by Zhang Yueran
The girl was unable to suppress a sigh as she put down the letter. A faint scent emanated from the paper, a smell that seemed to separate into layers. Her eyes shut. First she detected the breath of her childhood years, wrapping around her; then her present self, and finally herself in the future. She was on a spiral staircase in mid-air, slowly ascending.
She slept with her face on the scented letter. What a foolish dream — she thought she’d seen the span of her entire life, all at once. When she woke, the paper still in her hand, she wept as if her heart would break. This letter was all she could rely on, the only proof she had that anyone in the world still cared for her.
At the same moment, the Preacher also awoke from a dream: His son walking towards him, tall and sturdy as a palm tree, unrecognisable after only a few years away. Where had he acquired such nobility? Something heroic about his brow. His clothes rustling faintly as he walked. Solemn. A prince. The Preacher was too overcome to speak. He could only say the name silently, in his heart — Alan.
The Preacher trembled as he brought Alan and Tsong Tsong’s hands together. A golden couple. Laughter and congratulations lapped around them. And himself? He was standing before them, officiating at their wedding. The moment he had expected would be the happiest in his life. He was indeed smiling, like everyone else in the church. But why was this ceremony taking so long? They spoke their vows, exchanged rings. Each detail enacted countless times. They kissed with abandon, like a pair of intertwined trees. The Preacher sat all alone on the hard wooden pew. No one noticed how uncomfortable he looked. He had been utterly forgotten.
He felt himself petrifying, the last drop of moisture in his body vanishing. And still they kissed. Now they were a pair of poisonous snakes, blood-red forked tongues uniting in an oath. He couldn’t stop himself calling out. Why wouldn’t anyone bring him some water?
The heat of their kiss sucked his voice dry, leaving not a trace behind. He screamed and thrashed till he had struggled free of the dream. The Preacher woke, leaving behind the horrific wedding.
20
The days leading up to Tsong Tsong’s baptism were difficult to endure. Ever since the nightmare, he had begun to dread his son’s arrival. He began hoping Alan would change his mind, board a different ship to somewhere far away.
He hated this weakness in himself. To suffer such fear after a single parched dream! Alan was his tomorrow, his successor, heir to this precious relationship. Love should mingle like the scent of flowers. Why was he still riven with jealousy?
Such was the absurdity of the situation. His deepest fear was that someone would take her away from him. To keep her by his side, he was willing to use his son as collateral. But what if they went off together, leaving him alone on this godforsaken island? What would become of the rest of his life? But wasn’t this what he wanted — indeed, had planned for — after his wife died?
He knew this arrangement was for the best. Still, his hands reached out, unsatisfied, as if trying to grab hold of something.
Tsong Tsong would be baptised by immersion. She wrote many cards inviting her friends from the ships and the refugee shelter. They came, even though many of them had never entered a church before, and now a stern, solemn atmosphere enveloped them, as if they had become actors in a musical spectacle. Despite themselves, they felt moved at the happiness of their beloved sister.
There had also been a special invitation to the boat-house by the sea. Tsong Tsong’s expression convinced the messenger that the recipient must be terribly important. She turned out to be a blind woman, her sunken eyes completely dry — in fact, her whole body held no more moisture than an uprooted tree trunk.
The blind woman arrived and walked up to the girl, supported by a good-looking young man, better-groomed and healthier than his companion. He seemed to know the girl too. “So this is where you’ve been. We looked everywhere for you.”
His tone was intimate. Was this the man she’d been waiting for all this time? But no. The girl had barely looked at him. It was the blind woman that Tsong Tsong cared about. They must be close as sisters. The woman was dishevelled, but still more reserved than the song-prostitutes now filling the pews.
Tsong Tsong hushed her companion. “It’s time for the ceremony. We can talk afterwards.” They took their seats.
The girl wore pure white robes, beautiful as a swan. She seemed suddenly grave and dignified. The Preacher shut his eyes to avoid her radiance, trying to calm his heart. No stray thoughts after this. He would accompany her into this new life, the last thing he’d give her. Not long from now, Alan would arrive on the island like the breath of spring, and bring her into a different kind of new life, one filled with sweetness.
The baptismal platform was a half-moon balcony, three storeys off the ground. Tsong Tsong stood in the pool as the Preacher recited the words of the ceremony. The girl, only inches from him, surely noticed that his voice was unsteady. If their eyes had once met and produced sparks, only the two of them knew about it. After he had read the appropriate passage, the Preacher and a helper tipped Tsong Tsong backwards three times so her whole body was submerged.
Now she stood, her eyes shut, wet hair plastered to hectic cheeks. She looked as small as a newborn child. This little wildflower he’d discovered was finally nourished with holy water, and would soon blossom into splendour. He said, “You are a different person now. Completely new.”
She let her eyes open. Drops scattered from her lashes. She looked at the congregation then back at the Preacher. Her smile was cunning. With a leap, she vaulted over the railing and off the balcony.
Instinctively, the Preacher reached to catch her, even as she took flight. He brushed against her foot — cold as ice, still covered in scars — but then it was gone, and his hand closed on a spray of holy water. He looked down. The girl was splayed far below, her white dress now scarlet, the skirt spread behind her like a peacock’s fantail.
The shocked crowd surged towards this fallen bird. No one told the blind girl what had happened. She must have heard the thunderclap of the body landing, but it wasn’t until the stench of blood reached her that she understood.
The Preacher had to fight for breath before he could look down again. The girl was no longer visible, buried beneath bobbing heads.
He allowed his body to sink into the baptismal pool, curled into a ball. The holy water covered both ears. In underwater silence, the Preacher began to weep.
Seed
1
They lit every oil lamp they could find, until the high-arched room was flushed with light. The doctor pulled open her voluminous dress, touched the proud belly. Seven months, he said. A murmur of surprise went through the room. But, after all, she had been a song-girl, and these accidents were known to happen. So that’s why we haven’t seen her all these months, thought her boat-sisters.
Even after falling from such a height, she did not die at once. She was still conscious, emitting little moans as she modestly pulled her clothes back together.
“There’s no hope for her,” said the doctor frankly. “Nor the baby.”
The dying woman clutched her belly, satisfaction in her smile. “Bring Chun Chi to me,” she said, rolling onto her side, her face and arms bloodied.
“Tsong Tsong, I’m here.” Chun Chi came forward, groping till she found the edge of the bed. She sat and stroked Tsong Tsong’s hair, as if she could feel its shining golden colour. “You invited me to be a witness to your death. Is that it? Why so cruel?”
“Did I hurt you? Then I’ve succeeded. I only wanted to know I still had the power to make you feel pain.”
“Yes. Very much,” Chun Chi choked.
“I can hurt you even more. Listen to this —”
“No. Nothing can hurt me more than your death.” Chun Chi stroked Tsong Tsong’s face, blood rubbing onto her hands.
“How sweet of you to say so.” Her voice fading.
“It’s the truth.”
“No, there’s something worse.” Th
e blood had left dull red streaks on her face, like chunks of badly-applied rouge. How she’d longed for a pot of rouge during her days on the ship, but because she was saving for the boat-house, couldn’t bring herself to spend the money, not even when the peddlers offered her generous discounts. Now her face finally had the colour she’d longed for. Just before the end, the Lord was giving her all she was owed. The vivid colour in her cheeks marked her down for death. Death could take her, but not her beauty. Until the very end, she remained breathtaking.
“Listen to me, Chun Chi. I want to tell you a secret. The baby inside me belongs to Camel. I’m sorry — I wanted revenge, I wanted to hurt you as much as you’d hurt me.”
Chun Chi’s hands came away from Tsong Tsong’s face and splayed in mid-air, like lost little birds, finally coming to rest on that swollen belly. The blind woman’s fingers detected a tiny heartbeat beneath the yielding skin. Teardrops welled up from her dry sockets. Tsong Tsong was right, the pain she felt now was greater than ever before. Humiliation washed over her — to be so easily manipulated, and with such cruelty!
“He wasn’t as amazing as you made him sound, but still quite a fine fellow.” Tsong Tsong’s tone was skittish, almost flirtatious.
Chun Chi bit her lip and found herself thinking, with vehemence, Won’t she hurry up and die? On the verge of death, Tsong Tsong seemed to have found a last reservoir of energy that showed no sign of running out. She should have died before this, before letting out this terrible secret.
“I invited you here to ask your forgiveness. The dying make a final confession, and there’s nothing they can’t be forgiven. Isn’t that right, my darling preacher man?” She turned to him, on the other side of the bed.
“I will never forgive you,” said Chun Chi heavily.
Tsong Tsong only smiled at this.
Chun Chi stewed in her grief and hatred for a while more, but finally couldn’t resist asking, “And is Camel doing well?”
“Yes,” Tsong Tsong nodded. Perhaps even her stony heart had its limits, and she didn’t want Chun Chi to suffer a further blow; then again, perhaps this was her final cruelty, to ensure that Chun Chi would go on searching, hoping to return to Camel’s side, wasting the rest of her life on a fruitless quest.
Hatred was a wild animal pursuing Tsong Tsong, a cunning little deer. Now she vaulted easily across the river of life, to the opposite bank. Retribution could only stare at her from across the water. In the years ahead, there would be plenty of time for them to confront each other.
2
Chun Chi’s hand still rested on Tsong Tsong’s belly. She tapped it gently, and seemed to hear a response from within. Her whole body trembled with it.
“Doctor, can she really not be saved?” When the doctor confirmed this, Chun Chi turned to the other people crowded round the bed and announced, “The baby is still alive. We can rescue it.”
“How?” asked the Preacher, tears covering his face.
Zhong Qian whispered, “Are you sure it’s all right?”
“Yes, I’m sure. All we need to do is cut her open.” Chun Chi wiped away tears.
The room was silent for a moment, only the sound of dripping blood.
“If we do that, she’ll die instantly,” said the doctor in a low voice.
The Preacher shook his head. “Is this your revenge?”
“No. I’m only thinking of the baby. If we can save its life, Tsong Tsong will look down from Heaven and thank us.” Chun Chi’s voice was calm.
Zhong Qian pulled gently at Tsong Tsong’s hand. “Tsong Tsong, do you consent to this? Will you allow us to do this to you?”
Tsong Tsong smiled, her eyes shut, but did not answer. Her breath was heavy, the rise and fall of her belly more pronounced now. They could all see her reluctance to go — at the very last moment, she couldn’t quite let go of this world.
“Doctor, please act now, or it’ll be too late,” said Chun Chi firmly.
The doctor looked at the crowd, as if hoping for suggestions, but no one had anything to offer.
“Quickly, doctor,” urged Zhong Qian. “There’s no choice. We have to try this.”
Although no one would say so, the room seemed to agree, even if it was a bit callous to hasten her end by a few minutes.
“I’ve never done anything like this. What if —”
“We’ll help you,” Zhong Qian assured the doctor. “Start now, or it’ll be too late.”
The doctor fearfully brought the knife close to Tsong Tsong’s fine skin, clear as jade, perfectly smooth even this late in pregnancy. Her belly-button was like the mouth of a leaping volcano, rumbling with the flames buried deep beneath.
“This will hurt a lot. Please try to bear it,” said the doctor to Tsong Tsong, who continued to smile with her eyes shut, motionless. The room held its breath and averted its eyes. Goodbye, it whispered, as the knife touched her soft body.
Blood surged in fury, splashing Chun Chi’s face, making the song-girls cry out. It trickled down Tsong Tsong’s face, as if she were crying tears of blood. The doctor had prepared himself, but lost his composure at that fiery spurt. His hand trembled, unable to continue. No one knew what to do. Her belly was an urn brimming with blood.
“Don’t stop now. The baby’s here.” Chun Chi’s hand was deep in the urn, probing.
The doctor shook his head and stepped away from the knife. Chun Chi groped for the handle with one hand, even as the other inched towards the baby’s heartbeat. Tears streaming from her eyes, she pressed down on the blade. Tsong Tsong moaned a little.
Chun Chi pushed through flesh and blood till she found the baby’s spine. It was a little fish swimming in its warm fluid sac, unaware of the tumult outside.
As the baby left her body, Tsong Tsong grabbed Chun Chi’s wrist with sudden violence. The unexpected movement made everyone jump, except Chun Chi herself, who remained composed as Tsong Tsong enunciated clearly, “If you want to keep it, you’ll have to take good care of it.”
Follow the spiral staircase all the way down. This buried kingdom isn’t hell. Keep going, until the sound of wind fills your ears and dust blinds your eyes and vines still your feet. Only then will the memory-keepers appear.
The night before the tsunami, he had a strong presentiment of disaster. His dreams were full of the sounds of great waves, waking him and sending him outdoors. He started along the little road up the hill.
As he walked, he noticed flamingos leaving their nests by the low-lying lakeshore, and bats flying from their caves. Little herds of wild rabbits and monkeys accompanied him up the slope. He had never seen anything like this, but remembered hearing his grandfather describe such a scenario. A great wave must be on its way.
He turned and ran downhill, back towards town — he had to sound the warning. But who should he tell? He was an orphan, and had no friends. He did odd jobs for the local people, a different place each day. Still, it felt wrong to flee alone. Reaching a village, he tried to tell people about the tsunami, but no one would listen — he was just a homeless Chinese vagrant, probably trying to trick them into leaving so he could rob them. They chased him away. He stood at the village entrance shouting at them to look at the sea, how violent the waves were, much fiercer than usual. They continued to ignore him, until he gave up and walked away. A couple of the village dogs slunk after him.
As he passed the Spanish garrison, he hesitated and wondered if he should warn the foreign devils. Since their arrival, all they had done was massacre any Chinese people they encountered, including his entire family. He wandered around outside the camp, indecisive. The sentries looked him up and down, dismissing him as a lunatic or trouble-maker. One of them aimed a firelock at his leg. He limped away, leaving a trail of blood.
The animals had left a trail of prints up the hill. He followed this, crawling when he could no longer walk. The village dogs came behind him, licking at his bloodstained tracks. As he slowed down even more, they abandoned him and ran ahead.
The great t
ide surged towards him like a predator. He wrapped his arms around the fronds of a tree-fern, not loosening his grip until he felt the force of water lessen. He would be safe now. Cries of grief and terror reached him from further down the hill. Unutterably weary, he shut his eyes.
3
He was cut from his mother’s body. The blind womangripped him awkwardly until the Preacher took him and held him aloft with his strong arms. The baby’s eyes opened, reflecting the firelight. His body warmed as his mother’s cooled. This exchange of temperatures took place in a heartbeat, just like the inheritance of love and hate.
At the instant the baby came into the world, a burst of light invaded Chun Chi’s sealed, scabbed-over eyes, reaching deep into her. This child had a mystical power, she thought, to make her experience brightness for the first time in so long. New strength entered her body.
Before his birth, she hadn’t known how she would feel about this child. Hatred would have been natural — but the wait had been so long and still, it became a kind of cleansing. And she had reached into the body and plucked the baby out with her own hands. She didn’t know who the blood on her belonged to — it seemed to be her own, part of herself. She felt a spasm while cutting the umbilical cord, as if it was she who’d just given birth.
The baby’s cries, brave and strident, seemed to pull his mother back towards the light. She let out one last, faint sigh. The Preacher clutched the red child, making little moaning noises. How full of life the world suddenly was, how precious.
Chun Chi knelt by the bed and held Tsong Tsong’s hand. She was gone, the warmth ebbing from her. Yet her body was not stiff, and she smelled faintly of flowers, like that confused afternoon when they embraced amidst mandala blossoms. Or else that occasion in the boat-house when Tsong Tsong bathed her and gently braided her hair. No words. Words were always followed by misunderstanding and suspicion. They were beyond speech, supporting each other in silence.
Those who die first are fortunate. They are missed, their sins dissipated. Even if Chun Chi refused to forgive Tsong Tsong, she would never forget her. Tsong Tsong had achieved her objective, of becoming a cloud that would settle forever inside Chun Chi.