My Splendid Concubine

by Lofthouse, Lloyd

  “Not to worry, Master. I’ll take care of everything.”

  The front door looked like it was full of dry rot. That was regrettable because the carvings were interesting. Around the sides were carvings of scholars sitting inside pavilions studying scrolls. At the top, there were two painted concubines serving tea to a master sitting at a table writing something. On either side of this setting were carvings of bamboo swaying in the wind. Robert traced the crude figures carved in the wood. “Does this mean anything?” he asked.

  “A poet once lived here years ago,” Guan-jiah said. “He killed himself when no one liked his poetry. If he hadn’t come from a wealthy family, he would have starved.”

  Robert took a small knife out of his pocket and opened the blade. When he poked the pointed end into the wood, the tip sunk in as if the wood were soft clay. “This door is rotten, Guan-jiah, see that it is replaced with one made of thick solid timbers that can be soundly locked from the inside.”

  “Yes, Master,” he said, “I will see that it is done.”

  Robert decided that Guan-jiah would make a good, dependable and trustworthy husband for some girl like Shao-mei. It didn’t matter to Robert if Guan-jiah couldn’t have intercourse with her. He wondered if people adopted children in China. He’d find out.

  Before departing Ningpo, Robert stood inside the doorway and imagined what the place was going to look like once he returned with his new family. It was difficult seeing this old, stuffy place as something inviting and warm.

  Making it come alive would be up to the sisters. If they could impose their bubbly personalities on these drab walls, it would happen. Robert envisioned Guan-jiah moving in and living with Shao-mei. He hadn’t given up on the idea yet. He liked Guan-jiah. His loyalty was admirable. He imagined Guan-jiah and Shao-mei as if they were adopted children, who would develop a platonic relationship. Why, he could be the father and Ayaou the mother.

  Lord, what an idiot he was, he thought. Shao-mei was a curious and sensual girl. She’d probably kill herself if Robert married her off to a eunuch.

  Guan-jiah’s family reminded him of his family back home in Portadown, in county Armagh where he’d been born. Thinking of home caused a sorrow born of loneliness to spread throughout his body like a disease that made him ache.

  His father was a Wesleyan preacher and for a living he sold food and liquor from the family store. He’d also managed to raise a family of twelve and Robert was the oldest. He had once hoped to join his father’s business, and if God found him worthy, to become a Wesleyan preacher too.

  However, his drinking and womanizing while in College had ruined that dream. Instead of joining his father, he’d run to China to escape what his family and friends thought of him. Soon after arriving in China, he’d resurrected that dream with plans to return to Northern Ireland after becoming a success.

  It looked like that wasn’t going to happen. Robert had found something with Ayaou and Shao-mei he did not want to lose. He was like a child cut off from candy that couldn’t live without it. Now he was in a place where he could have as much as he wanted unless someone like Ward came to take it from him.

  Chapter 14

  It didn’t take Ayaou and Shao-mei long to turn the four rooms into a home. Before they arrived, Guan-jiah had completed all the repairs Robert requested. Soon after moving in, Ayaou and Shao-mei went out during the day and found items that added Chinese touches to the house—crafted objects, carvings and ink paintings. Everything they did to decorate the house pleased Robert.

  When he arrived home each evening, the first thing he saw was an inked wall hanging two feet wide and five feet long. It read harmony and tranquility in Chinese. It was printed on white rice paper. The calligraphy was in black ink, and a thin red border ran around the perimeter about three inches from the edge. There were several red ink stamps in the lower right-hand corner showing the name of the artist.

  The girls also got rid of the stale, sour odor and replaced it with the smell of garlic, ginger and hot spices sautéing in the wok. Almost every dish they ate came with these flavors until Robert grew so use to it that food tasted bland without them. Somehow, the rooms didn’t feel as small as they had the first day he inspected the place. The girls had breathed life into the small house.

  “Guan-jiah,” Robert said, “the evil spirits that lived here must have gone into hiding.”

  Guan-jiah stood in the entrance to the house and looked around. “Yes, Master, the evil is gone, or your girls caused the spirits to act agreeable.”

  What they didn’t know was that the evil had just gone into hiding and was waiting for the right moment to return.

  The girls were cooking dinner, and Robert had invited his servant to join them. “It could be the garlic,” Guan-jiah said. “That will also drive away evil spirits.” He walked over to the tranquility and harmony inked wall hanging and stood before it.

  “If I could only learn to paint calligraphy like this,” he said in a subdued, yearning tone, “but my hands are clumsy. They refuse to cooperate. Everything I paint looks like a cripple.”

  “It can’t be that difficult, Guan-jiah. It’s just Chinese writing but big.”

  “Oh no, Master. The horizontal lines in this painting are like a horsetail blowing in the wind. Can’t you see the force of it? The artist has watched horses running, and he has spent time studying oak trees. He has gone into the countryside many times until he discovered what works for him. He spent years developing these strokes.

  “There is swiftness in each horizontal stroke, but the vertical strokes are like the trunks of mighty oak trees that are anchored to the earth. See here where they look fat but solid. There is more to this than just the meanings of the words themselves. No artist is the same, Master. Some have no strength in their strokes. They are blind to what nature teaches us, but this artist is skillful in giving strength to his characters so they are fleshy. This is divine. Your concubines know what to look for.”

  Robert had to step back to see what Guan-jiah was excited about, and he started to understand. It must have been expensive. Robert wondered how much the girls had spent.

  It was because of Guan-jiah, Ayaou and Shao-mei that Robert discovered the true meaning of Chinese art, and a new door opened for him. In his later years he developed a further love for Chinese art, crafts, antiques and calligraphy. Although he dressed in Western style clothing in public, his taste in things gradually changed to Chinese.

  Guan-jiah questioned Ayaou and Shao-mei about the wall hanging. He discovered that the artist was seventy-four and had sold them the painting for five yuan, because they had flirted with him. And the reason they bought this one over hundreds of others was exactly what Guan-jiah had said.

  “It may have taken minutes for the artist to paint,” Guan-jiah said, “but it took a lifetime to harmonize with nature and develop the talent—the ability to make the brush do what he wants.

  “You see, Master, the artist cannot erase mistakes. He has to have control of the brush and know what he is doing. Once the brush touches paper and the ink flows, it is over. The artist cannot fix mistakes. He has to throw out the paper and start again.”

  Robert bought several books and started to devour the Chinese classics. His skills in reading Chinese had developed faster than speaking the language. He’d caught onto the writing because of the way it was divided into subjects. One example was trees. There was a basic symbol for a tree and anything to do with trees had that symbol in it with more ink strokes for a variety of meanings. There was a family of symbols for rain and another for house and on it went.

  Robert suggested that the girls join him in the evenings, so they could read together. “But we do not know how to read,” Ayaou confessed.

  He was shocked and turned to the wall hanging that Guan-jiah had praised. “If you can’t read, how did you select that?”

  “The artist told us what it said, and we loved the brushstrokes. He painted it for us as we watched.”

 
“He wanted more from us than just the five yuan,” Shao-mei added, “but you do not have to worry, Robert. He is too old and there is no danger he will steal us from you.”

  “And what about the lyrics you both sing. They are sophisticated. Do you realize what you are singing? How did you learn the lyrics to the songs if you can’t read?”

  “Our father made us memorize them,” Shao-mei replied. She stood at the washbasin where she was cleaning the wok and bowls from the evening meal. “We go by the sound. We have good memories. Sometimes our father forgot we could not read, because we spoke so elegantly. We even mimicked court manners.”

  “What are you thinking, Robert?” Ayaou asked. “Are you disappointed that we do not read?”

  “No.” He put the book down and waved for them to sit with him. “I was wondering, Ayaou. Have you ever been curious about books? I mean did you ever want to read?”

  Ayaou lowered her head as a trace of sadness crossed her face. “Women do not read except a few daughters from rich families whose parents can afford private tutors.”

  “Not us. Not boat-girls,” Shao-mei said.

  “Boys go to school though,” Ayaou said, staring at the flickering candle flame, “and I envied them. I dreamed many times of being one of the ink-boys.”

  “What’s an ink-boy?”

  “Haven’t you seen the opera The Butterfly-Lovers?” Shao-mei said. “The ink-boys were the servants hired to carry the boys’ books and grind ink.”

  “Didn’t your father know your wish?”

  “She was punished for it,” Shao-mei said, before Ayaou could answer.

  Robert studied the girls and was sure they weren’t joking. “What kind of punishment?”

  “Father beat her when he discovered she was secretly teaching herself to read, but Ayaou did not quit,” Shao-mei said. “She went to the teahouse trying to learn a few words there. My father found out and was furious. He said, Not willing to stay in her lot is a girl’s worse curse. Father was ready to beat Ayaou to death to make her quit. And he almost did. He beat her until his stick broke, and she passed out.”

  “Then what happened?” Robert asked.

  “I was sent to the Bark Lee Tong, the herb shop, to buy Ayaou a bowl of ginseng soup to wake her. It took the last yuan father had.”

  Robert looked at Ayaou. His respect for her deepened. She sat quietly in the shadows of the flickering candlelight with her expression serene. Her youth was glowing. Her black eyebrows looked as if they’d been waxed.

  “Father cried when he saw me awake,” Ayaou said softly. “He said he missed my mother and was sure she would have found a way to persuade me to quit what I was doing if she were alive. Father beat me because he wanted me to have a good future. To be ignorant and stupid is a woman’s blessing. It took me many years to understand my father was right. Our family’s condition could never support my dreams. Learning to read and write beautiful poems would make me feel miserable about my life. My father was trying to protect me.”

  “Did you decide to give up on your dream?” Robert carefully selected his Chinese words, so the question was not an insult. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like not to be able to read. Reading was a large part of his life. He loved books.

  “I killed it.” She smiled bitterly. “I promised father I would never upset him again, but my desire never truly died.”

  “What did you do?”

  “Nothing. What could I do? Knowing my father is at peace is the reason I stay in my lot.”

  “Me too,” Shao-mei said, moving closer to her sister.

  “What if,” Robert said, “there was an opportunity? I mean there was someone willing to teach you. Would you learn?”

  “Do not take the misery of other people and play with it,” Ayaou said. She stood. “Let’s finish washing the dishes, Shao-mei.”

  “I’m serious!” Robert pulled on Ayaou’s arm and dragged her back to sit beside him.

  The girls stared at him in disbelief.

  “I want to teach you the verses and poems you sing every day. The lessons start now,” he said, and wanted to find his brush pen, ink-stone and rice paper. “But for this to work, you will have to be my ink-boy.”

  Ayaou was excited and grateful. She threw herself at him to squeeze and hug him. Turning to her sister, she said, “Shao-mei, let’s compete to see who will be a better student. Our master has spoken. We cannot say no.”

  “I do not want to learn.” Shao-mei formed her lips forward into the shape of a teapot spout. “Father said it is a waste of time for a woman to learn to read. It is not reading that makes a man happy. Isn’t that true, Master?”

  “Well, I’m different. I’d like to see you read a book. That will make me happy.”

  “You are lying.” Shao-mei made her hands into fists and hammered at Robert’s shoulders. “You can’t make me read if I don’t want to.”

  “Ayaou will make you.”

  “She and I are almost the same size. She can’t win.”

  “Then I will,” Robert said. “Ayaou, take me to a cane seller next time we go to the market. I’ll buy a cane to use on Shao-mei.” He struck a pose as if to strike.

  “You are not a master. You are a monster!” Shao-mei screamed happily and ran from him. Her behavior delighted him, so he joined in her game and chased her around the table.

  It was difficult for Robert to accept that he was now the head of a family. What they had was like a fantasy, and he wondered when it would dissolve. He knew a weakness was hidden inside his relationship with the sisters that could turn into a nightmare, and it was called lust and jealousy. Thoughts of seducing Shao-mei were rearing their ugly boiled faces again invading his head like a swarm of unwanted demons.

  Robert recalled his idea of matching Shao-mei with Guan-jiah. There had to be a way. However, if Robert taught her to read, what would Guan-jiah think? Maybe he wouldn’t like it. Maybe in this culture ignorant women were more desired than intelligent ones.

  “It is getting late,” Ayaou said after the lesson. “Let’s go to bed.” The sisters went to clean up. Then Ayaou sent Shao-mei to her room, the smaller bedroom that wasn’t much more than a closet. It was across the hall from the room Robert shared with Ayaou. It was easy for him to imagine her standing there in her room taking her clothing off before getting into bed.

  Robert followed Ayaou up the narrow stairs built for smaller feet. He was constantly concerned he’d miss a step and tumble to the bottom. Breaking his neck wasn’t a pretty picture to carry around.

  Once they were in the bedroom and behind a closed door, Robert turned to Ayaou and reached for her like a hungry stallion running toward fertile grassy fields. He had an endless thirst for her lips. Ayaou had an equal desire. It was as if she had to restrain herself during the day to keep her hands off him, but once in the privacy of their bedroom, she unleashed her appetite. She loved to stand by the bed and undress him one item of clothing at a time. He did the same to her until they were both naked.

  Since he had rescued her from Ward, her desire for him had increased. Robert wondered how she’d feel if she discovered he hadn’t paid Ward yet. It was something he’d deliberately hidden from everyone. Even Patridge didn’t know.

  It used to be that she had to exhaust herself to be completely happy, but tonight Robert found Ayaou wasn’t concentrating. In the middle of their bodily explorations, she suddenly stopped.

  “What’s wrong, Ayaou?”

  “Robert,” she said, “I must talk to you about something serious. Let us sit on the bed.”

  Robert sat and realized he was holding his breath. He had to force himself to breathe. Had she discovered she still belonged to Ward? He felt a stab of guilt for keeping that information from her. “What is it?” He dreaded what she might say.

  “I must tell you Shao-mei feels ugly.”

  “Nonsense.” He relaxed. She still didn’t know about Ward. He wanted to make love again. If he smothered her with kisses, she would have to stop talk
ing. After all, she was sitting there naked. She looked so tempting.

  He reached for her. She scooted out of reach. “You do not understand,” she said. “Robert, this is important. Listen to me.”

  “I do understand, and she’s being ridiculous,” he replied. “She’s an intelligent, energetic and lovely child.”

  “She is not a child.” Ayaou turned serious. “She is a woman ten months younger than I am. We can both produce children.”

  “What’s this? What’s going on?” Feeling odd, he left the bed and pulled a bathrobe over his naked body.

  Ayaou motioned for him to return to the bed. When he did, she took his hands in hers. “While we were at Captain Patridge’s house waiting for you to return, she told me about your first time together. She was heartbroken when you would not take her.”

  Robert stared at the woman in front of him with wide-open eyes. He moved his lips as if he was speaking but nothing came out. She talked as if it were normal that he should have her younger sister. Did she mean it or was this a test?

  “You should have respect for my culture,” she said. “China is a society where a common man can purchase as many concubines as he can afford. You must respect my wishes and consider my happiness. I believe that you are not sincere when you tell me you are a one-woman man. I believe that eventually you will get another concubine and why not now, why not Shao-mei, my sister, whom I love.”

  Robert had no choice but to make her see things his way, because what she had just revealed was his horrible fantasy. The nightmare he feared was rearing its ugly, lusty ghoulish head. Robert couldn’t allow that to happen. He wanted to throw ice water on this and kill it before it started.

  “It’s just that I’m in love with you.” He grasped at words that would save him while another part of him craved to open this new door and see what was on the other side. A battle raged inside him, but he continued to deny that he wanted Shao-mei. He knew he was falling in love with her. “You’re the only woman I want.” The lie slipped easily out of his mouth and into the room. “Besides, it would be a betrayal of our love if I took your sister.”