Peach Blossom Pavilion (37 page)

"You two must be working so hard. Please accept our thanks with this wine." She picked up her glass and made a toast, while signaling me to do the same. "Now please relax and help yourself to the food."

From crude faces, two pairs of bloodshot eyes glared with hunger and greed. Two pairs of chopsticks ambushed the dishes, leaving trails of sauce on the white tablecloth like the calligraphy of a drunkard. The same callused hands that had mercilessly swung a whip or squeezed a sister's neck now wiped oily lips.

I willed my hands to stop shaking as I joined with Teng Xiong in "wind and moon"-empty and decadent-conversation. I even let the guard next to me "accidentally" brush his hand against my breast as he tried to reach for the biggest piece of fat pork. After some more decadent talk, I entertained the two by singing and playing finger games. With flushed faces, glazed eyes, and glistening lips, the two guards had never looked happier. At Teng's urging, but with the greatest reluctance, I took out my qin and began to play. As my fingers danced on the elegant instrument, the two guards washed their throats with wine and sucked hard at their water pipes between curses-"Fuck his mother, how could that turtle egg possibly be that rich? Fuck her mother's cunt, how could she shit such huge breasts on her daughter?"

The room now reeked with smoke, which hung ominously in the air. I tried my best to maintain a provocative smile and highpitched voice while my fingers-like a stripper-glided, jiggled, dived, and danced vigorously on the venerated instrument. Though tugged by a tinge of guilt that I was playing for such a vulgar audience, at least I hadn't broken my solemn promise to Pearl-I was not playing the qin for money.

During my "stripping," Teng kept piling food on the guards' plates and refilling their glasses with the gold, velvety liquid.

At last, well after midnight, the two men were besottedly sprawled on the table like two piles of slush. When it was clear that nothing would awaken them, Teng Xiong asked me to change from my gown into a loose top and pants, pack my qin, and gather my few belongings. After that, making sure that no one, not even a ghost, was watching us, Teng Xiong and I quietly sneaked out through one of the back exits, hailed a rickshaw, and went straight to the North Station.

A few hours later, our train arrived in Nanking. We walked to the pier, took the ferry to Pukou, and boarded the express to Peking. Lulled by the gentle motion of the train and exhausted by the events of the evening, I slept dreamlessly. When I woke up in our first-class compartment, I found myself wrapped in Teng Xiong's arms.

She kissed me tenderly on my forehead. "Precious Orchid, did you sleep well?"

My head felt like it was being hammered. "Where are we? Where are the guards?"

She held me tighter. "Precious Orchid. We're safe. In Peking."

"You're sure?"

"Yes."

I searched her face in the Peking morning mist, then buried mine in her chest so she couldn't see the tears swelling in my eyes.

If only Teng Xiong were a real man.

"Precious Orchid," she smoothed my hair and cooed, "don't sleep anymore. I'm afraid we have to get off here."

The porter picked up my qin, then we walked through the Peking Station and hired a car. Teng Xiong asked the driver to take us to the Grand Fortune Hotel not far from the Temple of Heaven. During the short ride I craned my neck and looked around at this strange city-pale-faced men slouching into opium dens; restaurants specializing in tortoise, snake, antelope's horn soup; a fiddler sawing his two stringed instrument next to a contorted acrobat. As the car passed the many narrow alleys lined with single-story houses protected by high walls, I craned my neck even higher. Inside one sturdy gate, instead of a glimpse of garden, my eyes were blocked by a tall wall.

I pointed it out to Teng Xiong. "Why is there a wall right inside the gate?"

She smiled. "Oh, don't you know, Precious Orchid? This is the famous ghost wall-to stop ghosts from wandering into the house. Ghosts can't meander; they can only walk in straight lines."

But I remembered Pearl had taught me the opposite-meandering paths. Maybe because those who dwell in the yang world still have to go through life's twists and turns, while a ghost's world is something much simpler. In a few minutes, we arrived at the hotel, checked in, then went to our room, and headed straight to the bed-to sleep.

When we awakened, it was already afternoon. Refreshed from my sleep, I now felt extremely hungry. We bathed quickly and changed, then went out to eat in a small restaurant. I gulped down my beef noodles, pork buns, and steaming Oolong tea, but Teng Xiong picked halfheartedly at her food, her eyes watching me with the affection of a mother and the tenderness of a husband.

I held her glance for some moments. "Teng Xiong, aren't you hungry?"

She smiled. "Your beauty is my feast."

After lunch, we went to buy clothes and daily necessities, then headed back to the hotel. Teng Xiong suggested we return to bed-this time to rub our mirrors. I sighed inside, thinking of the Chinese sayings: "A full stomach leads to promiscuity," and "Eating and sex are human nature."

Although I would not have chosen a woman for sex, I was grateful to Teng Xiong and thus felt obliged to please her. Besides, if I had to have sex anyway, I'd rather have it with a cultivated, handsome woman than with a chou nanren!

So I, again, this time voluntarily, applied my erotic arts to please. Teng Xiong quickly succumbed to my weapons of charm-electrifying eyes, burning lips, lapping tongue, caressing hands. She moaned and squirmed, arched and wriggled until her body collapsed next to mine.

Teng Xiong enjoyed having sex with me so much that we ended up spending two whole days in the hotel without even getting dressed. It was not until my yin part had gotten swollen that she was willing to stop.

Since we couldn't have sex for the time being, we at last started to discuss how we might find the female Peking opera troupe and my mother. Teng Xiong was eager to join the group, but I insisted on finding my mother first. Finally she backed down, for the sake of love.

Teng Xiong told me she had more than enough money for us to relax and tour Peking before we set out, but I was in no mood for sightseeing, nor for any other form of entertainment. My sole desire now was to look for my mother, not only from love, but also from bitterness: To ask her why she had not written to me all these years. How she could be so heartless as to forget her only daughter?

The third day in Peking, Teng Xiong and I woke up at ten. We rushed to eat, dress, and pack, then immediately set out for Taiyi Mountain, situated southwest of Peking. When Mother and I had parted more than eight years ago, she'd told me she planned to enter a temple on this mountain. Since I'd never received any letters from her, I had no idea which one she'd settled in. I thought I'd start with the lowest one, then work my way up, asking any monk or nun I saw if they'd heard of her.

It was a long, arduous trip. By the time we arrived at Taiyi Mountain, it was already late afternoon. The autumn air was cool and soothing. The pale moon sitting atop a distant peak suspiciously followed our every move. Fragrant Cloud Monastery was the first temple we reached. Teng Xiong had first spotted its upturned eaves rising from amid heavy foliage. She stopped the coolies, paid them, then helped me down from the sedan chair and led me to the gate. We gently rapped the lion head's knocker, well aware that this was a sanctuary for people who didn't want to be bothered by worldly affairs.

The door sighed open to reveal a youth with a round face and shaved head. Seeing that it was a small temple-meaning that we didn't have to deal with elaborate protocol-I simply asked for the abbot.

The young monk told us to wait, then dashed away. Almost in no time he appeared again. "Mister and Miss, our abbot invites you to the reception hall. Please follow me."

The gray-robed abbot was about seventy, skinny, and wise-looking. He was already waiting for us at the end of the courtyard, the moonlight gleaming on his mirror-like head.

Before I could stop her, Teng Xiong had already introduced us as husband and wife.

The abbot smiled, his hand clicking a long-tasseled strand of mala beads. "Welcome to our modest temple, Mr. and Mrs. Teng."

"May we have the honor to know the abbot's name?"

I was pleased that Teng asked in the most polite manner.

"My Dharma name is Drifting Cloud."

Master Drifting Cloud led us inside the hall. After we all settled on the wooden chairs, he asked the teenage monk to bring us tea and snacks.

We sipped the fragrant tea and munched nuts, fruits, and vegetarian buns while we chatted. Teng Xiong told him our background-made up, of course. Now my lesbian lover became a merchant and I the mother of his three small children. I felt a little guilty about the lie, not because I was so virtuous and honest, but because my husband looked so virtuous and honest lying to a respectable monk! Finally, after more lies and polite talk, I brought up the most important subject-my mother-and asked if the abbot had any clue of her whereabouts.

"I'm afraid it's rather difficult, Mrs. Teng." He cast me a thoughtful look. "There are more than one hundred temples scattered over this mountain-"

I was shocked to hear this. "That many?"

He nodded. "And you have no idea in which one your mother stays?"

"No." I shook my head, feeling totally dejected. "I had no idea there were so many temples here." Moreover, there was the possi bility that my mother had moved elsewhere-or even died. But I didn't mention these fears to the monk.

"Besides," he carefully sipped his tea, "if she's become a nun, that means she's adopted a Dharma name-Purifying Dust, Enlightening Light, Compassionate Countenance. So what's your mother's Dharma name?"

"I have no idea," I blurted out, then blushed, feeling stupid and unfilial.

"If you don't know your mother's Dharma name, I'm afraid it will be extremely difficult to locate her. What's her lay name?"

"Su Meifang." Beautiful Fragrance. I suddenly realized how suitable this name had been for Mother. Was she still beautiful and fragrant now being a nun?

"Then I can ask around for you about a nun who was formerly called Su Meifang."

"Can you do that now?"

I felt my sleeve tucked. Teng Xiong whispered into my ear. "Precious Orchid, relax, please let the abbot decide how and when to do things."

I put up a smile, albeit not my best, for that was only for my lustful big-shot customers, not a celibate old monk. "Please forgive my rudeness, Master Drifting Cloud."

The monk looked out the window, stared at the moon, then turned back. "Since it's already late, I advise you two to stay overnight here, have a nice hot meal, and rest. Tomorrow you can go to the temple called Dharma Flower and tell them that I recommend you to Abbot Master Voyage of the Heart. Since he's ninetyfive and a monk who's lived forever in this mountain, he's the person who can most likely help you. Dharma Flower is only about ten miles from here. You can walk if you like, or you can hire sedan chairs. "

Teng Xiong and I put our hands together and bowed deeply.

I said, "Thank you for your kindness, Master Drifting Cloud."

A charming smile broke on Teng Xiong's face. "Master, to show our gratitude, would you let us donate some fragrant oil?" It pleased me that Teng Xiong used this euphemism for offering money.

The Master smiled back, an enlightened finger pointing to the Merit Accumulating Box. After that, he summoned the young monk to ask the cook to prepare dinner for two guests.

After the abbot had left, the young monk soon came back and took us to the Fragrant Kitchen. Rarely did I have the chance to taste something so simple yet delicious as this modest vegetarian meal. Since I'd become famous in Peach Blossom, I'd been fed with rich meat dishes of all kinds. Even when I complained about my full stomach, my customers would still pile chunks of meat onto my plate, then pour me cup after cup of wine. I couldn't even say no, because not only was it rude to turn down someone's good intention, it was also stupid. "No" is the forbidden word in a turquoise pavilion.

Now I looked at the mushrooms, tofu, bamboo shoots, fungus, and taro and felt a tender swelling of my heart. I'd never seen food so happily offer itself to us so that, as my mother had once told me, we'd stay not only alive and healthy, but virtuous.

Mother had never really liked meat. She always said, "I only cook a little bit of it to spice up the vegetables." And during every first and fifteen day of each lunar month, she'd cook vegetarian to "cleanse our body and spirit." Scenes of our family sitting together to enjoy my mother's simple but delicious cooking flashed in my mind. Mother had feared that if she didn't let Fang Rong take me away, I wouldn't even have cold rice gruel to fill my stomach. But instead of rice gruel, I'd been stuffed with the richest of foods. I smiled at the irony.

Teng Xiong's chopsticks suspended in midair. "Precious Orchid, did I do something funny?"

"Oh no, it's not you." I told her about my mother's fear, yet without revealing anything more than necessary about my life.

She reached to touch my cheek. "I'm so sorry, Precious Orchid. But you won't feel sad anymore, for I'll make you happy." She looked as if she were about to say something more, then seemed to decide against it.

I was sure she was dying to know more about my past, but sensed this was not the right time to probe. An awkward silence fell during which we busily scraped rice into our mouths. The kitchen was quiet. The only noises, besides the clicking of chopsticks and smacking of lips, came from outside the window-insects chirping, leaves rustling, the occasional barking of a distant dog. The autumn wind blowing on the leaves made a "Xa, Xa" sound as if it were calling my name: "Xiang Xiang! Xiang Xiang!"

I cocked my head and listened. I remembered as a small child, when I'd been swaying too high on a swing, anxious to have a better view of the world, or if I was out of my parents' sight skipping along stones or fascinated by some object I'd found, I'd hear them call, "Xiang Xiang! Xiang Xiang!" Their voices, bouncing in myriad directions, would sound affectionately urgent. Instead of responding to their call right away, I'd stand still and listen, just to relish their anxiety. Wherever I was-a back street, a courtyard, the nearby market-I wanted to freeze my parents' love in eternity. Were the leaves now calling me on behalf of my long-lost mother or my long-dead baba? Tears rolled down my cheeks as a piece of bamboo shoot lay half-chewed in my mouth.