The buggy started forward, and Dolly’s heart drummed a staccato of fear. They were in for a long ride that would take the rest of the day and most of the night if they didn’t stop to rest. There were fifty miles between San Francisco and San Jose. Dolly had no shawl, coat, or hat. Kum Quai wore only her lightweight clothing provided by the mission home.
The buggy stopped in Palo Alto to change horses when night had fallen. Despite the hope that Dolly had for a fair trial in San Jose, that hope was soon dashed when the constable announced that a judge in Palo Alto had agreed to hear the case.
They entered the courthouse after hours with the constable and Chung Bow. The smell of stale air and dust tickled Dolly’s senses, but perhaps they could get this over with quickly and return to San Francisco. Both she and Kum Quai were tired from the journey and emotionally wrung out from the unknown.
The judge strode out of his office, looking none too happy to be bothered. He all but ignored Dolly as he spoke with the constable. When Dolly overheard him saying that they needed time to assemble a jury and witnesses, she protested.
“I am witness enough.” She stepped forward, boldly interrupting the conversation. “We can hold a trial right now. There’s no reason for all of us to be dragged to San Jose, since this girl’s home is with me in San Francisco.”
Annoyance crossed the judge’s face. “My first decision stands. Kum Quai will spend the night in jail, and if tomorrow we have everything in place, we’ll hold the trial.”
Kum Quai couldn’t understand the words of the judge, and Dolly couldn’t leave the poor, frightened girl.
“I will stay with her, then,” Dolly said.
The judge raised a single brow. “As you wish.”
Dolly was on her way to jail.
“It took only four years to set the negroes free throughout the whole of the South; for twenty-five years a few women have been wrestling with the Chinese slavery problem and it seems no nearer a solution now, than it did more than a quarter of a century ago when the rescue work was first organized.”
—Donaldina Cameron, address to the mission home board, April 1902
1903
Click. The door opened.
Click. The door shut.
Mei Lien heard his footsteps brush the rug, then stop.
She needed to open her eyes; she had to open her eyes. This was only business, and she was a businesswoman now, determined to satisfy the demands of her contract, and then she would leave.
She would return to Hong Kong, and she’d find her mother.
Mei Lien would never think of San Francisco or California again. She would become the village girl again and let this new Mei Lien die.
“Mei Lien?” His voice made her flinch.
She hadn’t taken the opium; instead she had stashed it in a hole on the other side of her mattress, knowing that there might come a time when she was desperate again.
Slowly, she opened her eyes. In the candlelight, Huan Sun smiled.
She tried to smile back, she really tried, but instead a tear spilled onto her cheek.
Huan Sun’s dark eyes filled with questions. “Are you ill? Should I fetch Ah-Peen Oie?”
How could she be so careless? “No, I am overwhelmed by your generosity.” She hoped he would believe her. If word got back to Ah-Peen Oie that she’d displeased one of the clients . . .
Huan Sun nodded, then moved closer and took her hand.
His touch wasn’t too bad, she told herself. Huan Sun’s hand was warm and gentle. His eyes were kind, and . . . another tear escaped. She brushed it away quickly.
Huan Sun released her hand and stepped back, concern replacing the interest in his eyes.
Dismay ebbed across Mei Lien’s skin. She had already failed. He would report her to Ah-Peen Oie. “Please forgive me.” She heard her own pleading in her voice. “I do not mean to—”
He held up his hand. “There are many layers to you, Mei Lien. One woman in the banquet, another woman sharing memories of her home, and one woman now. Tell me, who is the real one?”
Mei Lien bit her lip. None of the women were truly her. She didn’t know who she was, and she didn’t know which story would please Huan Sun. “I am not sure,” she admitted.
He crossed to the chair in her room and took a seat.
He was not leaving, then?
She didn’t know whether to be relieved or not.
“I think that is the most honest answer I’ve ever received.” Huan Sun’s expression was wistful, and Mei Lien had no idea what to hope. “When I first came into the banquet room, I knew you didn’t want to be there.”
Mei Lien inhaled sharply. Had Ah-Peen Oie noticed too? “I am still learning the protocol,” she said.
Huan Sun nodded. “Then you smoked the opium with Zhang Wei, and I could see the desperation in your eyes.”
Would he tell Ah-Peen Oie? “I—I was nervous.”
Huan Sun leaned forward, and although he was sitting across the small room, Mei Lien was certain he could see right into the hidden corners of her soul. “Your nervousness is understandable. Tonight, we will only talk, blossom. Tell me of your home.”
The endearment made her eyes sting with tears again. Did Huan Sun truly want to talk only? His demeanor remained calm, relaxed, and perhaps that was all the encouragement she needed. She began to tell him of her childhood. Her mother and father. Her small village.
Huan Sun listened intently, smiling at her stories. Then Huan Sun spoke of his family, his brother who still lived near Hong Kong, his father who had died the year before. His voice was low, mellow, and soothing.
Mei Lien was entranced, and she reclined on her bed as he continued with his stories. Some of them made her laugh; others made her marvel that of all the men she could have met tonight, Huan Sun had been the one to come to her bedroom.
His words washed over her with warmth, bringing up cherished memories of her own, memories she had never known she would want to hold onto and never let go. She closed her eyes, enjoying the rumble of his tone, the gentleness of his voice, the humor at the edges.
When Mei Lien opened her eyes, she realized two things immediately. First, she had fallen asleep listening to Huan Sun’s stories. And second, he was no longer in the room.
She shot up in bed, then groaned at the sharp headache piercing her temples. The light around the window was a dull orange, and, judging by the dryness of her throat and the pinch in her stomach, Mei Lien guessed the hour to be midday.
When had Huan Sun left? Did Ah-Peen Oie know they had only talked? Would she be furious?
Something in her room was different. The chair Huan Sun had sat in hadn’t been moved. Her clothing still hung in the wardrobe, untouched. She scanned the rest of the room. Then she saw the vase on the bureau.
She climbed out of bed and crossed to the bureau. Someone had left a vase of water. She took a long drink, then noticed a small clay bowl filled with water behind the vase. Floating in the center of the bowl was a white magnolia. Somehow she knew it was from Huan Sun. Who else would have left such a thing?
Footsteps sounded outside her bedroom door, and moments later, the door opened.
Mei Lien stared at Ah-Peen Oie, trying to gauge her mood. Was she supposed to drink the water? Had she broken some rule? When the woman smiled, Mei Lien’s shoulders relaxed.
“Huan Sun was complimentary when he left,” Ah-Peen Oie said. “Well done.”
Mei Lien lowered her head, waiting for any other pronouncements by her mistress.
They came immediately. “Since Huan Sun has requested you for three months, you will no longer be needed at the banquets.”
Mei Lien released a breath.
“The attentions Zhang Wei paid you last night should never happen again,” Ah-Peen Oie continued. “Next time they do, you will pay dearly. Do you understand?”
>
“Yes,” Mei Lien whispered.
Ah-Peen Oie gripped her chin and forced her face upward. “I cannot hear you.”
“Yes,” Mei Lien said in a louder voice.
Ah-Peen Oie’s beautiful eyes were laced with malice. “The only reason you are bruise free right now is because of the amount Huan Sun paid for you. As long as you keep him happy, you will be spared punishment.”
Mei Lien swallowed against the slow burn in her throat. “Thank you for your kindness.”
Ah-Peen Oie nodded, then released Mei Lien’s chin. Her gaze trailed to the bureau. “The water is from Huan Sun. Be sure that you show your deep gratitude when he returns tonight. I will not have a dissatisfied client in my house.”
Mei Lien paced her room the rest of the day. She took only half the dose of opium offered, and she fought the threatening headache. But the extra water helped, and the floating white magnolia gave her renewed determination. She didn’t want to be dependent on the opium. Mei Lien wanted to be stronger than her addiction so that when she left this house, her journey wouldn’t be controlled by her physical dependency. She could do what was required to pay off her contract; she could survive and return to her mother.
Click. Click.
Mei Lien turned from the darkening window to see Huan Sun enter her bedroom. Her skin heated with expectation, and her pulse went from walking fast to running. She bowed and greeted him, and Huan Sun returned her greeting with a smile.
“I brought you something.” In his hands, he carried a wide bowl painted with bonsai trees.
He approached Mei Lien, and her curious gaze fell to the contents. Inside the bowl, dirt had been layered with gravel. The top of a plant had emerged from the base, and Mei Lien knew immediately what it was. “A lotus?”
Huan Sun’s expression was pleased. “Yes. Now we need to add water. And it requires sunlight.”
This Mei Lien could not do. “I cannot open the drapes.”
Huan Sun set the bowl atop the bureau, then moved past her to the window. He tugged the drapes aside. Through the grate, the gilt-edged mauve of twilight glowed. “I will speak to Ah-Peen Oie. The lotus is my gift to you, and if it’s not cared for properly, it will die.”
Mei Lien couldn’t stop the hope that had slowly uncurled as a flower might after a cold rainstorm. “She might insist that it be kept in the dining room.”
Huan Sun turned. “It belongs here. I will speak to her.”
Mei Lien wanted to believe that Huan Sun could make such a request, and perhaps he could.
“Now.” Huan Sun approached her. “You should add the water.”
Mei Lien picked up the vase, which was nearly empty. She poured the remainder of the water into the bowl until the bud looked like it was floating, although it was still attached to its base.
Would the lotus really thrive and bloom in this small room with barely any light?
Huan Sun gave her a proud smile. “The lotus reminds me of you, blossom. Right now it’s hiding in the dirt, but soon it will bloom.”
Was this what it was like to be wooed? Except—that was impossible because Huan Sun was paying for her. Yet . . . “Thank you, it is beautiful already.” And it was.
Huan Sun took his place in the chair where he had sat the previous night, and Mei Lien sat opposite him on the bed. The room seemed smaller than before, the distance between them much shorter, and she wondered when he was going to tire of that chair.
She didn’t know if she should start the conversation, but she did anyway. “What did you do today?”
Huan Sun owned a tailoring shop, and he told her of the customers who had come in: from the servant of a very particular housewife to a member of the tong. Huan Sun’s detailed stories captivated Mei Lien. She felt as if she’d been to the shop herself.
“There is an important banquet next week that Ah-Peen Oie is hosting for the tong,” Huan Sun said. “I have many orders for making new clothing and repairing traditional costumes.”
“The banquet is here?” She thought of the one member of the tong she had met—Zhang Wei. Having a whole host of them in the house would be disconcerting, but she wouldn’t be at the banquet anyway.
“Ah-Peen Oie is a grand mistress of Chinatown,” Huan Sun said. “I think everyone fears her a little.”
Mei Lien pressed her lips together to let the urge of complaining about her mistress pass. “She has forbidden me from all banquets.”
Huan Sun studied her, his gaze moving over her from head to foot. “You are very beautiful. Perhaps she doesn’t want the attention drawn away from her.”
Mei Lien straightened and frowned. “I am nothing compared to Ah-Peen Oie. She is a lovely, sophisticated woman.”
“Not every man wants a sophisticated woman,” Huan Sun said in a quiet voice.
Mei Lien had to look away then because her neck was heating up at the way he was looking at her. Would tonight be the night? How long would he wait?
“I hope I can please you,” she whispered.
She heard him rise to his feet and walk toward the bed. When he stopped, he did not touch her as she expected. He only breathed out a sigh. The silence ticked like a clock between them, and finally Mei Lien looked up.
She couldn’t read his expression, and she didn’t know if she wanted to. Because when he leaned down and ran two fingers along the edge of her jaw, her heart seemed to expand two sizes. This wasn’t supposed to happen. She wasn’t supposed to like the men visiting her room. But Huan Sun was different.
“You look pale.” His voice was gentle, laced with concern. “Do they feed you enough?”
It was mostly a teasing question, but tears welled in her eyes. Huan Sun sat next to her and drew her hand into his. “Tell me.”
She exhaled a shaky breath. “I haven’t eaten today. The water you sent was all that I was given. Ah-Peen Oie says that I must pay for my own food now that I have a patron, but she has not given me any money yet.”
Huan Sun didn’t move for a long moment; then he released her hand and left the room.
Mei Lien sank against the single pillow. She couldn’t imagine where Huan Sun had gone or what he would do. She bolted upright when she heard an argument coming from somewhere down the hallway. Mei Lien crept to the door and listened as closely as she could. It was Huan Sun’s voice, speaking to Ah-Peen Oie. He was berating the mistress for not feeding her.
Mei Lien brought a hand to her mouth to stifle her gasp. She had never heard anyone speak sharply to Ah-Peen Oie, and Mei Lien could only imagine the woman’s horrified fury.
Then a door shut. Hard. Footsteps again. Mei Lien hurried to the far side of the bedroom and hovered near the window that was now dark.
When the door next opened, it was not Huan Sun or Ah-Peen Oie who stepped in, but a servant girl with a tray of food. It smelled delicious, even in its cold state. After the girl left, Mei Lien didn’t move for several moments, waiting. When no one else came in, she finally crossed to the food and ate her fill of chow mein and dumplings.
She waited long into the night for Huan Sun to return, but he never did, and eventually she fell asleep.
Two days passed, two days of food and water delivered to her room, but no Huan Sun. Mei Lien paced her bedroom. She spent long moments staring at the lotus. She parted the drape and watched out the forbidden window, ignoring her half-completed embroidery work.
On the morning of the third day, Mei Lien woke early and checked on the lotus. The bud had yet to open, but the rest of the plant seemed to be thriving. She added a little more water, then drank some herself. Last night there had been a banquet, and Mei Lien had spent the evening in her room. Had Huan Sun come to the banquet but not visited her? She had no way of knowing. The other courtesans kept to themselves, and she doubted any of them would be awake until the afternoon.
A scratching sound drew her attention,
and Mei Lien turned toward the window. A robin had landed on the outside sill. Mei Lien watched the small bird flinch and dip its head. She didn’t move or make a sound. Envy heated her body. The creature could fly away at any moment, fly away to whatever its next destination would be. Its freedom.
If only Mei Lien were as small as a bird. She could leave the house, fly away, and soar above all that was her life.
Her door burst open, and Mei Lien turned with a gasp as Ah-Peen Oie stormed in, followed by two other girls.
“Have you been stealing money from me?” Ah-Peen Oie ground out, crossing the room to stand before her.
Mei Lien was so stunned it took her a moment to say, “No, of course not. Why would you—”
Ah-Peen Oie slapped the side of Mei Lien’s jaw. “Stop talking. We will find out soon enough.”
It was then that Mei Lien realized the two other girls were pulling her clothes from the bureau, inspecting every seam, every pocket. Next, they opened the drawers, going through the few items that had been given to Mei Lien. They turned to the bed, stripped it of the coverings, slit open the pillow and shoved their hands inside, searching.
They lifted the mattress, then looked under the bed. Mei Lien felt hands pat her down, and finally, one of the girls poked her fingers into the lotus bowl.
“No,” Mei Lien cried out before she could stop herself.
Everyone in the room froze. Then Ah-Peen Oie’s face formed a cruel smile. “Bring me the bowl.”
With Mei Lien watching in horror, Ah-Peen Oie dumped the entirety of the contents onto the stripped mattress. Dirt, gravel, water, and the fragile plant landed in a clump.
There was no money to be found.
Ah-Peen Oie had the audacity to look disappointed, and she dropped the bowl onto the mattress next to the scattered dirt. “Next room.”
Mei Lien didn’t move after Ah-Peen Oie left her bedroom. Noises of yells and shrieks came from the next bedroom over; then another room was invaded, and another.
Someone screamed, and the sound pulled Mei Lien out of her numbness. The screams turned into begging cries. Mei Lien walked to her still-open door. With numb disbelief, she watched Ah-Peen Oie drag one of the courtesans out of her room. The young woman was half clothed, and the makeup on her face was streaked with tears.
The Paper Daughters of Chinatown Page 14