by Karey White
Chapter Nine
Words whispered through Mae’s mind, soft and lyrical, increasing in volume, then decreasing. She couldn’t move, didn’t want to move, yet something was on her shoulder, squeezing, then shaking.
“No,” she said, refusing to open her eyes and let go of the dreamworld.
“You need to move,” the voice came again, although this time the words weren’t soft, but firm and demanding. “It’s not safe here for a young woman.”
Mae felt as if she were being tugged from a dark pool of motionless suspension into a stark room full of noise. Someone was pulling her arm upward, painfully.
“Ah!” Mae gasped.
“Come with me,” the female voice spoke again.
She opened her eyes. Dawn had approached, and in the silvery light, Mae saw a stooped woman hovering over her. The woman’s face was wrinkled, her dark hair pulled into a chignon, and her eyes seemed to peer right through Mae. And with the strength that Mae couldn’t fathom coming from such an ancient creature, the woman hauled Mae to her feet, then wrapped a boney arm around her waist, virtually holding her up.
“We need to get you warm and fed,” the woman said.
Her words jolted through Mae, but she couldn’t speak, couldn’t respond. Her mouth refused to form a single syllable. She wasn’t even sure of how she was walking, yet somehow she hobbled along next to the old woman, barely comprehending anything else besides her body being propelled forward.
And then she was inside a room with a sharp floral smell. The woman helped her into a bed, stripped off her clothes, bathed her face with warm water, then spooned a hot, bitter broth into her lips.
And Mae slept. Each time she awakened, the same bitter broth was forced upon her. Mae was only aware of three things, being awake, being asleep, and the broth. Eventually, she noticed the changing light in the room, the hovering presence of the old woman, and then something else. Her body had relaxed, her limbs had strengthened, and the pain had nearly gone.
Opening her eyes, Mae saw a wall of bookshelves piled high with scrolls. On the next wall was an embroidered silk hanging with a family lineage carefully stitched into place. Mae’s eyes rose to the ceiling that was decorated with hanging crystal beads.
“You have awakened,” a familiar voice said. Familiar because it was all that Mae had heard for the past day or two or three.
Mae turned her head just as a trembling hand grasped her own. Mae didn’t flinch at the touch, for, she realized, it was familiar. The woman must have held her hand many times during Mae’s delirium.
Mae could only blink at the woman. Who was she? Mae had so many questions, and her heart was swollen with gratitude.
“There. There,” the woman continued in her lyrical whisper. Her voice no longer raspy, but warm and soothing like a fragrant cup of tea on a cold day. “I found you by the river, near death.”
“Why?” Mae said, her voice barely audible. Her throat was dry and thick.
The woman’s other hand fluttered near Mae’s forehead, smoothing back her tangled hair. “I saw you in a dream.” The statement was simple, and for some reason it made perfect sense to Mae.
She floated back into a dreamless sleep, and when she next awakened, it was as if every part of her body had been restored. Her feet no longer ached, her arms felt strong and vigorous, her mind clear.
She was alone in the room that she’d spent days convalescing in, and she sat up slowly, waiting for a burst of pain of fatigue. But nothing happened. Moving her legs over the side of the bed, Mae placed her feet on the floor, testing. She stood, moving slowly and unsteadily at first.
Walking around the room, she felt stronger and stronger each moment. She stopped in front of the silk hanging and studied the lineage names, which she wished she could read.
“Feeling better, I see,” the woman’s voice said behind her.
Mae turned and met the woman’s broad smile with a smile of her own. Questions rushed to her mind, all of them competing with each other. Mae let out a breath and said, “Who are you?”
The woman’s eyes twinkled, complementing her smile. “I am Mrs. Tan. I’m the matchmaker.”
Mae stared at the woman, her heart sinking. She’d fled one matchmaker only to be rescued by another.
Mrs. Tan put a hand on Mae’s arm. “Don’t look so dismayed. Come into the next room and sit down. You can ask me anything.”
Mae followed Mrs. Tan out of the bedroom and into a small sitting room with elegant furniture.
“This is where my patrons come to meet with me,” Mrs. Tan said, bustling ahead of Mae, then motioning for her to take a seat on a dark velvet settee.
A tea set had been placed on the low mahogany table, as if Mrs. Tan had been expecting visitors. She took her time pouring out the tea, then handed a cup to Mae. After taking a sip of the hot liquid, Mae cleared her throat. “The matchmaker in my village matched me with the wrong man. I was in love . . .” Her voice faltered.
“And you couldn’t bear to see the man you love marry another?” Mrs. Tan said, her gaze steady and watchful.
Mae nodded, her eyes burning with new tears. She hadn’t cried over Chen since coming to Shanghai; she’d cried over plenty of other things though. It must have been the deep compassion in Mrs. Tan’s eyes that made Mae open up and tell her the story of her ill-fated love for Chen.
When Mae finished her story, Mrs. Tan remained quiet for several long moments. “Your matchmaker was wrong,” she said, almost in a whisper.
Mae felt the air leave her body. All of the strength that she’d gained over the past few days seemed to dissipate.
“But,” said Mrs. Tan, raising her hand. “It’s too late to go back. Chen will make an honorable marriage. That is his character. Your path has been altered and you are not meant to marry him.”
Even though Mae knew Mrs. Tan was right, it hurt to hear someone else speak the words. She fingered the edges of her robe, noticing for the first time the fine weave of cloth she wore. Mrs. Tan had taken good care of her. But the fact remained, the woman was a matchmaker, and she represented someone that had ruined Mae’s life.
Mrs. Tan watched her closely, as if she were trying to read her thoughts. The woman took a sip of her tea, then set it on the tea tray. “I dreamed about you, Mae Li,” she said in a soft voice.
Mae raised her brows. She hadn’t ever told Mrs. Tan her surname.
“That’s how I found you, you know,” Mrs. Tan continued as if she hadn’t said anything unusual. “Dawn hadn’t even arrived, yet I could no longer sleep because of the dream I had about you. When I walked to the river, I was still doubting until I saw you curled up, half-dead. Then I knew that I had been led to you for a purpose.” Her voice wavered.
Swallowing against the sudden lump in her throat, Mae clasped her hands together. “What purpose?”
“This might be difficult for you to believe; it’s difficult for me to believe.” Mrs. Tan laughed, but it was a sad laugh. “My days are coming to an end, and I need a replacement.”
Mae’s mouth fell open as astonishment flooded her.
The matchmaker lifted a gnarled hand. “Before you tell me no, you must realize that you may always choose your own fate. All I ask is that you be my apprentice for twelve months in which I will teach you the powers of matchmaking. I will teach you to read and write. I will educate you in the art of bringing true love together, and at the end of the twelve months, you may choose your own path.”
Chapter Ten
Mae drew on the silk cheongsam that Mrs. Tan had bought for her. She had three of them now, in beautiful pastel shades, with exquisite embroidery and piping. Mae had never owned anything so fine. Today she’d sit in on her first interviews, with Mrs. Tan leading the discussion. It was a novel thing that Mrs. Tan interviewed the prospective client and her parents before creating a match. That was only the first step in the matchmaker’s process, Mae had learned.
Smoothing down the fabric over her hips, Mae mouthed a prayer of gra
titude once again to her ancestors. She had been rescued, miraculously, and she’d had a few days to get used to Mrs. Tan’s unusual request and recover her health.
Someone was knocking at the front door and Mae heard Mrs. Tan’s soothing greeting. It was time. Mae left her room, walked down the short corridor and entered the sitting room. She bowed to the three people who had just entered—a mother and father, Mr. and Mrs. Maa, with their daughter, introduced as Ling.
Mrs. Tan sat them down, served tea, then she began to ask the daughter many questions about her interests.
Mae was surprised at such a thorough interrogation. She was even more surprised when Mrs. Tan said, “Ling, dear, I’m sensing there’s something you aren’t telling me.”
The girl’s face flushed, and her mother’s face paled. Her father’s jaw was set, unmoving.
Mae found that she was holding her breath as she waited for Ling’s reply, but the girl looked at her clenched hands that rested on her lap, saying nothing.
Mrs. Tan rose and crossed to Ling. “Close your eyes.”
Ling obeyed, and Mrs. Tan slowly traced the girl’s face—her eyebrows, eyelids, cheekbones, nose, lips, and chin. Mrs. Tan’s lips moved in silent words as her fingers seemed to follow their own path. When she dropped her hands, the entire room was silent, waiting. “You have found love,” Mrs. Tan said.
Ling’s eyes opened and tears gathered. “Yes,” she confessed in a whisper. “I have been in love with a boy I’ve known since childhood.” Ling released a shaky breath as tears escaped her eyes and dripped down her cheeks. “But my parents don’t approve and neither will his family.”
Mae’s eyes burned with emotion. She felt as if she were watching her own life, this time from the outside in.
Mrs. Tan reached down and grasped Ling’s hands. “Tell me of this young man’s family.”
Ling kept her eyes lowered as she hesitantly told Mrs. Tan of Delung Fai and their friendship, but how the young man’s family was wealthier than Ling’s family.
It was different from Mae’s situation—Chen’s family loved her and would have supported the marriage—but they wouldn’t go against the matchmaker’s recommendation.
Mrs. Tan released Ling’s hands and went back to her seat. She sat down and lifted a scroll from the basket near her chair and spread it out. “This is your family’s lineage,” she said, tracing her finger along the artfully drawn names and lines. “When you spoke of Delung Fai, my heart burned with fullness, and I felt the connection between the two of you. The connection is very strong—both in heart and in lineage, which means if we can find proof of your lineage connection to the Fai family, then a match might be possible.”
Ling looked up at Mrs. Tan, her expression startled. “But how will we find a connection?”
Mrs. Tan pulled out another scroll. “This young man’s parents came to me weeks ago with a matchmaking request. They did not bring him, or else I would have asked him if there was a special woman in his life. I did not know then why I told them it would take many weeks to find a match.” She spread out the scroll.
Ling and her parents leaned forward, all eyes on the two scrolls.
Mae found herself leaning forward as well, just as eager as the patrons to discover if Mrs. Tan could find a strong enough connection.
Several moments passed, and finally Mrs. Tan tapped Ling’s family lineage. “Here,” she said. “Your grandfather’s cousin was a half-brother to Delung’s uncle’s third wife. It’s a small connection, but a connection that may hold with a bit of luck.” She looked up and met Ling’s eyes with steadiness. “Delung’s father, Mr. Fai, will have to approve the connection.”
Ling let out a half-cry, half-laugh, and Mae wanted to cry along with her. If only the matchmaker serving her village had taken the same approach as Mrs. Tan, Mae’s life might have been completely different.
She exhaled slowly, trying to keep the tears of happiness for Ling and sorrow for herself at bay.
Ling and her parents left the house in a mixture of tears and profuse gratitude. Even Ling’s father looked pleased.
When the door shut behind them, Mae turned to Mrs. Tan. “What do you think her chances are?”
Mrs. Tan smiled and grasped Mae’s hand. “Very good. Do you know why I told her we’d need a bit of luck?”
Mae’s eyes widened, remembering. What had Mrs. Tan meant?
“You will see what it means to be a true matchmaker,” Mrs. Tan said with a wink. “You’ll come with me to the Fai home.”
Mae’s brow must have furrowed in confusion because Mrs. Tan laughed. “If you are to replace me, you will need to witness my work first-hand, right?”
Mae Li looked down at the floor. “I have not said I will replace you.”
A gnarled finger lifted her chin, and her eyes met those of the compassionate Mrs. Tan. “I can sense a powerful potential in you, Mae Li. In time, you will come to feel it too.”
A powerful potential? Mae Li was no one. She was a girl of the village who’d run away to Shanghai because she wasn’t good enough for the Zhu family. What potential could she possibly have?
But as she looked into Mrs. Tan’s eyes, the refection she saw there wasn’t just the girl from the village. She saw a girl who was young and beautiful, caring and strong. A girl with potential.
Almost without thinking, Mae lifted her fingers to her hair and touched pearl-embedded comb that Chen had given her—the comb that she didn’t have to sell. She remembered the promised she’d made at the river to devote her life to others. Wasn’t Mrs. Tan offering her the chance to do just that? To give others the happiness she’d been denied?
Mae swallowed, smoothing her fingers over the pearls one last time. “May I make a request?”
“Of course,” said Mrs. Tan.
“I am no longer a girl of the village. Mae Li is my past. From this moment on, I wish to be called”—she thought of Chen, and a smile touched her lips—“Pearl.”
Chapter Eleven
The narrow road led to an impressive two-story sprawling house. A gardener stopped and bowed as Mae and Mrs. Tan walked up to the front door. Mae supposed they had dressed elegantly enough that they’d be welcomed into such a fine home.
Topiary trees stood sentinel on each side of the door, and when Mrs. Tan knocked, it opened almost immediately. A young female servant led them into a formal dining room, where Mr. Fai and his wife were waiting. Mr. Fai’s hair was oiled back, his clothing formal, and his wife sat nearby, her hands clasped in her lap, her head bowed. Her tiny bound feet protruded from her cheongsam.
Mr. Fai greeted the two women, and Mrs. Tan said, “This is Miss Pearl, my apprentice.”
Mae and Mrs. Tan took their seats in the stiff, ornate chairs, and Mrs. Tan proceeded to spread out her scrolls.
Then Mae watched something miraculous unfold. Mr. and Mrs. Fai listened to Mrs. Tan as she explained their lineage and how it matched up with that of Ling’s family. But the Fai’s weren’t just listening out of politeness and respect, they were enraptured and completely drawn in. It was almost as if a spell had been cast over them.
When she had first seen Mr. Fai, Mae had viewed him as a very proper and traditional gentleman wearing a formal Manchu jacket—and as someone who might view Ling as a second or third wife, but not as a first wife. But by the time Mrs. Tan presented a brand new scroll, one with Ling and Delung’s name painted on and intertwined with rose vines, Mr. Fai was nodding in agreement and Mrs. Fai was wiping her eyes.
Mae’s chest tightened in emotion as Mr. Fai took Mrs. Tan’s hand and said, “Thank you for finding the perfect match for my son.”
Beside him, Mrs. Fai only nodded, but Mae didn’t miss the slight smile on her face as if it were bursting to get through.
And then someone entered the room, and Mae looked up. A young man, dressed much like his father, but having the softer face of his mother, entered.
He bowed deeply to Mrs. Tan after introductions were made, then said, “May I be of
service?”
Mr. Fai pointed to the scroll on the table with the two names painted on it. “The marriage agreement.”
Mae watched the young man, who must be Delung, closely. His face was schooled into an almost non-expression, but she didn’t miss the flicker of anxiety in his eyes.
He took another step into the room and read the names upon the scroll silently.
“You are to be matched with Ling Maa,” Mr. Fai announced.
Delung went very still, looking from his father to his mother, then to his father again. He placed his hand on the back of the chair as if he needed the extra stability.
Then Delung gave a small nod, and his face broke out into a smile.
Mae wanted to laugh and clap her hands together, but she only allowed herself a small smile.
Delung moved to his mother’s side and leaned down and kissed her cheek. Then he moved away quickly, both of their faces flushed. Affection wasn’t common in most Chinese families.
Mae wanted to hug them herself.
After many expressions of gratitude from the Fai family, Mrs. Tan said, “We must now visit with the Maa family and tell them of their good fortune.”
Mae rejoiced in that. If the Fai family believed they were fortunate to have Ling as their daughter in law, then the Maa family would believe they were doubly fortunate to have Delung as their son.
Once outside of the home, everything looked brighter to Mae. The cypress trees were a deeper green, the flowers were more brilliant red, and the stream that ran through the Delung property bubbled with excitement.
When they were out of sight of the house, Mae grasped Mrs. Tan’s arm. “How did you do that?” she asked, her heart still pounding with pleasure. “It was . . . magic, or something. Do you have a special power?” She laughed at her own exclamation, but then sobered at Mrs. Tan’s reaction.
Mrs. Tan stopped beneath the shade of a row of cypress trees. Her expression serious, she looked deep into Mae’s eyes. “In time I will tell you all my secrets,” she said in a soft voice. “Until then, trust me completely, and I will show you how the power of the matchmaker truly works.”