The Eye of Jade

by Diane Wei Liang

  “What do you mean, ‘whatever the truth’? There is only one truth; I am the one telling the truth.” Mei heard her own voice rise.

  “This isn’t coming out right. No, both Mama and I are absolutely on your side! Of course we believe you. All I am saying is that other people may not see it the way we do. You can’t convince them, either. Anyway, we thought perhaps you’d rather not want the attention of being a bridesmaid. People may talk and speculate as to why you left the Ministry. You don’t want that.”

  “You are inviting my old boss, aren’t you?”

  “My dear sister, if it were up to me, I’d cut his filthy pigtail off for you. But I can’t withdraw the invitation. I am sure you understand, he is not someone you want to make an enemy of.”

  “This doesn’t exactly sound like you’re on my side,” retorted Mei. “How long have you and Mama been planning this? Ever since I left the Ministry?”

  “I am sorry, Mei. We would hate to see you get hurt; that’s why we think it would be better if you keep a low profile on Saturday. Lower your head just once, please—for me, for your little sister’s wedding day.” Lu’s voice sounded as if it had been dipped in honey. “You know that there is little I can do, don’t you? I can’t even put your ex-boss upstairs. I would have liked to, believe me.”

  Mei felt like crying.

  “Mei, don’t forget there are still others that you hate, like the wife of the deputy party secretary, Mrs. Yao, who set up so many dates for you.”

  “I don’t hate her. I simply dislike her. She’d match me off with anyone as long as it would get her husband promoted.”

  “See, Mei, this is your problem. You don’t trust anyone. People try to help you, but you always think they have ulterior motives. Perhaps they do, perhaps they don’t—what does it matter?”

  “It matters a lot. It matters whether people are truthful.”

  “You are my older sister, but you can be so naive sometimes. No wonder you have many enemies.”

  “Would you rather I didn’t come to your wedding? That would save the embarrassment for everyone.”

  “Of course I want you there. You are my sister, my family. How can you even think like this?” Lu paused. The temperature between them cooled a few degrees. “Mei, I admire your high standards. But other people are not as noble as you. You pass judgment on them. Sometimes I wish you could be just a bit more tolerant.”

  That night, alone in her apartment, Mei watched the yellow and red light show on the ring road below her window. She thought about her shortcomings. She, too, wished she were more tolerant. She wondered whether those so-called high standards were the cause of her sorry state—all alone and out of a job. Perhaps Lu was right. Who was she to judge other people?

  Then she tried to imagine what the world would be like if people spoke their mind. In such a world, Lu would have told Mei that she did not fit in with her sister’s perfect image, and Mei would have understood, as she did now. Face and image were everything to Lu. In that world, no one would stop Mei from telling Mrs. Yao that she was not a stepping stone for her husband’s career and that her happiness was not to be traded like a favor.

  Mei thought about not going to the wedding, about how shocked and angry everyone would be. She knew that it wasn’t a real possibility, but she played the scenario in her head: a meditation of protest.

  In the end, she did go to the wedding, as she knew she had to.

  The legal procedures—permission from the Party (Lining had the blessing of the mayor, of course), medical examinations, and the marriage certificate with a joint portrait—had all been completed. The only thing remaining was a grand reception.

  The day turned out to be perfect. Ocean-blue sky spread out to eternity. When sunshine hit the skin, it bestowed an intimate warmth like the touch of a loved one. The top of the French oak trees lining the street stirred in a featherlike breeze, radiating dappled light in all directions. The air was as clear as filtered water.

  Two hundred and eighty-six red lanterns dangled from the butterfly roof of the restaurant. Two more enormous lanterns hung by the entrance like a pair of earrings, flashing the words DOUBLE HAPPINESS. Thirty parking attendants in red mandarin-collared shirts and wide trousers buzzed about like a horde of beetles, ferrying Mercedeses and Audis to the front of the parking lot and cars like Mei’s red Mitsubishi to the back. They were young migrant workers, fit as oxen and always prepared to work sixteen hours a day.

  At the door, a four-man team had been setting off belts of firecrackers since the first guest arrived. The air reeked of gunpowder and smoke.

  “How many times have I told you? Get to the side, too much smoke!” one of the wedding organizers shouted at the firecracker crew.

  Once Mei had passed through the firecrackers and the smoke, the scene inside the restaurant was graceful and orderly. A red carpet ran from the entrance to a two-meter-high stage at the back. On either side of the red carpet were rows of chairs that could be taken away after the ceremony. It looked as if all the guests had arrived. There wasn’t a single empty chair in sight.

  Near the stage were sixteen ten-person tables, eight on either side, for the bride’s and groom’s families and the most distinguished guests. One of the eighty-eight waitresses in figure-hugging qipao dresses showed Mei to the Wang family table. A pink lotus flower floated in a crystal vase at the table’s center. It must have been picked early that day, for it looked as fresh as morning dew. Scattered on the table were red rose petals.

  Little Auntie had arrived from Shanghai. She was Mama’s baby sister, twelve years younger than Ling Bai. Sitting next to Little Auntie was her sixteen-year-old son with a face full of pimples. He was talking to Uncle Chen’s daughter, who wore a frozen smile. Someone get me out of here, her eyes pleaded. Her older brother was fending off his mother, Auntie Chen, with nothing more than a “yes” or “no” in a verbal Ping-Pong match. But the mother always smashed back. It was going to be a long day.

  “You’re late,” whispered Mama before Mei could sit down.

  “The wedding’s not going to start for another ten minutes.” Mei took up her assigned position.

  “You are family, you’ve got responsibilities. Many guests have come over to offer their congratulations, and I have been here all alone.”

  “Sorry.”

  Mei said a quick hello to Uncle Chen, who was seated next to her. Uncle Chen was not really Mei’s uncle but Mama’s best friend. He and Mama had known each other since they were at high school in Shanghai. When the children were young, the two families used to go on outings together and visited each other for Chinese New Year. After Mei’s father died, Uncle Chen continued to visit, mostly without his family.

  “Now quickly go and say hello to Lining’s family,” urged Mama.

  “All right.” Mei grunted and got up from her seat. She went over to Lining’s family table and greeted everyone. She had already met them on various occasions: his parents, younger brother, sister-in-law, and two nephews, who lived in Vancouver, and his much younger sister and her American boyfriend, who were studying film at UCLA. Lining had grown up in Dalian, the northern industrial center, considered the shipyard of China. His father was the head of a small machine tool factory, and his mother was a nurse. Lining had made it big through oil refineries before moving into shipping and real estate. He had bought a house in Vancouver for his parents. His brother was his North American representative.

  “Come over, Mei, let me look at you.” Lining’s mother, Mrs. Jiang, extended her hand for Mei to take. “Every time I see you and Lu, I say to your mother, how prosperous, two beautiful Qian Jin, a thousand gold pieces!” Mrs. Jiang exclaimed in her usual state of excitement. “You are worth ten thousand gold pieces. So I tell her.”

  “Auntie Jiang is exaggerating,” said Mei, an answer straight from the social-etiquette handbook. After all, she was not entirely without polish.

  “I don’t understand how you can still be single,” said Mrs. Jiang, sou
nding almost angry. “My child, sometimes one can set one’s bar too high. If you like, give Auntie Jiang a word. I will find you a nice husband in Vancouver.”

  Mr. Jiang, Sr., interrupted his wife. “Stop bugging the child about it. You do it all the time. Let her live her own life.” He turned to Mei and asked, “I hear that you have left the Ministry of Public Security. What are you going to do?”

  “I am going to be a private detective,” Mei answered. To her surprise, she found her voice shrinking. She thought she’d come to the wedding with her head held high. She thought she’d be proud of her new life. Instead, she was embarrassed.

  “Really?” cried Lining’s little sister. “How exciting. Are you the first private eye in Beijing? Do you have murder cases?”

  Mei was just about to answer both questions in the negative when a big guy in a dark suit and a trendy brown leather tie jumped out from nowhere. “Congratulations!” he shouted.

  “Ah, Mr. Hu. Happy together!” Lining’s brother greeted him in the same way. He explained to his father, “Mr. Hu is the Party chairman at Beijing Second Factory for Firecrackers and Gunpowder.”

  “Do you like the firecrackers?” asked the Party man, who apparently needed no answer in order to carry on. “They’re our best bangers, those little bastards. I told Lining, ‘No worries, leave it to me.’ I’ve got another truckload of them in the parking lot.”

  “Is it safe?” asked Mr. Jiang, Sr.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, leaving a truck of explosives outside on such a dry sunny day.”

  “No problem. Got two kids sitting on them,” said Mr. Hu, unconcerned.

  Mei seized the opportunity to take her leave. As soon as she sat down back at her table, a grave young pianist in tails struck the first note of the wedding march. The groom and best man emerged from behind the giant DOUBLE HAPPINESS banner. Slowly, the bridesmaids, little angels in rose dresses, walked down the red carpet. Behind them, on the arm of the deputy mayor of Beijing, Lu looked like a goddess traveling on sweeping white clouds.

  The bride and the groom appeared perfectly suited, despite the fifteen-year age gap. Lining was of middling height, with a well-toned body. He had the confident air of an extremely successful man. He looked much younger than his age. Lu, on the other hand, was more elegant and sophisticated than the average twenty-six-year-old. As for their personalities, Mei thought that they had much in common.

  Mei remembered when Lu had first met Lining. She had said that she did not like him—he was too old, he was divorced, he was arrogant. He was someone who had too many girls throwing themselves at him, someone used to getting everything he wanted. Mei wondered whether Lu actually felt like that or if it was the kind of talk intended to make Lining chase her harder.

  After the Western wedding ceremony, the bride and groom went away to change. The pop star Tian Tian sprang onto the stage, rocking his hips and singing his latest hits. They were all about love and devotion. Misty-eyed young women swooned in ecstasy. Mei hummed along wordlessly. She was happy, she was enjoying the party, and like everyone else, she was impressed by the exclusiveness.

  Twenty minutes later, Tian Tian yielded the floor to the wedding organizer, a chubby lady in a pink suit. The groom was now dressed in a long midnight-blue silk robe with golden embroidery. The bride wore a red Chinese wedding gown and a jeweled cape.

  “Bow to heaven!” shouted the wedding organizer, her voice unexpectedly loud.

  The bride and groom bowed north, at the DOUBLE HAPPINESS banner.

  “Bow to earth!”

  They turned and bowed south.

  “Bow to parents!”

  They did as they were told.

  “Husband and wife, bow to each other!”

  The groom lifted the bride’s red veil. The crowd roared. “Eat dried plums!” they shouted. “Eat peanuts!”

  These symbolized the guests’ wish that the newlyweds be blessed with sons before long.

  Lu blushed like a sweet young girl of eighteen. The guests shouted again, “Zao Sheng Zi! Dried plums and raw peanuts!”

  Outside, another battery of firecrackers burst.

  For a second time, the couple went away to change. The grand piano was once more pushed onto the stage. The graceful waitresses ushered the guests upstairs to their tables. The manager and floor managers shouted. Young migrant helpers stacked the chairs and carried them out. Two large rosewood tables were brought in. A big crystal bowl filled with Red Pockets, small red envelopes stuffed with cash, was placed on one of them and, on the other, gifts of various colors, shapes, and sizes.

  Cigarettes were lit, the smoke from them rising and filling the room. When everyone was seated, the banquet was served: a sumptuous array of cold cuts, bird’s nest soup, marinated sea horse, jellyfish, crabmeat in coconut shells, fish carved into the shape of squirrels, spicy seafood hot pots, and jade-green vegetables.

  Uncle Chen leaned over and said to Mama, “Such great food, and a lovely wedding, too.”

  “It has come out nicely, hasn’t it?” Mama glowed. “So many people have come to honor the occasion—the deputy mayor and all the big bosses, your family, Lining’s family coming from Canada. Lu’s done well.”

  “They do say ‘Better lucky than able.’ Lu is an exceptional girl: beautiful, smart, and successful in her own right. But she is a lucky girl to have married so well!” Uncle Chen grinned.

  Mama beamed, too.

  “Let’s drink to Lu’s luck and Old Ling’s luck!” Uncle Chen stood up and raised his rice wine.

  “Lucky!” shouted everyone at the table, raising their glasses.

  “Lucky, lucky.” Mama bowed with a wide smile and emptied the rice wine in her shot cup.

  Uncle Chen sat down again. “You must be so proud of her.” He laughed. “Now you can sit back and enjoy your good fortune.”

  “I wish I could.” Mama sighed. “Let me say this today: I’ve never had to worry about Lu. That child has always been sensible, good with people. Our ancestors say the two aims in life are to make a family and build a career. Now she’s done both.”

  Uncle Chen nodded his agreement. Shredded cold lobster had arrived, and he was too busy eating to speak.

  Mei decided to ignore Mama, though she understood that her mother was saying these words for her benefit. Mama was scorning her for having lost her job at the Ministry. “Why couldn’t she be more like her sister?” Mei could almost hear her mother saying. But this time Mei wasn’t going to let herself be embarrassed. Mei didn’t want to be like her sister. She wasn’t interested in Guanxi. She believed in herself. She believed that as long as she was capable, she would succeed.

  The newlyweds reappeared. Lu had changed into a white pantsuit, her hair swept back in a bun, showing off a pair of sparkling diamond earrings. She walked with her new husband, now in a smart dark suit, toasting the distinguished guests. Lu, who normally drank little, worked the floor with a glass of champagne in hand. Lining happily followed with a cup of lethal Chinese rice wine. Mei knew that after this round, Lu would change her outfit again before they continued their journey upstairs, paying respect to all the guests.

  “Are you okay?” Uncle Chen seemed to notice Mei’s long face.

  Mei shrugged and tried to smile. “Fine.”

  “It can’t be easy to be the unmarried older sister,” said Uncle Chen.

  From everywhere Mei heard loud voices, people laughing, singing, and drinking; bowls, chopsticks, and plates clattering. There were sweaty faces, cigarette smoke, and the smell of rice wine. Some eyes met Mei’s with inquisitive stares. They smiled, nodding knowingly.

  “Don’t let it bother you,” Mei heard Uncle Chen saying.

  “I’m fine. I don’t really care,” she lied.

  “You can’t stop people talking. Some people feed on this stuff. They gossip and judge others so that they can feel superior. But I’ll tell you something,” Uncle Chen whispered, “you’ve always been my favorite. I’m not saying that I
don’t like Lu, but I think you’re different. You’re brave. You don’t chase things, like everyone else. Lu’s happy now, but for how long? Soon there’ll be another thing she wants and then another.”

  “Well, at least she is married.” Mei frowned.

  Uncle Chen tapped her shoulder. “You will be, too.”

  Presently, a well-dressed tallish woman in her fifties approached them tentatively, lowering her head to get a better look at Uncle Chen. “Old Chen, I thought it was you!” Immediately, she extended her right hand. “I was sitting over there and thought that man looked a lot like Chen Jitian.”

  Uncle Chen stared first at the woman’s round face and then at her small white hand, his mouth half open as if waiting for words to rise from his gut. He tried to get up. In a violent jolt, his chair flipped, slapping his tummy on the edge of the table. But he bounced back to grab her hand, his eyes smiling. “Xiao Qing, what a surprise. How are you? How long has it been since we last saw each other?”

  “Our university’s thirtieth anniversary in 1984. How are you doing? Still working at Xinhua News Agency?”

  Ms. Qing was as tall as Uncle Chen, but in contrast to his plumpness and receding hairline, she was slender and sported a fashionable perm.

  “Yes, the same old.” Uncle Chen kept smiling.

  “Good. Give me a call next week, let’s get together.” Ms. Qing handed him a business card. The newlyweds had arrived at her table. She had to go.

  “Sure thing.” Uncle Chen nodded like a rooster.

  Ms. Qing had already turned around and walked away.

  What was left of the seafood dishes was removed to make space for a large suckling duck, carved and laid over a bed of Chinese cabbage. Uncle Chen picked up a paper-thin pancake and covered it in sweet wheat sauce, two slices of the best duck meat, and a few slivers of spring onions. He rolled it up for Mei.

  “Thank you, but I am so full,” said Mei, looking at the nicest thing someone had done for her all day.

  “Must eat. Food is one of the great pleasures in life,” Uncle Chen insisted, pushing the plate closer to Mei.