Peach Blossom Pavilion (22 page)

Spring Moon had also become popular. She was not a great beauty, but as Pearl said, she had tiny feet and sad eyes, and these qualities were extremely desirable to certain men. Although we had many things to share and I felt very fond of her, she was still preoccupied by her wealthy past and seemed to be drifting.

One time when I asked her plans about the future, her answer was, "What's the use of having plans in a prostitution house?"

When she asked me the same question, I said, "To be a ming ji like Sister Pearl."

"Xiang Xiang, I also want to be a ming ji, but I'm not considered a great beauty like you." She dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief. "My dream is to wait for my fiance to come here and redeem me.

"But he's already engaged to someone else!"

Spring Moon simply turned to stare out of the window, her eyes abstract like wisps of incense smoke.

One day when I was practicing the pipa in my room, Little Red came in and said, "Xiang Xiang, hurry and get dressed, there're two guests waiting downstairs." She paused, then giggled, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

"What's so funny, Little Red?"

"One has a big nose, gold hair, and round blue eyes!"

"You mean a foreigner?" My curiosity was pricked.

She nodded. "His name is An-der-son." She giggled again. "Such a strange name!"

Right after I'd entered the business hall, I heard a loud "Welcome the guests! " from one of the male servants. Next to him Mama grinned like a dog drooling in the heat. The two guests, one a plump Chinese and the other a big-boned foreign ghost, were sitting on the sofa, looking more tired than excited.

Just then, flower girls about my age hurried to stand before them. As they were being scrutinized, they started to giggle, whisper, throw glances, and elbow each other flirtatiously.

I waited a few moments, then, in a calculated rhythm, wriggled to the center in shredded-golden-lotus steps.

The two guests' eyes fell right on me, then brightened.

I smiled, catching their glances and holding them like a mother with her newborn baby. I could feel the two men's souls being sucked right into my dimples. From the corner of my eye, I could also see daggers shooting at me from other pairs of eyes. I smirked inside.

The Chinese didn't even glance toward the giggling idiots. He pointed at me and nodded. Looking disappointed, the foreign devil selected a girl called Brocade Tune.

The obsequious grin still blooming on her face, Mama ordered that tea and snacks be served. After that, she waved the other girls away. Now I was sitting next to the Chinese, and Brocade Tune was by the foreign devil. Mama addressed the plump, bespectacled Chinese. "Ah Mr. Ho, you really have Buddha's enlightened eyes! Xiang Xiang is one of our most popular girls here." Then her smile changed direction and bloomed before the foreigner. "Ah, Mr. Anderson, you, too, have a good eye for the beauty of Chinese women! Brocade Tune is guaranteed to provide first-rate service. If not, you can have your money back."

The two guests responded by smiling politely. Mama threw each a meaningful glance, "All right, I'll leave you two to my little beauties," then left the room wriggling her generous bottom.

Brocade Tune and I immediately plunged ourselves into "respectfully" pouring tea, serving fruit and snacks, and making small talk with our guests.

Mr. Ho told me he was in a shipping business located on Zhong Shan East Road and Mr. Anderson was his partner from America. America! The word sent a slight tremor through my body. I remembered how Baba used to tell me about this rich, faraway country: A film comedian by the name of Cha Li Cha Pilin. A famous president called Lin Ken who had freed the Negro slaves. A very famous torch-bearing goddess called the statue of freedom.

While Mr. Ho kept sipping his wine and telling me this and that about his business and family, I was only half-listening-busy stealing glances at the American. So strange, an American! And so hairy!

He was about my baba's age, maybe not handsome, but not bad looking either. I was most curious about his high nose and pale blue eyes. So pale that, I imagined, when he'd been born, the strange, noisy world must have scared him so much that color had instantly drained from his soul's windows! No wonder foreigners are called ghosts. With their colorless eyes and hair, they really do look like their spirit has been snatched away by the King of Hell.

Though a barbarian, this Mr. Anderson gave me a good impression. Brocade Time was so eager to please him that she was now almost sitting on his lap, but this American devil's hands simply refused to have any devilish intention. Then with a shock I realized-though a foreigner, he'd been speaking fluent Chinese!

However, I knew I must not neglect Mr. Ho, so I turned back to smile at him. Fortunately, my Chinese guest was now quite drunk and hadn't noticed my curiosity regarding his partner. As I continued to pour wine into Mr. Ho's glass while peeking at Mr. Anderson, I noticed he'd also been looking toward me. My heart began to bump around like a deer lost in the forest.

I'd completely lost interest in my Chinese guest but trusted his drunkenness would keep him from noticing. But, of course, not taking any chances, I kept my smile deeply dimpled, my body sensuously swaying, and my hands busy pouring wine and lighting cigarettes. Then, when there was a lull in our conversation during which Mr. Ho's glazed eyes wandered around the room, I stole another glance at the foreign devil and found that he was still staring at me.

This time, ignoring Brocade Tune's jealousy, I held his gaze long and hard. Then something clicked in my mind. Those pale, blue eyes, I'd met them somewhere! But where? My eyes lost themselves into his blue ones which seemed so soothing that they appeared to caress and melt like . . . like ice cream! Yes, he was the foreign devil who'd saved the little boy from Mama's harassment two years ago when I was out having my hair styled!

I also remembered how Jade Vase had invited him to come visit us at Peach Blossom and how he'd turned to scrutinize me, then walked away without a word.

Could he have come here today to look for me? After two long years?

Just then a niangyi came in and blocked our gaze. She told Mr. Ho that their two hours were up. "Would the two gentlemen like to extend their stay?"

After Mr. Ho discussed it with his American partner, to my disappointment, they decided to leave.

"We're too tired; we've just come back from a trip," Mr. Ho said, "but maybe we'll come again."

And they did.

The second time, Mr. Ho requested that he and Anderson be served separately, meaning, of course, that they wanted sex. I was afraid that I'd have to go with Mr. Ho and someone else would get the American. Ho seemed to be looking at me, but at the last minute, to my delight, he picked another sister and Mr. Anderson asked for me. A niangyi led us to the welcoming-guests room.

Though I'd been with many different men, I still felt nervous to serve a barbarian. Especially when his blue eyes moved curiously all over me as if I were a doll who had somehow come to life just to smile and flirt and perform the tea ceremony. Eager to please, I tried to make my hands move like an orchid dancing in the breeze and my waist sway like a willow trembling in the wind. But nervousness took over from elegance and I would have spilled a few grapes onto his lap had he not caught them in time. He was amusing, this foreign ghost.

"Mr. Anderson," I threw him an appreciative glance, "you want more grapes?"

He shook his head.

It was hard to know what to say to a foreigner. I thought for a while before asking, "Have you been to other turquoise pavilions before?"

He actually blushed!

"No. Last time when Mr. Ho took me here, that was my first time. "

"You like it here?"

He didn't answer my question, but asked, "Miss Xiang Xiang, why don't you tell me something about yourself?"

Of course I was not going to tell him how I'd ended up in Peach Blossom if that was what he wanted.

I refilled his tea as a gesture of respect. Then, staring into his blue eyes, I began to tell my tale starting from my arrival in Peach Blossom at thirteen-my chores, my training in painting, calligraphy, and music-though of course I left out the dark room, my chopped melon, the rape, the miscarriage, the hot sticks in my nipples.

When I finished, he said nothing but simply sipped his tea.

Finally I mustered up my courage and said, "Mr. Anderson. Can I ask you something?"

He stared at me curiously. "Yes. Of course."

"Do you think you'd remember an incident two years ago?"

"Try me."

"On Nanking Road, you rescued a little boy from being strangled by a woman."

To my disappointment, instead of showing acknowledgment, he looked lost in thoughts, seemingly trying to revive his memory. Maybe after all, this Mr. Anderson was not the man I remembered all these years, but someone else.

I went on, "The little boy had robbed a little girl's ice cream because he was hungry. You gave him a few copper coins to buy food. Do you remember a young girl with newly styled hair decorated with a fancy pearl clasp? She was with her mama and two sisters." I looked at him anxiously. "Mr. Anderson, don't you remember this at all?"

A huge grin broke on his face. "Oh yes-"

"Mr. Anderson, that girl was me! "

"Yes, now I remember." This barbarian stared at me incredulously. "But how you have grown!"

I proudly nodded.

He kept scrutinizing me as if he'd just opened a treasure chest, then, "Oh my! Can you really be that little girl?"

I smiled, then refilled his tea cup.

Again he looked lost in thoughts. Was it at discovering that what lay inside the treasure chest was not dazzling jewels but dark secrets?

"Mr. Anderson?"

He flashed an awkward smile. "Yes?"

"Do you want me to sing you a song or play the pipa?"

"Oh yes please, whatever."

But I had left the instrument in my room. "Mr. Anderson, my pipa is upstairs, so would you like to come to my room?"

Silently he followed me up the stairs and into my room. He cast curious glances around the small place. I invited him to sit, took out my pipa, and started to tune it. As I began to play, Anderson pointed to one of my paintings on the wall. "What is that instrument?"

"A qin."

"Is that you playing the qin?"

"Hmmm ..."

"I would like you to play the qin for me."

His request surprised me.

"Have you heard the qin before, Mr. Anderson?"

"No, but you look different when you play it."

I excused myself, went to take the qin from Pearl's room, then hurried back. Carefully I unwrapped the silk brocade, then put the four-hundred-year-old antique on the table. The thirteen huz- mother of pearl dots-gave out a mysterious luster on the black surface, like stars blinking against a dark sky. The seven silk strings were stretched taut on the soundboard, ready to whisper the secrets of centuries.

When I finished tuning, I straightened my back, assumed a sober expression, and meditated. Then I let my fingers re-create the moon floating above Guan Mountain, the tipsy cavort of a drunken fisherman, the plum blossoms defying the bitter snow ...

When my fingers left the instrument, Mr. Anderson did not utter a word. He seemed, like me, to savor the after-flavor of the tunes as they breathed their last in my room, a tiny spot on the tenthousand-miles of red dust.

Silently, we looked at each other.

Finally he said, "Miss Xiang Xiang-"

"Mr. Anderson, please just call me Xiang Xiang."

"Xiang Xiang. It's such an honor to hear you play. I've never heard ... such delicate music."

Could a barbarian really appreciate the subtlety of the qin?

I decided to test him. "Over praise, Mr. Anderson." I paused for seconds, then, "Do you want me to play the pipa now?"

He almost looked horrified. "No, please don't. I don't want to hear any other music just now." He cast me appreciative glances. "And you, Xiang Xiang. You do look different when you play the qin.

"How?" I tested him again.

"Your fingers are so expressive."

I felt respect emerge from my heart. This pale-eyed, hairy man in front of me was just a barbarian but he seemed to appreciate the subtle nuances of the qin. How could a man from such a faraway land understand the deepest secrets of earth and the highest mysteries of heaven?

He spoke again, "Xiang Xiang, you mind if I suggest something?"

So now, after all the compliments, he finally wanted the real thing-to balance his yang with my yin.

But his expression was serious. "Beautiful and talented as you are, maybe you shouldn't waste your youth here."

I couldn't believe what I'd just heard! But remembering my training, I hid my shock and kept up my pleasing smile.

He went on, "Xiang Xiang, forgive me if I'm blunt. I just think that as refined a woman as you are, this is just not the kind of life you should lead."

My mind clicked. Was he suggesting that he'd help me in some ways? Like paying my debts and getting me out of Peach Blossom?

Just when I was about to tell him that I didn't have the luxury to choose my destiny, he was speaking again. "I think talented as you are, maybe you can be a teacher."