The Valley of Amazement (65 page)

“Both. My husband works for the American Consulate, and he’s told me about a few cases like this. Either a Chinese girl and an American man, or an American girl and a Chinese man. In either case, it never ends well for the woman.”

I listened to their tales of terror. The American women were scorned. They had no legal status and were never accepted into Chinese families as wives because of the importance of lineage and the family’s generations of ancestor worship. They recalled only two cases in which an American woman had lived in a Chinese family, but only briefly. In one case, the American girl was made a concubine—part of a harem, so to speak, treated like a scullery maid, and mistreated by the other concubines and the mother-in-law. Chinese mothers-in-law were generally a vicious bunch, they said in agreement, based on the tales. And that proved sadly true with this poor girl. She was beaten to death.

“The jurisdiction was in the Chinese section of the city,” the diplomat’s wife said, “and was handled by a Chinese court. There was no one to come forward on the girl’s behalf. Who knows what the mother-in-law did or said, but the girl’s death was deemed justifiable.”

The other American woman ran away from her husband’s family and became a prostitute. She had no money, and her family in the United States would not take her back. She went to work on one of the boats in the harbor, taking on sailors.

“If you are in touch with this young woman, you might suggest she go to the American Consulate and have them contact her family so they can send for her as soon as possible,” the diplomat’s wife said. I wondered if she knew that I was the woman in the lie I told. I was frightened by what they had said. I had argued against the warnings of my parents, against Lu Shing’s as well.

I soon recovered from these waves of fear, just as I did from the nausea of pregnancy. I could win over Lu Shing’s parents. I was clever and persistent. Lu Shing had written his father, as I had asked him to do. They had had time to absorb the news. And he had told them I was soon to be the mother of his child, perhaps the firstborn son of the next generation. I reasoned that his father was educated, an important official in the Ministry of Foreign Relations. They must be modern in how they viewed Americans. All would eventually sort itself out.

A
MONTH AFTER
we left San Francisco, I stood on the dock and waited for Lu Shing to disembark from the Chinese gangplank. I was faint with nervousness, exhaustion, and the heat. I had not been able to eat since the night before. To my regret, I wore a dress suited to the foggy summers of San Francisco and not the Chinese bathhouse that was Shanghai. Coolies ran up to me to take my bags and I shooed them away. I was anxious for Lu Shing to arrive so that he could take care of these matters.

I finally caught sight of him. I was stunned. He was wearing Chinese clothes. He looked as he did when I first saw him in our doorway. There he had looked like an emperor from a fairy-tale book, the one I fell in love with. Here, amid a dock bustling with Chinese people, and passengers, he looked simply Chinese. A coolie in short pants stood behind him with bags clutched under his arms, dangling from his hands, and slung over his back. Lu Shing saw me, but he did not walk toward me. I waved. He still did not come. I walked quickly to him.

Instead of embracing me, he said, “Hello, Lucia.” He sounded like a stranger. “I’m sorry I’m not able to embrace you, as I would like to.” He wore his solemn look.

He had already warned me we had to be circumspect until his family had grown accustomed to the idea of our marriage.

“You look different,” I said. “Your clothes.”

He smiled. “Different only to you.” His eyes looked at me kindly, like a stranger. “Lucia, have you thought carefully about this over the past month? Are you certain you want to stay in Shanghai? We may not succeed. You must be prepared.”

He was supposed to soothe me, not frighten me. “Did you change your mind?” I said in a breaking voice. “Are you telling me to go back?” My voice must have been louder than I thought. Curious faces turned to watch.

Lu Shing remained implacable. “I simply want you to be certain. Our separation on the boat is just a hint of what lies ahead. It will be difficult.”

“I’ve known that all along,” I said. “I have not changed my mind.” Secretly, I was frightened. But during that month, I had accumulated a different kind of courage—for the baby. The baby was no longer a problem but a part of me, and I would protect us both.

Lu Shing and the coolie conversed quickly. They sounded as if they were arguing. I was struck by the fact that Lu Shing was speaking fluently in Chinese. How odd he sounded. I had never heard him speak to another Chinese person. What happened to my English gentleman with a Chinese face? What happened to my handsome lover in his impeccably tailored clothes with his shaved pate and queue under a bowler? Where was his desire for me?

The coolie gave me a quizzical expression. He and Lu Shing exchanged more words and the coolie nodded. What had transpired? We walked toward the road, and when we reached the broad sidewalk, Lu Shing said: “My family is waiting across the road. All of them. My father, my brothers, my ailing grandfather, the girl I am contracted to marry, and her father and brothers.”

“Why is that girl here?” I said. “Are you going from dock to chapel? Shall I be her bridesmaid?”

“I can’t keep her from coming. This is not a welcome party, Lucia. It is the way things are done here to enforce family order. They have come here to shame me into adhering to my responsibility to family. They are my peers and elders.”

His face was covered with perspiration, and I knew it was not simply the heat. He was nervous, and I had never seen him this way. He would soon have to stand up to his family, just as I had done with mine. I would be by his side to support his decision. The only question that remained: Would they allow us to live in their house?

“Where are they?” I looked around. Lu Shing indicated to an area about thirty feet away where two hansom cabs and ten covered rickshaws were waiting. It resembled a funeral procession. The coolie was placing Lu Shing’s trunk in one of the rickshaws toward the back. Lu Shing walked toward his family. I followed.

He stopped. “I think you should remain here until I smooth the way,” he said. “It would not do well to throw this in their face from the start.”

Throw this in their face? Why had he said it that way? “I’m not going to be cowed,” I said. “They can’t ignore me.”

“Please, Lucia, let me do it my way.” He walked toward the first cab without me.

I motioned to the coolie to take my bags to a rickshaw. He looked at Lu Shing with a questioning face, and Lu Shing answered tersely. The man asked another question, and Lu Shing grunted. What was he saying? I understood nothing anymore. I was in a land of secrets.

Damn the bags! I marched without them toward the battalion of cabs and rickshaws. Lu Shing ran toward me and blocked my way. “Lucia, please wait. Let’s not add to a difficult situation.” I was exasperated that Lu Shing was more concerned with his family’s feelings than with mine. I needed to let his family know from the start what kind of woman I was. I had brought with me my American free will and enterprising nature. I was accustomed to dealing with people from all walks of life, the pompous Mr. and Mrs. Minturn, the professors who thought they knew everything.

Lu Shing reached the first cab and began talking to a man seated in the back of the cab. I slowly walked a little way farther down the sidewalk, where I could see a stern-looking man seated in the cab. He was wearing a bowler like Lu Shing’s. As the man spoke, Lu Shing kept his face turned down. I came closer until I was directly across and about twenty-five feet from the curb. I heard Chinese words flowing like water streaming over rocks. The man was Lu Shing’s father. I could see that. He and Lu Shing looked alike, separated only by age. They were both handsome and intelligent-looking, and both wore the identical solemn expression, only the older man’s was rigid.

Lu Shing spoke in a low apologetic voice, and his father’s expression never changed. A pretty girl in the rickshaw just behind the second cab kept her eyes fixed on me. His bride, no doubt. I stared at her until she looked away.

All at once, Lu Shing’s father stood up, shouted what must have been a curse word, and threw his hat in Lu Shing’s face. Lu Shing cupped his eye. His father spit out more words, grating sounds torn from the back of the throat, sharp punctuated orders accompanied by chopping motion of hands. Lu Shing kept his face downward and said nothing. What did this mean? Why did Lu Shing remain motionless, wordless? Perhaps this was how it was done. Refusal through silence. It did not seem likely that the man would calm himself anytime soon. They would leave without us.

Just as I concluded that, Lu Shing turned toward me, walked over, and quickly stuffed money into my hand. He implored me to wait. A tragic expression contorted his face. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Wait for me here. Be patient, and forgive me for what is happening.”

In the next instant, before I could overcome my shock enough to protest, he climbed into his father’s cab. I watched this, as if in a dream. The driver jiggled the reins, and the cab with Lu Shing moved forward, away from me. The cab behind followed, and all the rickshaw pullers picked up their handles and ran. Lu Shing’s relatives kept their faces turned forward, as if I did not exist. Only the girl stared at me with a scowl. And then they were gone.

I felt faint and sick. I could no longer stand. I spotted a tree farther up the road. How would I ever manage to carry my bags that far? Just as I thought this, I saw the coolie race by me with my bags under his arms. I chased after him, shouting, “Thief! Thief!” I would never catch him. I stopped and was about to fall into a heap when I saw him set my bags under the shade of the tree I had longed to reach. He arranged them to look like a settee then beckoned me to come sit. I walked over slowly, not sure what to make of this. He swept his hand out, as if he were a waiter seating me at a table in a fine establishment.

I noticed after a while that the coolie was still standing close by, staring at me. He wore a questioning look, then
tapped his palm and made a motion of rubbing money bills. He wanted me to pay him. I looked at the Chinese money still clutched in my hand. I had no idea what any of it was worth. His fee could not be more than a few cents. But which of these bills was worth more? Which less? The coolie made gestures for eating and drinking, and rubbed his stomach, as if he were starving. Was this a ploy to have me give him more money? He said something incomprehensible and I answered in my own gibberish, “Damn this heat, damn this city! Damn Lu Shing!” I looked for a bill with the lowest number on it. Five. I handed it to him. He grinned. I must have given him a fortune. He raced away. Good riddance. I watched carriages and rickshaws come and go, each of them leaving me in deeper despair.

Ten minutes later, the coolie returned. He had brought a basket. Inside were two brown eggs with crackled shells, three small bananas, and a flask that contained hot tea. He also offered me what I thought was a cane. It turned out to be a parasol. He handed back some coins. This was surprising. Lu Shing must have hired him to take care of me. I examined the basket of food. I was dubious about the cleanliness of these offerings. He pantomimed that all was clean and I had nothing to worry about. I was famished and thirsty. The eggs were odd-tasting but delicious. The bananas were sweet, and the tea was soothing. As I ate, I kept my eyes trained on the road. It was a busy thoroughfare. The servant motioned to me and pointed to the other side of the tree. He indicated I could shout if I needed him. I nodded. He lay on his side, and fell promptly asleep.

I was drawn to sleep as well. But I could not give in to it. Everyone would see my failure: a foolish American girl, alone and in trouble within the first hour of her arrival. I sat erect. I would show I was assured of my place in the world—which for now was under the tree on a thoroughfare, and in a city where I could not speak a word of its language, except the vulgar Chinese words
chuh nee bee.
I shouted them aloud, and the coolie startled.

I waited for hours on end, sitting on that ridiculous settee. Pride withered, my erect posture melted. My eyelids had a will of their own. I lay down and let sleep arrive and carry me away.

CHAPTER
14

S
HANGHAILANDERS

Shanghai
September 1897
Lucia Minturn

In the quietest hour of the night, the coolie was the first to spot Lu Shing coming down the thoroughfare. He roused me and then ran back to the street and crossed his arms back and forth like a drowning man. It had been eighteen hours since Lu Shing had left me at the dock without my knowing whether he would ever return.

Before he could even step out of the rickshaw, my shouts cracked the air: “Damn you! Damn your family!”

He placed me quickly in the rickshaw, and the coolie jumped into another with my belongings. Seeing Lu Shing’s grim expression, I knew we were not headed for his family home. I wept as I accused him of abandoning me like a beggar on the street—and in a strange city where I was unable to speak to anyone. Why didn’t he stand up for me and go with me, instead of leaving me in the hot sun, where I could have roasted to death with a baby in my belly?

I was frightened near to losing my mind. At seventeen I had made a decision with inalterable consequences. I had devastated my mother and father by my hatred of them and their lack of love. I had revealed their vile secrets, the rottenness of their souls, and how ludicrous they were. Were there any sharp truths I had not flung at them? On the boat, I had already sensed the change in myself. I had taken on my parents’ traits even as I condemned them, and I had further altered myself by my cruelty. Had I always had the capacity and desire to destroy another? I no longer had confidence and an independent mind. I was alone and without anyone I could show bluster to. I was dwindling the closer I came to Shanghai, to an uncertain future that depended on one person, who claimed he loved me, but who could not provide assurances of how he would be able to show it once I became the foreigner in his land. I went back and forth, like the pitch of the boat, clinging to the belief that I could conquer whatever obstacles I might encounter. After all, I had conquered the Chinese emperor’s heart. But then I gave in to fear that American pluck would be transformed into Chinese Fate. Lu Shing was already different, no longer my Chinese emperor, but a cowed Chinese son.