The Palace of Heavenly Pleasure (15 page)

Mother Liu grunted in satisfaction. ‘It'll be all right,' she said, snapping the peephole shut.

‘I told you it'd be all right. When isn't it all right?' said Ren Ren sulkily. ‘What else do you want me for this evening?'

‘We have to see the barbarian, De Falang, about Shen Ping. He wants to buy her.'

‘Tell him to fuck himself,' said Ren Ren. His eyes narrowed angrily. ‘I'll beat the shit out of that slut, for one thing.'

‘You'll do nothing of the kind,' said Mother Liu. ‘She's the only one of the girls who'll sleep with him, and it makes us a lot of money.'

‘Any of those bitches will fuck a donkey if I tell them to. Bugger the money.'

‘Calm down, calm down. There's no problem. I want you there on your best behaviour, and only in case he gets troublesome. But I'm sure he'll be reasonable. We don't want to lose him as a client.'

‘Wouldn't worry me. A lot of us don't like having these ocean barbarians in the house anyway. Haven't you heard? Things are happening in this country. You know what the Harmonious Fists did in Fuxin? One day we'll get rid of all these barbarians for good.'

‘Well, if that happens, it happens,' said Mother Liu. ‘For now De Falang's a client and I don't want you scaring him off.'

*   *   *

Frank Delamere was waiting patiently in the banqueting room with Shen Ping. The merchants with whom he had been dining had already left. The two were sitting decorously together on a couch, as formally as if they had met in a station waiting room. He rose as Mother Liu and her son entered, his long arms swinging nervously and his big head shaking from side to side as he tried to look ingratiating. He had been dreading this interview. ‘My dear Madam Liu,' he cried. ‘What a pleasure. What a pleasure.'

Mother Liu perched herself elegantly on one of the banquetting chairs. ‘De Falang Xiansheng,' She smiled sweetly. ‘We are always honoured when you choose to visit us. And how can I help you today? I trust that the service has not been unsatisfactory. Or that my girls have not been tiring you with their frivolous chatter.' She nodded kindly at Shen Ping, a short, round-faced girl, who gazed ahead of her in terror.

‘Oh, no, Madam Liu. Certainly not. Service couldn't have been more excellent, really.'

‘Then how can I assist you? Do please sit down.'

‘Well. It's about Shen Ping, you see.' He put one of his heavy hands on hers. Shen Ping stiffened.

‘Shen Ping has displeased you in some way? You would like another girl?'

‘Oh, no. The opposite. She's a peach. In every way. I like her very much.'

‘That is very good to hear.'

‘Well, I think she likes me too.'

‘We all of us like you, De Falang Xiansheng.'

Frank shuffled on his seat.

‘Would you be more comfortable, De Falang Xiansheng, if we were to ask Xiao Shen to leave us for a while? Since it's about her that you wish to speak.'

‘You know, that may not be a bad idea. Shen Ping, would you mind?'

Ren Ren, who was leaning by the door, signalled Shen Ping with a jerk of his chin, and she scurried out, her eyes avoiding him as she brushed past. Frank clasped his hands together, took a deep breath, and then, as if he had made a decision, looked Mother Liu in the eye. ‘I'd like to buy her out, you see. Have her live with me.'

‘I don't think I understand you. Shen Ping is employed here.'

‘I know. But I did hear, if the right price can be reached—a high price, obviously—that flower girls can be bought out, released as it were. I'm happy to pay.'

‘I see,' said Mother Liu. ‘This is clearly very flattering for Shen Ping. She must have pleased you extremely.'

‘She's a lovely girl. I know I'm not much to look at, an old man now, getting on. A bloody ocean devil, eh? Ha! But I am fond of her, and I think I can look after her, see she's all right…'

‘This is most unfortunate.'

‘Unfortunate? I don't understand you.'

‘You see, Shen Ping has many other obligations. Many other clients, De Falang Xiansheng, who would be very disappointed if she were to leave us.'

‘Many clients, did you say?' Frank's red face had gone a shade of purple.

‘Oh, yes, she is one of our most talented girls. Much, much sought-after. I think you know how skilful she is, particularly in bed. It would be indelicate of me to remind you of all the techniques she has been able to master. She is an expert in the art of love, and is therefore very popular. She has many appointments every day.'

‘Every day?'

‘Oh, yes, mornings, afternoons, sometimes yourself in the evenings, sometimes others. She's always in demand. We're extremely proud of her. And often worried that she'll tire herself out. Isn't that right, Ren Ren?'

Ren Ren grunted.

‘So you see, De Falang Xiansheng, my difficulty. It's not a question of money. I must think of my other clients. If she were to go away to live with you, well, she would have to return, morning and afternoon, to fulfil her obligations here. And I don't think that would be very convenient for you.'

Frank cleared his throat. ‘That's not exactly what I envisaged. I had hoped for some exclusivity. I thought I had it, an understanding.'

‘Oh, no, De Falang Xiansheng. There's no exclusivity. This is a working house. Our girls serve all our customers.'

‘Dammit, I've always paid you over the odds. I thought Shen Ping was—'

‘Exclusively yours? Oh, no. But she is very happy to look after you when you're here. None of our girls provide exclusive services.'

‘But what about Major Lin and Fan Yimei? She seems exclusively hitched to Lin.'

‘Fan Yimei? Are you interested in Fan Yimei, De Falang Xiansheng? Well, I can certainly see what I can do.'

‘I'm not interested in Fan Yimei. I … All I wanted was to take Shen Ping away from here, because I thought she … She told me she didn't have other lovers. Or very few. I—I know what sort of place this is. I wasn't born yesterday. But she—she said that I was … special. She said I was kind to her.' Frank's voice had lowered to an embarrassed croak.

‘Oh, a girl will say anything to make a man happy.' Mother Liu gave a shrill laugh. ‘That's part of her job, and her skill. There's always dissimulation in the art of love. Shen Ping has many lovers. She's extremely experienced, a credit to our house. Of course, she's also a very conscientious girl. She has often told me what particularly pleases you—Flute-playing While Drinking at the Jade Fountain, the Frog Dipping Between the Pools, the Wild Ducks Flying Backwards, the Phoenix Sporting in the Cinnabar Grotto, Cicadas Cleaving, Dragons Twisting, Silkworms Entangling—need I go on on, De Falang Xiansheng? You're such a demanding, energetic man, aren't you? Naturally I urged her to practise all these things with her other clients so her technique would be even better for you…'

‘She told you that?' Frank muttered, almost inaudibly.

‘Of course. We spend a lot of time discussing how best to please you, De Falang Xiansheng. You're a most valued customer. And we discussed this lovely idea of you taking her away. I encouraged her to humour you. Don't be angry, I assure you whatever she said to you it was with the best of intentions. To increase your pleasure, and happiness.'

‘I believed her. God, what a fool.'

Mother Liu knew when to keep silent. Ren Ren yawned, and spat on the floor. Frank sat miserably in his chair. He coughed, then attempted a wry smile.

‘Well, I seem to have made an ass of myself, Madam Liu. I think I'd better go.'

‘Would you like Shen Ping to wait in the chamber for you?'

‘No, I'm a little tired tonight. Thank you all the same. I—I think I'll make my way home now, if that's all right with you. I've settled for the dinner. Good night.'

Mother Liu rose to her feet. ‘It is always a pleasure, De Falang Xiansheng. I hope we will see you again soon. A servant will escort you.'

Mother Liu watched him pick up his hat from the hook and, with bowed shoulders, make his way out of the door. Ren Ren slouched to a chair. ‘Well, that was brilliant, Mother,' he sneered. ‘I think you've driven him away for good.'

‘He'll come back,' she said. ‘They always do.' She put a hand to her forehead. ‘I have a headache. It's been a long day. He may not want Shen Ping again. Just in case, you'd better prepare another girl for the hairy ape.'

‘Fan Yimei?'

‘Fan Yimei belongs to Major Lin. You know that. Try Chen Meina, she's no good for anything.' She yawned. ‘Ren Ren?' she said.

‘Yes, Mother.'

‘I've changed my mind. You had better give Shen Ping a good hiding, after all. And this time I don't care if you do mark her. Make her suffer, the little bitch.'

‘With pleasure, Mama,' said Ren Ren. He yawned, stretched and, singing a snatch from the Peking Opera, sauntered out of the door. The raucous voice faded down the corridor. Mother Liu, left alone in the room, selected a toothpick off the table, and abstractedly began to clean her teeth.

*   *   *

Major Lin was sprawled on his side on the rumpled bedcovers. Fan Yimei, unable to sleep, lay on her back listening to the soft rumble of his snores. A cool breeze fluttered the silk curtains and rustled the willows outside. Fan Yimei gazed upwards at their reflections in the mirror set in the roof of the four-poster bed. Major Lin was in shadow but she was exposed to the moonlight, which drifted in through the open window illuminating the furniture and tinting her naked body an eerie ivory. The white image of herself, which appeared in the mirror, seemed strangely unreal, like a ghost hanging above her, or a corpse. The face was a shining white oval in a black pool of hair, which seeped over the pillow, lapped over the shoulders and eddied over the arms. Idly she examined the contours of this detached body floating above her, objectively noting the features most admired by her clients: the shadowy curves of the breasts and belly, the dark well of the loins between the white flesh of the thighs, the thin tapering legs ending in the silk stumps and bandages of bound feet—but the skin of this wraithly image was pallid and lifeless. She wondered if this was what she would look like if she were to die and be laid out in the House of the Dead. A hunk of inanimate flesh. A pork slab in the market. As the thought crossed her mind she saw the image of the corpse above her smile. She knew that she was also smiling. Here was a bitter joke. Perhaps the figure in the mirror was the real Fan Yimei, while whatever was lying on the bed below was only a beautiful simulacrum, trained mechanically to go through the art of making love. After all, if the heart and soul were already dead, would not the body be dead too? She had always thought that her life had really ended on the day when her father was buried and she had been brought here. Was this dead creature on the ceiling therefore conjured to remind her of the reality? Li Po's poem about Chuang Tse came into her head: ‘Did Chuang Chou dream he was the butterfly, or the butterfly that it was Chuang Chou?' Was reality a long-dead Fan Yimei, now a corpse in the mirror, dreaming about a prostitute who continued to go through the motions of living in the Palace of Heavenly Pleasure? A cloud moved over the face of the moon and the image in the mirror faded. The simulacrum on the bed sighed. She also shivered. The cold was real.

She wrapped herself in a silk dressing gown. For a moment she stood by the bed looking down on the recumbent Major Lin. He had a handsome face, she thought, but even at rest his eyebrows were fixed at a haughty angle and his mouth curved in an arrogant sneer. It made him look cruel. No doubt that expression helped him in his career as a soldier, but it was not reflective of the real man, or boy, as she sometimes thought of him. She felt sorry for him. He was so proud. Perhaps only she recognised the weakness and uncertainty within. Gently, so as not to wake him, she spread a sheet over his limbs. He stirred and muttered in his sleep. After a few moments he began to snore again. These days, he was drinking heavily. She did not mind. When he was drunk he was often violent, but his lovemaking would then be short and perfunctory, and he would fall asleep quickly afterwards. She preferred that to the nights when he insisted on showing off his manly vigour and it would be long hours before he finally achieved the clouds and rain. Sometimes the clouds and rain would not come, and then she would have to beat him with a willow rod until he was ready to try again. She wondered why Mother Liu was spreading the story that he whipped her. The other girls would laugh about this behind her back, knowing that she would hear. In fact, it was always she who wielded the rod. She wondered if the pain he wanted her to inflict on him compensated for some shame inside him. She was indifferent. She had had to do much worse with other clients, and with the unspeakable Ren Ren. Major Lin, for all his temperamental moods, was easy to handle.

She supposed that she was fortunate to have Major Lin as her protector. It was a respite from the miseries of the stable, but she had no illusions. For all his possessiveness and the affection he bestowed on her, she believed that one day he would tire of her. And then she would be defenceless against the resentments of Mother Liu and the other girls. Inevitably Ren Ren would exact his vengeance. She had heard the screams that came from the hut at the end of the furthest courtyard where he would lock the girls he had selected for particular punishment. She dreaded the torments she knew she would have to face, and when she thought about it her body would freeze with horror, but she was resigned to ill fortune, and deep inside herself she did not care. She had learned not to expect anything of life.

There were times when she was weak. Sometimes, like tonight, when she looked at the corpse in the mirror above her with envy, she longed for the oblivion of the dead. Once, after an unpleasant, drunken scene with Major Lin, when he had wept self-pitying tears, slapping her and accusing her of being unfaithful (she could not imagine why Mother Liu invented these malicious stories), she had waited until he was asleep. Then, certain that he would leave her the next day and unable to face the prospect of Ren Ren's tortures, she had climbed on to a stool, flung her sash over the beam with the intention of hanging herself. Her small bound feet had slipped from the stool before she could make a noose, and she had sprawled, a tangle of naked limbs, on the floor. Major Lin had woken and sleepily called her to the bed. He had made gentle love to her, whispering endearments in her ear, and she had lain below his body, shaking with silent sobs, the little girl she had once been calling to her from the emptiness inside her soul.