Fortune is a Woman (27 page)

He glanced at his image reflected in a shop window and saw an ordinary Chinese peasant. The educated, prosperous Chinese had all stayed home in China, it was only the poor who had fled to America to labor in railroad gangs and in the fields, in laundries and in restaurants. Those with sharper brains and a little money had become merchants like him, but even their lives were fraught with difficulties and dangers, and not just from the
gwailos,
the foreign devils. There was much jealousy and trickery, and the tongs were vicious and a constant threat. The other Chinese merchants were strong because they were heads of their own large families who helped them, but he had no family. Only Francie. He thought about her for a long time as he walked slowly homeward, and he suddenly realized that with Francie as his partner he was stronger than them all. With Francie as head of his company he could buy land and own businesses forbidden to Chinese, not just in Chinatown, but anywhere in America, anywhere in the world. With Francie at his side, he could be more powerful than any of the Chinese merchants.

Later that night as he tossed restlessly on his bedmat, he told himself that what he wanted most of all was to become a man of learning. Because only then, armed with the three great powers of success, money, and learning, could he return to his village on the banks of the Ta Chiang and show them how fine the child of the poor
mui-tsai
Lilin was now. He wanted to erect a temple to her memory and those of her dead children so that their spirits might have a home. And he wanted to bestow all his riches on Francie and her unborn child.

Meanwhile all he could give her was the dog she wanted. He had found two big, shambling sand-colored pups with amber eyes and now he must take them to her. He had told himself he'd put off going to see Francie because he did not want to disturb her, but there was another reason: He had been to that same valley years ago and was afraid of the bad memories that returning there would bring.

He bought himself some new clothes for the trip so that she would be proud of him: a long, dark blue silk robe, a padded black jacket, and a round hat with a silk button in the center. His hair had grown and he wore it braided in a queue; he carried his wicker pannier on his shoulder and held the two eager pups on leather leads. He walked downtown to the Ferry Building and nervously took the Contra-Costa ferry, unaware of the superior smiles his fellow-passengers gave his outlandish appearance.

His head was filled with old fears as Zocco drove him northward to the ranch. He reminded himself that he was a respected merchant and that soon he would have enough money to pay the Elders their full five percent. He told himself to forget the past, but his heart was like a lump of charcoal, burning with hot remembered pain as the long valley unrolled in front of him.

Francie ran eagerly onto the porch to greet him. She was big with the child and his eyes darkened with tenderness. He thought she looked like a child herself with her pink cheeks and her blond hair falling like a cape around her shoulders. She was laughing at the pups, tangled in their leads around his feet.

"Two
puppies, Lai Tsin!" she exclaimed.

"One female and one male. In time you will have more Great Danes. I hoped they would please you."

She laughed again. "I shall call them Duke and Duchess —in memory of Princess. And now I have something to give you," she said proudly. "My house is your house, Lai Tsin. It is our home."

As she led him through the simple rooms he saw there were no things of great value, no precious silk rugs, no ornaments of nephrite jade, no paintings or carved black-wood chairs such as he had seen in the Elder's house. But the little ranch house glowed with warmth and welcome like no other place he had ever known.

Annie bustled, smiling, from the kitchen to greet him. She had prepared a feast for him and they sat at the long pine kitchen table and she served a tomato soup made from their own tomatoes, fish from the river, vegetables from the garden, a pie made with apples from their trees and cream from their own cow. And though he had never eaten such food in his life he smiled and said it was a wonderful
gwailo
feast.

After supper they sat by the fire and Annie looked curiously at him. His new clothes hung on his thin frame and his face, with its prominent cheekbones, looked gaunt, but Lai Tsin had the strength of steel and she guessed he had acquired it the hard way. Francie said she had been afraid to ask about his past but Annie's curiosity knew no such boundaries. Slipping off her shoes, she stretched her wool-stockinged toes toward the warmth of the fire. Wriggling them pleasurably in the heat, she said bluntly, "Tell us what brought you to America, Lai Tsin."

Lai Tsin was silent, wondering how he could tell them. It was dark outside and the cold night wind beat urgently at the windows. He stared around at the snug little room lit by the dancing flames of the log fire. He had never felt this before, the security of four walls and the company of friends, people he loved and who he knew cared about him. His heart was very full as he replied in his light, cool voice, "My dear friends. You have been free and frank about your own lives. I am the stranger, the foreigner in your midst and you are right to be curious. I will tell you why I came to America."

Their eyes were fixed on him, waiting for him to begin. A log fell in the grate amid a shower of vermilion sparks and the pups growled restlessly in their sleep. After a while he said, "Where I lived, in Anhwei Province on the banks of the Yangtze, the village lord owned everything: he owned the land and the houses on them, he owned the ponds with the ducks, the rice fields and the mulberry fields. He owned us all. My father was in charge of looking after the ducks, which were much prized for their meat. Every so often the village lord would send his ducks to Nanking to be killed and sold for food. My sister and I would be given the job of herding them from our village to the Great River, prodding them onward with long canes, though we were careful never to harm them. Mayling and I were sad for them and sometimes we wondered if the ducks knew their fate, because they would squawk and complain and try to fly away. But their clipped wings only fluttered uselessly and they would waddle tiredly on down the long road toward the Great River and their fate.

"Tenderhearted Mayling would be crying many tears as we reached the river. There was always one duck who seemed more special than the others. She would pick up the bird and stroke its feathers and whisper soothingly to it before setting it sadly with the rest on the yellow waters of the Yangtze.

"But worse was yet to come. Already exhausted from their long march, the ducks would then be forced to swim all the way to Nanking, one hundred miles. Both our eyes would be filled with tears as we watched them paddling frantically, trying to escape the big black junk sailing behind them forcing them on, and the men in sampans at each side keeping them together. The junk sailed almost faster than the ducks could paddle and they were allowed no rest. They were forced to keep going until nightfall, when they would be herded on shore. But at daybreak they would be back in the river again, paddling to Nanking and their doom.

"My father always went to Nanking alone. In all these years he had never even asked anyone to accompany him, but this time he told my sister that
we
were to go with him. I was nine years old and Mayling thirteen. She was pretty, like our mother, with long black hair to her waist, which she wore in the long pigtail of a child. Not until she was a woman could she put it up into a bun. She was still just a little girl and despite her hard life she was full of sparkle. She saw joy in the smallest of things; she was sweet-natured and tenderhearted, always laughing and teasing. She would laugh at the dogs chasing their tails in the courtyard; she would put a flower behind the water-buffalo's ear and stroke it comfortingly after its hard day's labor, and she would be filled with delight over a scrap of red yarn given to her by a kindly village woman to tie up her hair. Our smocks and trousers were of the very coarsest blue-and-white patterned cotton of the sort coolies wore, and to keep out the winter's cold we covered ourselves with the worn padded jackets our brothers had grown out of.

"When we took the ducks to Nanking we did not travel in the junk with Ke Chungfen but in a little sampan, taking turns with the paddle and making sure to keep the ducks together, thus avoiding our father's anger and a beating.

"There was much traffic on the Lower River and I was excited to see the huge white foreign steamers and the convoys of salt junks and the big wooden rafts where whole families lived. But Mayling's eyes were red from crying for the poor little ducks.

"All we knew was our little village. We had never seen a city before and we were amazed by the hundreds of ships lined up along the river at Nanking, and frightened by the bustling traffic on the narrow cobbled streets and the crowds of pushing, hurrying people. Mulecarts loaded with bundles twice their own size lumbered past us as we nervously herded our flock of ducks to their final destination. Coolies with great baskets slung on bamboo poles pushed us aside and sedan chairs carrying lordly merchants trotted by, the bearers shouting us out of their way.

"Mayling stopped to stare at a grand lady. Her face was rouged and painted and her black hair decorated with jade ornaments. She wore a dress of yellow brocade with a padded satin jacket and we knew she must be a member of the Emperor's family, for only they were allowed to wear the royal yellow. We gasped when we saw how tiny her bound feet were as she stepped from her chair and hobbled into a store selling bolts of expensive, colorful silks, emerald and indigo and scarlet and gold. And we jumped in fright as a man appeared around the corner beating a huge gong, while another man ran behind him. He was a thief and his arms were tied, and at each stroke of the gong another man struck his naked back with a bundle of thin bamboo rods, to punish him.

"We were stunned at the sight of stores spilling with foods such as we had never seen, bottles of
sam-shu
rice wine, pottery vessels of oil and aromatic spices and lotus-seed paste. And we stared awed at the temples painted in scarlet and jade, ornamented with gold lions and tasseled lanterns and at the many people kowtowing to the gods. We were overwhelmed by the scent of a thousand sticks of burning incense and we were silenced by our glimpse of such richness and the knowledge of our own poverty.

"Our simple country heads were filled with city sights and sounds and smells, but we still mourned the demise of our tired little ducks as we herded them into the wooden godown and left them to their fate. Ke Chungfen collected the money and then he turned to us and told us curtly to return to our sampan and wait there until he sent someone to fetch us.

"Mayling was still sobbing and I reminded him that we had not eaten since breakfast upriver at dawn and it was now five in the evening. Grudgingly he took a few coins from his pocket and told us to go to a teahouse and buy the smallest bowl of rice. I was excited as we ran back through the streets searching for a place that was cheap enough. We had never in our lives been in a teahouse. It was a great adventure and for once our hearts felt kindly toward our father for giving us this treat. But in the end all our few coins bought us was a single bowl of salty maize gruel.

"Still, it was enough to satisfy our hunger temporarily and we wandered back through the busy streets, hand in hand, gazing into alleys that sold only ironware, or silverware or vegetables or live fish. But we were frightened by the pushy, harsh-voiced city people. It was all too much for such young, unworldly country-bred peasant children and by the time we reached the river we were exhausted. We curled up in our little sampan and fell straight to sleep, dreaming of the ducks and their sad fate.

"I was awakened a couple of hours later by a coolie shouting in my ear and shaking me by the shoulder. 'Your father has ordered you to come now,' he said, prodding Mayling awake. I thought he looked strangely at us as we climbed from our little sampan, but we followed him anyway.

"Night had fallen and only an occasional oil lamp lit our way. We held hands for safety, glancing many times over our shoulders. Incense sticks, lit to appease the household god, burned outside every door and their powerful scent helped disguise the foul odors coming from the muddy drains as the sinister-looking coolie led us through a maze of dark alleys, until finally we came to a small square.

"A group of men were gathered in the corner under a flickering lantern and among them was our father in close conversation with a squat, swarthy-looking man wearing a black cheongsam and a round buttoned hat. He had a long, drooping moustache and narrow, slitted eyes and instinctively I did not trust him. My father said something to the bearded man and he turned to look at us. His eyes lingered a long time on Mayling, taking her in from the top of her shiny black pigtailed head to the tip of her worn cloth shoes and she shivered, blushing under his gaze. He shrugged and said something to my father, who flung out his arms and began to argue with him, and we stared at them puzzled.

"I noticed a little platform had been erected in the corner and half-hidden behind it cowered a frightened group of young girls. Men were crowding into the square, staring boldly at them, laughing and prodding their breasts and touching them intimately.

"I grasped Mayling's hand, terrified. She was just a little girl, barely thirteen, not yet even a woman. Even though she worked hard for our father he knew that one day, if he were ever to be rid of her, he would be forced to give her a dowry. His elder sons were soon to be married and he needed money to pay for their weddings. If he sold Mayling now he would not have the burden of filling her hungry mouth every night until she married, he would not have to provide a dowry, and he could also pay for the weddings.

"My eyes met Mayling's and I knew she understood. She had turned pale and her dark eyes were big and glassy with panic. I glanced quickly back at my father, still arguing over her price with the flesh-peddler. I grasped her hand tighter. I said, 'Run, Mayling. Run with me. Fast as you can.'