The Crystal Ribbon

by Celeste Lim

  “Why, you’re right, Qiu Xiang,” agreed another woman, with a stunning faji adorned with numerous glittering hair ornaments. “After all, we do need a certain level of wit to keep patrons entertained. This little one will be good indeed, unlike Miao, so dull and difficult to teach.” When she shook her head, the accessories in the woman’s faji tinkled merrily.

  “Oh my! And is that a beauty mole I see?” someone else cut in.

  “Where? Where?”

  “I don’t see it, Honghe.”

  “Look, there, in between her eyebrows. And a stunning red one, too,” exclaimed the one called Honghe. “Exactly like the one on the imperial consort Yang Guifei—one of the four legendary beauties of the Middle Kingdom!”

  “Oh, and to think the rest of us have to deliberately dab a fake spot in between our brows as part of our makeup.”

  “And this girl has it all natural!”

  “It seems Qia Mama made a good investment this time.”

  “You’re right, Xuehuar. I can almost see her as a mingji when she grows up.”

  The rippling excitement was contagious, like a disease. Suddenly, everyone was clamoring to see the mole on my forehead.

  Just then, the outer circle of the crowd parted as Madam Qia came back, without Liu. He had left.

  I was completely alone, in a sea of people I didn’t know. And I had absolutely no idea what was to become of me. I wanted to curl up in a corner and scream so that they’d think I was crazy and send me back. I wanted to shove everyone aside and run away. I wanted to—

  A cold, bony hand wrapped itself firmly around my forearm. I jumped.

  Calm down, Jing. None of those actions will help your cause in the least.

  Yes. It would only earn me a beating or two. First and foremost, I had to stay calm and passive.

  “Well, Jing,” the baomu drawled, her croaky voice sounding like metals grating against each other. “Come along inside. We have much to talk about.”

  By my arm, I was led through a door behind the reception counter into what seemed like a study. Madam Qia went behind a wooden desk cluttered with account books, receipts, paperwork, and a huge golden abacus. She swept everything aside and took the abacus in her hands. I had seen Mrs. Guo use those before, but never one as big or half as magnificent as the one in Madam Qia’s hand. The woman noticed my gaze and grinned, showing her top row of dark yellow teeth. “An exquisite thing, isn’t it? A gift from a powerful magistrate of Dongjing to Yuegong Lou.”

  I nodded as meekly as I could.

  “Now, I understand that you’ve just tried to run away from your in-laws,” Madam Qia began, bringing her hands together under her chin and fixing her eyes on me. “The first thing you must know is that there will be none of that nonsense here. You will be watched closely.”

  Madam Qia paused in her speech as she waited for my response. I nodded again.

  “As of today, you have been bought over by Yuegong Lou. You will do well to remember where and to whom you now belong and behave yourself accordingly. Or learn the hard way that this chinglou tolerates no misbehavior from its residents.” At another nod from me, she rambled on. “For now, you will be put under a period of probation. You will have chores to complete during the day, and in the evenings, you will observe and learn from your older sisters as they entertain our patrons.” As she spoke, her abacus started to make rapid, rhythmic clacking sounds as Madam Qia calculated.

  “Once the chinglou has ascertained your value, I will put you through a series of lessons to shape you into a proper courtesan. You will be formally educated in all fields—politics, history, literature, calligraphy, fine art, music, dance…When we are done with you, you will have turned into a young woman more refined and educated than a magistrate’s daughter. Great and influential men will grace you with their company and shower you with attention and gifts…of this nature.” The old woman flaunted the golden abacus in her hand. “You will have the opportunity to live and socialize among the highest echelons of society, and possibly even entertain the emperor himself, if you are successful enough. Our emperor Huizong is known for his love of beauty and the arts.”

  I almost sneered. Baba always said that Huizong was the weakest emperor since Taizu of the Great Song, concerned only about silly things like art and pleasure.

  “In this industry, popularity is everything,” Madam Qia continued. “I have no doubt of your potential, girl, which is why I am prepared to invest a fair amount in you, but only if you prove yourself worth it. Now that you belong to the chinglou, there is nothing you can do that would change your fate. The only thing that is within your control is how successful you become…”

  Other than the abacus in her hands, Madam Qia probably had another one inside her head. Because from the way the baomu was ogling me, it was as though she was calculating in her mind how much of a potential moneymaker I would turn out to be.

  “I do not keep anyone who doesn’t make money, and if I eventually find you a liability, I shall not hesitate to sell you off to a worse place.”

  Looking into Madam Qia’s hungry eyes, I wondered again whether the old hag might possibly be an evil jing in an unconvincing disguise.

  Given the nature of its business, the chinglou, of course, was most active at night. It closed around dawn and reopened the following evening at dusk.

  It was already dawn when I was finally allowed out of the study. I dragged my feet up the stairs to the landing on the highest floor, where the main sleeping quarters were. The ten courtesans had four rooms in between them, and I was to share a small room at the end of the corridor with three other young girls who were also maidservants.

  When I slipped into the room after washing and changing, the other girls were already getting ready for bed, and had even laid out an extra mattress on the wooden floorboards. There were two older girls and a sweet-looking one who looked hardly over ten. She patted the vacant mattress next to hers. “Over here, Jing. That’s your name, isn’t it?”

  I nodded as I walked over.

  “I’m Xiaoyi.” The girl’s big eyes narrowed into half-moons, and I couldn’t help but return her smile, despite how rotten I was feeling inside.

  “Qia Mama kept you in the study for an incredibly long time,” said one of the older girls called Shuang as she smoothed out her braid.

  Who?

  She noticed my puzzlement. “I mean Madam Qia, but only outsiders call her that. All her daughters call her Qia Mama. It’s a rule.”

  Another word caught me. “Daughters?”

  Shuang shrugged. “We’re not really her daughters, but all the courtesans under a baomu’s wing are called such.”

  I sighed. No, thank you. I didn’t want a mother like that at all.

  I looked around the room. It was spacious, big enough for more than four girls, and relatively bare save for three shelves against the wall on one side. There was a sliding door that led out onto a small balcony, and I couldn’t resist going over and looking out. There was no wind, but the frosty temperature made me shiver. I glanced down and found that the balcony overlooked the back alleys. Was it possible…?

  “It’s too high to escape from.” Shuang spoke abruptly and made me jump.

  I shut the door and turned to them. “Haven’t any of you ever thought of running away?”

  There was a sharp intake of breath among them. Xiaoyi covered her mouth and made a gesture that meant quite clearly that I wasn’t supposed to speak of such things. The other girl, who looked about fourteen, tilted her head in a puzzled expression. “But why would we run away?”

  I frowned. But before I could answer that peculiar question, Shuang waved impatiently. “Oh, Miao, be quiet.” She came over and placed her hands on my shoulders. “Listen, Jing. If there’s any idea left in that head of yours about running away, my sincerest advice is to get rid of it right now.” She said this with such a solemn expression that I swallowed. “Not only is Yuegong Lou impossible to escape from, Qia Mama makes sure that all misb
ehavior is well and severely punished.”

  At that point, Xiaoyi, who was curled up in her bed beside us, winced distinctly, as if she were feeling the pain from some sort of punishment. I shuddered. Was it possible that there existed a torture device more agonizing than the one I had endured?

  “We may call her Mama,” Shuang continued, “but she is a cunning and ruthless businesswoman. All of us know that a worse fate awaits whomever Qia Mama deems a liability to her business. Those who were too foolish to learn it the easy way no longer live here. Thus, for your own good, you should accept the fact that, the moment you stepped into the chinglou tonight, your fate was sealed. You belong here now.”

  Belong.

  I gritted my teeth. Belong here? I could laugh. I was no more a part of Yuegong Lou than I had been a part of the Guo family. And other than my own mother, I would never call anyone “Mama,” especially that devil of a woman. It would be an insult to my real mama. But Shuang’s tone and expression told me that she was earnest in her advice. I’d have to listen to her, for now at least. But as we settled into bed and I crawled under the thick covers, my eyes wouldn’t close.

  I saw Jun’an—his tears and screams as he watched me being dragged away. I saw Auntie San, who was now worried sick over why I had failed to show up and where I could possibly be. I thought about my family in Huanan, who knew nothing of what I was going through.

  “Why are you crying?” a voice whispered beside me.

  I turned on my headrest and saw the girl called Miao, lying in bed with her eyes wide open, regarding me with curiosity.

  “Because.” I wiped at my eyes. “Because I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to be a courtesan.”

  “You don’t?” Miao asked as though she couldn’t imagine how anyone wouldn’t want to. “But it’s a good life, Jing,” she said. “Courtesans are beautiful, rich, and admired by so many. Men would give them anything they want. I want to be just like them someday…”

  As Miao trailed off with a faraway look, I turned to face the ceiling. I wouldn’t be a courtesan. Not if men threw every last copper piece they owned at my feet, not if the emperor named his dynasty after me, not even if—I blinked when I suddenly saw Miao’s face hovering several inches above mine. The older girl had crawled off her mattress and was crouched beside me.

  “Can I see it?” she asked.

  “Um…see what?”

  Miao indicated between her own eyebrows. “That mole. Your beauty mole that looks like the one on the royal consort Yang Guifei.”

  “Oh…” I brushed my fringe to the side.

  Miao reached out a finger and touched the mole as though it were the emperor’s seal. It wasn’t nice to make a fuss over such a petty thing, but I didn’t know where to look. Then Miao sat back and sighed. “I wish I had one, too. All the courtesans were talking about you.”

  “Oh…what did they say?” Not that I was interested, but it just felt like the thing to ask when Miao had paused for a response.

  “They said you’ll most certainly become a mingji someday if Qia Mama invests in you well.”

  “What’s a mingji?”

  “A mingji is a term for a famous and exceptionally popular courtesan. When a courtesan becomes a mingji, the price she commands for her company immediately goes up several times above the regular amount,” Miao explained, hugging her knees. “Yuegong Lou has only one resident mingji, and that is Chang Er. She has the same name as the goddess of the moon.”

  “Chang Er…?” I had heard quite a few names among the courtesans tonight, but I couldn’t really remember anyone called Chang Er. All the women I had seen were equally beautiful, which made it rather difficult to tell which one among them was the mingji Miao was talking about.

  “Yes.” Miao nodded. “She isn’t in the chinglou right now. In fact, she’s hardly here. Because she is so popular, Chang Er entertains mostly the high court magistrates of the Taiyuan province and is often invited to parties and events outside of Yuegong Lou. She even travels to the capital sometimes.”

  That night, I also learned that the name of the chinglou didn’t used to be Yuegong Lou, which meant “Palace of the Moon,” but ever since Chang Er became a mingji, the chinglou grew famous and eventually changed its name in order to promote her further.

  “They even say, and it’s only a rumor…” Miao’s voice dropped to a whisper. “That Chang Er might be a jing in disguise.”

  It wasn’t unheard of for a powerful but evil jing to take on the form of a beautiful woman and seduce men in order to absorb their chi. But the mention of jing reminded me of my guardian, and that night, I prayed to it again. I brought my hands together under my covers, and as I closed my eyes, tears wet my headrest once more.

  Great Golden Huli Jing, I want to go home…Please help me. Save me from this wretched place and bring me home…Didn’t Shenpopo say that the ribbon of Yuan links us to each other? That you will watch over me? I promise you that if I come home, I will forever devote myself to you.

  But Huanan was so far away. Would it hear my cry for help? Would my prayer ever be answered? I continued to pray as I cried myself to sleep.

  After all those warnings I received the day before, I knew I had to wait for my chance before I could escape. Not only were all the entrances locked every night, but everyone in the chinglou kept a vigilant eye on me, making it nearly impossible to attempt anything even close to escaping, whatever time of the day it happened to be. Which was why a period of time must be spent throwing them off, during which I must act as though I had accepted my fate. Eventually, they would relax their guard. It was a long endurance battle, but I was prepared to fight it.

  Each day, before Yuegong Lou opened for business, the maidservants spent late mornings and afternoons going about our chores. Although I wasn’t allowed to run outdoor errands, I cleaned, cooked, and waited on the courtesans, basically at the disposal of everyone. I had been familiar with housework all my life, so this was nothing. The real challenge was the sleeping hours. The first few days were the worst. I felt like my world was turning topsy-turvy, as each night, everyone stayed up until near dawn and slept through till noon. Never in my life had I woken up later than the sun, so each morning, I would find myself wide awake in bed while the others still snored around me. Then I would begin to nod off around midnight, when the evening, to everyone else, was only just starting.

  As dusk approached, we would help the courtesans dress up in elaborate hanfu for the night, and then, when the chinglou opened for business, we would put on a simple hanfu as well to wait on everyone.

  Not all the courtesans entertained in the chinglou. Some of the more popular ones were occasionally invited to attend events outside, which was where the real money was, because it was more expensive to request a courtesan’s company outside of her chinglou. But for patrons who frequented Yuegong Lou, it had a public hall where courtesans would sit at tables with their guests. And for those who were willing to pay more for privacy, there were ten other separate rooms of different sizes in the chinglou for private parties and smaller gatherings.

  Through observing each night, we were expected to learn how to entertain, and I had to admit that what I learned was, in fact, quite different from what I had thought I knew about courtesans. Because not only were these women knowledgeable and well-versed in most topics of conversation, they were talented in numerous forms of art as well, and in more ways than one could imagine.

  For example, Feier was widely known for her alluring Persian dances and could paint with her bare feet as she danced across a huge canvas on the floor. Qiu Xiang could play a Chinese zither called the guzheng so well that even the birds would fall silent to hear her play. And Xuehuar could write poetry with calligraphy brushes attached to the end of her long satin sleeves.

  Another fascinating thing about the courtesans was their names, for they were the most peculiar names I had ever heard. Shuang explained that they had been given attractive pseudonyms to add to their appeal. Qiu Xia
ng meant “autumn fragrance,” and she was known for her heady scent from the sachet of lavender and sandalwood she always carried with her. Xiao Honghe, or “little red lotus,” always dressed in some shade of red. Tian Tianr—“sweet sweetness”—was named that for her delightful voice.

  I couldn’t for the life of me remember all those fancy names. But it really didn’t matter, because the maidservants were only supposed to call the courtesans “Jiejie.” But although I might forget names, I labeled them in my head. For example, there was Smelly, Songbird, Chili, Big Hair…Strangely enough, the only name that stuck with me was Chang Er, although I hadn’t had the chance to see the mingji in person yet. In just a few days, I came to understand how much in demand Chang Er was, for many wealthy businessmen and local magistrates came in each day asking for her company.

  It was only three days later that I finally had the chance to see Chang Er, who, according to the gossipy courtesans, had returned from a long trip to the capital, Dongjing. There, under a sky full of erupting fire flowers and along with other mingji from across China, she had performed at a major function held by an influential magistrate within Emperor Huizong’s imperial court.

  Early in the afternoon, after cleaning out the incense clock and replenishing the altars, I was busy scrubbing the floor of the main hall. I wrinkled my nose as I tried to get a particularly stubborn and smelly stain of vomit off the wooden boards. Then someone called out from a little way across the room.

  I looked up, and immediately understood why Chang Er was named after the goddess of the moon. Her complexion made even Yunli’s pale by far in comparison. As the courtesan made her way slowly down a flight of stairs, she moved with a languid grace that could only be seen in dancers. Slender brows, well trimmed, arched over a pair of watery eyes that were framed by thick lashes. Long, dark hair let down from a usual faji fell over her shoulders like a waterfall, contrasting against the translucent whiteness of the chiffon outer robe that clung to her shoulders like a second layer of skin, bringing out the fairness of her arms. And even as she gently rubbed her right temple from an apparent headache, a slight frown creasing her forehead, Chang Er still managed to look stunning.