Peach Blossom Pavilion (50 page)

Don't try to revenge ... I don't want any trace of bitterness in my heart while I'm leaving this dusty world for paradise ... It's very bad Karma, for it'll eventually turn on you.

However, if I did run into her someday, I was not sure what I would do. Spit into her face or stab her first with a smile and then with a knife? But these were merely fantasies, for now she'd never travel alone but would always be accompanied by maids and bodyguards. I cursed fate-now she'd become a rich and famous movie star while I'd lost everything and was forced to replay the pipa.

Nevertheless, Pearl's teaching and my talent for the work paid off. Only a few months after starting at Immortal Cloud, I'd built up my fame and accumulated a fair number of regular customers. Since I was independent, I could choose my clients. I only picked those who were rich and generous while avoiding poor scholars.

Some good Karma must have ripened because the Immortal Cloud Pavilion's most important customer, Mr. Ouyang, began to take an interest in me. He was extremely rich and powerful-the military chief of Peking. Like most men of his age, he was married with a wife, several concubines, and many children. Yet none of the women of his household were able to please and satisfy him as I could. He told me that his first wife, frigid and somber, had been uninterested in sex for a long time. However, even during the earlier times of their marriage, he'd never succeeded in persuading her to experiment with any of the beneficial positions. One time when she'd finally agreed to try the "banquet in the backyard," she became so stiff and frightened that it instantly killed Ouyang's remaining appetite. And from his three concubines-one neurotic, one scheming, one simply stupid-came nothing but bickering and trouble. He had been with many lasing ji in the past but flattered me that none could match my beauty and talent.

In fact, before I arrived, he had sometimes visited with Soaring Swallow, the prettiest of the other sisters. As he began to choose me instead of her now each time he visited, I could tell that a difficult situation was developing. Fortunately, a solution arrived. Though I wouldn't say that Ouyang couldn't live without me, he definitely didn't feel happy unless he saw me at least twice a week. And so the day came when he asked me to serve him exclusively. A rare chance that most flower girls could only dream about, so of course, I agreed. So Ouyang rented an apartment for me fifteen minutes' drive from his office. This way, not only did he not have to share me with the others, he could see me every day after work before he went home. Sometimes during lunch hour he'd even come for a brief "rain shower." To have only him to deal with was unexpected good fortune. So I did my best to make him feel attached to his part-time home by perfuming the apartment and decorating it with fresh flowers, then serving him nutritious homemade soup and delicate dim sum.

To show his wealth and regard for me, Ouyang hired a maid and bought antique furniture and curios to furnish our apartment. But among all these ornaments, there was only one which I deemed truly valuable-a calligraphy scroll done by Ouyang himself. Though his strokes were just average, his powerful position gave it protective powers-few would chance offending the military chief of Peking. Besides the power implicit in his signature and red seal, I also liked the poem from the Book of Songs:

With the indirectness of ancient Chinese poetry, this would be read as a warning not to touch his woman-me. Not only did I feel flattered by Ouyang's appreciation, I was impressed by the subtle way he revealed his power through his calligraphy. Even though no one knew about our relationship (except a few of his guards and underlings), I felt safe with such a powerful hufa-protector of the Dharma-as my admirer.

Sometimes Ouyang had to go abroad for meetings and stopped coming for several weeks. At first I was happy to be left alone, but I quickly got bored. When the weather was good, I'd hire a car or a rickshaw to visit the famous scenic spots-the Forbidden City, the Temple of Heaven, the Summer Palace, Fragrant Hill Park. My favorite part of the city was Liuli Chang where an abundance of stores sold books, curios, and art supplies. The girls in the art shop began to treat me with great respect, for at each visit I'd buy the most expensive items-ink stones embellished with gods and mythical beasts; ink sticks decorated with gold leaves; the best-quality brushes and xuan rice paper. When tired, I'd go to a nearby tea house, order a pot of the first-rate Iron bodhisattva tea and a plate of roasted watermelon seeds. Between sips of the steaming amber liquid, I'd crack open a seed's husk, tease out the kernel with my tongue, then chew while watching life stream by outside the window. After I finished my ritual of cracking open watermelon seeds and meditating on life, I'd go home. But faced again with my lonely house, I'd wish for Ouyang to return quickly to shower me with gifts.

One time when Ouyang was back from a trip to Nanking, he said, "Dream Pearl, since this trip was extremely successful, I decided to thank the Buddha for his blessing. So two weeks before the Lunar New Year, I'm going to sponsor a big-scale Water and Land Ceremony in the Pure Lotus Temple." He paused to search my eyes. "And since you've also brought me good luck, I want you to come with me."

I was surprised and glad to hear this. "Then what about your wives, aren't you supposed to bring them?"

"Yes, of course."

"But they may-"

"Don't you think they know who's the boss?"

I considered that for a moment. "Then what about the nuns-"

"Dream Pearl," he cut me off again, "I don't think they're interested to find out about my wives or lovers. I wonder if they can even tell. Besides," he laughed a little, "as Buddhists, they are supposed to be nondiscriminating, aren't they?"

After hearing for weeks about the plans for the Water and Land Ceremony, I was overjoyed when the first day finally arrived. I spent two hours putting on makeup, combing, and styling my hair. Then I picked out my best dress-a purple silk cotton gown with pink and pale orange embroidery along the high collar, sleeves, and edges. Over my ear, I pinned a fresh orange peony. Although I possessed my natural body fragrance, I still generously applied the expensive French perfume Mr. Ouyang had bought me.

At six-thirty in the morning, Ouyang and I arrived at the Pure Lotus Temple in his large, black sedan. To my surprise, the temple was not atop a lofty peak but stood right at a noisy intersection in the middle of Peking, southwest to the Xuanwu city gate.

When we were walking toward the gate in the cold air, I asked my favored guest, "Mr. Ouyang, shouldn't a large temple be in the quiet and purity of the mountains, far from the smoke and dust of a city?"

He cocked an eye at me. "Nowadays monks and nuns like to build their sanctuaries right in the middle of the red dust where the big donors are."

"Is that so?" I asked, stepping across the threshold.

Veiled by the morning haze, the monastery looked languorous and sleepy. Its yellow roof tiles and saffron-colored walls, like a maiden's shy face, peeked through the white haze. A light winter breeze wafted in pleasant odors-a mixture of vegetarian cooking and sandalwood incense. Only when I saw shaved-headed and gray-robed women hurrying in the courtyard did I feel that I was in a nunnery.

I turned to ask my big protector of the sexual Dharma, "Mr. Ouyang, why did you pick this temple for the ceremony?"

"I didn't. It's my first wife. She comes here regularly to make offerings, so she knows the nuns well, especially the Mother Abbessshe's the most important nun in Peking, always holding big ceremonies and getting huge donations."

Across my mind flashed not the image of the abbess, but that of a skinny, elderly, and sad-looking woman-the yuan pei-first wife, of Mr. Ouyang. This character type was depicted many times in novels and operas. Victims of the passage of time, they had inexorably been transformed from young, pretty, and lively girls to fat (or emaciated), wrinkled, and tiresome old hags. Some turned mean, their only remaining pleasure being venting their bitterness on their maids and daughters-in-law. Others turned taciturn and gloomy, letting their existence wane in quiet desperation. Many, having nothing left to hope for in the red dust, turned vegetarian and escaped into the world of sutras.

In my mind, I pictured the yuan pei withdrawing from her lavish quarters into her altar room, to seek the company of statues of Buddha and Guan Yin. Disgusted to be around humans, she'd turn a blind eye and deaf ear to gossip and strife among the concubines and daughters-in-law. The only sounds with which she felt intimate were the monotonous clanging of her wooden fish, muttered prayers, and the clicking of beads clenched in clawlike fingers. I wondered: Once in a while, would her beads' tassel brush against her thigh and awaken her sensuality, stirring memories of her happier, sexier past?

Suddenly I felt a pang of sympathy toward this woman whom I'd never met. I assumed that since she frequented a nunnery, she must belong to this gloomy type of first wife who sought escape from her sorrows behind the altar's billowing smoke. I knew I was lamenting all women's fate, including my own. If I were lucky to meet someone who'd love me and marry me, where would his love be in ten or twenty years? Even if I had the good fortune not to be deserted, I might end up just as I imagined Mr. Ouyang's yuan pei. Yet, however miserable her lot, a yuan pei was still lucky, for not only was it a great honor to be addressed as Mistress of the House, the title also bestowed privileges that a concubine could never dream to obtain.

I blurted out to Ouyang, "How's your first wife?" then suddenly realizing I was one of the causes of this woman's pain.

He cast me a curious glance. "She never causes me any trouble as long as I pay for everything. She never had much education, but she has learned when to leave a man alone." He went on as if talking to himself, "I give her what she wants."

Yes, everything except love, I wanted to say but swallowed my words.

We were now approaching the Hall of the Grand Heroic Treasures. Under the imposing yellow roof, sonorous chanting and billows of incense wafted through latticework windows. Judging from the numerous nuns and black-robed lay followers milling around, I was sure this temple's incense had been burning strong and bright. Off to the side I spotted a Buddha statue on top of which hopped a pigeon, its beak pecking at the Enlightened One's eyes.

Just then a young nun hurried to us and made a deep, respectful bow. "Mr. Ouyang, this way, please. Your wives are already waiting inside the inner altar."

Ouyang nodded, then signaled me to follow the novice. If his wife and concubines were here, then where would my position be? Feeling ridiculous, I turned to search Ouyang's face. "Mr. Ouyang, I think I really shouldn't have come."

He grinned, his brown, broad face flushed under the soft morning light. "Don't worry. Infinite Emptiness will guide you around and take you to your place."

While I walked behind him toward the Grand Hall, the young nun began to explain to me about the ceremony. The lavish ceremony would last seven days. In a didactic tone she recited its five purposes as she marked them off on her fingers: preaching the Buddhist Dharma; making offerings to the Buddha; giving alms to monks and nuns; showing repentance for sins; and most important, blessing all sentient beings-both alive and dead.

I studied the novice nun. Though young, she was slightly stooped and had an unmemorable face. Perhaps her parents had put her in the nunnery thinking she had no hope to marry. With a serious ex pression, she went on to explain that it was called the Water and Land Ceremony because the objects of the blessings included creatures of the sky: birds, butterflies, mosquitoes, flies; creatures of earth: human beings, animals, ants, spiders, cockroaches, even bacteria; creatures of the rivers and oceans: fish, shrimp, turtles, crabs, sea slugs.

I almost chuckled when she mentioned flies, cockroaches, bacteria. Why would anyone care to bless these worthless creatures while so many human beings starved and died? But then when I thought better of it, I felt deeply moved. Buddhist compassion even encompassed these lowly beings!

Infinite Emptiness went on to tell me that the ceremony was divided into the inner and outer hall, and since Mr. Ouyang was the big protector of the Dharma, we'd go to the inner one where only a select few were allowed.

The outer hall was abustle with activity. Black-robed laypeople milled around, some sneaking curious glances at me in my heavy makeup and expensive fur coat. Monks and nuns were reciting sutras accompanied by beating on wooden fish and bronze mirrors. The chanting and reciting created a sound mandala, which seemed to fill the large hall with a sacred atmosphere protecting us from all evils. Special for the occasion were many large paintings showing all the creatures of water and land as well as gods, bodhisattvas, and Buddhas. From the high ceiling cascaded colorful banners embroidered with auspicious motifs. Swaying slightly, they looked like giant hands waving welcoming gestures.

We finally arrived at the inner sanctum. Two middle-aged nuns approached us with hands put together. "0 Mito Fo." Hail to the Buddha of Endless Life.