All the Flowers in Shanghai (3 page)

Sometimes Sister would see me hiding as she waited.

“You can come out if you want. You can come and join me and see how the grown-ups live. It is much more complicated than your safe little world with Grandfather, constantly dirtying yourself in the gardens next door!”

One evening she looked at me impatiently and ordered: “Xiao Feng, come here!”

Even though there was no one else in the room, I moved quietly. I stood with my back to the door and we just looked at each other.

“Those trousers are funny . . . you always look like you’ve just come from the countryside. Perhaps,” she teased, “a village is the best place for you.”

Sister continued looking at me and I could not move; my feet seemed suddenly to be made of stone. I remained standing there expressionless, caught in her stare. The suitor arrived and she released me. After greeting Sister, he turned and smiled at me. I blushed and slipped back into the house.

Then, for many months, this same man came to collect Sister. He was not as you see him today, but with skin as smooth and shiny as a honey-glazed roast pig. He was always a big man, but he was thinner at that age and had an air of hesitancy that sometimes made him seem vulnerable. This was most noticeable when his father was with him because although the suitor himself was a big man, with large hands, a barrel chest and wide face, he would still manage somehow to shrink behind the slightly smaller frame of his father. His eyes would look away while his father barked out his opinions to Ba. Grandfather said the young man would probably have been a very pleasant and generous person had his father taught him strength of character and a sensitivity toward others as well as pride. I did not like his father; he seemed to me like a mean-spirited man and one who knew that he had power over others. He and his son would arrive preceded by their driver. They would march to our front door, knock hard, and stand waiting impatiently. After the maid let them in, Grandfather and I, from our vantage point in the kitchen, would watch them wait for Sister and Ba if they were not already there.

In those days, the young man could be rude when his courage was bolstered by his father’s sour-faced presence, and take an arrogant air, not paying proper respect to Ba or Grandfather by calling them “sir” or offering gifts. But mostly he would stand meekly behind his father like a child, waiting for him to say a few polite words to Ba or Grandfather, and then at his father’s signal they would both nod and lead Sister away for the evening.

When the young man came on his own, which happened rarely in the beginning, he would stand quietly twiddling his thumbs or scratching his head while he waited for Sister. If he saw Ba, he would leap forward to shake hands, like a huge dog eager for a walk. When Sister came to join him, they would leave Ba standing alone in the entrance hall, a weak and unconvincing smile forming on his thin pale lips as he watched the young man lead her to his large black chauffeur-driven car.

Sometimes I would be awake when she returned, her heels striking the stone paving of the courtyard, and I would listen until I heard her close her bedroom door. It was never too late, perhaps half past ten, though everyone else had gone to sleep by then. I would hear her singing foreign songs to herself. She would dance in the courtyard, her heels beating out a strange and happy rhythm on the stone. She had learned the words to three songs in English and would sing these again and again so that she could pronounce the words perfectly. Sister could not speak a word of English except for those three songs. In these quiet moments, when she did not know I was listening, I felt closest to her.

Eventually a routine was established and the shy young man would return twice during the week and on Saturdays. Even though everything was prearranged, Ba would still try to be there when he arrived to collect Sister. Grandfather explained it was a father’s duty and yet I do not think I ever saw Ba actually do anything. He never refused any man’s approaches, and Sister’s hand could be taken by anyone who passed the requirements set by Ma.

Once I found the young man standing alone waiting for Sister.

“Xiao Feng,” he spoke softly to me. I quickly glanced up at him then returned to studying his shoes. “Don’t you think your sister is beautiful? She is probably too beautiful for me. My father is very impressed by her, though.”

I kept looking at his shoes, which were very large.

“I have been learning to dance like your sister. Have you seen her dance?”

Ba appeared at that moment. The young man smiled at me then bounded forward to shake his hand.

I had only ever heard Sister dancing late at night in the courtyard and it had sounded lovely and silky, the sharp rhythmic footsteps echoing off the walls and filling the empty rooms downstairs. I loved the ringing sound in my ears; forever afterward it would summon up my most beautiful images of Sister. I had heard that at the tea dances she would attend at Western-style hotels, young couples would dance close together, holding each other and sometimes even changing partners. Grandfather said the music they danced to was loud and aggressive. He also thought it rude and ill-mannered of them to touch each other in public that way. I thought of Sister there with this awkward young man, her dark eyes burning up at him.

A
fter a time the young man started buying Sister jewelry and this made Ma very happy. In fact, she seemed to be happier about it than Sister, who acted unimpressed. These presents were things that Ba could never have afforded. The young man would always present the gifts before he and Sister left for the evening and on those occasions Ma would appear. Afterward she would stand with Ba to watch them go.

“How much do you think their family pays for the jewelry?”

Before Ba could answer, she would reply herself.

“I think they have special discounts at some of the best jewelers. It must be wonderful to live like that!”

Ba remained quiet.

Ba and Grandfather rarely said anything to confront other people, as if they simply could not find a way to force the words out. In their self-imposed silence, their eyes would focus hard on a distant object, gazing past any imminent awkwardness in the desperate hope of finding escape. They shared their thoughts only by passing comments aloud as if speaking to themselves; the words spoken softly, under their breath. They might as well have been the declarations of a beetle sheltering under a petal for all the notice the world took of them. If by chance you happened to hear them, then you could discuss things or argue with them. But neither of them would ever force a direct confrontation in order to make a point. Mostly, they avoided quarreling, preferring always to be “polite.” They would tell me this was the Confucian way. Grandfather would say it was better to drink your tears and eat your sorrow than to lose face. I wish they had spoken up, though. I wish they had said something when it was necessary. They opposed very little except when they felt they must save face, but I know now it is sometimes better to lose face than to lose a life.

Ba always paid uncomplainingly for Sister’s elegant and extravagant upbringing, no matter what Ma wanted. She had realized even before marrying him that he would never be rich. He was clever, creative, a talented architect, but lacked the ability to play the subtle games necessary to secure promotion and advancement.

Ma’s family had immigrated to Shanghai from a small town in the north of China many years ago. Her parents worked with textiles and were good at dyeing cloth but poorly educated. They worked hard and were able to earn a reasonable living and send Ma to school, trying to ensure she gained a greater level of sophistication than they had. Ma also forced herself to learn other things that she thought would advance her position, such as good table manners, dancing, politeness, and some foreign customs. She gleaned these from wherever she could. Her whole life revolved around making better connections and marrying well: helping herself and her family to rise above their low position.

Although Ba did not share her ambitions, he recognized in the youthful girl he first met a strong sense of discipline and a willingness to educate herself, and found he could love her for these qualities. He had been raised by his own father to be happy with simply completing his day’s work to the best of his ability. His family had lived on the fringes of Society, enjoying an acquaintance with the rich and powerful but knowing that any further intimacy would always be denied them. But they were content with that prospect, and since they represented a step up for her, so was Ma. Within their own family, though, which she had decided would consist of a single child, Ba passively agreed with her plan to stop at nothing, sacrifice everything, so that their offspring made the right marriage. Another child would serve as the warm blanket for their old age and that would not need education and sophistication.

Being a member of Society required strict conformity to all its petty and remorseless rules and customs. After Sister was born, Ba knew he would have to set aside a lot of money for her dowry, dance lessons, music lessons, elocution, even skin-whitening treatments. But it was never enough. They should have sold the jewelry Sister was given, but Ma insisted it should be kept. It would have repaid at least some of Ba’s outlay, but no, everything must be kept as proof that they were not desperate and had no need to sell the gifts they had received. Such was Ma’s dream: to marry a daughter into Society, to the wealthiest family in town. Entering into such an association would bring Ma herself good standing and esteem. Or so she believed. Ba never told her that he felt such an ambition was wrong, that she was being selfish. Over the years he had come to understand that, like so many others, he had lived without any dreams to inspire him. Perhaps he’d decided hers were better than none. Although I have missed my father over the years, I recognize that he was a coward in some matters, and I think he knew it, too. Alas, I believe he even became comfortable with it.

I spent the end of that spring and much of that final summer at home sitting in the sunshine in the tangled grass. Only the first day of summer, the day our family was to meet his, it felt like a storm was coming and rained all day, which surprised everyone as the fortune-teller Ma had consulted to decide on the wedding date had told us it would be a lucky day. He had promised water and fire would be balanced and there would be a clear sky until nightfall. Grandfather and I had intended to walk in the gardens but the rain came down and prevented us, so we sat in his small day-room watching the rain drip from the wooden shutters, the portrait of Grandmother looking down at us. Her expression was very soft and wide-eyed. If he studied it for too long Grandfather would withdraw from us and become terribly sad.

“There is too much rain, too much rain, water everywhere,” he repeated to himself, as if acknowledging that everything was already lost. “Today will not turn out well.” He looked down at me as I sat on the floor by his feet playing with a white paper bird I had folded. I was not sure what he meant, so said nothing.

“Grandmother would have postponed it and asked the fortune-teller to pick another day . . . but then, she would never have allowed your sister to grow up like this.”

“But isn’t this what Ba and Ma want? Sister, too?” I blurted out. I must have been holding this thought inside me for a long time, because I was almost shouting at Grandfather, feeling angry for some reason I did not understand.

“Xiao Feng, your day may come. And then we will find out what you want, heh?” He was whispering now. “Losing you will be a terrible day for me.” He gave me a little wink then put his finger up to his lips as if to tell me no reply was necessary.

Grandfather looked at me and touched my cheek.

“This family, the Sang family, are great people. Yes, I think it is what your parents want. We must hope it is everything she wants as well,” he finished softly.

At two o’clock, a pair of huge automobiles parked outside our front gate and the young man and his family appeared in full ceremonial splendor. They came into the house with servants holding up umbrellas to protect them from the rain, but the hems of their clothes, their silk cheongsam,
ma qua
, and trousers were soaked. Water dripped across our wooden floor and carpets, leaving stains that forever afterward marked the course of their regal and overbearing procession.

At that age, most adults seemed identical to me. I had no idea or experience of how ageing tells its story on our skin; people simply looked old. The younger members of the family seemed slightly brighter and more energetic but all twelve of them were large, loud, and grotesque, except for the young man who seemed even shyer by comparison. They moved slowly and heavily; outsized colorful silks concealed their actual size but in turn made them appear bigger. Their faces and hands protruded like swollen pink fruit.

The servants tried to dry them down with towels. After waving them away, the family came into the lounge where the women sat with Ma. The First Wife and the other women were decorated in fine jewelry, jades, and gold bracelets over the sodden silks; beautiful things ruined.

I hid in the kitchen with Grandfather, who had been ordered to stay away. Ba had told him to make sure the kitchen door was shut, so we could not be seen, nor did he want us wandering around upstairs and peering rudely over the balcony. I was happy to be in the kitchen as I knew that the cook would prepare us some dumplings and soup, which we could eat on the little table by the door. It was a plain basic room, walls painted white, with two huge deep cooking pans set on the stone oven, heated by the open fire beneath. All the spices and herbs were stored on shelves lining the walls, and at one end of the room was a large chopping board on which the cook used to chop vegetables and herbs or kill birds and fish. It was the only room in the house that was shared and enjoyed by all, and since it was really the cook’s domain, Ma and Sister had little influence there. There was safety in the kitchen.

The servants and I opened the door a little and peeked out to see what was happening in the sitting room. Across the courtyard, we could just see that three of the parents were talking to each other animatedly but Ba was saying nothing. He looked fragile and pale sitting next to this important family in their rich clothes and jewelry. They seemed to suck all the life and energy from him, leaving him able to do little more than nod dumbly at the young man’s father.