The Concubine's Daughter Read online

  Another vicious prod from Yik-Munn almost caused her to stumble and fall.

  “Forgive me. A foolish notion, nothing more,” he stammered. “If she should speak of such things again, Honorable Superintendent, I beg that you will punish her.”

  Again Li spoke without thought of danger. “My mother resides with the moon, and when it is at its brightest, she becomes a white fox and waits for me in the ginger field. She will teach me to read and write. I will be a scholar. No one will stop me.”

  The willow cane slashed across her shoulders faster than a lick of flame. At first the sound of it was greater than the pain. Li-Xia neither moved nor cried out as it splashed like boiling oil across her back.

  Yik-Munn grabbed her arm and shook her violently, his face dark with fury as he spluttered his apologies. “She is a child of wild imagination, but these are foolish fancies. They are easily discouraged.”

  Superintendent Ah-Jeh seemed unconvinced. “Is it true that a fox has been seen around this girl, that its spirit may have entered her?” she muttered. “I have heard that your elder sister was struck down by the evil in her eye. If this is so and the master finds out, he will send her back to you and demand repayment, plus an amount for the cost of your deception. We want no demons at Ten Willows.”

  “My sister was old, her heart was weak, it was time for her to join our ancestors,” Yik-Munn protested.

  Li-Xia spoke out yet again. “Her lotus feet had become rotten as turnips in the frost; you could smell them on the stairs.”

  Yik-Munn protested with much bowing, assuring the superintendent that the priests had found Li-Xia to be cleared of lost spirits, but he paid Ah-Jeh a sum of money to speak no more of it. The sung-tip was hurriedly signed and the money counted out with much care and ceremony. An entry was made in the ledger, and the large chop of Ten Willows sealed the contract with the echoing sound of a stamping foot. The ledger closed with a final thud as Ah-Jeh turned her full attention to the child before her.

  “Take off those fine things; you will have no need of them here,” she snapped.

  Unbuttoning the pretty jacket reluctantly, Li-Xia did as she was told. Again the willow wand cut across the closed ledger.

  “Hurry, girl. We do not have all day.”

  The superintendent gestured impatiently toward Yik-Munn.

  “Strip her. Why did you dress her like a New Year’s doll? Without the lotus slippers she is just another farm girl—take them off and give them to my assistant.”

  Yik-Munn ripped the embroidered jacket from her shoulders and the trousers from her legs with nervous haste, until she stood in cotton drawers.

  “The rest of them too. She will wear the clothes of the mui-mui and nothing more.”

  For moments, Li-Xia was left to stand naked before the overseer, her hands covering herself uncertainly. For the first time she felt true fear, but with it came greater anger. She asked her heart what she should do, but no answer came.

  “Lift your arms and turn around.”

  When she did not move, her father’s hands gripped her shoulders to twist her this way and that.

  “I see you have not beaten her. She bears no scars and seems well fed.”

  Yik-Munn simpered, bowing his appreciation for such a compliment. “She has been treated with great care in readiness for this day.”

  Ah-Jeh sniffed sharply. “No doubt that is the problem. You have given her airs above her station, this farm girl who would become a scholar.”

  Ah-Jeh brandished the willow as a gesture to her assistant. “Get her dressed and give her the things she will need.”

  Instantly, the girl stepped forward with a bundle of clothing: a mien-larp, the brown padded jacket and trousers of the field hand, which she helped Li-Xia put on with quick and certain hands. There was another of dark green, with a wide wicker hat for the summer; a cape of flax and a rabbit-skin cap for the winter. There were cotton undervests and pants, two fan-sarm—the long shifts for sleeping, one of flannel and one of cotton—canvas gaiters, and two pairs of grass-rope sandals. The bundle also contained a blanket, a wooden headrest, a rice bowl, chopsticks, and a glass jar for drinking tea.

  The wicker hat was thrust upon her head and her new belongings as well as the sam-foo rolled into the blanket, tied, and slung across her shoulder: Li-Xia, the Beautiful One, became siu-jeh, little sister to the mui-mui.

  The sun was low across the river as Yik-Munn kowtowed his way to the open door, but he did not say good-bye to his daughter or even look her way. She hated him for this, but found strength in his stupidity. If you will not care for me, she said in the privacy of her heart, then I shall take care of myself.

  She watched her father hurry down to the jetty and step into the rocking sampan without once looking back. Tears she could not prevent blurred the sight of him as the sampan, its lanterns already lit, cast off its mooring line and pushed into the current to scull swiftly away.

  This is the moment, Li-Xia’s heart said, when I shall live or die. My father has sold me for money he does not need, and he did not even say good-bye. He burned my mother’s books and turned her words to ashes. This, and only this, had made her cry inside, glad that she never wanted to see him again, but angry that he should know so little of her heart and think so little of her mind.

  Sudddenly, Ah-Jeh rapped out a name. “Pebble … Pebble … where are you?”

  Instantly, the figure of a girl who had been waiting outside the door stepped into the room. A child from another world, she seemed to Li-Xia—short and squat, wide shouldered and short armed, her legs bowed like a horseshoe, her feet thrust into canvas leggings that reached her knee.

  Her hands were small, short fingers curled inward like the claws of a bird, and her wide face was old before its time, but for a constant crooked smile. Her abundant hair was streaked with silver, twisted with strands of colored silk, wound elaborately about her head and pinned like a turban with willow twigs and fish bones. Placed upon it was a crown of morning stars, tiny white flowers freshly picked; beneath this, hardly noticed, protruded two decorative ornaments, dark rings of buffalo horn, one on either side of her head just above each jutting ear.

  This small brown creature was wearing a patched sam-foo the color of the earth, her careless grin showing nothing of her thoughts. Deep lines around her eyes could not hide the glint behind her crinkled, half-closed lids. They blinked once quickly at the swish and crack of the willow, glanced for a passing second at Li-Xia, then looked briefly at the well-swept floor at her bare feet. Those feet were small and wide and brown, as scarred and cracked as old leather, the toes splayed out and separated.

  Hurriedly snatching the tattered straw hat from her head, she took another quick stride into the room and gave an elaborate bow.

  “Take this farm girl into your gang if you have need of her, or find someone who does. She is sly and cunning and knows nothing of gratitude. Watch her like a rat in a pantry. Show her the huts of the mui-mui and find her a place. If she runs away, it is you I shall flog.”

  Ah-Jeh turned to Li-Xia, lifting her chin with the tip of the willow switch, looking directly into her eyes and speaking in an almost kindly way.

  “Go with Little Pebble. She is mother to the mui-mui and will teach you what to do and how to do it. Obey her and keep your place. Let me hear no more about books and reading. You are here to work in the groves. If your hands are quick and your fingers nimble, perhaps you will one day make a spinner … even a weaver. First you must earn your place among the mui-mui—and remember, you are the youngest and the lowest among your sisters, so do not try to be more than you are.”

  The cane was flourished at the open door as Ah-Jeh dismissed her with what could have been the suggestion of a smile.

  “Go now, before I change my mind and send you back to your white fox mother.”

  Pebble bowed with hasty backward steps. Li-Xia, her arms filled with new possessions, stepped backward away from the smell of burning joss sticks, into fading su
nlight and a breeze off the river. She followed the bowlegged girl with no sense of fear, but the rare excitement of new adventure.

  When they were gone, Ah-Jeh remained upon her stool to reflect upon this purchase. Most mui-mui arrived half starved or maimed, brought by stricken parents who could no longer afford to feed them. Occasionally, a girl of exceptional promise appeared, like this one from the spice farm of Yik-Munn, this child her fool of a father called the Beautiful One; already Ah-Jeh had seen a light rarely found in one so young, especially one who had been dealt with so harshly.

  Among the amahs of Yik-Munn’s house, two were elder sisters of the sau-hai. They had sent reports of the child they called the fox fairy and her defiance of his three wives. Nor was it a secret how her mother, a Shanghai tart, had taken her own life believing her infant had been buried alive in the mustard field.

  The spice farmer had done well to rid himself of such a burden. Her spirit would be tamed, and perhaps one day she would carry the lantern to the house of Ming-Chou. If not, she could be well suited to become a sister of sau-hai. Yes, Ah-Jeh was pleased with her purchase, already anticipating a generous commission. She would watch the Beautiful One with great interest.

  After they were outside and well away from the ears of Superintendent Ah-Jeh, the girl called Pebble spoke in a cheerful, careless way. She led the way with wide, sure-footed strides that rocked her from side to side, turning back at one point to take some of Li-Xia’s load. She walked backward, her eyes openly curious and filled with questions.

  “Why do they call you Li-Xia? You do not look so beautiful to me.” She cocked her head to one side and screwed up her nose. “But your eyelashes are long and curly, so that’s something, and your hair is long and shiny for one so little.”

  “It is a stupid name, one I did not ask for. My father thought it would help to sell me.”

  The girl called Pebble spoke in haste, as though realizing she might have been unkind. “Look at me, I have eyelashes so short and straight you just can’t see them.” She snorted back a laugh. “The gods were hiding when I was dropped into this world.”

  “My mother was ho, ho-leung. She was a scholar from the great city of Shanghai. Her name was Pai-Ling and she was qian-jin, said to be worth a thousand pieces of gold.”

  “I have heard of such a thing, but I warn you, do not speak of it to others in this place; the mui-mui know little of beauty and nothing of gold.” Pebble cupped her hand to cover her mouth in secrecy. “But did I not hear Ah-Jeh say that your mother is a white fox, and that you are a fox fairy?” She did not wait for an answer but grinned, spitting expertly into the dust.

  “That is much more interesting. Names and mothers are not important here; anyone with either of these would be looked upon with great suspicion. Few of us know who we are. Our mother is the moon—she brings us rest and shares our dreams.”

  She shrugged her shoulders and thrust out her chin. “For all I know of my mother, she could have been a three-legged toad or a wolf or perhaps a phoenix who will one day arise from the river to take me away.”

  Li-Xia felt her heart trip at the mention of the moon mother. Could this be the family she had dreamed of in the darkness of the rice shed? Had Pai-Ling guided her to this place? Pebble wiped a hand across her nose, her lively eyes squinting in the last shreds of golden light as the sun slid slowly into the river. In that moment, Li-Xia thought, she looked like a warrior queen.

  “But my bowlegs say she was a Hakka who probably dropped me in a ditch as easily as a buffalo drops its calf, then carried me to the paddy fields upon her hip. These legs serve me well, don’t you think?” She held up one of her strangely flattened feet with amazing balance and flexibility. Li-Xia could see that its sole was thick and callused as the knee of a very old goat. She stamped it down, kicking up a cloud of dust. “And these fine feet, they no longer feel pain and are stronger than any boot.”

  She widened her infectious grin, her rocking gait becoming a skip as her words flowed freely.

  “In my heart I was born to be a dancer and an opera star.” She struck a theatrical pose and sang a high, quavering note. “But who cares for the dreams of one of the mui-mui? Who knows where we come from … and who cares where we go? We have no name but that which we give ourselves. I have given myself the name of Little Pebble, because before a diamond is made, it starts out as nothing more than a pebble among many others. It lies buried deep in the earth, waiting to be found and made to shine like the brightest star. It does not need to be large to be of great value.”

  She laughed, a careless chuckle that matched her mischievous smile. “You see? This is my ‘Pebble the dancer’ face.” In an instant the smile was gone, and in its place was a fierceness that pulled at the corners of her mouth and thrust out her chin, her eyes no longer friendly. “And this is my ‘Pebble the warrior’ face.” She laughed aloud at Li-Xia’s confusion. “I like you, Beautiful One. I see into your eyes. You have a good heart and a strong one; already it holds many secrets. But no one has a heart that holds more secrets than the Little Pebble.” She thumped her chest with a grubby fist. “I am bursting with secrets. They are all that I have, so I cannot share them, or give them away, or let anyone steal them. Perhaps one day we will do business, one of yours for one of mine, so that our hearts will never be empty.”

  The overseer made a sudden twisting turn on the toes of one foot, as though it would help her think. “But first we must give you your mui-mui name. We will call you Crabapple, which looks good enough to eat but is sour to the taste.” They approached a stone water trough where goats were led to drink. “Yes, I like you, Crabapple … you are not afraid. I can smell fear as surely as I smell salt fish from the anchored junks when the wind is off the river. Let them think you are a fox fairy, as the black crow says. It will bring respect if they are not sure of your powers.”

  They passed through an arched gateway hung with sweet honeysuckle, walking away from the mill and its tidy compound toward the oldest and grandest stand of willows stretched along the riverbank. Beneath shimmering curtains of green, a line of four tumbledown huts, roughly made from woven mats lashed to crooked frames of bamboo, leaned comfortably in their shade.

  “These willows have withstood many storms. They bend in the wind no matter how wild, but never break. Even when the oak is uprooted and the branches of the tung tree broken and flung to the ground, the willow still stands. It owes its life to the river.” She put a protective arm around Li-Xia’s shoulder. “You are still a baby, but I think you have already learned to be like the willow.”

  CHAPTER 5

  The Family Mung-cha-cha

  When they entered the first of the open-sided huts, Pebble led the way past rows of narrow beds under a roof of ragged thatch. A wicker box stood at the foot of each bed, and above them tattered mosquito nets hung from a rickety crisscross of bamboo beams. She stopped in a back corner where six beds stood side by side, the mat walls hung with shells and bunches of dried flowers and herbs.

  “This is where you will sleep.” Pebble dumped her share of the bundle onto the cot, extending her foot to tap the box. “And this is where you will keep your things. No one will steal these rags, but if you have something of any value, hide it well.” The hut was already dimly lit by the yellow flames of slush lamps—clay pots filled with oil and burning a single wick. Fireflies flickered through the fast-closing shadows. The mui-mui were scattered around—squatting, sitting, lying. Some were clothed, some naked and drying their hair still wet from the river, their many voices tangling to be heard. They reminded Li-Xia of ducks chased from the ponds and onto the terraces.

  The babble slowed as they turned her way. Li-Xia had never looked into so many pairs of eyes, so many different faces; they showed a passing interest, then turned aside, busy combing and plaiting each other’s hair or closely searching for lice.

  Pebble whistled softly, and four girls left the others to come to her side. She gestured for them to sit, dropping to her knees to
light the lamp.

  “We work in gangs of six to a grove, each with its overseer. I am overseer to the mung-cha-cha gang and oldest of the mui-mui. I have worked the groves longer than any other.”

  She circled a finger at the side of her head, pulling a silly face. “Mung-cha-cha means ‘a little bit crazy.’ It is sometimes wise to seem stupid when you live among fools.” She gave Li-Xia a wide, lopsided grin. “To have spiders in your head gives you power. Everyone is afraid of madness.”

  She turned to face Li-Xia and placed a welcoming hand on her shoulder. “We do not think of ourselves as a gang, but as a family, and these will be your sisters.

  “This one’s name is Li-Xia—the Beautiful One, the name of vanity given to her by a greedy father to raise her price. So we will call her Crabapple, sweet to look at but hard to swallow.” She grinned at the newest member of her family with approval. “It is yet to be discovered if she is sweet or sour, but already she has felt the cane of Ah-Jeh without flinching, not a sound or the blink of an eye … so watch over her until she has learned the ways of the mui-mui.”

  The overseer spoke fondly of the four girls seated cross-legged around her, presenting each in her turn. “This is Turtle, because she hides in her shell. She would rather listen than talk, and this makes her all-seeing. Nothing happens beneath the willows that she does not know about. Call upon her wisdom when you must. She will also teach you to make a needle from a fish bone, to patch your clothes, and to make beautiful things from stolen silk.”

  Turtle was the smallest of the girls, intent on a bundle of sewing, lost in each minute stitch, smiling her silent welcome as she bobbed her head.

  “This is Garlic, because she eats much of it raw and does not smell like a summer rose, but she bows to no one and there is no better friend when trouble comes. She will teach you where to find rare herbs to heal all things, how to make soap from candle wax and flowers, and how to cut and shape a bamboo flute.” One slightly taller girl, already half stripped and showing small, dark-pointed breasts, grinned boldly, her teeth shining in a dirty face that hid nothing.