Women of the Silk

by Gail Tsukiyama

  “She has taught me a great deal,” Pei then said quietly.

  Mui moved towards her with a cup of tea. “I can see Missy has chosen her friends well.”

  Pei let out a small self-conscious laugh. “I’m the one who has been very fortunate.”

  The Marriage Ceremony

  Lin knocked lightly on her mother’s door and waited, entering when she heard a faint voice from inside. Her mother’s strong, sweet jasmine perfume reached her first, followed by the distinct realization that her mother’s room was smaller than she remembered. Unlike Lin’s last visit, the room was awash in sunlight this time. Her mother stood looking out the window, radiant in an embroidered blue cheongsam.

  “I hope you had a pleasant journey,” Wong Tai said, turning toward Lin. There was a vague smile on her face, which disappeared when Lin’s eyes met hers. Only then did Lin realize that her mother hadn’t seen her since she’d gone through the hairdressing ceremony. How strange it must be for her mother to see Lin’s hair exactly like hers, tightly coiled in a chignon.

  “Yes, we had a very good trip,” Lin said, moving closer to kiss her mother on the cheek.

  “You brought your friend, then?”

  “Pei is waiting in my room.”

  “I see.” Her mother looked away. “Your brother’s marriage has kept us all very busy. I’ve barely had the time to look at myself. I must look a mess.”

  “You look beautiful, as always,” Lin said.

  Her mother’s face softened, though a hard edge of resentment moved through her words. “You could have chosen marriage, you could have easily had all the same things as Ho Chee, if you had returned home. Even more if you wanted!”

  Lin was unprepared for her mother’s words, yet in a voice so definite it surprised even her, Lin said, “I have everything I could ever hope for at the sisters’ house.”

  Her mother was silent for a moment. The tiny lines around her eyes seemed to deepen before her face became smooth and distant again.

  “Ma Ma, I just want you to understand that I’m happy with my life in Yung Kee,” Lin said, hoping her mother would understand.

  “Working in a factory?”

  “It’s enough for me.”

  “You were raised to be much more than a factory girl! Your father had great plans for you to marry into a respected family!”

  “My father’s dead, and being a factory girl has kept us all alive.”

  Wong Tai turned around and stared at Lin. In her eyes Lin could see the faintest hint of anger, but in a voice devoid of feeling her mother said, “Your brother will be honored that you have taken the time to return for his marriage ceremony.”

  “Ma Ma, won’t you try to understand?”

  “I understand perfectly.”

  Then, turning back toward the window, Wong Tai stared out into the sunlight.

  When Lin left her mother’s room, the sweet fragrance seemed to pursue her down the hall. She turned back once to see that there was no one there, only the imprints of her own steps in the soft carpet. Just a few doors down, Pei was waiting for her. When Lin reached the door of her room, she smiled and felt a lightness overtake her. It was as if some great weight had finally been lifted from her shoulders.

  Even after dark the tropical heat lay sticky and still over everything surrounding the large, old house. The heavy perfume that rose thickly from the garden drifted in and out whenever the door was opened and closed. Inside the house it remained dark and cool, insulated by the tall ceilings and the large terrace, which bore the burden of the heat during the day. Lin had not forgotten the dank feel and faint moldiness of the rooms; they were almost as bad as suffering the heat itself.

  That evening at dinner, Lin’s mother presided over the table. Never once did Wong Tai look toward Pei to acknowledge her presence among her children. Pei kept silent as she sat wedged between Lin and her younger brother, Ho Yung, sneaking quick glances at Wong Tai. Every so often Pei shifted in her seat. Mui moved happily around the table, serving chicken and long beans on stacked cloisonné dishes that were changed after each course so as not to mix the flavor of the oyster and plum sauces. Both a large silver serving spoon and chopsticks were propped beside each person’s plate on an enamel holder. Pei’s eyes followed every move as Lin ate slowly and precisely, giving Pei direction.

  The conversation quickly focused on the marriage ceremony, which was to take place in two days. Lin spoke often, laughing freely as she involved herself in the family discussion, refusing to let her mother exclude her.

  “Shall I see if everything has been prepared at the restaurant?” Lin asked.

  “It has been taken care of,” Wong Tai answered.

  “Is there anything you need me to do?” Lin persisted.

  Her mother was silent for a moment, then said, “I’m sure Mui will need your help.”

  Then, as if catching something distasteful from the corner of her eye, Wong Tai abruptly turned her attention toward her younger son, Ho Yung, who was speaking in quiet tones to Pei.

  “Ho Yung, did you arrange for the roast pig to be delivered on the day of the ceremony?” Wong Tai interrupted from across the table.

  Ho Yung looked at his mother and answered calmly. “They’ve promised to have it at the restaurant on time.”

  Wong Tai stared at him for a moment, then turned away to ask Ho Chee if he’d ordered the plum wine. Lin turned toward Pei and smiled, letting her elbow touch Pei’s arm for reassurance.

  On the morning of the marriage ceremony, Lin’s mother and her brother Ho Chee left the house early to worship their ancestors at a nearby Buddhist temple. The house itself was abuzz with preparations. Mui ran wildly from cleaning the house to preparing the ceremonial tea. Soon the courtyard would be filled with family and foreigners alike, coming to honor the marriage of Wong Hung-Hui’s elder son. Wong Tai had seen to it that all her husband’s old colleagues would attend, if only out of respect for her fallen husband. Through them, along with Ho Chee’s marriage into a wealthy family, honor and dignity would be restored to the house of Wong.

  The ceremony would take place at the house and would be followed by a large banquet at Wing Lee’s, one of the finest restaurants in Canton. Wong Tai had spared no expense in making this day memorable, using credit and her good name to get what she wanted. Within hours the house’s courtyard was transformed. Thirty long tables were draped in red cloth, while lanterns with the gold symbols of double happiness were brought out and strung up. On each table sat a plate containing dried dates, dried winter melon, and dried water chestnuts, along with two types of lotus seeds, which signified many children for the newly married couple. To one side, on the ancestors’ table, were plates of oranges, star melons, and bananas.

  Then, in the afternoon heat, with guests and family waiting in the courtyard, the distant sounds of the wedding party could be heard. Wong Tai turned to Ho Chee, who was dressed in a long blue silk gown; he stopped his pacing, cocked his head to the side, and took a deep breath when he heard the approaching horns and drums of the wedding party. The music, which at first seemed imaginary, soon grew louder as it floated toward the courtyard. The loud hum of voices from the waiting guests quickly gave way to a quiet anticipation.

  Mui hurried down the path to open the iron gate as the music grew louder. The thick smell of incense filled the air as they stood waiting in the suffocating heat. Pei stood with Lin towards the back, straining to see down the road, while Wong Tai remained calm and smiling, her eyes fixed on the opened gate. Ho Chee waited nervously beside her, small beads of sweat slowly making their way down the sides of his face.

  Then the bridal procession came into view. First to arrive were several sedan chairs carrying the bride’s possessions and dowry. Next came the red bridal chair, raised so high by the carriers that it seemed to be floating in the air. The bride inside was hidden by its sealed door and windows. And behind her chair marched a string of musicians who announced the arrival of the bridal party with the beating and
clanging of their drums and cymbals.

  Pei’s heart beat faster. As the sedan chairs entered the gate, everyone moved back to allow the bridal chair a central position. Pei slowly moved away from Lin and through the crowd, hoping to get a better view of the emerging bride, but the box remained closed. The musicians assembled, and according to custom began the three songs that had to be played before the bridal chair could be opened.

  When at last the music came to an end, a silence fell over the crowd. Pei watched motionless. One of the woman attendants accompanying the bride tapped several times on the bridal chair and then began tearing the seals that lined the door. When it finally swung open, a sigh escaped the crowd. Pei stood silent, caught in the spectacle of tradition. The bride seemed to hesitate at first, as if, Pei thought, she preferred the small wooden box to the unknown. Slowly she appeared, wearing a long red bridal gown with an embroidered phoenix down the length of it. A heavy jeweled headdress and veil prevented her from seeing. With the help of her women attendants, the bride was almost carried down from her chair, leaning heavily on them for balance. Unable to see and forbidden to speak, she was then led past the gawking crowd toward her new husband and his family.

  The wedding rites began, led by the ceremonial master. The bride was led back and forth, kneeling and kowtowing, first to each member of her new husband’s family and finally to the guests. Ho Chee stood by her side, also paying homage to his family, now as her new husband. The young couple then went inside the house to pour tea for both sides of their family and to receive the jewelry and lucky money that would help them to begin their new life. After the tea ceremony, the couple adjourned to a private room, where they would see each other for the first time. Pei’s curiosity would have to wait until the bride emerged without her veil at the banquet that evening.

  Outside, the festivities began with blaring music and the harsh, explosive sounds of hundreds of firecrackers squirming along the ground. A cloud of white smoke filled the courtyard. Pei’s eyes stung as she made her way slowly through the crowd of people, looking for Lin. She listened in fascination to the strange language the foreigners spoke, but she didn’t dare look too closely at the women’s fancy clothes or at the men, whose faces were covered with hair. Suddenly, she felt someone take hold of her arm and pull her back. She turned to see Ho Yung.

  “I hope you’re having a pleasant time,” he said, his hand on her elbow.

  “Yes, thank you,” Pei answered. “I’ve never seen anything so lovely.”

  When Ho Yung looked up and smiled, Pei was amazed at how much he resembled Lin. He had the same dark eyes and sharp features. Pei studied his face as well as she could without being obvious. The lines of his face were stronger and more prominent than Lin’s, and whereas her smooth skin was without a blemish, the faint dark shadow of a beard formed an outline on Ho Yung’s chin.

  “Is this your first time in Canton?” he asked.

  Pei was startled: Ho Yung had caught her watching him, his eyes holding on to hers. “Yes,” she answered, looking down.

  “It must seem very crowded and noisy to you, coming from a smaller village.”

  “Yes, it is,” she said. She wanted to tell him how fascinating everything was, yet remained tongue-tied.

  “My mother loves these large banquets,” Ho Yung continued, raising his voice.

  Pei smiled. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  Ho Yung said nothing. The noise from the crowd seemed to increase, drowning out their voices. He greeted guests as they slowly moved past. Finally the smoke cleared a bit, and people helped themselves to the fruit and candy. Ho Yung smiled, and held on lightly to Pei’s arm until he had led her safely back to Lin.

  The banquet at Wing Lee’s restaurant was the grandest and most lavish Pei had ever experienced. The tables filled the large dining hall to capacity. Each table had a numbered card on it that directed who was to be seated where, along with bottles of French champagne and a potent Chinese plum wine.

  Wong Tai had found the perfect means of expressing her dislike of Pei’s presence. While Lin sat at the head table with her family, Pei had been placed at a table, whose occupants were all white foreigners, toward the back of the room. Wong Tai had known there would be no time for Lin to change the arrangements. Pei was nonetheless captivated by what she saw, even if she did feel conspicuous in her own simple white tunic and pants. The white-devil women around her were dressed in colorful finery made of silk and lace; their faces and lips were painted bright colors. The men wore dark, handsome suits with tall hats. They spoke in low tones, long cigars clenched between their yellow teeth. The stench from the cigar smoke was almost unbearable, and the cigars left their mouths only long enough to make room to drink down the bubbly champagne. Yet they seemed to be taken with Pei’s lone presence and treated her kindly, though she understood only a little of what they said to her.

  “What is your name?” one very painted woman asked, in broken Chinese.

  “Pei,” she said, when she finally understood what the woman was asking.

  “Isn’t that charming?” the woman cried out, telling the rest of their table. “Her name is Pei, isn’t that charming?”

  Pei simply smiled and shifted in her chair.

  One male foreigner said hardly anything. He drank a great deal and simply stared at her for an embarrassingly long time. Pei felt hot and uncomfortable, though since coming to Canton she had grown used to this bad habit of the white devils. Their eyes seemed to have followed her unceasingly since her arrival.

  Wong Tai smiled pleasantly from the head table, having already greeted each guest with grace and charm. Pei had stood with Lin and watched as Wong Tai welcomed her husband’s former colleagues, now once again connected to her through Ho Chee, who had acquired a position in the government among them. Pei watched Wong Tai’s expression change from a look of control to one of gleaming happiness. In that moment, forgotten were the lean years, when there was little money and Wong Tai sat ill in her room.

  When the bride emerged, the hum of voices and clinking glasses stopped. Pei forgot about all the strangers around her and turned to get a better view of the bride without her jeweled headdress and veil. The bride walked slowly, her head slightly bowed, still denying Pei a good look at her face. She made her way toward the front of the room to join her new husband in toasting their guests. Ho Chee appeared pleased with his new wife as she stood small and unassuming beside him.

  Almost immediately the newlyweds began their arduous rounds of toasting each table. The guests seated with Pei were well into their last courses of salted chicken and steamed fish when the couple finally arrived. As Pei stood with the others to toast the couple, she was able to have her first close look at the bride. Her small dark eyes seemed expressionless, her skin as pale and smooth as porcelain. The new bride lifted her cup of tea, which appeared almost too heavy for her.

  “Thank you, thank you all for coming,” said Ho Chee, lifting his glass.

  The young bride smiled slightly, detached, as if she were thinking of other faraway secrets. Pei caught the girl’s eye for just a moment. She seemed to give back a glimmer of life, until Ho Chee’s sudden laughter pulled her away and just as quickly she was gone.

  When the banquet was over, Pei returned to the house with Mui. It was Wong Tai’s wish that Lin stay on at the restaurant with her family to thank the departing guests. And rather than wait to the side by herself, Pei thought it would be much more comfortable for all if she just followed Mui back to the house.

  Alone in Lin’s room, Pei felt she was barely breathing. The quiet of the room was so inviting after the noise of the day that she fell heavily on the bed and closed her eyes. She lay motionless while the events of the past few days moved through her mind. It seemed such a long time ago that she and Lin had first stepped onto the ferry that brought them here. She didn’t exactly miss Yung Kee and the silk factory, but its dusty streets and the heavy grinding sounds of the machinery provided her with a sens
e of reality. Here in Canton, Pei felt as if she were trespassing into a world which didn’t belong to her, and wouldn’t miss her if she were to leave. She knew it was an entirely different story for Lin, who had been born into this life and probably still belonged to its world of luxury and white devils. Pei opened her eyes and was greeted by the sickly smile of one of Lin’s dolls across the room. It reminded her of Wong Tai that night at the banquet, sitting high above everyone at the head table, staring out into all those endless faces.

  When Lin finally returned, Pei watched as she let down her tightly coiled hair, which fell like a snake down her back. She shook her head from side to side, loosening her hair into a tangled web, and combed it out in even strokes. As many times as Pei had seen Lin comb out her hair, watching it never failed to intrigue her.

  “I’m sorry you had to sit by yourself’ were Lin’s first words as she moved toward Pei.

  “I was all right.”

  “She had no right to do that,” Lin said, her voice carrying a hard edge.

  Pei looked into Lin’s eyes. “How can you blame her? You could have easily returned to all this, married into a good family, and brought great honor to her and your family. But my presence only reminds your mother of your decision to go against her.”

  Lin looked down at Pei without saying anything. Then she sat down on the bed beside her and gently began to remove the pins from her hair. As Lin did every night, she slowly began to brush through Pei’s hair from top to bottom and then from underneath. Pei let her head fall back just a little as the bristles tickled her neck. Then surprisingly, she felt the warmth of Lin’s fingers touch her cheek from behind.