26
Back to the Mountain
T
he boat ride, although lasting only two hours, seemed an entire incarnation. As we sailed along in the light wind, I thought of my name, Spring Swallow, and how my life so far was only drifting in the breeze, but never alighting for very long. So when we came along the dock I hoped it meant that from now on I would live on solid ground. When we tied up at the dock, Ryan took my arm and helped me from the swaying boat.
“Spring Swallow, are you happy about the boat ride?”
“As happy as the fishes in the lake.”
We both laughed.
After the boat ride we just strolled around at random, enjoying the sights and each other’s company. We found a small garden and walked in. Nearby was a group of people flying kites. One father patiently held his son’s arm, instructing him how to launch the kite into the air. Another one proudly watched his daughter as she held the string of her butterfly kite that was high up in the sky. The sight of the children enjoying their kites was very touching to me. There were many different shapes: bat, scorpion, lotus flower, dragon, phoenix, Monkey King, Moon Goddess, the characters for good luck and double happiness.
I lost myself in this innocent world of kites swaying hither and thither in the gentle breeze. They seemed to be making friends with each other, happy to be so high up and so free. But all had someone to keep them attached to the Earth.
Just as the kites were lifting my mood, my eyes met something that spoiled the happy feeling. A young man with a scorpion kite moved his string back and forth like a slippery eel, trying to entangle a rabbit kite.
I pointed this out to Ryan, who commented, “It looks like this guy is trying to cut off the other kite’s string.”
“But why?”
He pointed to a group of young men surrounding the one with the scorpion. “See those men cheering over there? I believe they’re betting on whether he can cut the string.”
My heart sank. I turned away so I didn’t have to witness the pointless meanness of the young men. The world can suddenly turn ugly. Just when you’re enjoying a pleasant outing watching children flying kites, others try to ruin the fun. But maybe that’s life: in the end, everything is about gambling. Wasn’t my own life one gamble after another? All I could hope is that my new marriage, my fourth, would be my last, lucky bet.
Upset by the gambling in the clear blue sky, I nudged Ryan’s elbow. “Let’s go.”
My eyes continued to wander. Across the street stood a small group of people waiting for the bus; above them hung two huge movie ads—
A Girl Should Marry
and
The Merry Son-in-Law.
Next to the two movie ads was a poster for Diamond Brand clocks with the saying: “Accurate, Dependable, Beautiful.” Were these ads here to reassure me that I’d made the right choice to marry—even for the fourth time—and that my husband was both merry and dependable?
Maybe I’d made the right choice, but it would take some time before I could be sure. It worried me that Ryan had made a big sacrifice—giving up his aspiration to be a priest. Would he come to regret this or, worse, decide to leave me to be a priest after all? Ironically, I also felt sad that Ryan was such a good man. Because to me, good men often came to bad ends. Like Shen Feng, who had given up his young life for a good cause—China’s future.
Finally, a bus arrived. The group across the street climbed on the bus; then it sped away. Now the sidewalk was empty, as if the people had never existed. I didn’t know any of them, of course, but it brought to mind how someday we will all be gone. But nothing we can do about it—just go on living, appreciate my new husband, and cherish my baby.
As if reading my thoughts, Ryan told me that he would always love me and our baby. I was touched that he said “our” instead of “your” baby.
He went on. “Spring Swallow, you know I’d do anything for you.”
“You’ve already done enough.” I smiled.
The next day Ryan told me that he needed to take some time out from sightseeing to visit the new priest who had taken Father Edwin’s place in the little village church. I was overjoyed because this would give me the chance to see what had happened to Aunty’s house—and also to visit the mountain to pay my respects to Shen Feng and Leilei. So two days later we set out together by cart. I had already explained that since he and the new father would mostly be talking in English about church matters, I would prefer to walk around by myself to revisit the places I had known.
After passing many of the sights that had been so familiar to me, I finally approached our house. My first look was disappointing—the house was now dilapidated and the doors and windows were covered by planks. Had the police realized it was deserted and boarded it up? Or had they only come after it had been ransacked? Though the planks looked very thin, I dared not break them off to look inside. Would I see Aunty’s dried corpse, crawling with worms?
I blinked hard, trying to get rid of this disturbing image. But I had seen her boarding the train for Peking with the opera singer, so most likely she was still alive.
I walked around the house and saw a gap between two of the planks covering the back door. Though nervous about what I might see, I could not resist peeking. Most of the furniture, tools, framed embroidery, and the altar were still there but looking forlorn and ghostly, as if they had given up hope that their owner would return to revive them. Though my years there had not been entirely happy, now I felt sad to remember when the house had been full of life—we girls embroidering, practicing, bickering, scolding, laughing. My life was much better now, but thinking of the past filled me with melancholy. There was nothing more for me here, so I turned and headed toward the mountain.
I easily found Leilei’s shrine, but in my absence it had become grown over with weeds. I pulled out the weeds, lit incense, and recited a sutra for her to have a better rebirth.
Next, I braced myself to climb higher up the mountain, a little nervous now, hoping no bandits or ghosts would be hiding out or wandering around. I’d never felt entirely calm up here since Shen Feng and Purple had told me that the reason few came here was that it was haunted. I’d had enough of ghosts with my first marriage.
No person—or any other kind of being—disturbed me, however, and I soon reached the top, then walked to the area where Shen Feng and I had corresponded. No traces were left of our writings. The messages were gone, probably having been washed away by the rain. Perhaps Heaven was telling me it was time to forget Shen Feng and move on with my new life with Ryan. For a moment, as I stood here, it almost seemed my time with my mountain husband was but a dream, a figment of my imagination.
I doubted that I’d have the chance to come here again, so I burnt some more incense and whispered to Shen Feng’s spirit.
“Dear Feng, Spring Swallow comes here to pay you her sincere and loving respect and say good-bye. Now that you’re in the other life, I hope there are no more revolutions. Because I always hope we’ll have another chance to meet in our next life.
“I have to tell you that I met another man, an American missionary. So you don’t need to worry about me—I have someone to take care of me. And my baby, not yours I am sad to say.
“Since we last met, many things have happened to me, but I’m not going to bore you with them. Now I am concentrating on taking good care of myself so I will have a healthy baby. I was pregnant before with your baby, but he has gone to Heaven, so maybe he is with you now.”
After I finished, I felt myself restored by the mountain’s energy. In the stillness, it seemed somehow that my connection with Shen Feng was not altogether lost.
When I was about to descend, I spotted what looked like a few incomplete characters on a rock. When I realized one could be
feng,
or “peak,” I felt a chill splash down my body. The handwriting seemed like Shen Feng’s. But most likely it was from another mountain climber who had written the word “peak” to witness that he’d been here. For a moment it seemed as if my dead husband had come back as a ghost to leave me a message.
Later, when I arrived back at the little church, Ryan was deep in conversation with Father McClatchie, the new priest. I was pleased that he seemed to be enjoying himself, despite my having gone off on my own secret mission. I was not sure why I had not told him I had visited the old house—just too much of my life there I did not want to have to talk about. Ryan asked me how my walk was but did not inquire about the details. After we chatted with Father McClatchie for a few minutes, we started on our way back to Soochow.
27
The Good Luck Mahjong Parlor
T
he following morning when Ryan asked me where I’d like to go, I suggested Old Li’s Golden Thread Embroidery store.
“Are you sure you want to go back? They might make it unpleasant for you.”
“It’s possible, but they can’t do anything to me now. And there’s someone I want to see.”
Ryan looked upset. “You mean Old Li and his son?”
“No, a little sister there whom I left behind.”
Now he looked stunned. “You have a little sister and you just deserted her?”
“No, of course I don’t mean a real sister.” I touched his hand. “Her name is Little Doll—she was the youngest girl who worked for Aunty Peony. We care about each other like sisters.”
“Then why did you leave her behind and come to Peking alone?”
I sighed. “Ryan, you would have needed to be in my situation to understand. Because I feared there might be danger on the trip, and I didn’t want to drag her into it. Now that I am safe with you, I’d like to find her and take her with us back to Peking.”
“But why would you want to take her with us to Peking?”
“I left her a letter promising her that if I could, I’d come back to get her.”
“You know,” Ryan frowned, “Father Edwin is not very happy that I gave up the priesthood for you. But he was gracious enough to marry us and let us continue to live and work at Our Lady of Sorrows. So I’m afraid if we bring one more person . . .”
I was disappointed by my husband’s response. But maybe I was really asking too much from him, to not only be the father of my baby, but also take in an orphan girl. Moreover, Little Doll was a stranger to him and not even my real sister.
But I did not want to give in. “Little Doll can help out at Our Lady of Sorrows. Besides, doesn’t your God teach love and compassion?”
Ryan had no answer, but I could tell he was not happy having another person between us. Soon we climbed into a tricycle rickshaw and rode in silence toward Golden Thread. After we paid and got off, I had a big shock. The store was gone!
“Something wrong?” asked Ryan.
I nodded and pointed to where now a sign said, GOOD LUCK MAHJONG PARLOR.
A middle-aged couple stepped inside eagerly, while at the same time a dejected-looking man came out with his head lowered. So it seemed the good luck was for the owner, not the customers.
“You’re sure this is the right address?” asked Ryan.
“Yes”—I pointed to the vinegar store to the right, and the store selling tea leaves to the left—“I remember these two stores.”
“Then what are we going to do?”
“Let’s go in and see what we can find out.”
Once we stepped inside, all eyes were on us, even though the sound of the clashing tiles continued as hands kept busy with “dry swimming” on the mahjong tables. Against the wall in the middle was a huge fish tank, inside which several elaborately colored fishes leisurely swam back and forth, oblivious to the dramas at the gambling tables. The fish, however, were here mainly for good luck—the word for “fish” sounds like the word for “plenty.” Framing the fish tank were two hanging scrolls in red. The one on the right said,
GUESTS DRIFT IN LIKE CLOUDS,
while the one on the left,
BECKONING MONEY AND WELCOMING TREASURE.
I almost chuckled. Of course the fish and the couplets were meant for the owner’s luck, not the customers’.
One muscular man, obviously a bodyguard, hurried toward us. “Please leave, we don’t entertain white ghosts here.”
Maybe he thought that Ryan was a missionary bent on spoiling their business by preaching to their customers.
I smiled. “Mister, we’re not here to gamble but ask for information.”
He gave both Ryan and me a suspicious, dirty look. “What information?”
“Was this place an embroidery shop in the past?”
“Yes, so?”
I noticed many eyes still lingered on us—with curiosity, envy, disapproval. I imagined the envious ones thinking, “
Wah,
a white ghost boyfriend! Lucky girl—she’ll go to the U.S. or England someday.”
“What happened?”
“Why do you want to know?”
“Because I have a friend who worked here in the past.”
“Who’s your friend?”
“You won’t know even if I tell you, so please just tell me what happened.” This tough guy was as annoying and inquisitive as a gossipy woman.
“Ha, ha, ha! Because the Golden Thread’s young master needed to pay off his gambling debt, that’s why!”
“How much?”
“Ha! May I ask why this is any of your business? He owed so much that finally his father had to give us this place. And he still owes some more. Are you their relative? Did you come to pay off the rest of his debt?”
I ignored this and asked, “What happened to the workers?”
Actually, I was just interested in Little Doll’s whereabouts.
“How do I know, or should I care?” Suddenly he looked angrily at Ryan. “Who’s this white ghost? A spy?”
“No!” both Ryan and I exclaimed simultaneously.
“We’re husband and wife,” I said.
“Husband and wife? You think barbarians are better than us, eh?”
This exchange must have intrigued the customers, because now playing had stopped while everyone stared at us.
One pock-faced, middle-aged man shouted, “Husband not bad looking; too bad he’s a ghost. Pretty Chinese woman should benefit their own people instead of a barbarian.” He made a sweeping gesture with his arm. “Am I not right, brothers?”
The den roared with happy laughter. A few threw down their tiles, sounding like small explosions.
“Things are getting out of hand. We’d better leave!” Ryan grabbed my arm and pulled me outside.
We ducked into a nearby alley and I turned my head away, hoping that Ryan would not see my tears.
He put an arm gently around my shoulder. “Spring Swallow, they won’t hurt us.”
“No, it’s not that. Now I have lost Little Doll forever!”
“Don’t worry. She is probably still with the Li family somewhere. I am sure she will still have a roof over her head and food to eat.”
Through my tears, I looked up at Ryan’s innocent face. “But they might sell her to help pay off their debt!”
He looked stunned, not realizing that this was common in China.
“Who’d they sell her to?”
“A rich household as a maid or a concubine, or worse, to a prostitution house!”
Ryan looked horrified.
I sighed. “If that’s happened, I don’t think I’ll ever see her again in this life.”
He shook his head.
I went on. “The new master might also give her another name, so it’ll be impossible to track her. . . .” I started sobbing loudly.
“Don’t give up hope,” Ryan sighed, wiping away my tears.
“If I had taken her with me, none of this would have happened!”
“Don’t blame yourself, Spring Swallow. You’ve already had such a hard time surviving. I believe in miracles, so I’m sure we’ll find her someday.”
“When will this someday be?”
But my husband, smart as he was, opened his mouth and then closed it again without saying anything.
Soon our all-too-short honeymoon was coming to an end. Ryan and I were sitting in our hotel room discussing how to spend our last two days, when a telegram arrived for him. We were both nervous because telegrams are almost never good news. Ryan tore it open and read aloud that Father Edwin had taken ill and needed him to return right away. The doctor had said it wasn’t serious, but Father said there were business matters that he needed help with.
I told Ryan that if I did not keep trying to find Little Doll I would never forgive myself, so I would need to stay in Soochow another day or two to try to get some news of her whereabouts. My husband did not look happy about this, but he really couldn’t argue. So I helped him to pack and told him I would go to the station to see him off.
Except a few small gifts for Father Edwin and the church’s staff, we hadn’t done a lot of shopping. So we packed quickly and went early to the train station to avoid a long queue for the ticket. Then we took seats in the waiting area. Ryan began to study the train schedule, so I told him I’d get him some food for the train ride.
“All right. But don’t take too long, because I like you to be close to me. I’ll miss you.”
“Don’t worry, Ryan. Please, when you see Father Edwin, send me a short telegram saying how he is. And wish him speedy recovery from me.”
As I walked toward the snack stand, I passed a small group of people peering at a poster pasted prominently on a pillar. I thought it was probably a
xunren
—a notice of a missing person—so I decided to take a closer look, wondering if it might be about Aunty Peony, Purple, Little Doll, even the Li family.
When I got closer I saw that it was not for a “Missing Person,” but a “WANTED MAN.” When I saw the name I almost screamed out loud and my head began to spin.
The wanted man was Shen Feng!
But my former husband Shen Feng had been dead for months. So this had to be another man with the same name. The voices around me buzzed in my ears like angry insects.
“What did he do?”
“I’m sure he’ll be captured soon and executed!”
I forced myself to squeeze through the crowd to read the small print:
Shen Feng, male, twenty-nine, is wanted for treason.
The reward for information leading to his capture is 30 ounces of silver.
Shen, last known to be living in Soochow, is a traitor, having fought to overthrow the government. Since the revolution was defeated, Shen and his group have not been seen. They might be hiding in a Buddhist temple or a church.
Anyone who spots him or his collaborators, or has information about their whereabouts, must report to us immediately. He is known to be armed and dangerous.
As my heart knocked hard against my ribs, a question kept swirling in my head: Was my mountain husband dead or alive? Then I looked more closely at the blurred picture. The man both looked like Shen Feng and didn’t at the same time. He had his square jaw and broad forehead. But the eyes were downcast, so I couldn’t tell if they were as bright and penetrating as Shen Feng’s. Besides, he’d had a full head of hair, while this man was completely bald with a scarred scalp.
My mood flip-flopped between believing he was indeed my Shen Feng and hoping he was someone else. Though I’d read in the newspaper that “Shen Feng” had been executed, I supposed that it could have been about another revolutionary with the same name. Though he looked worn down in the picture, I now had to admit to myself that he
was
my revolutionary husband, suddenly returned from the dead to haunt me in my new life.
As another wave of dizziness hit me, I leaned on a pillar.
A middle-aged, maternal-looking woman asked with a concerned expression, “Are you all right, miss? You want some medicinal oil?”
I shook my head. “Thank you, but I’m fine. I think it’s just too crowded here.”
When I finally regained my composure, I slowly walked back to Ryan, wondering what I should tell him about this. But if he thought the real reason I was staying behind was to find Shen Feng, he would be totally heartbroken. And what would Father Edwin think of me? Such a flippant, irresponsible girl whom he shouldn’t have helped in the first place, not to mention let Ryan marry me. So I decided not to tell Ryan, unless I had to.
If Shen Feng was really alive and in hiding, I was the only one who knew where he might be. Now I remembered the scraped-off message on the mountain—maybe he was trying to reach me, but then feared someone else would see it and turn him in.
I loved Ryan, but if Shen Feng was really alive and I could find him, I couldn’t leave him without a proper good-bye. However, I was afraid that if I did find him, I would not have the power to resist him, that our love would be rekindled. What could I do? If I stayed with him, I might get arrested and executed. Now that I finally had a secure life with a caring man, I did not want to lose it.
Then another thought hit me. Maybe when Shen Feng saw my bulging stomach he wouldn’t want me anymore.