Peach Blossom Pavilion (62 page)

The next day, the event was reported by a columnist in the most popular newspaper Sheba:

... An opening celebration of the New Model School was held at the Grand Fragrance Restaurant, where it was attended by many sisters together with merchants, government officials, scholars, artists-all prostitute rehabilitation enthusiasts.

At five o'clock in the afternoon, black sedans began to pull up to the entrance of the restaurant, disgorging elegantly dressed ex-ming ji. Pedestrians gathered around to watch these beautiful women as if they were fairy maidens descending on earth.

Western food and drinks were served-ham, Russian soup, roast beef, Ceylon tea with milk, sherry, champagne, whiskey. After plates were put away and the tables cleared, Miss Red Fragrance, a former sister from Jade Gate Pavilion and the newly elected principal of New Model School, stood up to deliver a speech stressing the importance of education for women, their independence, and their role in contributing to the world. Then she went on, announcing the school's goals: To rebuild the sisters' character. To educate and rehabilitate sisters so that they can hold decent jobs. To help sisters to attain financial independence or to get married. "The new school would be like a beam of light in hell," she said, concluding her speech.

She announced the names of the staff. One teacher, by the name of Precious Orchid, was a ming ji well versed in the Classics and all the arts, especially the ancient sevenstringed qin.

After an evening of endless discussions, picture taking, eating, and drinking, the meeting finally ended with all the sisters singing: "Sisters, let's all stand together!"

Other major newspapers and magazines also reported the opening of our new school. To my surprise, all of them had a few lines about me-that I was the most prestigious sister from Shanghai and an expert in all the arts-especially the qin. I had no idea whether I received this attention because reporters had found out about my relationship with the Venerable Mother Abbess of Pure Lotus Temple or simply because my fame had spread from Shanghai. Anyway, I greatly enjoyed being the object of attention once again.

A month later, we had thirty-seven students-an encouraging number. Mother predicted we'd have more than three hundred in a year. I knew Pure Lotus worked very hard not only to get donations, but also to attract students-whenever a nun saw a sister come into the temple, she'd tell her about the school and try to persuade her to attend.

When I saw my new pupils on the first day of class, I was surprised-though I shouldn't have been. They all dressed in lavish gowns, wore heavy makeup, and threw flirtatious glances. Didn't they realize that they were here to be rehabilitated, to learn, not to flirt?

Despite this unpromising beginning, I worked very hard in preparing lessons, usually staying after class to give extra help and scrupulously attending all the meetings for discussion of school policies. But I quickly realized that teaching these girls to understand the classics was a fond hope. They could write their names and knew a few other characters, but it seemed beyond possibility to teach them even to write a simple letter. These flower girls of the new generation simply had no interest in being educated.

But instead of giving up, I decided to teach something specialthe qin. Just as Pearl had passed its music on to me, I wanted a student to continue this precious lineage. I picked a girl named Baobao because she dressed the best and seemed to have an artistic air. She showed great interest at the first few lessons but then it waned as quickly as snow melts on a mountaintop. Soon, she stopped practicing. Her explanation was that she had become so popular she barely had enough time for all her customers, let alone the qin. Then one day I waited for half an hour before she showed up for her lesson-her hair unkempt and her clothes wrinkled.

"Baobao, please wash your hands before you play," I said, not hiding my annoyance.

Reluctantly she went to the washroom. When she came back, she plopped gracelessly down on the chair and started to play without tuning the qin. Before I had a chance to scold her again, she suddenly stopped in the middle of her playing and, to my utmost shock, took out a cigarette and lit it.

"Baobao, show some respect to this sacred instrument!"

"Sorry, Miss Precious Orchid." She squeezed a flirtatious smile and drew on her cigarette; ashes fluttered onto my silk-stringed pure land.

That was when I decided not to teach the qin anymore.

When I'd started to teach at the school, I'd imagined I could do for the students what Pearl had done for me. I wanted to transform common girls into elegant, artistic women. But now I had to painfully admit that it was hopeless-they had no interest in being taught the arts. Pearl had predicted, when Red Jade had won the contest, that ours would be the last generation of ming j: Now I realized with sadness that she had been right. The era of the elegant courtesan was receding into history.

These new flower girls were different. All they knew how to do was lie down and spread their legs!

37

An Unexpected Visitor

'he growing heat of summer reminded me that I'd been living at the nunnery and teaching at New Model School for almost two years. For a while I pretended that, as a teacher, I could fulfill Baba's idea of being a Number One Scholar. But I had no patience for my slow students and I had no chance of being hired at a respectable girls' school. And even if I were, teaching gave me little enjoyment.

One day, as I was tidying up the table in my office, the school maid came to tell me that someone had asked for me and was waiting in the lobby. Few visitors ever called on me, and I suddenly wondered if Ouyang, or worse, Fung, had after all decided to come for me. But when I asked the maid what he looked like, she said he was a laofan. I assumed the visitor was a foreign reporter who wanted to write about our school for the English newspaper North China Herald. Or perhaps a Westerner secretly curious about Chinese courtesans but afraid to actually visit a turquoise pavilion.

As I was approaching the lounge, I saw a middle-aged, palehaired man pacing up and down, the soles of his leather shoes tapping impatiently on the floor. Once he saw me, a warm smile broke out on his face and his blue eyes seemed to glow. I was astonished to see someone I didn't expect ever to see again-Mr. Anderson.

It had been a long time, probably nine years, since he'd mysteri ously stopped coming to Peach Blossom. He'd been so kind to me and then never came back. But I'd done no better to Qing Zhen. Though, of course, Anderson had never made love to me-I always wondered why. To my delight, though he had aged quite a bit, he nevertheless looked well. His body seemed to be stouter but his face radiated a healthy glow. His fatigued look had been replaced by a confident one. But the warmth of his eyes, which I so clearly remembered, had not changed.

There was an awkward silence before I said, "Mr. Anderson, what an unexpected pleasure!"

He came forward to grasp my hand. "Miss Precious Orchid," he said excitedly, "how nice to see you again."

When he finally let go of my hand, we remained silent, scrutinizing each other. As I'd noticed that he had changed, he must also have noticed how I had-my plain indigo cotton dress; my straight hair pulled into a tight bun; my un-made-up face; my proper teacherlike manner. Suddenly I feared he might not find me appealing in my new incarnation as a schoolmistress living in a nunnery. I reached to smooth my unpomaded hair.

"Mr. Anderson." I searched his face. "How did you know that I'm here?"

He smiled demurely. "Miss Precious Orchid, you've become ... famous all over again. I saw your name in the newspaper; that's how I found you. "

"But how did you know it was me? Since you only knew me as Xiang Xiang but not Precious Orchid."

"Because not many sisters would come from Shanghai and play the qin," he said, casting me appreciative glances. "Of course I was not one hundred percent sure, so I had to know if it was you."

I decided to throw him a soul-sucking glance, just for old times' sake. "So Mr. Anderson, what kind of wind has blown you here?"

"I've been closing a business deal in Peking." He stopped to search my face. "Xiang Xiang, how ... are you?"

"I'm fine," I said, feeling so touched at hearing my real name uttered that I had to blink back tears.

He cast me a tender look. "Do you enjoy teaching here?"

"Hmmm . . . I would say that it's interesting." He stared at me but said nothing, so I asked, "Mr. Anderson, it's been such a long time since I last saw you. Has life been nice to you?"

He smiled. "Indeed it has. My business has been more successful than I expected."

"So you must be a very happy man now."

"In a way, yes. But, of course, I don't have everything I want."

I felt I should not ask more, so I just smiled. Then we continued to talk about odds and ends of years passed. Though overall more confident in his manner, Anderson still seemed a little stiff with me. Happy as I was to have him visit me, I could not quite figure out why he had. And soon the visit was over.

"Xiang Xiang, it's wonderful to see you again." He looked at me for a long moment, then politely kissed my hand before taking leave.

That night I slept restlessly. Anderson's image kept spinning in my mind. He was much older than me and though I could not call him handsome, he certainly was not ugly. I hadn't thought about him much over the years, yet now I found myself hoping he'd want to see me again. But his goodbye was as reserved as ever and his sudden departure left me anxious. Would he visit again or, like nine years ago, disappear as mysteriously as he had come?

My suspense didn't last long. The next morning, a maid sent by Anderson came to deliver a note-he would come to visit me after class.

At five-thirty in the afternoon, my American friend arrived and, to my surprise, invited me out to an expensive hotel restaurant in the commercial district. It had been a long time since I had had a chance to go to an elegant place like this. Memories of my glorious days back in Peach Blossom and with Ouyang flooded back. I only wished Anderson had told me earlier so I could have put on makeup and changed to a silk dress.