Читать книгу Peach Blossom Pavilion - Mingmei Yip - Страница 13

Pearl and I shoved through the hovering crowd and gaped.

What stared back at me was a pair of sad, flickering eyes. They were the same eyes that, from underneath the bamboo grove, had followed my every move.

Pearl sighed, yet her voice didn’t sound very upset. ‘I knew sooner or later something like this would happen to Spring Moon.’

I craned my neck to take a better look and saw the sad-eyed girl squirming and moaning on the ground. Blood oozed from her arm, staining the green sleeve of her dress.

I blurted out, ‘Oh, heaven, we should call the police!’

A coarse voice roared. ‘Who said call the police?!’

I felt my sleeve tugged. Pearl shot me a razor-sharp look to shut me up.

The evening suddenly turned icy.

Coarse Voice laughed an air-shredding laugh. ‘Ha! Ha! Ha! Doesn’t everyone here know that I am the police chief?’

I followed the voice until my gaze fell on the most evil face I’d ever seen. It belonged to a dark, solid man with a prominent jaw protruding from a wide, uncouth face. His eyes were mere slits, with the pupils darting like mice trapped in a narrow trough. His square body, stuffed into a stiff uniform the colour of chicken shit, gave the impression of a corpse.

Then, more to my surprise, nobody – none of the sisters, servants, Fang Rong, Wu Qiang, nor the guests – offered to help the poor girl. Everyone just stood there, their feet rooted to the ground and their eyes trapezing between Spring Moon and the police chief.

While his eyes scanned the onlookers like machine guns firing muted shots, everyone lowered their heads to stare at their shoes. The chief spat at Spring Moon, his saliva spraying in all directions and flickering in the lanterns’ light. ‘Fuck your mother, stinky slut. Has no one taught you never to say no to a police chief? Eh? You stinky stuff!’

Fang Rong shoved away the others and went up to Spring Moon, but to my utter shock and surprise, instead of offering help or comfort, she also spat on her – more vehemently than the angry corpse. ‘You cheap, stupid, short-lived bitch! Don’t I always tell you never say no to our noble guests!?’ Then she turned to the police chief, her lips curling into a grin so huge I feared her teeth might be all squeezed out. ‘I’m so sorry, Chief Che, but I swear to you on the honour of Buddha and Guan Yin and the righteous White-Browed God and all my ancestors that this will never happen again.’

The chief shot Fang Rong a murderous look, while swinging his gun. ‘Is that how you teach your daughters? To play ladies when they’re whores?’

A deafening silence. Fang Rong and Wu Qiang plopped down, engaging themselves in a succession of frantic kowtows.

Mama’s voice spilled fear. ‘Sorry, Chief Che, it’s all our fault. Tonight I promise we’ll whip this slut to death to teach her a good lesson.’

Mama kept apologising, while the police chief kept fuming. He cursed incessantly, his body shivering and his high-booted feet fidgeting. When the cold breeze blew in my direction, a strong stench of alcohol wafted into my nostrils. Everyone remained deadly quiet, intently watching what was going to happen next. It astonished me that, amid this crisis, some sisters looked entertained, as if they were watching a Peking opera comedy.

The chief’s venomous words rolled out across the chill night air. ‘Promise me you’ll whip this slut till her skin blossoms and her flesh rots! And I mean it, you get it?!’

Now Mama and De yapped simultaneously, ‘You have our word, Chief!’

The dark face snorted. His voice slashed the night air like a sword. ‘Huh! If not,’ he swung his gun toward the two kneeling figures, ‘beware of your brains!’

The pitiful duo paraded more kowtows.

Then suddenly, hands shaking, the police chief turned to aim the gun at Spring Moon’s head. A collective gasp resonated in the air. Spring Moon closed her eyes. The pool of blood slowly crept along the ground as if it had a miserable life of its own.

Eager faces, shining with curiosity, excitement, and fear, waited for the ‘bang!’ to climax the evening. I felt my heart almost jump out of my chest.

Just then, to everyone’s surprise, Pearl pushed through the group, stepped forward, and wriggled up to the police chief. The evil-faced stinking male turned to stare at her, now not quite sure whether to shoot or not.

Pearl wet her lips and put on her best smile. ‘Aii-ya, Chief Che,’ her voice sounded as if it had been soaked for hours in a honey jar, ‘why fret over a little girl? Didn’t you just say that she’s but a stinky stuff, a worthless slut, a whore?’

The chief kicked Spring Moon’s shoulder; his boots glinted menacingly under the pale moonlight. ‘Yeh! Stinky stuff! Soon-drop-dead bitch!’

Spring Moon moaned; Pearl quickly added, ‘So don’t you think it’s not worth your bullet, Chief? Besides, why fret over a piece of dirt, just needlessly stirring your qi and harming your health? It’s not worth it at all.’ Now seeing that the police chief had calmed down a bit, she ventured to put her hand on his shoulder. ‘Chief Che, you came here to get entertainment, not to get angry, right? We need you to be happy so you can take good care of our society by protecting us against all wrongs.’ She turned to wink at the onlookers. ‘Right?!’

Everybody nodded and uttered a loud ‘Yes!’

Slowly, Pearl moved her hand to cover the gun, then began to caress the chief’s arm while slowly guiding the weapon back to its holster – like a snake returning to its hole. After that, she slipped her arm around the chief’s. ‘Come on, Chief Che, let’s forget this piece of scum and have some fun. I’ll treat you to a glass of champagne, or,’ she winked, ‘anything that takes your fancy.’ Now she ventured to touch the chief’s cheek, her red-painted nails sparkling eerily under the yellowish lantern light. ‘I promise you the wine is imported from France and you’ll love it just as you love justice.’ Her gaze swept around the audience before she turned back to the chief, wetting her lips. ‘And I’ll never say “no” to a big-shot customer like you. Not that I’m stupid or smart, it’s simply because I can’t afford to turn down righteousness!’

‘Well said!’ The group clapped.

Finally, with a stunning smile, Pearl wriggled her water-snake waist and led the staggering police chief away.

Waiting until they were out of sight, people let out a collective sigh of relief. Then some stooped to examine Spring Moon. Blood continued to ooze from her arm where the bullet had grazed her. Some simply stared blankly, as if disappointed that the incident had turned out to be an anticlimax with no killing. Fang Rong ordered two of the guards to take the poor girl back to the pavilion.

I sneaked up to her and asked, ‘Mama, shouldn’t we get her to the hospital?’

She shot me a dirty look. ‘Hospital? Ah, what big talk! But who’s going to pay? You? All right, if you pay, then we’ll send her to a hospital—’

‘But Mama, I don’t have any money!’

‘Neither do I!’

Wu Qiang chimed in, ‘Don’t worry, Xiang Xiang. We’ll ask our herbalist to treat her; it’s much cheaper.’

‘What about –?’

Mama snorted. ‘If she dies, she dies, that’s her fate, nobody can change that, not you, not me, not Guan Yin, not Buddha, not a Western doctor nor an expensive hospital.’ She waved vehemently to the guards. ‘Take her back, now!’ Then she spat on Spring Moon. ‘Stinky stuff! Bringer of bad luck!’

After Spring Moon had been carried away, Fang Rong put on a big smile, announcing to the sisters and the guests while frantically waving her hands, ‘Nothing happened; everything’s all right! Now go back to the party and enjoy yourselves!’

Immediately the group dispersed – some customers went to drink; others watched Mr. Wu demonstrate calligraphy; yet others listened to the sisters sing and swing their curvy bodies to the rhythm of the music …

It both surprised and disgusted me that people were indeed having a good time as if nothing had happened.

Since no one was paying any attention to me, I went to sit on a bench to calm myself. Spring Moon’s image kept spinning in my mind – her sad eyes, her pained face. Who was she? How did she end up in Peach Blossom? Was her family so poor that they had to sell her into the prostitution house? But she didn’t look poor – she had a smooth face and nice skin. Was her father also a criminal like mine? Had she been kidnapped by a bandit?

I sat in a daze I didn’t know how long until I flinched from a slap on my shoulder. I turned and saw Fang Rong’s menacing face hovering above mine. And an old man’s wrinkled one next to hers.

‘Xiang Xiang, what’s the matter with you? Don’t you know that you’re here to work, not to relax?’

I sprang up in no time.

Mama turned to Old Wrinkles. ‘Look, Big Master Fung, this is our famous Xiang Xiang, face beautiful enough to outshine the moon and shame the flowers. Don’t you think?’

Old Wrinkles scrutinised me the same way my mother had examined a choice piece of pork in the market for our yuanxiao dinner. ‘Wonderful, wonderful! The fame has not been spread for nothing,’ he mumbled, while stroking his stubble with his bony, long-nailed fingers.

Mama nipped my chin and ordered, ‘Xiang Xiang, give Big Master Fung a big smile.’

‘Big Master Fung, see the dimples?’ She shot Old Wrinkles a flirtatious look, causing goose bumps to creep on my skin. ‘Aren’t they so charming that they’ll suck you in and make you forget all your troubles?’

Old Wrinkles nodded appreciatively, while his eyes caressed me all over. ‘Yes indeed, indeed.’

Mama went on excitedly, ‘Big Master Fung, there’s one more precious thing about Xiang Xiang.’

‘Eh? What is it?’

Mama lowered her voice to create suspense. ‘Xiang Xiang has a natural body fragrance as if her diet were nothing but flowers.’

Now, like a bulldog, Old Wrinkles leaned close to me and sniffed. ‘Yes, she does smell wonderful. But I think it’s just perfume.’

Mama chuckled. ‘Oh, of course not, Big Master Fung. You have my word, or your money back.’ She winked. ‘Xiang Xiang hasn’t yet received any customers, so who’d buy her perfume?’

‘All right, no need to explain,’ Old Wrinkles said, then he whispered something into Mama’s ear to which she frantically nodded.

I could only catch tidbits of the conversation – ‘fresh dewy peach,’ ‘mighty emperor stretches the bow,’ ‘golden-gun-never-drop pills’ – but their manner made my skin creep and my cheeks burn. After more prurient glances directed from my head to toe and then back from toe to head, the two burst into guffaws.

When Old Wrinkles finally left, so did Mama’s laughter. Now she turned to cast me a murderous look. ‘Xiang Xiang, what’s the matter with you? Don’t stand there like a fool; come and help!’

The party went on long past midnight. After most of the guests had gone, Pearl materialised out of nowhere and joined me to go back to Peach Blossom Pavilion. When we were inside the rickshaw, I noticed that her eyes were blurry, her face flushed, and her mouth reeked of alcohol.

‘Sister Pearl, are you all right?’

‘Oh yes. Don’t you worry about me, I’m fine. I just wonder how’s Spring Moon now. Hai, poor girl, I hope she can pull through.’

I asked tentatively, ‘Where’s the police chief?’

‘He was tipsy. Otherwise Spring Moon would have been shot in the head already and started her journey to the Western Paradise. Then I got him completely drunk, so his gang took him back. Hopefully by tomorrow morning he won’t remember a thing. Otherwise he may still cause trouble.’

‘Is he very important?’

Pearl chuckled. ‘Did you see how he swung his gun? He’s a local despot! Have you ever heard the saying “When a scholar argues with a soldier, even if he has reasons, he has no way to make them clear”?’

She plunged on, ‘Because the soldier is armed with a gun! So he doesn’t give a damn about the scholar’s reasoning, he’ll just shoot him!’ She looked me straight in the eyes. ‘And remember, Xiang Xiang, we’re not even scholars, but whores.’

That night, I could not sleep at all because my mind kept spinning with the image of Spring Moon.

The next day, as soon as it became light, I went to knock at Pearl’s door and heard her tell me to come in.

Wearing a high-collared gown embroidered with gold-threaded peonies, she was standing beside the large blue-and-white bowl, feeding her goldfish.

I walked up to her. ‘Sister Pearl, have you heard anything about Spring Moon?’

‘She’s in the dark room.’ Not looking at me, Pearl continued to throw morsels of bread into the bowl.

We silently watched the fish swim and wag their tails for a while before she motioned me to sit on the sofa.

It seemed strange to be resting my bottom on the soft velvet cushion while Spring Moon was down there. Creepy sensations crawled all over my body. ‘But she’s wounded, why did they put her there?’

‘Because she offended the police chief. Nobody can afford to do that. If you do, you’re asking for a bullet in your head. She’s lucky that she’s now only lying in the dark room, not in a grave.’

‘You think she’ll die?’

‘You think Mama, after she’s made her investment, will let her daughters die so easily? Of course not, because any living daughter is better than a dead one. Once dead, all her investment will be thrown into the chamber pot. But a living daughter … even if she’s disfigured, Mama can still sell her to a cheap whorehouse and get some money back, even if just a few coins.’ She paused, then, ‘Anyway, her wound was not serious.’ She sighed, ‘The dark room is to teach any disobedient girl a lesson.’

Some silence passed before Pearl spoke again. ‘Let’s not talk about unpleasant things.’ She stood up, went to the luohan bed, and from underneath it took out an elongated object in a brocade cover. She removed the case and carefully put the object onto the table.

I studied it for long moments before I asked, ‘What is this?’

‘It’s a qin – seven-stringed zither,’ she said softly, running her fingers along its length.

The wooden surface, lacquered and decorated with dots of mother-of-pearl, shone with a lovely lustre.

‘So are we going to play this today?’

Pearl chuckled. ‘Ah, silly girl, you think you can just learn how to play this instrument in a day? It takes years and years of hard work.’

She went on, her voice filled with emotion, ‘I want to play you a piece. It’s called “Remembering an Old Friend.”’

I asked tentatively, ‘Is it … Spring Moon?’

‘No, but my elder sister. Spring Moon is naïve like her.’

‘Where is your sister now?’

Pearl didn’t answer my question. The sadness on her face suppressed my urge to further enquire. So I changed the subject. ‘Sister Pearl, do you know how Spring Moon ended up here in Peach Blossom?’

Pearl smoothed the brocade cover and sighed, ‘Her father was a well-off ship merchant. One time when he was shipping some precious goods from Shanghai to Hong Kong, a storm struck and destroyed everything – the goods, the ship, the sailors, and himself. So her family lost everything overnight, literally. Not only that, since they hadn’t bought insurance, they had to pay for all the losses, including the goods to be delivered to Hong Kong and the compensation to the sailors’ widows. After the father’s costly funeral, there was nothing left. So her father’s concubines sold her here to pay their debts.

‘Spring Moon was thrown overnight from atop the clouds to the ground. She was used to having maids serve her, and now she is bossed around. I was told she had a really nice and handsome fiancé. So of course it revolted her to be molested by that disgusting police chief. Poor girl, that was her first day out, and she’s already caused this big trouble.’

Pearl put away the qin, then took the pot and poured us both tea. We sipped in silence.

Then I asked, ‘I don’t understand why Spring Moon kept staring at me from behind the bamboo grove.’

Pearl looked me in the eyes. ‘She’s envious of your beauty, especially those dimples of yours.’

‘She told you that?’

‘No. But I can tell. I always catch her squeezing in her cheeks to have the illusion of dimples.’ Pearl sighed. ‘Hai, poor girl. She still doesn’t have to sleep with customers. When she does, there’ll be more …’

‘More what?’

‘Nothing.’

Moments passed. Pearl once again slid the qin out from its brocade cover and started to tune it. The seven strings, lightly touched, emitted soft, subtle sounds as if they were whispering the secrets of heaven. When Pearl had finished tuning, she meditated for seconds, then began to play. The melodies seemed to tell a very sad tale. Mesmerised, I imagined waves of melancholy sloshing gently through the room, caressing our wounded hearts.

I also noticed something unexpected – the transformation of Pearl’s face. During her pipa playing when she vigorously plucked the strings, she always looked animated and flirtatious. Her long hair would fall over her face and tremble like dark waves and her eyes would give out sparks like twinkling stars. But as she played the qin, her countenance composed itself into that of a scholar’s – serious, serene, respectful. The fingers that pulled and plucked aggressively on the pipa now effortlessly glided and pirouetted, like dragonflies skipping over a brook, swallows touching water, or petals falling on waves.

My mind was lifted away by Pearl’s elegant playing to a quiet, far-off place where I could almost see Baba sitting under a shaded bamboo grove, playing a sad tune from his fiddle and smiling wryly at me.

After she finished, we sighed simultaneously. I felt sorry that such wonderful music had to end.

‘Sister Pearl.’ I searched her eyes. ‘The qin sounds so beautiful—’

She stared at me curiously. ‘You find this music beautiful?’

Eagerly I nodded.

‘You’re very gifted, Xiang Xiang. Not many young girls have the insight to appreciate qin melodies—’

‘Can you teach me how to play the qin?’

Her face darkened. ‘No.’

‘But … why not?’ I felt both surprised and hurt by her refusal.

‘Because I think you should concentrate on the pipa.’ Before I could protest, she went on, ‘Xiang Xiang, the qin won’t make you famous and popular, but the pipa will.’

‘Why? And how?’

‘Because the pipa’s tone is short and its music tuneful. You can attract the customers’ attention right away. But it’ll take years of cultivation just to appreciate the qin, let alone to play it, and play it well. As women, we have only very limited years of youth and beauty. So by the time you’ve mastered the instrument, you’ve already lost both. Worse still, hardly any customers will be cultured enough to appreciate the qin – or your talent.’

‘Sister Pearl,’ I searched her smooth, beautiful face, ‘but you’ve neither lost your youth nor beauty …’

‘Because I’m exceptional.’

I wanted to say that I, too, was exceptional.

But she’d already taken a handkerchief and begun to wipe the instrument, as tenderly as if it were her lover. After that, she said ‘Now I’ll play “Lament Behind the Long Gate.”’

‘What is it about?’

‘The misery of an ill-fated woman.’