Secret of a Thousand Beauties (10 page)

“Spring Swallow, I don’t talk about myself because I’m afraid I’m not a very interesting person.”

“You have been good to me, though. Without you, I wouldn’t have a roof over my head, let alone learn to be an embroiderer.”

She sighed under the pale moonlight. “I have a sad life. We all do, otherwise we wouldn’t have ended up here.”

“You miss your husband?”

I remembered the first day I was here, Purple had told us her husband died shortly after they’d been married. Her in-laws blamed her, calling her an all-destroying star, and cast her out of the house.

“I hardly knew him. It was an arranged marriage, and we’d only been together for six months before he died.”

“How did he die?”

“On the way to pick me up on his bicycle. He was trying to avoid hitting a dog and got hit by a car.”

“I’m sorry.” I thought for a moment, then asked, “Is it hard to keep the vow of celibacy since you were married before?”

“But I haven’t . . .”

“Haven’t what?”

Purple remained silent, but I pressed her for an answer. Anyway, I’d already guessed because I’d read her unfinished letter to her lover.

“I know you have someone in here.” I pointed to my chest.

She looked totally shocked. “What more do you know? Have you been following me?”

“Never, Sister Purple. But the way you reacted . . . you must have someone.”

She looked relieved. “All right, maybe I do.”

“You’re afraid Aunty will find out?”

“Yes, but the power of love overcomes everything.”

“
Wah,
is that so?”

“You’ve never been in love?”

“Of course not, Sister Purple, my husband was a ghost. I never even met him!”

She nodded. “Then you don’t even know what you’ve missed.”

Actually, I thought I did know, at least a little. Even though I had not actually met Shen Feng, I imagined what it would be like if we did meet.

“Sister Purple, what if Aunty finds out?”

“She won’t have any sympathy for me. She must have been hurt so badly by love that she won’t fall again.”

“Why not?”

“She’s beautiful and talented and she must have some money, so lots of men would want her. I have no idea why she ended up working for a greedy factory many miles away, and probably lies about how much they make from our work.”

We remained silent for a while before I asked, “Who’s the man?”

“What man?”

“The man in your heart.”

“I’ll tell you, but you must promise to keep this secret until you are in your grave.”

She looked around to make extra sure no one was eavesdropping. Then she whispered into my ear. “He’s my dead husband’s brother.”

“Oh, Heaven!”

“Shhh . . . Jiang gives me great comfort after my husband’s death. He told me he’d been in love with me since the day I’d come home with his brother. Now, whenever I can, I sneak out to see him. Of course, we live in fear that sooner or later his parents will find out. They would never give him permission to marry me. I can live without embroidery, but I can’t live without Jiang.”

“
Wah,
you love him so much?”

She nodded, looking sad yet hopeful.

“Where do you meet him?”

“As you know, as long as we do our job, Aunty Peony doesn’t bother us much. So sometimes I can steal away, even in the middle of the night, if I am very quiet. He knows that on Tuesdays I will sneak out if I can, so he waits for me.”

“How come I never notice you’re not here?”

“You still need to learn to observe things, my little sister.” She paused, then spoke again. “Remember when we met?”

I nodded.

“I’d just finished seeing him—that’s why I was out so early in the morning.”

“You still haven’t told me where you meet.”

“At an old dilapidated temple.”

“
Wah,
you’re not afraid someone will see you there?”

“No one goes there—everyone is afraid it’s haunted.”

“Is it really?”

“We don’t care. We just want to be together. But we always burn incense to appease any wandering ghosts who might be around.

“I hope someday you can meet Jiang. I’m sure you’ll like each other.” She sighed. “
Hai,
it’s late now. Let’s go to bed and maybe we’ll have some sweet dreams tonight.”

11

T
he next morning when we woke up, Aunty Peony and Little Doll were gone. The three of us discussed our situation while we ate our simple breakfast of congee and fried donuts. Aunty had left a note telling us what to do and what not to do while she was away. She warned us that we must continue to embroider and, in any free time, practice painting and calligraphy, because she’d check on what we’d done when she got back. If we did not finish
Along the River
on time, we would not get any more orders from Heavenly Phoenix and we would either become prostitutes or starve to death.

“Wah!”
the three of us exclaimed in disbelief.

Leilei scoffed. “I don’t believe we’d end up in such a dire situation. That old witch just wants to threaten us, but I’m not scared!”

Purple cast her a disapproving look. “Leilei, watch your spiteful mouth and show some respect for your teacher!”

“Ha, respect, why should I? We work day and night and all we get in return is a pittance. She took us to Peking but wouldn’t let us visit the company we work like dogs for. I’m sure she’s been pocketing most of our money—”

“That’s enough, Leilei, don’t say something you’re going to regret.”

“I’m regretting my life, which has been in the gutter all along. Maybe you two have nothing to hope for, but I plan to be rich and famous. And I will. You two just wait and see!”

After this outburst, she stormed off.

“Where’re you going?” Purple yelled after her.

She flung her head back and spoke defiantly. “To see a man! You will never know what it’s like to have a man in you. No man will ever want either of you, you understand?”

She dashed outside the house, slamming the door with a loud bang.

Purple turned to me. “I don’t like Leilei, but I admire her defiant spirit.
Hai,
she’ll be lucky if she gets what she wants in life, because most people don’t. But for you she’s a bad influence, so don’t listen to her.”

“But why not?”

“Because she’s nothing but trouble. All right, let’s finish our breakfast and get back to work.”

Suddenly, with Aunty, Little Doll, and Leilei gone, the house was very quiet. I’d gotten used to hearing them talking, eating, laughing, bickering. Purple had gone into her room and, sitting by myself, I imagined the little household was itself an embroidery, with each of us, even Leilei, an indispensable part of this special fabric.

I worked long hours that day, until I fell asleep with the needle and cloth in my hands. When I woke up, it was eight in the evening. I hurried to knock on Purple’s door, but there was no answer. So she was either sound asleep or had taken her work into her room and was so engrossed that she didn’t hear me. Finally, I got impatient and pushed open the door. But her room was empty!

I hurried to Leilei’s room and found that hers was empty too. But, of course, in the morning she’d said she was going to see a man, so maybe he was inside her right now. Realizing that I was completely alone, I felt a wave of panic. Had even my one friend, Purple, deserted me?

I took deep breaths to calm myself, then looked out the window. The sky was already dark and I could see the distant lights flickering in Soochow city. Except for far-off barking, the night was quiet. Feeling acutely lonely, I went to the kitchen and cooked myself some noodles, then sprinkled them with chili powder and scallions. My loud slurping echoed eerily in the empty house—even the hot soup gave me no comfort.

I wondered what it would be like if none of them returned and I would be alone all night. Purple might be at the deserted temple, so I could go there to look for her. But what if it really was haunted? Hoping to distract myself from all these scary thoughts, I took out my embroidery tools and spread them on the table: scissors, threads, needles, cloth, wooden frame, and metal finger protector.

But as soon as I had arranged everything neatly on the table I suddenly lost my desire to work. So instead I went to brush my teeth and wash my hands. Then I burned incense and offered tea to Guan Yin and my grand-teacher, both looking down at me from the altar with pity—or so I thought. Finally, feeling a little calmer, I plunged into my embroidery.

As the hours passed, I was happy to see the two bright-eyed tigers stare back at me from the pair of red children’s shoes I was working on. I felt a surge of pride. Skillfully done, the tigers would not only entertain the child, but also keep his feet warm and guard him from evil. I imagined a cute little boy running around, asking his grandmother for candies, his mother for affection, and his father for a piggyback ride. But when the child grew up into a young man, he would have forgotten these little tigers that had tirelessly protected his little feet. Then I felt sad. I’d embroidered so many shoes for other people’s children; would I ever have children of my own to make little tiger shoes for?

 

I did not realize that I had fallen asleep until the first light woke me up the next morning. I hurried to knock on Purple’s and Leilei’s doors, but there was still no answer. They must be having too much fun to bother coming home. Feeling restless, I gulped down some leftover soybean soup, changed to a thin cotton top and pants, went out, and headed directly toward the mountain. I hoped the fresh air would soothe my nerves and clear my mind. Unlike the women whose home I shared, the mountain never failed me. It was always patient as I poured out my troubled emotions.

During my ascent, the sky was as gray as a pigeon’s belly. Through the thin soles of my shoes I could feel every clod, pebble, and twig. Whenever I started my climb I would think of Father Edwin’s favorite quote from the great sage Laozi, “A journey of a thousand miles begins with the ground under your feet.” Father reminded me of this whenever I had to start a difficult task.

As I continued to climb, the mountain breeze gently massaged my face and body, as if blowing away all my worldly troubles. As I neared the top I heard, faintly, the bittersweet tones of a flute. I didn’t feel fear, only curiosity. I wondered who would be up here so early, trespassing on my mountain sanctuary?

As I ascended farther, I could see, silhouetted in front of the rising sun, the figure of a man, his fingers trembling on the flute as the music flowed out. As I came closer I saw that his silk clothes covered a well-formed, muscular body. With the sun no longer in my eyes I could see that his hair was neatly cut. So he could afford a barber, unlike most of the villagers, who had zigzag or seesaw haircuts, as if the strands had been hacked off by clumsy wives or fuzzy-eyed mothers.

Somehow I knew he was not a ruffian or a bandit. To create such refined music, he must be a learned man. I remained very quiet, enjoying his melodic playing, as if he were greeting the rising sun. Then he stopped, exhaling a melancholy sigh. I realized that he was standing right in front of the steep rock cliff and suddenly feared that he was contemplating suicide. Perhaps he had experienced some great tragedy and was playing his favorite tune one last time before . . . But if he was really going to jump, I didn’t think I’d have the strength to pull him back. Even if I screamed, there would be no one else to help, not even a ghost. Suddenly I felt dizzy and fell.

A loud
“aiiiya!”
involuntarily flew from my mouth.

The man turned, saw me, dashed down, and helped me up. Then he led me to sit on a rock. Seeing him face-to-face I was certain he was not a bandit. And seeing him smile at me reassuringly I was sure he was not about to jump. He had the look of a scholar with intelligent eyes, square jaw, and determined expression.

I felt too stunned to say anything as he looked me over with great interest, his eyes lingering.

Finally, he asked, very gently, “Miss, you have cuts on your knee”—he pointed to my torn pants—“but don’t worry, they’re not deep and you’ll be fine.”

Next he took out a handkerchief and pressed it to staunch the oozing blood. I noticed that his brows were thick and black. In his strong presence I felt comforted, but also still a little afraid.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

I nodded, still feeling confused.

He smiled. “Miss, may I ask how does a young girl like you come to be on this mountain just as the sun is rising? You know, it might be dangerous—wild animals, mud slides, maybe even bandits. Shall I bring you home to your parents?”

In my daze I feared that he intended to take me back to my old village, so I blurted out, “Oh, no, please don’t! I only come here to be alone and write.”

“Poor girl, don’t be frightened. Of course I won’t tell your parents. I can just walk you to your door, or part of the way. How’s that?”

“But I don’t have parents. I live with my embroidery teacher.”

Suddenly his face took on an excited expression. “Hmmm . . . could you be . . . Spring Swallow?”

Before I could think, I blurted out, “How did you know?”

“Oh, Heaven! I’ve been hoping to meet you for a long time!”

By now I had guessed who he was.

He laughed. His thick black hair reflected the glancing rays of the sun like fishes’ scales.

“I am Shen Feng, your mountain friend! So we finally meet!”

I felt my cheeks burn. I could smell the mountain on him—a fragrant blend of grass, breeze, and mud. The moments crept by like snails as we both tried to think of what to say.

Finally, I gathered up my courage, and asked, “Mr. Shen, were you really . . . waiting for me?”

“Yes, for a long time I have been coming up here to practice my flute. Since I first saw your writing I have been hoping to meet you.”

“I like your playing . . . but it is sad.”

“Yes, indeed.”

I didn’t feel I should ask him what he was sad about, so instead I asked, “Why so early in the morning?”

“I like to see the sunrise. And I’ve been worried about you, especially when it’s been so long since you wrote anything. Of course, during the winter it gets very cold up here.”

“Worry about me? We don’t . . . even know each other.”

“It’s true we hadn’t met, but I already feel I know you. Maybe we were close friends in a past life.”

Actually, I felt somewhat the same but was too embarrassed to say so.

He went on. “You know, you are almost exactly as I imagined you.”

“Are you clairvoyant?”

He laughed. “I don’t think so. I’m so happy that we met.”

A few silent moments passed, and I said, “Mr. Shen, it was nice of you to quote the poem for me.”

“I like your writing too.” He smiled. “I can tell it is from your heart. How are you learning embroidery? Is it very difficult?”

I told him about Aunty, that she was a good teacher but also hard on us. But I loved doing embroidery.

Now he knew something about me, but I hardly knew anything about him, except that he liked mountains.

So I asked, “Do you live nearby, Mr. Shen?”

His answer surprised me. “No, but this place is special for me. I come here to remember my sister.”

“To remember her? Did she move far away?”

But his answer was, “Her life was very sad.”

“Sadder than marrying a ghost?”

He looked puzzled for a moment, then nodded.

“Did she . . . die?”

“Yes, five years ago.”

“How terrible. Can you tell me about her?”

“She and her lover, an elementary school teacher, committed suicide by jumping down the cliff here.”

“Oh, Heaven! What happened!?”

“My family had arranged with a matchmaker to marry her to the son of a rich merchant. But my sister was in love with this penniless teacher. Unfortunately, the wedding had already been arranged and the dowry sent.”

“So she did not love the merchant. . . .”

“I told her she should run away with her lover, but she could not bear to disobey her parents. . . .”

“How unfair of them. Were you close to your sister, Mr. Shen?”

“Yes . . . it’s been many years. We grieve, but life goes on. Since the tragedy, my parents have been very regretful. They hardly talk to each other . . . or to me. That’s why I like to come here by myself to remember her, and also to calm my mind.”

I was unable to think of anything suitable to say.

He changed the subject, asking, “Have you noticed that there is almost never anyone else on this mountain?”

“Yes, and I always wonder why.”

“It’s because of my sister and her lover. People fear it’s haunted. You’re new here, and no one ever told you this?”

Aunty must have known. Either she did not believe in ghosts or she did not care about what might happen to us when we ventured outside.

He spoke again. “Only up here do I find peace. When I saw your writing, I felt as if struck by lightning. What sort of person, especially a woman, would come up a haunted mountain? So I thought we must have a karmic connection from a past life.”

Feeling very touched, I hesitated, then said, “Mr. Shen, I’d like to be your friend . . . but Aunty Peony would send me away if she finds out that I’ve befriended a man.”

“But how would she know. She doesn’t follow you, does she?”

“I don’t think so. But you know the saying that ‘If you keep going up the mountain, one day you’ll run into a tiger’?”

He smiled. “Yes, but you seem to be a girl who is not afraid of tigers.”

“I can run fast. A tiger—or a bandit—I can get away from either.”

He laughed out loud. “I see you are brave, Spring Swallow. But I am not so sure you could get away in time. Anyway, now you have me to protect you. Will you tell me more about yourself? I am sure you did not grow up here. How did you come to be in this isolated place?”

I told him about my mean aunt, Father Edwin, and my wedding to a ghost.

He looked shocked. “You’re married?”