The Paper Daughters of Chinatown

by Heather B. Moore

  Wang Foo smiled, stretching his wide face even more, then bowed before Uncle. “On your way out, send in my procuress.”

  What did he mean, procuress? Was Mei Lien to be a wife or not? And why had there been such a large money exchange?

  Uncle opened the door of the hotel room. He cast a glance toward Mei Lien, his expression hooded and unreadable.

  Auntie crossed to Mei Lien. “Your trunk will be left downstairs. Do not cause trouble. If you do, your ancestors will curse you, and your mother will be left to starve in the streets. One bad word about you, and she’ll be tossed out of her home and shamed. Do you want that?”

  Mei Lien fought against the bile stinging her throat. “No.”

  “Good.” Auntie turned away.

  Panic raced through Mei Lien’s veins. “Auntie,” she cried. “Is this man to be my husband, then?”

  Auntie stilled but didn’t turn around. “No, Mei Lien. You are to keep Wang Foo happy, though. Your life and your mother’s life depend upon it.”

  The door opened then, and a woman stepped through. She was tall for a Chinese woman, and although she was years past her youth, she was beautiful, with creamy skin, perfect rosebud lips, and dark, soulful eyes.

  The woman nodded a greeting to Auntie, but neither of them spoke. When the door shut behind Auntie, the woman looked over at Wang Foo. “Is this the girl?” she asked in a lilting tone that reminded Mei Lien of a cooing dove.

  “Yes,” Wang Foo said. “She is yours now. We paid three thousand for her, and I expect every bit of that back as soon as possible.”

  The woman smiled, and it completely transformed her face. Her beauty had been noticeable before, but now it was breathtaking. She advanced toward Mei Lien. The woman’s walk was just as lilting as her speech, due to her bound feet.

  When the woman stopped before her, she was still smiling her beautiful smile, yet Mei Lien didn’t see any warmth in her eyes. Her gaze was sharp, assessing, and despite Mei Lien’s being fully clothed, she felt as if this woman could see past every layer and stitch.

  “What is your name?” she asked, her lilting voice like a musical bird, entrancing.

  Mei Lien opened her mouth and found her own voice scratchy. “Mei Lien.”

  “Mei Lien,” the woman repeated. “I am Ah-Peen Oie Kum, and you now belong to me. You will do as I say. You will not speak unless you have permission. And you will earn back every cent of that three thousand Wang Foo paid for you.”

  “Will he be my husband?”

  Ah-Peen Oie lifted her hand and struck Mei Lien.

  The resounding slap echoed in the room, and it took several moments for Mei Lien to comprehend that the sharp cry had been her own.

  Mei Lien’s cheek throbbed, and her eyes watered. Not even her own mother had ever struck her. Mei Lien covered her burning cheek with her hand and straightened from the wall. She didn’t know what she was going to do, but it wasn’t remaining here, with these people.

  “You’ve already forgotten the rules?” Ah-Peen Oie mocked. “Such a foolish girl. Do not speak unless you have permission.” The woman’s hand clamped down on Mei Lien’s wrist and began to twist, slowly and painfully. “Perhaps this will help you remember.”

  Mei Lien gasped as Ah-Peen Oie continued to twist until she was sure the small bones in her wrist would break.

  “Have you had enough?” Ah-Peen Oie asked, her smile broad on her face.

  The smile was no longer beautiful to Mei Lien, but reminded her of a painting she’d once seen of an evil goddess.

  Mei Lien nodded vigorously, too afraid to speak a single word.

  “Very well.” Ah-Peen Oie released her wrist and stepped back. “Now we will prepare you for your initiation.”

  Mei Lien’s wrist burned. And even though she couldn’t ask what the woman meant by initiation, her expression conveyed her confusion.

  “You are more foolish than I thought,” Ah-Peen Oie said with an artful lift of her brow. “Did your emigration agents not tell you anything?”

  Mei Lien shook her head.

  Ah-Peen Oie folded her deceitfully delicate arms that were in truth remarkably strong. “We have one week to prepare before your introduction banquet. Men from the city will come and meet you, and you will charm them into bidding for the privilege of winning your first night. Mystery surrounding you and competition among the men will bring in the money. After your night with the highest bidder, you’ll become a regular prostitute, and we’ll be less picky. In fact, we’ll turn no one away. You, dear Mei Lien, are a beauty who will bring us great profit.”

  Mei Lien’s knees became water, and her stomach turned to rock. She could not stop herself from sliding to the ground. From somewhere deep inside, she felt herself breaking completely in half.

  She couldn’t decipher what Ah-Peen Oie had started yelling at her, joined by the deeper cadence of Wang Foo. Both of them were shouting, and Mei Lien wasn’t sure if it was at her or at each other.

  “Mama,” Mei Lien whispered. “Help me.”

  Strong hands gripped her upper arms and roughly hauled her to her feet. But Mei Lien could not put any weight on her feet. Nothing in her body cooperated. It was as if all her limbs were anchors pulling her deeper toward the depths of the ocean.

  Someone picked her up, and Mei Lien struggled to free herself. Another person slapped her other cheek. The pain was nothing compared to the downward spiral of her hope. She only wished she were strong enough to wrest away and to run. Where she would run, she didn’t know, but anyplace would be better than in the clutches of this mistress and master.

  Then, Wang Foo grasped her jaw between his thick fingers and forced her mouth open. A bitter powder burst upon her tongue, and she tried to spit out the vile taste. But it was too late; Wang Foo had clamped her jaw shut again. Mei Lien’s eyes and nasal passages burned as the powder dominated her senses.

  She had never tried opium before, but she instinctively knew she’d been given an opium dose. Despite the revulsion, it didn’t take long for Mei Lien’s body to relax against her will. Then she was being carried out of the bedroom with its silk hangings and thick rug. She tried to memorize the turns and passages through the hotel, but the walls seemed to tilt, and her thoughts jumped around no matter how hard she tried to focus.

  Maybe when they fell asleep, she would find a way out of this place.

  Would they leave her alone? Especially after paying three thousand dollars for her? The amount of money was beyond anything she or her mother could earn in both their lifetimes. This told Mei Lien that escape would be difficult. No person would let a three-thousand-dollar investment out of their sight.

  Mei Lien’s thoughts began to scatter, and she couldn’t remember the last turn that Wang Foo had taken, or if he was going up the stairs or down the stairs. Down, she decided. The air grew cold, a sharp cold that scattered goose bumps along her arms. And now her vision was blurry. Laughter bubbled in her chest for no reason.

  A breeze hit her face. They were outside now, and somehow the sun must have already set because stars glittered between the clouds above. Wang Foo settled her into a buggy, and it lurched forward, bouncing over cobblestones. Mei Lien tried to stay awake enough to peer out the windows at the passing buildings, but it was so hard to keep her eyes open. She dimly registered that they were passing shops, and people, and dogs, and other buggies.

  Outside, everyone went about their lives as if no one knew she existed.

  And perhaps that would soon be true. Mei Lien’s life as she knew it was ending.

  She was tired, so tired, and she decided she could close her eyes for a few minutes. Then escape later. When she wasn’t exhausted.

  “Mei Lien.” The woman’s voice sounded familiar.

  But no matter how hard Mei Lien tried to remember, she wasn’t sure where she knew this voice from.

  Someth
ing shook Mei Lien’s shoulder, and it made her teeth rattle.

  The woman spoke again, this time more quietly but also with more force. “Mei Lien. You must wake up now. It’s time to get out. We are here.”

  Here? Mei Lien was still tired and knew she could sleep for hours and hours more. But she opened her eyes to see that they’d arrived at an elegant building that was much fancier than the hotel where Uncle and Auntie had taken her. This building towered three stories high, or maybe four. The windows were long and narrow, fitted with red-painted balconies.

  And she could smell delicious food. Not rotting vegetables or stinging opium smoke.

  She pushed off the bench, her legs feeling wobbly, but Ah-Peen Oie helped her down out of the buggy almost gently. What had happened to cause the woman’s kindness? Even Wang Foo was gazing at her with approval as he stood by the front door, holding it wide for the women.

  “Come inside.” The music in Ah-Peen Oie’s tone returned. “We will bathe you, and you’ll wear beautiful clothing. I have a pretty jade comb I’d like you to try on. It will bring out the sparkle in your eyes.”

  Mei Lien wanted to laugh at this woman’s words. Was she speaking in jest? One part of Mei Lien’s mind wanted to climb back into the buggy, but the other part propelled her forward. It seemed that her legs and feet agreed with following Ah-Peen Oie wherever she commanded.

  The interior of the nice hotel was brightly lit with what must have been electricity—something that wasn’t available in Mei Lien’s village back in Hong Kong. She slowly looked around at the rich furnishings, and at the men who sat among the low tables, many of them smoking pipes of opium mixed with tobacco.

  This time, Mei Lien knew better than to cough.

  The men noticed the new arrivals, and a few smiled at Ah-Peen Oie. Mei Lien looked at her mistress to see the woman blushing and giving small smiles to the men as if she were able to share wordless signals with them.

  The admiration in the men’s gazes caused Mei Lien’s thoughts to jumble. What was this place? And who was Ah-Peen Oie to these men? As they walked through the lobby, the men bowed in turn, and Ah-Peen Oie murmured honeyed greetings.

  Mei Lien followed, because Ah-Peen Oie’s grasp was still firm, but Mei Lien’s actions felt as if they were two steps behind her thought processes. By the time she realized this place wasn’t a traditional hotel, she had already been ushered up a flight of stairs. They passed a series of closed doors. At the end of the hallway, a young servant girl with two braids waited, her eyes lowered. She opened a door, and Ah-Peen Oie led Mei Lien through it. They stepped into a small, dark bedroom, lit only by a single lamp, casting the rest of the room in shadows.

  Another bedroom. Another hotel. Would she be asked to undress again?

  Panic lanced through her stomach, and she twisted away from Ah-Peen Oie’s grasp. Futile, Mei Lien knew, but this time it wasn’t because she dared flee but because she was about to be sick.

  “Get her a bowl,” Ah-Peen Oie commanded.

  The servant girl produced that bowl, and as Mei Lien retched, Ah-Peen Oie kept her upright, preventing her from collapsing onto the rug and seeking the oblivion she craved.

  “You will not be ready tonight,” Ah-Peen Oie said, gripping her shoulders. “By tomorrow, you’d better be cooperative. Or you’ll not taste a morsel of food again.”

  Mei Lien heard the words but hadn’t fully processed them until Ah-Peen Oie shook her shoulders. “Did you hear me? Answer.”

  “I heard you.” Mei Lien’s voice sounded far away, even to her own ears.

  Mercifully, she was led to the bed and told to lie down. This she could do. Sleep. She closed her eyes with a sigh, and even though her stomach felt as if it had been turned inside out, she hoped the ache would ease soon. Yet the bitterness in her mouth and parched state of her throat caused her to risk speaking again. “May I have water?”

  The room was so silent that Mei Lien wondered if the mistress had left. Then the sound of trickling water caused her to crack an eye open to see Ah-Peen Oie pouring water from a pitcher into a glass. Only half a glass, but at least Mei Lien would get something.

  Her mouth salivated as Ah-Peen Oie crossed to the bed.

  Mei Lien tried to reach for the glass of water, only to find that her hands had been buckled to the bedposts. When had that happened? She tugged, but the effort did little more than chafe her wrist.

  Ah-Peen Oie’s beautiful eyes shone with amusement. “Ah, you poor bird. That opium must have been a stronger dose than intended.” The woman didn’t look apologetic at all.

  For a moment, Mei Lien wondered where Wang Foo had gone. Had he come up the stairs with them in the first place? If not, who had tied her in straps? But that didn’t matter much now; what mattered was the water that was only a couple of handspans from her mouth.

  Was Ah-Peen Oie going to help her drink?

  Mei Lien opened her mouth, and Ah-Peen Oie smiled, then tilted the water glass. It was too far away, though, and the water spilled in a thin drizzle upon the bed. Mei Lien lurched for the stream of water, trying to get close enough to drink. Ah-Peen Oie continued to pour, keeping it out of Mei Lien’s reach.

  Mei Lien didn’t even realize she was crying until she felt the hot tears slide down her cheeks and pool at her neck.

  “Tomorrow,” Ah-Peen Oie said in her smooth lilt. “Tomorrow, you will have water if you’re an obedient mui tsai.”

  Mui tsai. It was what the men at the Hong Kong harbor had called her. Mei Lien’s eyes slid shut as more tears escaped. Was there no other choice? She didn’t want to see Ah-Peen Oie’s face again. Or her beautiful, cruel smile. Or those captivating eyes that were evil themselves.

  It was better for Mei Lien to fall into a dream, then wake anew to find that none of this had been real. Sleep. Dream. Sleep. Dream.

  Even when the cool fingers of Ah-Peen Oie grasped Mei Lien’s jaw and slipped in another powdery dose of opium, she didn’t react. Her soul had already slipped into her dream of nothingness.

  “We do not always walk crowned with laurel. . . . ’Tis not enough to help the feeble brother rise; but to comfort him after. This we find the greatest responsibility of our Mission work. . . . With simple faithfulness, therefore, let us go forward looking to God for our pattern, then weave it into human life; thus will the world become better.”

  —Donaldina Cameron, mission home report

  1899

  Dolly looked up from the dining table where she sat with the other staff members as Mrs. Field walked in. The director wore dark colors, as usual, and her hair was fashioned into a severe bun. Mrs. Field’s reserve had driven the girls to become closer to Dolly, which she didn’t mind at all. Yet, Dolly did wish that the director would make more of an effort in cultivating relationships.

  Mrs. Field smiled a rare smile as she crossed to her place at the head of the table. It was unusual for her to be late for a staff meeting, and Dolly decided there must be a good reason for it.

  “Good morning, everyone.” Mrs. Field’s pale blue eyes surveyed the staff. “I’ve brought Kipling’s new poem. I think you’ll find it very applicable as well as fascinating.”

  It wasn’t unusual for a staff member to share a tidbit of inspiration in their meetings, but typically it was a scripture that had taken on extra meaning during the previous week.

  “The poem is entitled ‘The White Man’s Burden,’” Mrs. Field said. “As you can see, the title alone aligns with our work here at the mission home.”

  Dolly raised her brows to keep them from dipping into a frown. What was the director getting at? Surely she didn’t mean that the work of rescuing Chinese slaves was a burden to the staff?

  “Listen carefully.” Mrs. Field cleared her throat. “‘To wait in heavy harness / On fluttered folk and wild— / Your new-caught, sullen peoples, / Half devil and half child.’” She lifted her gaze, her p
ale blue eyes gleaming in the morning light.

  Dolly couldn’t meet Ah Cheng’s or Yuen Qui’s eyes. Despite English being their second language, there was no doubt they had understood Kipling’s words perfectly.

  Mrs. Field had no trouble looking directly into the face of each staff member around the table. She set the poem on the table before her, then folded her hands atop it. “I know I haven’t been here as long as most of you, but we cannot deny that these rescued girls have vulgar habits, some of which cannot be broken.”

  Dolly exhaled as her neck prickled with heat.

  “The women from the brothels have no integrity,” Mrs. Field continued, “and I’m sorry if that’s difficult to hear. We are all doing our best and acting as true disciples of Christ, but let’s not ignore the fact that some souls are too depraved to change or to be saved.”

  The anger kindling in Dolly’s chest burned hotter, and she gripped the edges of the table in order to keep from saying something she would later regret.

  “These low-grade Mongolian women are a bad influence on the other, more innocent girls.” Mrs. Field’s gaze finally landed on Dolly. “Their spirits are turbulent, and allowing them to live among the more innocent girls is lowering everyone’s morale and decency.”

  Ah Cheng and Yuen Qui were both looking down at the table. Now, things that Dolly had overlooked over the past months about the way Mrs. Field reprimanded and ordered punishments made sense. If she believed the abused women they rescued were beyond saving and had become, in fact, half devil, her actions were consistent with that belief. The volunteer staff members were perhaps as flabbergasted as Dolly, yet she couldn’t stay silent any longer.

  “I disagree, Mrs. Field.” Dolly clasped her trembling hands on her lap. “The work we are doing is not a ‘white man’s burden.’ Each woman we help is her own person, and each woman is capable of living a full and joyful life. We are here to offer light to all the souls who come to us for rescue, no matter their race. Like a crop of wildflowers, the women will grow and develop with our sunshine and water.”