Song of the Silk Road (32 page)

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Authors: Mingmei Yip

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BOOK: Song of the Silk Road
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Finally Lo and the guard stopped at a cell, and the guard called out, “Hey, you have a visitor!” Then he lifted a heavy bunch of keys clattering in a big metal ring, picked one out, opened the gate, and let us in. After quickly slamming the door behind us with a loud bang, he walked away.
The cell had a small window high in the wall, as if heaven were winking at hell. A woman was sitting on a cot next to a stained toilet, her emaciated face void of emotion. Lo signaled for me to sit down on a stool across from her, then sat himself.
He and the woman exchanged nods. The prisoner and I scrutinized each other like two hungry beasts wanting to tear each other apart but unable to decide if it was a good idea.
Finally Lo broke the silence. “Miss Madison, there’s not a lot of time, so please talk to Miss Lily Lin.”
She didn’t respond. Her eyes, round and hollow in her ghastly face, now studied me in a different way—like a mother her firstborn.
A long, awkward silence fell over the tiny cell.
It was the first time I realized talking could be so daunting.
Or silence.
The lawyer turned to me. “Miss Lin, why don’t you talk first.”
I studied this Mindy Madison, my supposed aunt, who was so emaciated that she resembled an anorexic mummy. The only feature that brought her back to life from mummyhood was her large, haunting eyes—tinted windows through which horror stories were desperately waiting to spill. Besides weight, she had also lost hair, for I could see large bald spots on her scalp. Her body, beneath her loose, gray prison outfit, seemed to have forgotten its claim to exist. Dark and bony like a black chicken’s claws, her fingers were nervously wringing a dirty rag.
I could only say that this barely human visage must have witnessed shocking mysteries, horrible nightmares, unspeakable sufferings.
I leaned close to Lo and whispered, “So she’s my aunt?”
She looked so far beyond normal that I couldn’t even tell if she was Chinese, especially with her foreign last name. She might have been British, American, Italian, Uyghur, or Mongol for all I could tell.
I clicked my tongue nervously in the smelly, suffocating prison air. “How do I know she’s even related to me, let alone that she’s my aunt?”
Lo cast me a dirty look. “Miss Lin, show some respect here.”
I answered in a heated whisper. “But to whom? I don’t even know her!”
“To your mother.”
This time I tittered nervously like a bad comedian. “You mean . . . my aunt?” I asked, feeling completely confused—and
very
scared. What the hell was going on here?
“Miss Madison
is
your mother.”
“No, she’s not. My mother died two years ago.” I tried my best not to lose my focus.
“Your mother is now right in front of your eyes.”
“What do you mean, and what the hell is all this about?!” Now I tried not to lose my mind.
Total silence.
Suddenly the lips moved on the mask of death. “I
am
your mother.”
My heart almost shot out from my mouth. It took a few seconds before I could gather myself to respond. “Please, lady, don’t be ridiculous. I don’t know who you are. I’m not even sure if you’re really my aunt. My mother never mentioned one in her entire life!”
Ignoring my rude, vehement exclamation, she reached to touch my hand.
My hand jumped back like a big dog scratched by a small cat. “How dare you!”
“You used to like it when you were very little.”
“Damn you!” I yelled, then turned to Lo. “Can you explain what this is all about? Or I’ll leave right now!”
The ghost woman wiped away a tear.
Her lawyer waved a hand. “Then listen.”
“I’m waiting. Go ahead.”
“Mindy Madison, or Cai Mindi, and your mother, Cai Mayfong, are sisters. . . .”
“No, they are not! My mother didn’t have a sister!” Now I really felt I was losing my sanity. Was I in a prison—or a mental hospital?
He cast me a stern look. “Calm down and listen, will you?”
I pointed at the resurrected mummy. “If she really is my aunt, or my mother as you two claim, then why don’t you let her tell her story?”
Lo cast a worried look at Madison. “Your mother is not feeling well today, so I’ll do the talking.”
“Then why don’t we end this meeting now?”
“Because time is running out.”
“All right, then go on and tell me what you have to lie about.”
“I’m a lawyer. I only tell truths.”
I had to bite my lip hard to prevent myself, even in that grim setting, from bursting out laughing and kicking my legs like a demented woman. Everyone knows lawyers are experts in twisting or hiding the truth, not in telling it.
Lo ignored my sarcastic expression. “I’ll make it brief today. And I’ll arrange another meeting when Miss Madison is feeling better so she can tell you everything in detail herself. Then you’ll understand what’s happening and your role in this trip as well as in your mother’s life. All right, Miss Lin”—Lo took a deep breath—“you ready for this?”
“For what? Anyway, do I have a choice?”
He cleared his throat. “Your mother, Mindy Madison, is here waiting to be executed in two months.”
My heart almost dropped to the floor with a sharp thud as a loud “What!” shot out from my mouth. “What did she do, murder someone?”
Lo shook his head. “She smuggled art out of China.”
“That gets the death penalty?”
“Yes, when national treasures are involved. But I’ll leave it for Miss Madison to explain at your next meeting. Anyway, now not only is she awaiting her death by execution but also from advanced ovarian cancer.”
I didn’t even have the courage to look in Mindy Madison’s direction. I couldn’t imagine that this frail woman, or any woman, should deserve this most severe punishment, whatever the crime, let alone to be executed with cancer ravaging her body. And it would be death by what? A bullet in the head, electric chair, lethal injection, hanging. . . . I shut my eyes to ward off the horrible scenarios.
Lo spoke again. “Miss Lin, you’re the only one who can help your mother.”
“No, I don’t have a mother who’s a death row criminal. My mother is dead, period!”
Lo’s look was penetrating to the point of scary. “Miss Lin, let me reiterate, Mindy Madison, or Cai Mindi, is your mother, and your deceased mother, Cai Mayfong, was your aunt.”
I shook my head.
“These are facts.”
“Then prove it.”
“I will do that, later.” His tone softened a bit. “You’re entitled to know the truth of your life, which has been buried for so many years.”
I pointed an accusatory finger at the lawyer, then the death mask. “If the truth is that she’s my mother, then I’d rather not be enlightened to it.”
“But you have no choice.”
“How’s that?”
“Because only a daughter’s compassion can save her mother’s life.”
Big tears rolled down from Madison’s eyes. She wiped them off with her filthy cloth.
I thought of the sufferings my mother had to endure her whole life, and my heart softened. But my voice came out unintentionally sarcastic. “Then tell me how, since I’m neither a government official nor a doctor.”
“We are still appealing the case and therefore need more time for Miss Madison to regain her strength to fight. That’s why you were asked to get the special snow lotus from the Mountains of Heaven. This herb is your mother’s last hope. Even if it can’t cure her fatal disease, then at least it may boost her energy so she’ll have some time for you, her daughter.”
Feeling a splitting headache coming on and not having enough energy left to resist, I said dejectedly, “All right. What else can I do?”
“Be nice to your mother.”
Just then the guard returned and opened the cell door, motioning us to leave.
Madison’s sobbing was the only sound I could hear as Lo and I walked away from her cell.
Inside the car, I asked, “Mr. Lo, do you have any proof that Mindy Madison is indeed my mother?”
“Absolutely, “ he said with such confidence that my heart sank to the bottom of the Black Dragon Pond.
31
My Mother, Both Dead and Alive
T
he next day I returned to Lo’s office where, as promised, Lo gave me my birth certificate. The space next to “mother” read: Cai Mindi. Mindi was almost the same as Mindy, and Cai was my mother’s family name, and she was Mayfong. But why had this woman changed from her Chinese name Cai Mindi to Mindy Madison?
Lo said, “Cai Mindi was briefly married to an Englishman—one of her admirers and overseas art contacts—so she could move out of the country when she’d learned that the government was starting to crack down on art smugglers. She’d hoped that her new, foreign name would prevent the government from finding out her true identity. But obviously it didn’t work.”
“What happened to her foreign husband?”
“Miss Madison only used him to change her name, and to help smuggle art to Europe. So after he went back to London, she divorced him.”
This weak, dying ghost woman certainly didn’t look as if she’d once had another incarnation as a cunning femme fatale. Then I suddenly realized why my mother had never shown me my birth certificate. All I’d ever seen was my Hong Kong Identity Card.
As a teenager, when I’d have big, hormonal fights with her, I’d scream, “I wish you were not my mother!” or even “I wish you were dead!” Now finally I was being punished by the bizarre karma of “Be careful what you wish for.”
I sighed. “Mr. Lo, what am I supposed to do now?”
“It was your mother’s wish to reunite with you and atone for what she did before she dies. Maybe she shouldn’t have lied to get you to come back, but she had no other way.”
“Did you just say she lied? Then is she really my mother or not?”
“Hmm . . .” He had the expression of an animal trapped between a cliff and a rifle-wielding hunter.
“Answer me, please!”
“Of course Mindy Madison, or Cai Mindi, is your mother. What I mean is, there’s no money left for you to collect.”
I felt blood rushing to my head. “I’ve been waiting for you to tell me when I’ll get paid. So now, what do you mean, there’s no money left to collect?”
“The statement is self-explanatory.”
My voice shot up to the ceiling as my heart dropped on the floor. “You mean that I won’t be paid! That I risked my life for nothing! But it was written in the legal document!”
“Legal document or not, there is no money.”
“You serious?”
He nodded. “Calm down, Miss Lin. The money did exist once, but it was all confiscated.”
I should have never trusted anyone in China, and maybe should have discussed this with Chris, who was much smarter in money matters than me.
“Then how did she have the fifty thousand to pay me?”
“The fifty thousand was nearly all she had left. The rest was used to pay for better treatment in prison—much can be arranged, if your wallet is as bloated as a glutton’s stomach. “
I scoffed. “Three million. Oh, God . . . and I did that for nothing?!”
“No, not for nothing. You got paid fifty thousand, you reunited with your mother, and maybe you can even save her life.”
I felt too dejected to say anything.
“Today you can ask her as many questions as you wish and stay as long as you want. My advice is, forget the money. The most urgent thing is to clear your mother’s name so she won’t be executed.”
“But how can I do that?”
“I’ve already asked experts to verify the Diamond Sutra and Gold Buddha you put back in the Turpan Museum. Once they’re proved authentic, the accusation of theft will be dropped.”
“But don’t they know that the fakes had been sitting in the museum for a long time?”
“They only care about having the real ones back and don’t want to lose face by telling the whole world that the treasures were stolen right from under their eyes. Did you bring the fakes you exchanged?”
I nodded, fishing them out from my backpack and handing them to Lo.
He studied the two objects for a few moments. “I’ll destroy these so there’s no evidence they ever existed.”
“Destroy? Please don’t! Can’t I keep them?” Fake or not, they were beautiful pieces, and I’d gone through a lot to get them—the mountain path with no stairs, the hanging-upside-down-lotus, my sane performance of insanity to trick Floating Cloud.
Lo laughed. “Don’t even think about it. Now give me the piece of clay you scraped from the terracotta soldier and the herbs.”
I handed them over. When he was staring at the clay, I asked, “What’s the use of this tiny bit of dirt?”
Lo cast me a chiding glance. “This is enough to prove the soldier is a fake and that Miss Madison didn’t, nor have any intention to, steal it in the first place. So, after the clay is proven fake and the two museum pieces genuine, the government will not detain her anymore, let alone execute her.”
Next, Lo, to my surprise, not only examined the snow lotuses but also rubbed them against his nose and sniffed them with great affection. “You have no idea how important this is for your mother. Snow Lotus is the number one Chinese herb to cure cancer and prolong life. If she can be released from prison and recover, it’ll be a happy ending.”
Happy ending? Definitely not for me, three million dollars poorer than I’d expected to be.
He gave me a stern look. “So my advice is, be loving to your mother. That’s the reason you were told to read the Filial Piety Classic at the Stele Forest at the start of your trip—to remind you to be filial.”
Oh . . . that’s the reason. But I
was
filial to my mother, the one who had raised me in Hong Kong. Now my head was spinning at these revelations, and I felt too confused to argue.
The next day, Lo arranged a car to take us to the prison. Again he led me into the hellish institution and went through all the procedures with me, but after that, he took his leave.
“You’re not coming with me?”
“No. Today it’s your private meeting with Miss Madison. I’ll be waiting in the car.” He handed me a thermos he’d been carrying. “This is the snow lotus decoction for your mother. Make sure she drinks it all.”
Today Mindy Madison still looked weak but seemingly in slightly better spirits. I realized how I must seem to her eyes—suspicious, cold, heartless, stubborn. But could I be blamed? I had to deal with a stranger who not only plummeted into my life as my newly revealed mother but also was a cancer victim, a criminal, a death row prisoner—and whose mess I was now supposed to clean up.
Madison’s haunting eyes, hollow in her paper-white face, stared at me like a famished child’s. My heart sank. I’d never seen anyone so pale. It was clear that her blood, her
qi
, and her soul itself were all draining fast as she was about to pass from this body and this life to the next.
I handed her the thermos. “Mr. Lo said for you to drink all of it.”
She took it, poured the liquid into a filthy plastic cup, and faithfully downed its contents in long, noisy sips.
After that, she reached to hold my hand, and this time I let her. That was the least I could do for a person approaching the end of this journey. So I was willing to let her absorb my life’s vibrancy and my body’s warmth as she was losing hers.
“I know it’s difficult for you to accept me as your mother,” she said in her smoke-thin voice.
I avoided her hungry-ghost gaze as I felt her hand icy cold like that of a skeleton in a medical lab. “But you are not my mother.”
“I understand your feelings. Maybe emotionally I’m not, but by flesh and blood I am.”
“If flesh and blood mean so much to you, then why did you abandon me?” I asked, withdrawing my hand.
“I didn’t abandon you. I chose someone I trusted and loved to care for you, but my sister, Cai Mayfong, violated that trust. I’m very, very sorry, my daughter.”
“Daughter? Since when did you carry out your motherly duty? And why this meeting? What more do you want to say except sorry and more sorry?”
“Please, Lily, I beg you, don’t act so antagonistic. I’m a dying woman who wants to right the greatest wrong she ever did. Time is slipping through my fingers as they numbly count my remaining days. I don’t have long. So, can you forgive me?”
It took some moments before I reluctantly nodded, just for the sake of getting this over with. “All right, then, why don’t you explain how and why you let your sister raise me.” Despite the deepened pain on her face, I could not stop myself from being mean.
She went on. “As you know, Mayfong was older than me. In 1964, she managed to get into Hong Kong, then saved up the money to pay a snakehead to bring me in a year later. When I arrived, I realized that she had a relationship with a much older man who paid for her living and actually lent her money to bring me in.
“The old man did not visit often, having to divide his time with his wife and children. But soon after my arrival, he announced his intention to take both Mayfong and me as wives number two and three. I was shocked by this ridiculous proposal, and even more so by my sister’s consent and her urging me to do the same.
“From that day on, our relationship cooled. Mayfong warned me that if I turned down the old man’s proposal, she’d lose favor with him and we’d be in financial trouble. I was so unhappy that I cried most of the nights. Though I’d never told my sister, I had hoped that Wang Jin, my lover in Beijing, would be able to join me in Hong Kong.
“Two months later, as I tried to focus on my new job of weaving wigs in a factory, Wang Jin came to Hong Kong. He had started a business smuggling art and wanted to make contacts to sell it in the British Colony. For a week, I told my boss I was sick so I could stay with Wang Jin in a motel. Because Mayfong disliked him, I lied to her that I had to work overtime and would stay overnight at the factory that week.
“That was the happiest time of my life. But my happiness was short-lived. A week after Wang Jin’s departure, I was waiting for my sister to come home for dinner when the old man arrived without prior notice. Seeing that I was alone in the apartment, he forced me to have sex with him.”
“I’m sorry. . . . What did your sister say about this?”
“I never told her.”
“No? Why not?”
“
Hai
, you’re so naïve, my daughter. You think I can just blast to her face that her sugar daddy raped me?”
“But that’s the truth!”
She sighed. “Sometimes it’s better not to learn the truth. Anyway, Mayfong might not have believed a single word I said and thought I was the one who’d seduced him. So I swallowed the pain like bitter melon and kept my mouth shut.”
Slowly I tried to let Madison’s words sink in. How much was truth and how much was made up? Human nature can be so ugly and human relationships so complicated. Can’t one just live a simple, happy life without all the calculations and machinations?
Her smokelike voice rose again in the smelly cell. “Anyway, two months later I found out that I was pregnant—”
“Then who’s the . . . ?”
“I had no idea then. It was not until I was six months pregnant and could no longer hide it under loose clothes that I told Mayfong about my secret meetings with Wang Jin. As the Chinese say, ‘No good fortune ever arrives doubly and no misfortune singly.’ Two weeks later I got the devastating news that Wang Jin was hospitalized for a liver infection.
“I wanted to go back to care for him and give birth to you. But Mayfong insisted that I stay to give birth in Hong Kong so she could tend to me. Then, before I could make up my mind, you came into this world three weeks early. This time Mayfong urged me to go back to take care of Wang Jin and leave you with her. So I went back to China, while not having the slightest idea that I’d never see you or Hong Kong again.”
“What happened?”
“I didn’t know that Mayfong had caught a venereal disease from the old man and was infertile. She persuaded me to go back to China so she could raise you as her own daughter.”
Was this stranger in front of me an authentic, shameless liar or my authentic, shameful mother? And what about my other mother, the one in Hong Kong, was she really that evil?
Madison’s voice rasped in the stale prison air, interrupting my musings.
“In China, I realized things were more complicated than I’d thought. Wang Jin begged me to stay to assist him in his art smuggling business. Since I couldn’t abandon him in the middle of his sickness, I promised.
“Years passed and we were making a lot of money. I would have gone back to Hong Kong, but my sister told me you had died from pneumonia. Though devastated, I didn’t know that this was just the beginning of my troubles. . . .”
I was shocked to hear of my Hong Kong mother’s cruel deception. But before I had a chance to ask any question, Madison rushed on. “One morning when Wang Jin was on his way to a meeting, he was run over by a car. The driver was never caught and none of the bystanders were willing to tell anything to the police. So it was ruled an accident. But I knew what had happened—he was murdered by one of his rivals.

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