had blamed my mother, for the shame of tainted blood? If I wanted to secure my future, it was far more practical to save money of my own, against the day Fox disappeared through the Door. For on that day, Sanmu would surely tire of me.
AT FIRST GLANCE Sanmu’s Fourth Uncle seemed elderly because he carried a cane and wore a traditional scholar’s gown and round skullcap. Closer, he proved merely middle-aged, ascetically lean and spare. He ate very little, although he praised the radish pickles, Mrs. Hao’s recipe.
Apart from an initial greeting and the compliment about the pickles, Fourth Uncle didn’t speak to me at all during the meal. He and Sanmu talked about the influx of White Russians who had escaped to Shanghai since the Bolshevik Revolution.
“My driver is Russian,” Sanmu said. “Claims he was an officer in the czar’s army before this, but that’s what they all say. They’re all aristocrats or officers.”
“We should be more concerned about the Bolshevik influence,” Fourth Uncle said. “Some of our students have gone to Russia. They’ll come back preaching sociali
sm. It will be worse than the warlords if socialism takes root in China.”
Suddenly he swiveled around to face me. I nearly dropped my chopsticks. “What about you, Miss Zhu? What interest do you have in our nation’s politics?”
Sanmu gave me an encouraging smile. He had warned me about this.
“It’s so complicated,” I said. “I don’t know enough to have a qualified opinion.”
Fourth Uncle grunted. “I’m glad to hear you say that. Women should stay away from politics. What are your interests? Fashion? Gambling?”
“I like gardens,” I said, thinking of Fox and the landscapes she had shown me. “The art of the large in the small, providing for the real in the unreal and the unreal in the real.”
“Ah.” Fourth Uncle’s expression softened. “Sanmu, you must take her to Changchow someday to see our kinsman’s home. Judge Liu has the most magnificent garden. A lake with two islands, beautiful rhododendrons.”
“I will, Uncle. Are you ready for tea?”
This was the signal to leave them alone. Little Ko brought in the tea and I excused myself. Upstairs in my room I gave a sigh of relief and changed into a nightgown. Fourth Uncle’s visit had not been as much of an ordeal as I’d feared. Suddenly tired, I sank into bed and turned out the light.
I woke to moonlight seeping through the drapes. I heard voices, Sanmu and his uncle. I got out of bed and went into the sitting room, where the windows overlooked the front garden. The night air was so still I could hear the crunch of gravel as they stepped onto the path. Under the magnolia tree, Fourth Uncle paused. There was a tiny momentary flare in the darkness as he lit a cigarette.
“She’s very young, Sanmu,” he said. “Not the sort I imagined you’d care for. Still, I suppose it’s a good idea to keep her close. Is she discreet? Can she keep secrets?”
“She’ll keep quiet, Uncle. Jialing is very sensible for her age, not a spoiled rich girl.”
When Sanmu came to bed, I pretended to be asleep, but a small seed of doubt had buried itself in my chest. Why was it a good idea to keep me close? What had he told Fourth Uncle about me?
Did this mean I couldn’t trust Sanmu, even though he was under Fox’s influence?
SANMU ASKED ME to get a new dining set, something more suited to intimate meals. I had no idea how to go about doing this, but Leah did. She always seemed to know exactly what to do. She was comfortable in her role as mistress to a wealthy man and took me under her wing; we went out frequently, and after a while, I learned to behave as she did in shops and restaurants. I gained confidence and felt less like an apologetic, awkward schoolgirl.
She took me to a furniture gallery where the store manager greeted her effusively. She chose a round table in rosewood and ordered chairs made to match, then asked for something called a sideboard in the same style. I sat by the clerk’s desk while he confirmed the order. Although the bill was being sent to Sanmu’s accountant, I insisted on a copy for myself. I had begun doing that at every store. I wanted to know how much a mistress cost.
Reflected in the large mirror behind the clerk’s desk, Leah was strolling around the store. I admired how she gave the impression of being gracefully posed even when leaning over to inspect a lacquered tabletop. Then I saw the store manager hand her an envelope. She looked inside the envelope, nodded, and tucked it in her purse.
At the next store, she selected four sets of porcelain for me, Chinese and Western, two sets for everyday use and two for entertaining. The cost was staggering, but she assured me it was absolutely necessary. Again, while I sat with the clerk, she accepted an envelope from the store’s manager.
“Are you shocked at me?” she asked, as we came out of the store. She had seen me staring.
I shook my head. I didn’t begrudge her making extra money.
“Good. We’re not schoolgirls anymore, Jialing,” she said. “There are many ways to earn money without getting it directly from your patron.”
A few months before New Year’s, Leah always sold part of her wardrobe to pawnshops. The poorer classes rented clothes and jewelry when they wanted to look well-to-do for special occasions. The shops never did so well as during the New Year when it was important to appear affluent.
“Pawnbrokers pay well for stylish clothes,” she said, “because they know they can rent them out for a good price. But commissions from shops and pawning my clothes? That’s small change compared what I make for using my influence with Mr. Stephenson.”
There was a seemingly endless list of people in Shanghai, both foreign and Chinese, who wanted to do business with her patron’s company. For this they were willing to pay for any small advantage. For this, they sent their women to beseech Leah.
“It’s so ridiculous, Jialing,” she said, pressing a napkin to her perfect red lips. She had taken me to a café on Avenue Joffre. “These men’s wives, concubines, mistresses, they bring me gifts. Gifts of money and jewelry, which I don’t even ask for half the time. They just assume I’m there to be bribed.”
The requests varied. Would Mr. Stephenson take a second look at a proposal, view some property, agree to speak with a certain firm? Sometimes they asked Stephenson to accept a dinner invitation, other times they begged an invitation to one of his company’s events. It could be something as small as an introduction to her patron in a public place, perhaps at the dining room of the Astor Hotel or in passing at the Shanghai Race Club.
“But can you fulfill those promises?” I asked.
“They’re not promises,” she assured me. “I never promise; I only say that I’ll try. And I only accept if I feel there’s a reasonable chance of success. I did learn something about morals from our school.”
“What does Mr. Stephenson say? Does he know?”
“He’s lived in Shanghai for a decade,” she said. “I’m sure he knows. But the point of all this, Jialing, is that your Mr. Liu belongs to one of the oldest and wealthiest families in Shanghai. Think of how well you would do.”
By now I had met more of Sanmu’s friends, had even taken tea with some of their mistresses and concubines. The women were never openly rude to me, but neither did they seem interested in becoming friends. Their talk was all about clothes, gossip, and parties. It made me wonder whether they even read the newspaper.
At the Yangs’, there had always been talk of politics and the general mood of the country, for all this affected business. At the mission school our teachers had encouraged us to read the news. They said we were living during an important time in China’s history, so we should be aware of events.
“I’ve met some of Sanmu’s friends,” I said, feeling dubious. “I really don’t think they want his help or mine.”
“I can send someone your way,” she said. “I know someone whose husband could use an introduction to Liu Sanmu. Word will get around.”
“Leah, I’m not sure,” I said. “If Liu Sanmu finds out . . .”
“You’re being cautious until you know him better,” she said approvingly. Then she leaned back and lit another cigarette. “You’ll find the money isn’t the best part. I get a lot of pleasure watching those society women pretend they don’t mind that I’m zazhong.”
WITH SANMU AT the newspaper all day, I had no lack of free time. He split his hours between Yuyang Lane and his own home. Between family gatherings, the newspaper, and business for the Liu Family Property Development Company, it was never certain which days he would come. Sometimes he was away for days.
Fox found it very irritating to make the trip out to Yuyang Lane only to find me alone.
I can only do so much from afar you know, she said, walking around my room. You must get him here at least once a week. It’s much easier if you’re together.
Today she was a schoolgirl, wearing a school uniform, her hair in two pigtails tied with black ribbon. She picked up a porcelain fox, an English figurine. It was one of the few trinkets I had bought for myself. I displayed it on a small tabletop pedestal. She put it back, looking pleased.
But when Sanmu came home, Fox did her work too well and we never made it to the party.
“I DON’T KNOW what it is,” he had whispered, his lips traveling down my neck. “Even when we’re together, I feel as though I will never truly understand how I feel about you. You bewilder me.”
Then he had sworn his love with every kiss and every caress, made passionate promises to always take care of me. He even wept after our lovemaking. I felt like such a fraud.
Not a single breath of air stirred the light fabric at the windows. Moonlight flooded the garden with a cold radiance that silvered every leaf and glittered the gravel path. Shanghai was exciting, but it was too dense, too clamorous. Even though my little house was sheltered behind brick walls, I always sensed an undercurrent of noise, the hum of traffic from busy Avenue Joffre a few blocks away. I missed the quiet of evenings at Dragon Springs Road, when you could hear the rustle of vines as the air cooled and breezes lifted, when a restful silence descended, encouraging nocturnal creatures to venture out.
I turned away from the window to look at Sanmu’s sleeping form, the sheets twisted about him, his hair still damp.
Sanmu came from wealth, but it hadn’t spoiled him. He took his work at the newspaper seriously. I couldn’t have asked for a better patron, but there was a hollow where I wanted my heart to be. I didn’t want his love. I wanted someone whose feelings for me were real. If that was even possible.
Yet my mother had tolerated years with Noble Uncle, a weak and self-serving man. How had she endured someone like that fawning over her?
She had endured it because of me.
CHAPTER 20
February 1920, Year of the Monkey
Leah and I had a wonderful day. Dressed in plain cotton tunics and padded jackets, our faces bare of cosmetics, we crossed the Garden Bridge at the end of the Bund, where Soochow Creek flows into the Huangpu River. We passed alleys whose entrances were decorated with name plates, wooden signs carved with the names of the prostitutes who lived in the alley. Then we turned downhill to the wharves.