All the Flowers in Shanghai (15 page)

During the day I would hide in my room and look out of the window, seeing the stillness and order of the courtyard, hearing the chaos and life of the street beyond.

In the mornings I could hear children running to school, chattering about which classes they liked and the teachers they hated. They would shout after the old street vendors to buy sugarcane sticks and dried fruit. I listened to the birds and the beating of servants’ feet on the road as they carried their master’s or mistress’s palanquin. Occasionally I heard a motorcar, a fight, or an accident: I saw none of this but imagined it all.

There was no more school for me. I had left one year before my last year anyway. School rules and classroom gossip had been exchanged for invented family traditions and Sang family politics. My days were now run according to Sang routine and tradition. I could not miss breakfast or dinner. Lunch I could have in my room. If Father-in-law required anything of us, we must naturally obey, then for me came the orders of First Wife, and finally my husband. If I were not required by any of them I could do as I pleased, though I could not leave the house unless I had first asked permission and even then must be chaperoned. Yan had told me that this would change in time but at the moment, as they did with all newcomers to the house, they were watching me to see if I showed the proper respect or would turn out to be a troublemaker.

First Wife had not outright demanded that I ask her permission but I had seen how it was for the wives of lesser members of the family. She held power by tradition, and that was a force as old as Chinese history. None of them wished to be cut off and cast out from the family and its wealth and protection. How would they have lived then?

So on my birthday I sat alone until about four o’clock in the afternoon when Yan appeared to help me get ready for my afternoon sleep. This time, however, she came in with a large box, which she set out before me. I opened it and inside was a beautiful fox stole. It was many times better than the one Sister had worn, which had been only the pelt of the body. This had the beautiful tail and majestic head, which had been specially preserved to make it look rich and elegant.

“Who sent me this?” I demanded excitedly, as this was very unexpected.

“Your husband’s servant brought it for me to give to you,” Yan replied.

I was surprised that he had remembered my birthday, unless this present was for something else. I quickly draped the fur over my shoulders. I wanted to look at myself in the mirror but was reluctant. I stood in front of the full-length mirror in the walk-in wardrobe. I saw myself in the stole, looking tired and pale. The dead ebony eyes of the fox glinted back at me.

“Is he coming to see me?” I asked.

“No, I am sorry, he is at work and his servant told me that he is going out to dinner after that. Perhaps you will see him tomorrow.”

F
or the first few weeks of our marriage Xiong Fa would leave after breakfast with Father-in-law, to work at the Sang family offices. Sometimes he would return for lunch and if he did, I might then be invited to eat with him in his apartment. It was a place I had visited only during the day. If he wanted me to see him, I would receive a note from his servant, Ah Cheuk, an old man who some said had once served the original father of the Sang family. He said nothing and would always look away from you. I had heard the children whispering that his tongue had been cut out when he was forty years old, for gossiping about Father-in-law’s mother. He should have been cast out from the house by rights, but the family apparently believed he should learn his lesson another way. By losing his tongue he would be an example to all the other servants of the dangers of talking about the family without permission. I think it was only a tale the children told each other to scare themselves, but I cannot be sure.

After five weeks, the old servant arrived at my room. I was to follow him back to Xiong Fa’s apartment and meet him there for lunch. This meant walking from the back of the house, where my room was, along the grand paneled corridors to the more magnificent front part of the house where Xiong Fa and his parents lived.

As we walked down one of the many corridors of the house, I saw Yan standing outside in the interior courtyard where the laundry was hung out to dry. She was holding my bedsheets outstretched in front of First Wife. My mother-in-law peered closely at them and after a few seconds started shouting that Xiong Fa had not yet done his family duty. She called for her son’s old servant twice, and then repeatedly for Xiong Fa himself. The servant heard and rushed off, leaving me standing on my own watching First Wife screaming and cursing everyone, including Yan.

When Xiong Fa arrived First Wife was holding up the sheet. She immediately shrieked at him, bundled the sheet toward Yan, and pointed a fat finger at her son.

“Do you want this family to have an heir? Or have you decided to be the last Sang man? You are not allowed to make any decisions until you are head of the family.”

Xiong Fa looked angry but said nothing in reply.

“It is your duty to have an heir! Once you have done this then you can do whatever you want. You can find some woman you like or see no women at all. I don’t care. Your first duty is to have an heir and carry on this family’s name. You are already as old as your father was when you were born. You do not have time to waste on being a fool.”

She paused here and walked closer to him. She took the sheet from Yan and clenching it in her right fist, she stuck it under his nose.

“I can see from this you are not trying to make an heir. It will never happen if you do not behave properly . . . like a man. Such neglect is disrespectful to your father and to me.”

“Ma, it is not right yet. It is too soon . . .”

First Wife slapped him across the face and screamed, “It is the right time! We all say it is right. It is already over a month since you were married. The fortune-teller told us it must happen now. If you do not want to be head of this family then I will ask one of your younger brothers. They will do what they are told.”

Xiong Fa said nothing in reply.

She calmed down slightly and finished by saying quietly to him, “There are many traditions and customs that have made this family great. It is your responsibility to follow these and ensure the family’s reputation is maintained. You must do this. I do not wish to mention your behavior to your father.”

He looked hard at his mother, still saying nothing. She thrust the sheet back to Yan and left him standing there. My husband looked very angry. When he had calmed down, he started to speak quietly to Yan. They stood together for several minutes, Yan nodding slowly in response.

This was the first time I had seen First Wife exert her power. She had been unkind and occasionally cruel to me and I was very nervous around her, but I had not so far been afraid. Now I had seen how hard and malicious she could be, and how easily Xiong Fa could be controlled by her. I realized why her face was always contorted and sour-looking; why I never saw any peace or calmness in it. It was as though her only aim in life was to confront or control every situation. If something was beyond her direct influence, then she would seek to cause as much damage or harm as she was able. Grandfather would have said that her smile was too wide to be genuine and her eyes too motionless and uninterested in others to be caring; she did not want to adjust to anything she encountered, merely to control or destroy. She was like a stale flower that has sat in a vase too long, retaining its petals and straight stem long after nature would have let a wildflower wilt and die, giving way to fresher blooms.

I stood in the dim half-light of the corridor and watched Xiong Fa talking to Yan. Then he left the courtyard, his usual light gait drained of all energy. I waited. Yan knew I was watching. She gave me the rueful half-smile I knew well, the one that always told me my life would soon become more painful and difficult.

The old servant reappeared and gave me a note from Xiong Fa, which said he was sorry that he could not have lunch with me today after all as he had to return to work urgently. I did have lunch with him the next day, but he did not mention the argument with First Wife and we ate together in silence.

A
week later, I went to lunch again in my husband’s apartment. We always sat and ate at a small dark marble table at the end of the room opposite from the entrance door, which I believe was set up just for our lunches. We had eaten two dishes in silence but just as Xiong Fa had started the third dish, cold shredded chicken in sesame paste, he put down his chopsticks.

“I think you have spent enough time in the house since we were married,” he announced with a smile. “The tea dances at the Cathay Hotel are enjoyable and I would like you to meet my friends and their wives there. It will only be for a couple of hours. Would you like that?”

I did not know what to say, because although Sister had described these dances to me a little, and had always said how delightful and elegant they were, I did not know if I would like them. I had heard her talk about the hotel with its famous European-designed entrance hall and Western-style music. She had said that the ballroom was bright and lively, and that men and women would dance and chat together there, wearing beautiful foreign clothes. I decided I would be more than happy just to go and watch.

“I don’t know . . . If you want me to come, I would like to,” I told him.

I returned to my food. He watched me eat and laughed. I smiled and put down my chopsticks, folding my hands together in my lap. Xiong Fa was still watching me when I looked up, and gave me a friendly smile. I had rarely had the chance to look at him properly since the wedding. Normally, we would be closely surrounded by members of the family or else it was in my room, when it was dark and my mind suffocated or simply blank, my body in pain. This time his eyes met mine and he looked me in the face, free from the shadows cast by candlelight. He seemed rather tired and worn, his skin pale and waxy, but his hair was neatly parted and his office clothes were clean and tidy.

“Thank you. And thank you for my present,” I said softly.

“Well, it was your birthday and I wanted to give you one. Did you like it?”

“Yes, I was very surprised. How did you know it was my birthday?”

“Ah, well, a man should know his own wife’s birthday.” He laughed. “Actually I make sure all the documentation for all the people in this house, from my parents to the maids, is kept in order, so I looked at yours. It told me when your birthday was. Perhaps you can wear the stole this afternoon,” he said with a gentle smile from lips that were different at night. He walked around the table and kissed me on the forehead.

“I will see you later this afternoon then.”

I nodded and he left the room. I ate a bit more in silence. A few minutes passed, and as the old servant did not appear to lead me back to my room, I decided I would look around. I don’t know whether Xiong Fa had intended that I should but I took the chance. The room in which we had eaten was a sitting room. Three closed doors led off the room, one back to the corridor and the others to the bedroom and bathroom. I didn’t dare open these and just contented myself with wandering around this room.

The furniture was traditional but on the shelves were some textbooks and a small toy steam engine, which had been dented and battered many years ago and which someone had tried to repair. On the walls opposite the windows hung portraits of his parents. First Wife looked beautiful in the picture; it was difficult to understand how she could have changed so much. She looked so young in her wedding dress. It seemed strange to think of her as ever being a child, an innocent. Ah Cheuk suddenly entered and indicated he would lead me back to my room.

I usually had a short sleep in the afternoon but today Yan came in to apply my makeup and ensure I was dressed properly. I wore a very traditional cheongsam, which swept to the floor and had long sleeves that draped over my arms and hands. It was shapeless compared to the new designs that Sister had worn, with their short sleeves, closer fit, and shorter length. But the old-style dress had very pretty embroidery and was in a rich deep red, all of which was in accordance with how Father-in-law felt young women should dress.

My hair was put up and set under a traditional headdress and I felt like a concubine waiting to be rescued by a hero. I did not look like Sister used to, glamorous and sophisticated, but like an imperial doll drawn on a scroll by an artist many years ago. However, when I added my fur stole I was surprised how elegant I looked. For a moment I forgot everything that had happened and studied myself in the mirror for several minutes, feeling happier than I had since that first day.

Yan led me to a large black car parked in front of the house. It was one of those the family had used to come to our house to meet Sister. The interior was dark, as the windows and glass panel between the passengers and driver were covered by thick curtains, and the dark brown leather seating absorbed what little light crept around the edges of these. Yan had told me that even though this was a car, the family treated it like a traditional palanquin. I should never open the curtains to look out, as the family considered it improper for a Sang woman to be seen in public in this manner.

In the six weeks since I had been married I had only left the house twice. On both occasions I had been to the house of another relative and was simply led to where we were to eat. The men stayed behind to talk and drink afterward and the women departed to another room, but First Wife had required me to go straight home.

As it was daytime, it was difficult to restrain myself from looking behind the curtains. I very much wanted to see all the activity on the streets; all the places and things I would have liked to visit and do. I obeyed, but could barely restrain myself from looking, because for weeks I had heard this commotion and energy from my bedroom window but seen nothing of it. This time it was just the same but I could at least pull down the window a little and content myself with new sounds and smells.