All the Flowers in Shanghai (25 page)

I turned from the table and leant my forehead against Yan’s waist while I continued crying. Yan stroked my hair as she had done before. Her black cotton clothes smelled of washing soap but under this scent was her own particular odor: the herbal mixture of her ointment; oil from the kitchen where she and many of the elder servants went to keep warm and eat bowls of hot noodles and dumplings. Filling my nostrils with this smell I knew so well made me feel safe and less sad. Perhaps if she could, then other people, too, would one day understand what I had asked her to do. If that were possible then perhaps I myself could one day understand why I had done it and be forgiven.

I sat up and looked into Yan’s face. Over the past years, our relationship had become strong and unfailing. We did not argue; we knew each other’s habits and behavior too well for that. She anticipated when I was going to do or say something that she thought was unwise, and I knew when she did not approve. We had learned that we did not need to explain this to each other. She gave me a reassuring smile and I saw her cracked yellow teeth, the lines in her face, which seemed to circle and circle but all end at the corners of her eyes, now shining brightly for she was crying, too.

“Feng Feng, we can do nothing now. Just pray to the gods that she is healthy and being looked after well,” Yan whispered. She let go of my hand. “Master Sang will be returning soon, I must clean up.”

I moved from sitting by the table to the more comfortable armchair where I intended to wait for him, but once alone I noticed that the onset of evening with the wintry air outside had made the room cold. I got up and went to the door to ask one of the servants on the landing to fetch from my room the blanket Yan had given me years ago. However, on opening the door I found Xiong Fa standing in front of me.

“Hello, you look very pale. What is it?” he asked.

“I’m cold, I was just about to ask for my blanket.”

“I’ll get it.” He turned and went down the corridor and across to the other side of the floor, to my room. I watched him go, looking very purposeful. I sat waiting in the armchair again.

He returned within a few minutes and placed the blanket around me.

“Warmer?”

“Yes, thank you,” I replied. I saw him go over to his toy train that Ming had moved and place it in its original position.

“I am pregnant again,” I said abruptly.

“Really?” He spun around, his eyes ablaze. “I’m so happy. I did not think it was going to happen.”

“And then what would you have done?” I said sharply.

He looked surprised but understood my suspicion.

“Well, I hadn’t thought that far ahead,” he replied vaguely. “How long have you known?”

“The Western-trained doctor I found wanted me to wait a little because of what happened last time,” I lied, but he was in my service this time so I was safe. “And so it has been a few weeks.” In fact I had no explanation for why I had waited; I think I had wanted to experience this time without anyone else’s knowledge except Yan’s. These were the first days of motherhood and they were mine. But I had told Ming and now it was only right that I tell my husband.

“Maybe we should cancel the dinner then. It could be safer.”

“No, the dinner is important, to you and to your father. If it was canceled your family would lose face. Everything is booked and we should continue.”

“Yes, you’re right.” His eyes moved from side to side, as if looking at imaginary objects, then he looked back at me and frowned. “But I’ll be worried.”

“The doctor will be attending me that night in case there is a problem.” I could tell he wasn’t convinced. “Please don’t worry, I’ll be careful. I want this child, too.”

He smiled.

“I think I will have a nap before dinner.” He had looked weary when he was standing in the doorway minutes ago. With this news and our discussion, his shoulders sagged and he looked limp with relief.

“You go to bed. I will go rest myself and see you at dinner,” I said, suddenly feeling a trace of concern for my hardworking husband.

“Isn’t it marvelous that we might have a child? I would so like to be a father.” He was rambling a little in his need for sleep. “I will try to be the best of fathers. I see some foreign men and they put their children on their knees and bounce them around, singing to them. Do you think that is acceptable?”

“Yes, I think it would be fun. But what will you do if it is twins?” I joked with him.

“Well, I have two knees.” He walked toward his bedroom door and stopped by my side, resting his hand on my shoulder.

“I will help you every step of the way . . . not like last time.” He looked down at me. “I will never forgive myself for not being at your side then, but I knew no better.” He shook his head in self-reproach.

He withdrew his hand, entered his bedroom, and closed the door behind him. I sat there for a few minutes and then went over to his toy train and touched the roof of the tiny driver’s cabin. The toy was battered and chipped, yet Xiong Fa had told me that it could still be wound and, when track was laid for it, would cheerfully run along. It was a model of those engines that pulled trucks around, a big cylinder upfront and a cabin behind with four wheels below. The tank was painted red with thin black stripes around it and the cabin was red with a circular logo on both sides. The front had been particularly dented as if thrown against something and had been repainted with some much heavier and thicker paint than the original. I replaced it exactly as I had found it, though I felt certain Xiong Fa would notice something was amiss.

I went back to my room wrapped in my blanket and sat in the chair by my bed. Yan still brought me
wuxia
novels and comics and I sat for two hours reading. These stories had provided me with many fantasies that had helped me escape into my imagination, late at night or during those days that I chose to stay in my room. They had taken me to magical places like the maze of rocky columns in Kweilin where heroes would hide out in caves high in the air and fight battles against evil robber barons, the vast deserts and steppes near Mongolia where horsemen would rush each other to capture women and treasure, or the lush mountains of Kunlun where monks would contemplate the heavens and teach young princes how to rule fairly and justly. These stories now seemed so unreal and childish, they were bloodless and feeble compared to what my life had become. I had hidden in them once but it was impossible to hide from one’s life forever. I suddenly felt that the consequences of all that I had done, all that I had been a part of, knowingly or otherwise, as an adult or as a child, would always follow me; I could not avoid them.

I put down the books forever.

Yan came in to find me sitting, wrapped up warmly in her blanket, looking at nothing in particular. I smiled as she came and sat on the stool in front of me.

“Mistress, are you going for the family dinner this evening?” she asked.

“Yes. Yes, I am going,” I said assertively, with a smile. “I will wear the dark blue cheongsam, like the one Ming was wearing this afternoon, with a shawl.”

“They will see you have a baby coming.”

“Yes, and it’s time.” I got up and went to the dressing table and started to brush my hair. “Yan, please can you go to Xiong Fa and tell him that I would like him to come to my room and take me to dinner?”

My husband came to my room about five minutes before dinner was due to start. We entered the room about a minute late but exactly on time as everyone was waiting for Father-in-law, who was directly behind us. I had made myself look as beautiful as I could. Heads turned as we took our places, and as we did I noticed Father-in-law looking at my swollen stomach. After taking his own seat, he leant into Xiong Fa’s shoulder, whispering, and Xiong Fa nodded in reply. Father-in-law stood up and told everyone to be quiet.

“As you know, I do not believe in interrupting meals and I don’t like to speak so openly.” Everything was silent but for the sound of people shuffling around to see him speak. “This year has been a great year for Xiong Fa . . .” I looked at my husband. Did I love him the way Yan had described loving her husband, or as Grandfather and Grandmother had done? His father continued speaking and Xiong Fa looked up at him and smiled, then surprised me by turning and looking at me and openly taking my hand. “ . . . He has started taking the lead in much of the business which keeps you all wealthy,” Father-in-law needled them, “but he has also established himself in Society with his First Wife, Feng. He has just told me that Feng is pregnant again and I want everyone to toast them! Next month there is a family dinner with many invited guests and we will have more toasts to them when we are there.” With that he finished and raised his cup of tea and everybody followed.

As Father-in-law sat down, he patted Xiong Fa on the back. Father-in-law muttered something to himself, smiled, and then launched into his food. I looked at First Wife, who was beaming wide smiles at her son and her husband. She even smiled at me. It was as Ming had said. After all the things we had done to each other . . . and I wondered how many more there would be. I asked myself again whether I loved my husband. What is love to us Chinese? Yet I felt all these bonds, forged by confrontation, kindness, and sympathy, had some meaning, and that I now wanted them in my life.

I would like to see if Xiong Fa would be a good father; if I could be a good mother; what choices we would make, together and separately. As I watched Father-in-law talk so volubly and repeatedly pat Xiong Fa proudly, I wondered how he and I would treat each other in the future, what it would be like when my husband was head of this family. I wondered, too, whether he would take other wives. But with each new question about the future, I always returned to thoughts of you.

Chapter 16

S
hanghai Society had never experienced an event like the Sang dinner. Foreign lives and local lives were mostly separate, segregation existed in many areas of life no matter how wealthy and educated Chinese families had become. It was our country and our city but access was restricted. The Sang dinner required Western dress for the men but Chinese dress for the women. Father-in-law wanted to show the foreigners what we all knew, namely that we could be as sophisticated as they were, perhaps more so.

The guests arrived in their chauffeur-driven cars and were ushered into the main entrance of the Cathay Hotel. We had taken every room in the hotel so that no foreigners could be there; even foreign envoys had to be turned away and would cause no trouble by demanding that Chinese were prevented from using certain areas of the building—of course, this also impressed the guests. The menu included all sorts of foods, some that were rare animals, other ingredients that had been transported from Southeast Asia and Japan.

The ballroom had a traditional Chinese orchestra that would play when people entered and during the meal, and then afterward there was a Western-style band that would play music to which the younger guests could dance. The family, and particularly Xiong Fa, First Wife, and I had to be there at six o’clock as the first guests would arrive at half past. Three weeks before, I had gone to the tailor Xiong Fa had introduced me to, to have a dress made. It was a copy of one I had seen in a photo-magazine and I had taken the picture so he could copy it. It was black chiffon and had a train to it that trailed on the floor behind. I also had black soft leather gloves made to match and bought some heeled shoes, which were acquired especially for me. Xiong Fa had bought me a beautiful diamond necklace that he said was made in France, and for himself he had made a new evening suit and although your father would never be a handsome man, he was very smartly dressed and had come to look quite dignified. For the first time, Father-in-law wore a completely Western-styled evening suit. Normally he would wear a
ma
qua
with trousers but this evening he wanted to show the foreigners that we Chinese could be as comfortable with their customs as we were with our own, which is why he required the dress code of all guests. First Wife wore a traditional cheongsam and as she had looked at my wedding, she wore too much makeup and was quite a terrible sight. The four of us waited in the hotel lobby area, which extended into the ballroom. We had arranged for drinks outside first for people to gather and then once a good number had arrived we would enter the ballroom and take our seats. My dress was a little tight and my stomach was conspicuous. Xiong Fa made me sit down until my standing was absolutely necessary.

The event could not have run more perfectly. I had purposely sat Ming next to First Wife; she would confuse First Wife completely and as we walked from the drinks reception through the huge foyer to the dining room, Ming took my arm to accompany me. As usual she was all things elegant, graceful, and beautiful and I couldn’t take my eyes off her.

“You’ve done it. It’s you that has pulled this family from the recesses of good social behavior and put them in their rightful place. There has never been such a gathering of old cronies and the younger generation with such style. Well done, you,” she squeezed my arm and faked a growl, which was followed by a hearty laugh, “the room looks very classy, I’m so impressed.”

“Oh, thank you, you’re my best friend,” I said this jokingly but it was true. “I didn’t do very much. I just chose this place and arranged for both traditional and Western ideas, a Chinese orchestra for now and a dance band for later. You look gorgeous as always.”

“You always say that,” she squeezed my arm again, “but tell me about this necklace you’re wearing. Who, what, and where?” she winked at me.

“It was from Xiong Fa.” I blushed.

“Is this the first jewelry he has given you?”

“Well, yes, it is, he specially chose it for me.” I blushed again.

“It’s beautiful. Now let’s see some old people and give them our respect, it keeps them alive.”

The meal was a success with eighteen courses including some old favorites such as chicken soaked in rice wine, red-cooked pork belly, and, of course, tofu in Jin Hua ham. At the end of the dinner, many of the elder generation went straight home as usual but the younger guests stayed for more drinking and dancing. They knew nearly all the European dance styles and as I had decided it would be safer for the baby if I did not dance I sat on the side and watched with Ming.