Master Ping held up a hand. “Allow me to explain.” His eyes became animated and glowed as if he had discovered a treasure. “Let us turn this meal into an excellent lesson in what it is like to be Chinese. Tonight is a special occasion for your concubines. The Chinese love to eat, and food plays an important role in our culture. All the food on this table has symbolic meanings and is usually served during one festival or another.” He paused and looked around the table examining each dish as if he were judging a contest.
“These are all lucky foods,” he continued. “Serving that entire chicken cut like it is symbolizes wholeness and prosperity. The longevity noodles symbolize a long life. Just don’t cut them while you are eating. If you cut them, it will spoil everything and having a long life will not be assured.”
Master Ping pointed at the fish. “That symbolizes both a good beginning and ending for the year. It is customary for the fish to be served on the night of the Lunar New Year. This must be a special day as your concubines are marking this day as a beginning of a new year for your household.”
He stopped when he noticed Robert’s face turning red again. His mouth opened in surprise as if some of his unasked questions about why Robert had decided to wear Chinese clothing had been answered. Then he cleared his throat, regained his composure and pointed at the plate of peeled tangerines and oranges. “The words for that sound the same as the words for luck and wealth and serving both has the same meaning. It is like asking that your future be filled with luck and wealth.”
“What about the steamed cakes?” Robert asked, while he struggled to control his embarrassment. The meal the girls had cooked turned his teacher into a mind reader, but he wasn’t judgmental. If Ping had been British, Robert would have been shamed.
“Oh, the steamed sweet cakes have many levels of meaning. The sweet rich flavor symbolizes a sweet life. You know, like much love and tenderness in the home.”
Robert lost control and blushed again, but Tee Lee Ping chose to ignore this, which Robert appreciated. “The layers of the steamed cakes symbolize rising abundance. The round shape means a family reunion—in your case possibly the formation of a new family. Maybe one of your concubines will become pregnant soon.”
Robert avoided glancing at Shao-mei lest he give away her condition.
They started to eat. Halfway through the meal, Master Ping said, “I would not be surprised if there is a final dish that hasn’t been served yet.”
“And what would that be?” Robert asked.
“Eight Precious Pudding,” Master Ping said. “Eight is a lucky number, and the Chinese word for eight sounds like the word for fortune.”
He was right. It was rice pudding filled with lotus seeds, Chinese red dates, cherries, candied fruits and red bean paste. By the time they finished eating, Robert was stuffed to the bursting point and had trouble breathing.
Afterwards, they moved to the study room. “Let us start something new to add to our lessons,” Robert said. “Since you wish to learn more about my culture, I will tell you something equal to what you taught me about Chinese food.”
Tee Lee Ping scooted forward on his chair in anticipation. “My ears are eager,” he said.
“I’m going to tell you about the language of the flowers,” Robert said. “After our lesson ends tonight, remind me to lend you a copy of a book by an English author named Charles Dickens.” Robert explained that in Britain, unlike China, the moral values supported sexual repression. To get beyond this so you could speak what was in your heart without being judged immoral, the language of flowers had been born. If you wanted a member of the opposite gender to know how you felt, you sent a flower arrangement. They would answer you with another flower arrangement. No words would be spoken or written.
“I believe I have an example that will clarify what I mean. If you passionately love a woman and want her to know, you send an arrangement made from orange and red flowers. If she didn’t love you, she would send back an arrangement of betony, marjoram, southernwood, and spiderwort.”
“You’ve never given us flowers,” Shao-mei said, sounding disappointed.
“Shao-mei,” Ayaou said, shocked. “You should not talk to our master like that.” When Robert glanced at her, he saw that her eyes also had disappointment in them.
A moment of uneasy silence settled around the table. Then Master Ping rescued Robert. “So,” he said, “in Britain flowers are symbolic and full of meaning but food is only food?”
“Yes, you could say that,” Robert replied. He focused on his teacher. “You will understand more after you read Charles Dickens. My country is a land of contradictions. On one hand there is this strict set of moral codes on how you are to live your life. We cannot call a leg a leg. Instead, if we are in mixed company with both men and women, we call a leg a limb like a branch on a tree. At the same time, prostitution exists along with child labor.” Robert saw by the confused expression on Master Ping’s face he was having trouble understanding.
“Imagine a man wearing the most expensive suit of clothes,” Robert said in an attempt to clarify his meaning. “They are clean, pressed and made from the best cloth. However, beneath the clothing he has never bathed. His flesh is rotting.”
The confusion left Ping’s eyes. He said, “I see. So Britain adorns itself with fancy coverings to hide the rot at its core.”
Robert nodded agreement. “Most Western cultures do that,” he said.
“China is no different,” Master Ping replied.
The lesson turned to the latest Chinese book Robert was reading. He pulled out some drills in Chinese that Tee Lee Ping corrected. His teacher circled those that were wrong and wrote the correct versions beneath, which Robert accepted with grace. Having his mistakes corrected was the best way for him to learn how to write Chinese properly.
Ayaou hovered about watching. Shao-mei sat in a corner knitting a sweater. “In the future you should add a variety of stories for Robert to read, Master Ping,” Ayaou said. “Why don’t you introduce Robert to stories such as The Western Chamber?”
Tee Lee Ping looked sober and thoughtful but didn’t say anything.
“Are you willing to teach me The Western Chamber?” Robert asked, curious about the story. If Ayaou had mentioned it, there must be something that she wanted him to learn. Robert’s request earned a bright smile from Ayaou.
“That will not be a problem,” Tee Lee Ping replied. “I planned to introduce it soon anyway. I promise to bring a copy to our next lesson.”
Tee Lee Ping stayed for two more hours. After he left, Ayaou and Shao-mei told Robert they couldn’t wait any longer for their lesson. Robert had promised to teach them the meaning of a Chinese poem called The Cheerless Tone. The girls had already gone over the poem several times. They sat on either side of him. He was aware of their presence through the desirable heat of their bodies. It was distracting, but he managed to stay focused. They followed his finger as it moved from Chinese character to character. Robert took pleasure in the silky sound of their voices.
“Like molten gold appears the setting sun;
Evening clouds like blocks of jade pieced into one.
Where is the one close and dear to my heart,
From whom, without mental pain, I could not part?”
Robert closed the book when they finished reading.
“It’s a love poem,” Ayaou said. “I’m convinced of it.”
“And why is that?” he asked.
“Every line,” she replied. “In the first line he describes the sun like molten gold and gold is precious like love. In the second line he mentioned jade. It is also precious. And the third and fourth lines are so obvious.”
“Ayaou is correct,” Shao-mei said. “What else could it be?”
“What is the poet saying in the third line?” Robert asked. “Look again.”
Ayaou bent over the book and took a moment to find the right page. Shao-mei moved closer, and her head hovered next to Ayaou’s as they studied the lines. “T
he poet is wondering where his lover is,” Ayaou said in a hushed tone. “Something horrible happened.”
“Oh, it is so sad,” Shao-mei said. “The poet has lost his lover. My heart aches for him. If I were a man, I would learn to become a poet. My heart echoes with the verses. Women should write poems as men do.”
“That poem,” Robert said, “was written by a woman named Li Qingzhao more than seven hundred years ago.”
That left their mouths hanging open. “Tell us more, Robert. Did she write more poems? If so, read them. Did she lose her lover? What happened to her?” He read the entire collection of Li Qingzhao’s poems to them.
With the book back on the shelf, they moved to the kitchen. The girls brewed tea and carefully washed, sliced and peeled the skins from apples. While they sipped tea and ate, Robert listened to the girls tell him about their day. Ayaou was happy with the price she’d paid for the fish. If Robert had been alone, his living costs would have been higher. With the girls doing all the shopping and negotiating, he was putting money aside and had enough to order books from England. He enjoyed keeping up with what was going on in the British Empire and the world.
Since Robert had started eating what his girls cooked, the digestion problems he’d suffered with since arriving in China had vanished. It wasn’t that he had been sick. It’s just that his stomach had ached and burned after he ate. The cure had started when the girls had stewed a pot of Shan-tung red dates. They insisted he drink a large bowl of the broth and eat the dates twice a day. They told him it was good for digestion. Who was he to argue? It worked.
Shao-mei yawned. A moment later, she said goodnight. She appeared exhausted and went up the stairs lifting each foot as if it were an anvil. Before she disappeared at the top, she looked back. There was a smile for Robert. It was flirtatious. Ayaou saw it and a chilly fog clouded her eyes.
Ayaou quickly cleaned up the table before they went upstairs. In the bedroom, she came to sit on his lap. She put both arms around him and kissed him passionately. She eagerly stuck her tongue between his lips. She was not attempting to hide her intent. He had been with Shao-mei the previous night.
Robert, on other hand, wasn’t in the mood for passion. Though several days had gone by, he was still distracted by the conversation with William Martin, the American Presbyterian minister and was having trouble becoming aroused. His member was a limp noodle.
“On the other side of the clouds there is a full moon tonight,” Ayaou said. “It’s when the wolves mate.” She took his ear lobe between her teeth and nibbled on it. “The female wolf howls into the wilderness until her chosen mate comes. Do you want me to howl for you, Robert?”
Ayaou curled her fingers around his flaccid member. It flopped about like a worm. “Tonight I wanted you to relax,” she said, “but not that much.” She stopped what she was doing and peered at it. “What’s wrong with your sun instrument?” Her voice took on an almost scratchy sound. “You want to be with Shao-mei. You are tired of me.”
“That’s not it, Ayaou. Be patient. I’m just as upset as you are that it doesn’t want to work. Something happened earlier in the week that still bothers me. Try harder, Ayaou. Don’t give up.”
“I know what will work,” she said, and a determined look came into her eyes. She moved so her back was cradled against his chest. This revealed to him that she knew what aroused him the most. His hands explored her body. From this position he touched places he couldn’t reach when he was on top of her. His eyes devoured her shoulders, her arms, and the long curving line of her backbone down to her buttocks. He was getting excited and could not slow down—not to mention hold back.
Once she felt his swollen member between her thighs, she moved away from him and faced Robert with her legs folded beneath her.
“What are you doing, Ayaou? I’m ready. I don’t want to take any chances that my mood will change. Get back here.”
A teasing smile creased her lips. “You are not allowed to become exhausted for you may lose your essence as a result. You must make sure that you peak no more than three times a week. It’s the Emperor’s recipe for longevity.”
“I’m tired of hearing this, Ayaou. How am I supposed to control myself?” He reached for her.
She pushed him away. “Do what the Emperor does,” she said. “Every time you feel like you’re going to let go, pull back. Wait for the tide to ebb and then ride it again. This is the way to achieve the balance of Yin and Yang. You must take time to absorb my juices—the Yin element, while I absorb your Yang element.”
The Chinese believed that if a man enjoyed the sexual pleasure of many women without ejaculation, it extended his longevity. It was a wonderful idea, but Robert didn’t believe it. He absolutely hated the idea, since Ayaou was always urging him to pull out early.
She pushed Robert onto his back and guided herself onto him until he was inside her. “I love the feel of you,” she whispered. “I want to make it last all night.”
If he were a wolf, he’d cry to the moon and howl to the wilderness. Robert was so excited he was quivering. He pushed her off and pulled out. “Get on all fours,” he said, and she complied. Robert moved behind her and took hold of her shoulders. She rested her face on her folded arms. This accented her shoulder blades and the long curve of her back. “Sorry about your longevity plan, Ayaou.” He took her and in a few strokes had his orgasm.
After it was over, Robert rolled onto his back. He was sweaty and exhausted. Ayaou was gasping for air. The sound of rain was still pounding down outside the window.
“I can’t move,” she said. “I can’t even open my eyes. I do not have the strength. I thought I was going to explode. Is this what it is like to be on a ship in a typhoon?”
Robert decided the next time he saw William Martin, he would thank him but wouldn’t tell him why. In time, William and Robert would become lifelong friends. Martin would leave the ministry and work for Robert after he was Inspector General of Chinese Maritime Customs. That’s when Robert discovered Martin was an Old Testament man. William told Robert that his spiritual beliefs were strict and unbending like a Puritan, but Robert’s study of Confucianism and Buddhism and his wide acquaintances with men of many nations and diverse religions had made him into a broad-minded and tolerant man. He never told Martin his tolerance started with Ayaou and Shao-mei.
Nothing in his life had prepared him for anything as intense as the love he felt for his two girls. Every experience with women before Ayaou had been only physical and always left him mentally exhausted from guilt. He had not known what love was. He was sure that a man and woman couldn’t reach such highs unless they were in love with each other—not just infatuated or full of lust.
After that, night—even when he was at the consulate or on a ship in the anchorage—a moment didn’t pass that he did not think about Ayaou and Shao-mei. He could be at his desk in the consulate imagining Shao-mei singing while Ayaou danced, or he’d see them bent over the wok in the kitchen. It was all sensual and arousing, particularly on rainy days when they slid their lovely bare feet into wooden sandals. They carried colorful umbrellas and walked out the door into the wet world.
The girls took Robert to visit their relatives and friends during the Chinese New Year. It started on the first day of the first lunar month in late January and ran into early February. Tee Lee Ping didn’t have confidence in Ayaou and Shao-mei to know the exact significance of the festival, so learning this became a part of the lesson before the festival.
Master Ping said, “The Spring Festival is the most important festival for the Chinese people. Wherever they are in the world, families will come together and celebrate. This festival originated about three thousand years ago during the Shang Dynasty. People sacrificed to the gods and their ancestors to close out the old year and start a new one. There are even special foods to eat during the festival like laba porridge.”
“Wait,” Robert said. “I don’t know what this laba porridge is. I’ve never heard of it.”
Master Ping looked surprised. He glanced at Ayaou with disapproval. Then he turned back to Robert. “It is made with glutinous rice, millet, seeds of Job’s tears, jujube berries, lotus seeds, beans, longan and gingko. Do not hesitate to stop me and ask questions if you get confused.”
He jabbed a finger at Robert. “Fireworks are most important, because the noise they make drives away evil spirits. That’s why during the Spring Festival, you will hear firecrackers all the time.
“People clean everything to get ready for the festival. They want to start the New Year right. It is a new beginning.
“All the door panels in people’s houses will have paper pasted on them. On these rice papers will be Spring Festival couplets highlighting Chinese calligraphy with black characters on red paper. In addition, pictures of the god of doors and wealth will be on the front door of every house to ward off evil spirits and welcome peace and abundance.”
That wasn’t the end of the lecture. Master Ping went into detail about everything people did. It didn’t help that Robert stopped him and asked questions when he did not understand something. The amount of information was overwhelming. Robert didn’t know how he could remember it all.
It wasn’t enough that he had to remember what Tee Lee Ping had instructed him about the festival. After his teacher left, Ayaou and Shao-mei kept him up half the night teaching him how to behave around their relatives and friends.
“Robert,” Ayaou said, “when you are with Chinese people be humble. Never brag as if you are better than they are. Many problems between foreigners and the Chinese are because of such behavior. It is a sure way to insult the Chinese and make enemies.”
A few days later Robert was introduced to this big society with countless aunts and uncles, cousins and nephews. They lived in a village of boats in the river. Many remembered Robert from when he’d come to save them from the Taipings back in July of 1855.
After this first encounter, Ayaou was so pleased with his behavior that he gained a longer lesson from her. She didn’t wait until the next day. They returned home after midnight, and she launched right into the lecture. She was supported by Shao-mei.
My Splendid Concubine Page 25