9
Peking, Capital of the North
F
ather Edwin liked to quote the Chinese saying “Time flies like a horse jumping over a valley.” The scent of spring was in the air. In the ten months that had passed since I’d joined this small community of supposedly celibate women, I had become very good at embroidering. This was the result not only of Aunty Peony’s intensive teaching, her relentless scoldings, and the burning of countless incense sticks—but also my fear of being sent back to my old village.
I felt somewhat relieved that so far I hadn’t run into anyone from Old Village, or seen any ad of “Missing Person” with my photo. But, of course, we rarely left the house, and if we did, we only went to the neighboring village. So if Mean Aunt was looking for me in Soochow, pasting ads on walls, lampposts, even in newspapers, I wouldn’t have noticed. But I still reminded myself to be careful. However, even if they did find me, could they do anything if I refused to go back?
Having thus reassured myself, I felt more relaxed. I was exultant that Aunty Peony finally let me work on her intended masterpiece
Along the River.
But I thought it would be even better if Aunty would let me make my own copies of her stitch patterns and drawings of famous paintings. When I asked her, she looked at me suspiciously and adamantly refused, saying that they were not to be borrowed or copied. Period.
“I never give my patterns to anyone. What makes you think you’ll be an exception?”
But, like the Old Fool who removed the mountain, I was determined. So I gathered up courage and challenged her.
“Aunty Peony, if you won’t let me copy them, what about if someday they get lost or stolen?”
“You think I never thought of that?” She pointed to her head, her voice as sharp as her needles. “I have them all here. Anyway, neither I nor Heaven will ever let you copy them, you understand?”
So I just kept my mouth shut and my needle flying. But I realized something important from Aunty’s rejection. She’d memorized all the patterns, so maybe I could too. If Heaven would not grant my request, I would grant it to myself. This was to satisfy my pride, but also so someday I could go out on my own, escape her constant scolding, and make money for myself.
So, from that day on, I secretly concentrated on putting all the patterns to memory as I worked on them. When I could get a little time free, I would climb to the mountaintop and write them on the walls inside the hidden cave that I had discovered. Since the entrance was small and hidden behind rocks and shrubs, I didn’t think anyone would notice it. No one but an embroiderer would know what the patterns meant anyway. And who would come all the way from Soochow to climb the mountain and find my cave?
Then one day, unexpectedly, Aunty announced that we were all going to Peking. We wondered why we would be so lucky as to go with her, but none of us dared to ask, lest she change her mind.
Little Doll exclaimed, “
Wah,
the famous capital! So we can eat Peking duck, fried meat pancakes, and sugared fruits?”
We all laughed at our little sister’s enthusiasm and naïveté. Except Leilei, who said condescendingly, “You never had Peking duck before?”
I was sure Little Doll had only heard of the dish but never tasted it. But before she had a chance to respond, Leilei spoke again. “If you don’t know, it’s roast duck wrapped in special dough smeared with sweet sauce and scallion. I’ve eaten it many times!”
Purple tried to keep Little Doll in her happy mood, telling her, “Besides eating Peking duck, maybe we’ll also buy all kinds of toys and some nice fabric to make new clothes. And we will meet Mandarin-speaking locals dressed in the latest fashions! How’s that?”
Finally, when all the chatter died down, I asked timidly, “Aunty Peony, why are we going to Peking?”
“You don’t want to?”
I quickly said, “Of course I do. We’re all very excited, but we’re curious too.”
“I’m going to take you to visit the stores at Lotus Street. That’s the most famous place for embroidery since the Qing dynasty. When you look at this Peking-style embroidery I want you to study it carefully.”
When Aunty finished, Purple was the first to ask, “When are we leaving?”
“Day after tomorrow, so you all better start to pack soon.”
The train ride was very long, so after we became bored watching the scenery, we passed the time chatting, snacking, and sleeping. Finally, we arrived and embarked into the huge station, filled with shouting, jostling travelers and thick with the odors of cigarettes, cheap perfume, sweat, and even urine. With her head held high over her bamboo-straight body, Aunty Peony confidently led us through the crowds. When we reached the street at last, she hailed two tricycle rickshaws and gave them directions to our destination: the Middle Hall Inn in the Front Gate area.
That evening, we were all too exhausted to start to explore the big city. So, after a simple dinner of spicy noodles and pork dumplings in the inn’s dining room, we all went to sleep. Aunty Peony had her own room while the rest of us all shared another one.
The next morning, we each gulped down a plain breakfast of fried doughnut and soy bean soup, then went out together.
Aunty Peony said, “We are going to Lotus Street first. My teacher worked there. Embroidery thrived on that street because the foreign invaders had a military base here. The blue-eyed, blond-haired white ghosts loved silk embroidery, and it’s easy to trick them into paying too much. That’s why many Chinese businessmen keep shops in that street. We’re going to walk there, so let’s get moving.”
At first sight this famous embroidery district seemed unexciting: an ordinary street flanked by grayish, two-story buildings. But then the proliferation of shop signs caught my eyes. On the ground level were Chang’s Silk Fabric, Lotus Street Lanterns, Elite String-Bound Books, Wang’s Noodle House, a bank, an herbalist, even the ironically named Lucky Pawn Shop. From the upper-story windows, clothes were hanging out to dry, suggesting that these were the homes of the shop owners’ families. Along the street ancient trees spread their umbrella-like foliage. Banners and red lanterns hung from rooftops. Here and there bicycles and rickshaws waited patiently for their owners’ return.
As we had arrived quite early, most of the shops were still closed. At tables set up outside little restaurants, middle-aged men sipped tea, smoked, and read their morning newspapers. Housewives in cotton tops and pants carried fishnet bags or bamboo baskets in one arm and held a small child in the other. Smoke from cigarettes mixed with the pleasant smell of dim sum frying in woks.
Walking together and dressed neatly in embroidered outfits, we got a lot of attention from the Pekingese, especially the men. A few young, muscular ones raised their heads from their food, stared at us as if we were the only women left on Earth, then whistled and whispered to each other.
Leilei, instead of looking annoyed, smiled flirtatiously as she twisted her hips—deliberately, I supposed. Did she really feel flattered by the attention of coolies? More likely she was that kind of girl who liked to tease men. Among us, she was the tallest and caught the most glances. She could be quite attractive—when she was not bitchy. But I had to give her credit for working hard and being good at what she did. Still, it was hard for me to believe that she would follow Aunty’s celibacy rule. Surely she had at least one lover.
My thoughts were interrupted when Purple asked, “Aunty Peony, where are we going?”
“I’m looking for embroidery shops. There used to be many right here. But if we don’t see any nearby, I’ll ask around.”
Suddenly, Little Doll exclaimed happily, jumping up and down. “Aunty Peony, here’s Lotus Embroidery Shop!”
I found Little Doll very likable, but unfortunately there was hardly any chance for us to talk, let alone be friends. Aunty would never let Purple, Leilei, or me get too close to the young girl, whom she was always criticizing as stupid and slow. I guessed that for Aunty she was only cheap labor and so she didn’t want us to keep her from her work.
Now we all stared through the shop’s window, admiring the many embroideries, some mounted on wooden frames, others on panels, yet others framed behind glass. Spread around the display were other items, such as handkerchiefs, robes, slippers, pillows, round fans, even eyeglass cases.
“Wow, so beautiful!” we all exclaimed.
Aunty cast us a stern look. “I’d call it skillful, but not exquisite.”
“How’s that?” I asked.
“These are not art, only craft.”
“Hmm . . . what’s the difference?”
“They try too much to please.”
Leilei asked tentatively, “What’s wrong with being pleasing?”
“Because when work is slick, the connoisseur will reject it.”
No one had anything to say to this.
“Why do you think I brought you here—so you will learn and open your eyes.”
She cast another disapproving look at the merchandise. “These works have no souls. The embroiderers see only the glitter of gold and smell only the stink of money.”
But what’s wrong with that? I thought. If I had tons of gold and loads of money, I wouldn’t have ended up being a ghost’s wife, then a runaway bride, then a celibate embroiderer. On the contrary, I would buy a big mansion, hire maids to help, a chef to cook me delicious, nutritious food, maybe even a chauffeur to drive me around. Then I would have even more time free to do embroidery. But if I were so rich, would I lose interest in embroidering since I would no longer need to make a living? I hoped not.
Aunty’s voice cut off my gilded dream. “None of the work here shows any sign of ‘eyes focusing on nose, nose focusing on heart, heart focusing on hands.’ ”
She sighed. “
Hai,
how the world has changed and art has declined! Where have the fine embroiderers gone?”
None of us dared to respond to Aunty’s remark. I still thought that the works in the shop were beautiful.
“All right. The shop won’t open till eleven o’clock, so let’s stroll around a bit and get something to eat.”
So we continued to walk along the street amidst the curious glances of the locals. Aunty Peony seemed to be an object of admiration. She was dressed in a fancy silk top with floral embroidery and matching pants. Her face was delicately made up, enhanced by a silver flower dangling from her tightly braided bun. I realized that this trip was very important to her.
When we were passing a photography shop, Aunty Peony stopped. Behind the window were framed photos: young newlyweds smiling happily at the camera; a naked baby boy posed to reveal his little thing because his parents were so proud to have a son; twin sisters with missing teeth, arms around each other’s shoulders and giggling; an old man smoking a pipe, the wrinkles on his spotted face matching the curves of the smoke. Though all the people in these photos must have been real, there was something illusionary about them.
We all appreciated the photos for a while before Aunty said, her expression nostalgic, “After breakfast, we’ll come back here to have our picture taken together.”
“
Wah,
I’ve never been in a photo before!” Little Doll exclaimed with pleasure.
I didn’t know if Purple and Leilei had pictures of themselves, but I had none of myself. I remembered having a few taken when I’d been younger, but they must all have been lost. My mean aunt might have kept one or two, but she never let me look at them, let alone give them to me. Or she might have thrown them away a long time ago.
The next street was filled with restaurants; Aunty picked one out and we all entered and sat down. She seemed to be in a good mood and ordered lots of food—porridge, marinated eggs, scallion pancakes, fried doughnuts, soy bean soup, pickled vegetables. Since this was a novelty for us, our appetites seemed insatiable as we devoured the food with gusto. Finally, when all the plates were wiped clean like mirrors, Aunty announced that we would go back to the Lotus Embroidery Shop, then later we’d have our pictures taken at the photography studio.
Once we stepped inside the shop, we were greeted by a plump, middle-aged woman with an obsequious smile.
“Good morning, ladies. Can I help you pick some embroideries? What are you looking for? Gifts? Decorations?”
Aunty smiled back. “We’ll look around first.”
“Of course, please.”
We all milled around the spacious store,
oohing
and
aahing
at the beautiful work. There was a peacock spreading its many-eyed tail, a tiger staring at me fiercely through trees, butterflies floating over clusters of flowers, a glittering dragon and phoenix chasing each other among colorful clouds....
The plump woman expounded to us in a pompous tone that
kingxiu,
Peking-style embroidery, is very famous because it came from the Qing dynasty imperial court’s embroidery department.
“That’s why our work is all first-rate, because we use the best material like silk fabric, gold, and silver threads. But especially because it possesses the emperor’s noble
qi.
“You see”—she made a sweeping gesture—“every single thread sparkles royalty. That’s why
Peking
embroidery is also called Court Embroidery.”
Aunty glanced at the embroideries. “Are these the best in your store?”
Plump smiled. “I see you really know embroidery. We have a few very special items that we reserve for connoisseurs like yourself. Please wait here, I’ll be back.” She hurried to the back of the store, opened a drawer, then dashed back.
She showed us a piece depicting a soaring crane above colorful waves. “See? This is an antique piece from the robe of a high Qing official.”
Obviously hoping Aunty would splurge, Plump went on excitedly in a high-pitched voice, her cheeks flushed a lively pink.