The Concubine's Daughter (25 page)

One day, Li walked past the lodge and into the compound to where the long frontage of the garages stood open. There before her was the Rolls-Royce Silver Phantom, the letters dd on its number plate, with three other cars of similar size covered by white sheets. Beside them, and entirely different, she saw a much smaller car in the deepest of greens—perfectly polished, its trappings and spoked wheels glittering like silver, its yellow leather seats open to the sky.

“It’s called a Lagonda; Di-Fo-Lo has the only one in Macao. Only Ah-Geet drives the foreign cars.” The voice was that of Ah-Geet the driver, his impudent use of the Di-Fo-Lo name identifying him instantly. Li spun around to find the chauffeur close enough to touch her. He grinned at the alarm he had caused, his thumbs hooked in the suspenders that crossed his thin shoulders, his white shirt carelessly unbuttoned, revealing hairless, pallid skin and a small brown nipple.

Before she could reply, he reached out and opened the passenger door. He patted the seat, stroking the padded leather like the back of a cat. “Very soft. Very smoooth.” His tone became persuasive. “Come, sit. No one will know… .”

As she turned and walked toward the gates, the driver raised his voice. “Hey, river girl. You forgot something.” She turned her head to see his breeches gaping around spindly knees, his angry red shaft gripped in his hand. His mawkish laughter told her he was drunk. He honked the car’s horn loudly. “This is why you came to see Ah-Geet. I’ll give you a silver dollar like Di-Fo-Lo… .”

The rest of his bellowing was lost to her as she swung the gate and walked swiftly to the house.

Under the Fish’s supervision, Li had been fitted for new clothes. In keeping with her position as personal attendant to the taipan, she wore cheongsams cut from self-patterned silk in muted grays and browns to
be worn in the afternoons and evenings when she was cleaning or gardening. With them came matching shoes, soft and light, with slightly higher heels. Her hair had grown abundantly, until it fell softly about her shoulders. Each evening she wound it into plaits on top of her head, held with jade pins loaned to her by the Fish, and selected a fresh gardenia to fix behind her ear, the scent of its creamy petals becoming a part of her.

With the change of dress, she found a change of attitude: She was no longer uncertain of her place in Sky House, and no longer doubtful of her abilities. Her work was easily done, and when it was complete, she washed and changed, took down books, and lost herself in them as hours passed like moments. Few were written in Chinese, and the pages of tightly arranged English text swam meaninglessly before her eyes. But many of them were filled with pictures, both drawn and painted, or photographs beautifully presented.

She had discovered one that was splendidly bound in leather and elaborately stamped in gold leaf. Even the edge of each page was lined in gold, so that when it was closed it shone like the lap of a temple Buddha. Its heavy, gorgeously illustrated pages showed beautiful women proudly entwining their naked bodies with unclothed men. As each hypnotic page was turned, she studied closely the details of every embrace, with deep and increasing curiosity.

In the privacy of her room, Li stripped and examined herself in the mirror, considering her own allure against the superbly painted images. She had become so accustomed to the mirror that her poses were easily found and her eye quick to appraise. How much she had changed in so little time, how well she had healed; no scars remained to spoil the perfection of her skin. She moved her shoulder, allowing the light of the lamp to fall upon its faintly bronzed sheen. She lifted her chin and turned a cheek, lowering her eyes; the lashes Pebble had once admired were indeed longer and more curled than any she had seen. She became bolder; remembering poses from the book, she compared herself to them, curving her back to emphasize the suggestion of her shapeliness, daring to imagine a partner, certain that when the time came she would please and be pleased.

The slightest of sounds distracted her, so faint she held her breath. Her attention had immediately flown to the locked door. She waited, the only noise now from the far-off surge of waves meeting the rocky foreshore below the point. In that breathless silence the door handle turned slowly and carefully, first one way, then the other. If it was the Fish, she would knock and certainly speak. No sound came, and after a moment, during which Li heard nothing but the thud of her heart, the movement ceased.

T
he Chinese New Year
fell in mid-February by the Western calendar. The three days leading up to this auspicious event were known as “Little New Year,” when debts must be settled so that the New Year might begin with a clean slate for rich and poor alike. By ancient custom, comedians and entertainers were obliged to perform free of charge in the village square or the temple courtyard, to draw out bad debtors among the audience, where their creditors could force them to settle accounts or risk the crowd’s displeasure by spoiling the show with loud argument. Tailors, hairdressers, beauty shops, florists, and gift shops doubled their prices to cash in on the feverish activities. Old scores were settled, new clothes bought, heads and faces fussed over—trimmed and tonsured, massaged, pummeled, and painted—to emerge bright and shiny as newly minted coins.

Those who had it wore gold, to advertise wealth and success, dressing their children in cinnabar red, the color of good fortune, to be paraded before relatives and friends with their faces painted like precious dolls. Every child was given lucky money by members of their extended families in a sealed packet of red and gold, while gifts were exchanged by adults—silks and ornaments, even jewelry for close and important relatives; fine tea, rare fruits and expensive foods, potted plants, and flowers for distant and less important aunts, uncles, and cousins.

The house, no matter how grand or humble, was carefully swept, metal objects cleaned and polished, carpets beaten and curtains washed.
The house and its occupants must be spotless, so that the feng shui forces of wind and water could flow unhindered, and the dragon at peace in the north would lie down with the tiger of the south. End-of-year bonuses were paid and wages doubled to cover this month of the twelfth moon, while towns and cities were evacuated in favor of the
huang-hah
, the birthplace and spiritual home of the clan.

This, Li now decided, was the time to repay her debt to Ben Devereaux and begin a new page in the book of her life. Accompanied by the Fish, she had mixed with the excited throngs as firecrackers blazed and drums beat, while the lions and dragons pranced their way through houses and streets, driving out the old and welcoming the new.

With Little New Year over, the streets deserted, and all doors opened wide for family reunions, the Fish invited her to visit her Tanka friends. When Li declined with deepest thanks, the old lady offered to stay at Sky House to keep her company. “You will be alone at a time when no one should be alone. It is a time when the master drinks too much rum … he will not want you in his house for Chinese New Year.”

“But perhaps he drinks rum because he is alone. You have just spoken truthfully … no one should be alone when New Year is celebrated. If he wishes, I will be his companion.”

“Perhaps you are right,” the Fish agreed uncertainly. “Perhaps even a taipan can be lonely at such a time as this.”

Ben Devereaux had seen more Chinese New Years than he cared to remember, each lonelier and more frustrating than the one before. With the servants gone and the great house silent, he usually found company in the international clubs, or took a suite at the Palm Garden and visited the bars of Wan Chai on Hong Kong Island … to awake a week later in the unlovely bed of a stranger.
Why,
he asked himself each time it came around,
did it have to last for ten days, with the servants gone for the best part of a month?
This time something made him stay. Unsure if it was his conscience or something more, he could not bring himself to leave
the girl from Ten Willows alone in the emptiness of Sky House at this time of shared festivities between friends and family.

Ah-Ho had always taken it for granted that, like all foreigners, he had no interest in such rituals, never decorating the house or showing any sign of the ancient ritual that so consumed the population. This year, to his complete surprise, he found his study dressed with all the trappings of the great occasion. Several vases placed around the windows held tall branches of plum and peach blossom, with the characters for health, wealth, and long life painted in gold on red paper. Neatly arranged on every windowsill and along the balcony wall were pots of white jonquils, their tiny white and yellow trumpets filling the air with perfume.

“I hope the peach blossoms will not drop too quickly. I will remove them in the morning.”

Li stepped into the room, carrying a miniature kumquat tree in a glazed pot. It was perfectly shaped, with small golden fruits the size of dollar coins smothering its well-trimmed branches. Placed on a round bamboo tray, the pot was clearly heavy.

“It is our custom to give a tree such as this to those of our friends and family we most love and respect. My family is lost to me, and love is a mystery … but none could have given me more than your brave heart and generous hand.” Before he could take the tray from her, she set it on the balcony table. “Like the opening of new buds, it invites good fortune with its golden fruit. I offer it with my gratitude for all that you have done for me. It is a small, unworthy gift, worthless to such a taipan who holds the world in his hand.”

Ben’s surprise robbed him of words for a moment, as he tried not to smile at the traditional modesty when giving a gift. Then he spoke hurriedly, to make sure she did not leave as suddenly as she had appeared. He replied as expected, “It is a most splendid tree; it is I who am unworthy of such a gift. Now I must give you something of gold in return. Is that not also the custom?”

He took the gold watch from his waistcoat pocket. Hanging from its heavy chain were several golden sovereigns; he detached one of these, holding it out to her between finger and thumb.

“It is one of the first I ever made in the China trade. It has brought me all the good fortune I shall ever need. Now let it do the same for you.”

“But I have already received an extra Mexican dollar for
lai-see
.” She held up two fingers, her eyes so wide with astonishment it caused him to laugh aloud.

“Now you have an English guinea. It is worth ten Mexican dollars. What will you do with it?”

Her hesitation was brief. “When I can read the English words, I shall buy many books like these.” Li whirled around the library, extending her arms to the shelves so neatly crammed with volumes.

“I have a better idea. Keep it to buy something bright and beautiful. Books are often old and can be dull. They are filled with the thoughts of others, often those who already reside with their ancestors. I am sure you have ideas and thoughts of your own that are young and fresh as your budding jonquils.” He paused, as if to make sure that she understood. “Take what interests and knowledge you can from books, but do not let them replace words and thoughts of your own.”

“I will remember this,” she answered thoughtfully. “But I know so little of the world. To me, there is nothing more wonderful than the words and pictures of scholars and artists.”

Ben found it impossible to hide his smile at such grave words from one so achingly young. “If books are what you want, then books you shall have.” He waved a hand at the towering collection. “You must explore these books as often as you like and discover all that you can. But when the book is closed, look about you and find stories of your own.”

She bowed her thanks, and would have departed had he not suddenly thought how empty this room, which had always through choice been a place of solitude, would seem without her. In his haste to detain her, he spoke before he could think. “Stay; there are other things I wish to talk to you about.”