Diamond Head (5 page)

I looked up at him, holding the last bit of soup in my mouth. I felt it coming back up with the thought of remembering, of trying to explain what had happened to Shen. My eyes remained on Mr. Leong’s face, following the lines I knew so well. They were almost
identical; the even cheeks, the heavy brow, the thin mouth. I imagined him as Shen; my beloved Shen. He had said my name and I almost believed it.

“Okay,” I said. I swallowed my soup and wiped my mouth. “Okay.” I pressed my fingers to my forehead, letting them rub into my skin for a moment. I imagined we were in heaven, Shen and I. He wore a shirt made of silk as we sat in our beautiful home, at our long, dark table, as I reminded him of the details of our love. I thought of him and I knew where to begin. I took a deep breath and brought my fingers down from my temples.

“Shen was my fated match,” I began with a force that surprised me. I was ready to speak, to be heard after weeks of silence. “I am certain of this. He is the final resting place of my red string. I feel it with every nerve in my body, every beat of my heart; I will never find another man.” I pushed my bowl to the side, the bones left on the bottom, determined to tell our story. “We were introduced two years ago, in the springtime, at a secret society meeting for the Fists of Righteous Harmony. My father was a leader.”

Mr. Leong leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. I knew right away that he disapproved of the cause.

“We weren’t troublemakers,” I insisted. “My father was a farmer—a good man. My mother died in childbirth while delivering me, and we were all each other had.”

He nodded. His face was kind.

“Three years ago, we were plagued with a terrible drought. Our land dried up. The crops stayed in the ground, and what little grew began to shrivel within days. We knew we’d lose everything if it continued—if the water refused to come. But then, as if our prayers were being answered, it began to rain. We were so happy; it was the rain that we thought would save us. Our land began to soften, sprouts began to appear.”

There was a hope in Lin’s face that made it difficult to continue. She held her breath, her eyes wide and expectant. Her
expression strained as she listened, following my words; I wondered how much she understood. I paused, turning my gaze downward, looking instead to my own fingers.

“And then, like a curse, the rain would not stop. For three months we watched our crops flood and drown. My father sat in the fields, in the rainstorm, weeping for hours, his body as frail as I’ve ever seen it. We had no choice but to leave for the city and find food.

“And it was the right decision, because in Qufu, our luck changed. My father met a kind man named Wei who gave us a room in his home, who paid us in return for small jobs, and with time, he told us of his cause; to rid China of the evils of Westernization, to stop the flow of opium, to end the spread of foreign religion—of Christianity.”

I hated the words as I said them. They sounded so stupid after what I’d lost—everything did; the cause, the rituals, the training. But I didn’t know at the time. At the time, it felt like salvation.

“Soon my father was practicing martial arts every day with Wei. His body grew powerful, his mind enlightened. It was the first time I’d ever seen him happy—truly happy. Together, they began holding secret meetings in the basement of Wei’s home. Among the Boxers of Qufu, my father and Wei were well respected.

“And that’s how I met Shen.” I looked at Mr. Leong and blushed. He was listening carefully, his hands resting on the table.

“Shen had come to the spirit possession ceremony one evening. My father was leading it for the first time, with Wei. Shen was the youngest man there.”

I was captivated by his presence. I was overcome by a feeling that is still difficult to describe. It was exactly how I had always imagined love would be, fiery and immediate; a magnetic heat that connected our two bodies from across a dim room, a sensation that could burn through continents and oceans until it found its other side.

But how could I explain that to Mr. Leong? I shook the heat from my thoughts and pushed forward.

“The men began their trance. They handed their bodies to the gods and began preparing themselves for the ceremony. I’d seen it a few times before: the jerking movements, the outburst of words with no meaning, the wandering eyes. I was allowed to watch, from a wooden stool in the corner, but not to speak. I served water and warmed liquor, which the men drank at the end.”

“Liquor with men?” Lin spoke for the first time, her words harsh and sudden. She leaned forward in her seat.

“Oh no,” I said apologetically, shaking my head. “I did not drink with them.”

Mr. Leong interrupted me, turning to Lin to explain her misunderstanding.

“When we first married,” he explained, looking back at me, “Lin was lectured in Mandarin but she never took to it. She preferred to learn English and she’s quite good. But please, do continue. The spirit possession. I’ve heard of it before—I’m interested.”

I looked to Lin and she smiled tenderly, a quiet understanding passing between us, allowing me to go on.

“It’s a test of will and strength,” I explained, repeating my father’s words, not knowing how else to describe it. “To prepare the men for battle. To defend themselves against the use of deadly man-made weapons; guns, swords, fire, cannons. A powerful Boxer was said to be able to give his body to the spirits. And the spirit would inhabit his soul, providing protection against these things. The night Shen came, they were passing a scorching rod that had been heating in the basement furnace.

“The men stood in a line, as they normally did, shaking out their arms and legs and repeating the incantations, waiting for my father to hand them the hot steel rod. Shen was the fourth in line. I couldn’t stop looking at him, watching the muscles in his arms and the strength in his jaw.”

I had prayed at that moment. I prayed that he would be able to
complete the task, that his hands were as strong as his mind. Because if he didn’t, somehow I knew that I would feel it too. I was convinced that if Shen was burned, my hands would blister as well.

“When his turn came,” I told them, “the first three men crying out but managing the rod, Shen took it silently. He stood still. He tightened his fists and the smell of burning flesh filled the basement. My father and Wei looked panicked. They wanted to remove the rod from his hands but they were unwilling to break his trance. Shen began to jerk forward, the rod pulling him around the basement, his arms leading his body in sharp, uneven movements. He cried out; a scream with no words, throwing his body against the wall next to my stool, the back of his shirt tearing as he slid against it, never letting go of the rod. By now, the other men had broken their trance. They ran from his path, afraid of the spirit that possessed him. My father and Wei ran to Shen and took his shoulders—pressed them against the wall. He began to shake, his arms still stretched out in front of him, holding the rod on both ends. Wei grabbed a broomstick and raised it above his head. He shouted an incantation and with all his strength, he struck the rod in the middle, trying to knock it from Shen’s hands, but his hold was too tight. Wei tried again, bending for strength while my father held Shen’s body.
Whap. Whap. Whap
. He hit the rod three more times before it fell to the floor. Shen’s hands were red with blisters. He fell to his right side, his chest pounding, his hands still in fists.”

I had climbed to the top of my stool, crouching on the small surface, afraid to get in Shen’s way. I remember the smell of his burning hands. I remember telling my father and Wei that he should stay with us; wanting more than anything to see him again.

“Shen woke up in a panic the next day in Wei’s sitting room, both hands bandaged like fighting gloves. My father and Wei sat above him, excited to question him about his vision. I hid on the other side of the wall. I had been there all morning, waiting and listening to
their chatter. Whenever I could, I would peek through the doorway, trying to steal a look at him. When Shen finally opened his eyes, I was watching. He sat up suddenly and began to speak.”

There were ribbons,
he said,
thick crimson ribbons filling the air.

“They weaved in and out of clouds. They touched the heavens. I needed one. They were the most beautiful things I have ever seen, each of them weightless, formless. I tried to grab one but my hand went right through it. I reached for another and it melted, its scarlet dye dripping down my wrists. I had to have it, so I chased them, snatching at ribbons as they froze, cracked, dissolved into thin air. And then I saw a girl—a girl I’ve never seen before, sitting beneath a lemon tree. She was barefoot. I called out to her for help but she didn’t respond. She stood—reached out her hand to me—and from inside her sleeve came a red ribbon, tumbling to the ground, unraveling in my direction. She ran away. I ran after it, throwing my body on the ground and capturing its tail with both hands. It threw me into the air but I held on. It thrashed my body from side to side, slipping through my hands, sending a heat through my pulsing palms, challenging me to let go . . .

“At that moment, my legs had carried me into the sitting room, consumed by Shen’s vision. I wanted to get closer. I wanted to see his face again. He looked up at me, in the middle of his sentence, and our eyes met and locked.

“‘It’s you,
’ he said, his bandaged hands pushing his body upright. ‘
You’re the girl.
’

“My father turned, followed by Wei.

“‘Hong?’ my father said, standing. ‘My daughter?’

“I started to walk backward, alarmed, afraid that my father would be angry. But Shen spoke first. He fell off his bed and onto his knees.

“‘Master. Shaman. Fellow Boxer,’ he addressed my father, his head bowed almost to the ground. ‘It’s fate. I can’t explain it. Your daughter is the girl beneath the lemon tree—the barefoot girl. I ask you as a man who has seen beyond himself, please. Let me marry your daughter.’

“We were married the next week. My father was very fond of Shen and he trusted his vision. Sometimes I think that I willed him to see me under that lemon tree. That I felt for him so much that first night, I must have slipped into his mind.”

It was quiet for a moment after that. Lin fell deep into her seat, her lips pressed inward, her eyes staring at the golden flowers in the middle of the table. She had understood enough.

“Shen believed in the revolution,” I began again, feeling warmed from his vision, sensing him close to me after reciting his words. “He truly believed. He taught me about politics and read to me from books. He wanted a different kind of China; one where a family wouldn’t starve during a drought or be forced from their home in a flood. He explained that the government was on our side, how the Empress Dowager had announced her favor for the Boxers. No more Westerners in positions of power. The end of foreigners deciding how we should live, threatening our culture. With the support of our government, we weren’t just a clan of peasants in a basement. Everything changed. We were legitimate. We were fighting for the national cause. And at the time, it was the most exciting thing I had ever experienced.

“After we won the first two battles at Langfang and Beicang, Shen thought we could do anything. He and my father thought we were ready for Peking, to invade the walls of the Forbidden City and overtake the foreign legations. And I was so in love, I believed him. I cheered them on.

“The Empress knew our plan—she was within Peking and she promised to protect us. She believed in our cause, and I believed in Shen. He had grown so close to my father and Wei, the four of us had become a kind of family. Preparing for Peking felt like planning a trip; it brought me such joy.” I looked to Lin and spoke slowly, pleading to her womanhood, trying to make her understand my foolishness, if even just a small piece.

“I was never interested in the martial arts or the fighting. Let the
men fight—I would mend their wounds, wash their clothes, tend to the children. I liked being a part of it. I wanted to be a Boxer more than anything. I wanted to belong to the cause.

“The day we invaded the city, I was told we were twenty thousand strong. We marched together in a mass, wearing red turbans and sashes, beating on gongs and blowing horns as loud as thunder.

“The noise—it was deafening. It sounded like a stampede of animals instead of people. The men pulled their swords from their sashes and waved them in the air, calling out from the bottom of their throats. As we drew closer to Peking, their calls became even louder. They were shrill and maddening, competing with the sounds of our instruments. Then the women around me began to stamp their feet and I felt the earth vibrate and I no longer needed to move my legs. The mob carried me, pushing me forward with their bodies. We were moving as one, exactly as Shen had said China should be, and I remember how powerful it all felt. There were so many of us. Shen and I smiled; he held my hand as we were carried along. It felt like we were floating.

“And then I heard gunshots. From above the great wall guns began to fire. I saw one of our men fall and get crushed by the crowd. I remember the horror I felt—the way my heart stopped at my first sight of death. I wanted to turn back but it was too late. I looked behind me and saw a million people, a sea of red flags and turbans, but now they looked angry. Shen hooked his arm around my waist and pulled me along. ‘Don’t worry,’ he said, ‘I promise to keep you safe.’ And so we continued.

“That first night went as planned. We made it into the Imperial City and surrounded the foreign embassies. We had taken over the inner wall. Shen and I were in the middle of the crowd, so we got through easily—I saw no more death that night. We had a party in the evening around an enormous fire. We stole the foreign flags from around the square and burned them.

“It all seemed so harmless—I believed it was for the national cause! But three days after we invaded, a group of our men set fire
to the British Embassy, and then the Hanlin Academy, and soon after we were exploding the French Legation and taking innocent prisoners.”