A Concubine for the Family: A Family Saga in China (43 page)

One afternoon, Mr. Pien, a fisherman, was at the door. His wife had gone into labor. Purple Jade had monitored her pregnancy in the last eight months. Mrs. Pien was of diminutive build and had boasted of her large round belly, certain that the baby would be a big strong boy. Purple Jade had taken note of the woman’s small pelvis. When the call came, she warned the family: “The labor will be long. Do not expect me home until tomorrow.” Purple Jade changed into Winter Plum’s baggy black pants and old blue jacket. Donning a fisherwoman’s big straw hat, she trotted beside Mr. Pien. They made their way through the market and managed to reach the waterfront without incident. Mr. Pien rowed swiftly toward his houseboat and his wife.

On the evening of the following day, Righteous Virtue conferred in the living room with a few neighbors to plan for a cache of provisions in the wooded hill. Comely Brook grew apprehensive and fidgety when they still had no word from Purple Jade.

“I’m going to find out how
Tai-tai
is doing.” She drew Righteous Virtue out of his conference and whispered to him in the hallway, “Silver Bell is watching the baby.”

“Take the car,” her husband answered in a hurry. He knew the car provided status, and could perhaps offer safety. Trusting her common sense, he did not question her. He returned to his meeting.

Comely Brook drove the Buick into the market. The fish stall owner willingly hid the car and led her to the waterfront, where another fisherman ferried her to Purple Jade.

Mrs. Pien’s labor had lasted twenty-six hours. Purple Jade massaged, manipulated, cleaned, and used her needles to ease her pain. When Comely Brook arrived, Purple Jade had just delivered an eight-pound boy. The Piens were ecstatic. They would not let the women leave without first celebrating with a toast of wine and a small repast of sausages and cakes which they had saved for the occasion. It was already dark when the Huang women returned to their black car. Comely Brook drove home stealthily without turning on the headlights. They stopped in the shadows of each corner to make certain the way was clear .

As they came to the mouth of their street, they saw Japanese soldiers scrambling up the hill like spectral shadows. Screams and whimpers erupted all over the mountain.

“We must distract the enemy. Draw them down!” Purple Jade felt strangely energized, like the time Glorious Dragon took her to raid Prosperous Dream. She was a different woman then. She had gone along to watch her brother, but now she was directing the action.

Comely Brook did not answer. She turned on the headlights and floored the gas pedal. The Buick roared down the street like a streak of lightning.

The drunken soldiers gave chase immediately. They fired their rifles at random. Comely Brook swerved back and swept past them at great speed, trying not to hit anyone. The body of a soldier on their street could spell death for every man, woman, and child on Blue Pool Road. When they turned the corner, the car skidded to a stop. Comely Brook’s heart thudded so violently, she could not think. She gasped as she saw in the rear-view mirror that the staggering soldiers had followed them.

“They’ve left our street.” Purple Jade turned to look. “Duck, they’re going to shoot!”

The women ducked just in time. They had seen the two dogs barking wildly at the soldiers’ heels, and the drunkards raising their rifles . . . A sudden yelp and the scream of a ricochet of bullet sent them cowering to the floor. The rear window shattered as a bullet whizzed by overhead and pierced the windshield. Crouching in the front seat, and holding her sister-wife’s cool hand, Comely Brook was jolted into a sudden calm.

“There is a long straight stretch of road in front of us.” Purple Jade squeezed Comely Brook’s hand for courage. “Let’s steer the car from where we are. Drive slowly enough so they think they can reach us.”

“You sit on the floor on your side, guide the steering wheel with your right hand, and push the gas pedal with your left hand,” Comely Brook commanded in strange animation. She lay down on the front seat and adjusted the rear and side-view mirrors. Twisting her body like a contortionist, she worked the clutch, the brake and the stick shift. Stealing glances at the mirrors, she directed her former mistress: “Steer right. Now stay the course. More pressure on the gas . . . less now, slower, slow — slow.” Together, they eased down the road, and kept the speedometer below twenty miles an hour.

Sweating, they felt the steering wheel and stick shift slip from their control. They grappled with hands, elbows, and knees and heard the frenzied curses, the whine of bullets, the spurts of cement flying off the walls of buildings, and the sudden rattle of the car as a shot found its mark. Their snug, blind ride filled them with a surreal peace. Purple Jade could not help but remember the time of idle waiting in the car when Glorious Dragon burned the opium den. Now she was an active participant. She smiled at the thought that her brother would be delighted.

“We’re their sole target now,” Comely Brook whispered.

A bullet shattered the window on the passenger side. Comely Brook squeezed her eyes shut, cursing, as glass hit her left arm and face. She jerked herself upright and sped the car down the road, turned another corner, waited for the soldiers to catch up and sped to another corner, leading the soldiers farther and farther away from the neighborhood. Hissing and breathing through clenched teeth, she ignored the sight of splattered blood all around her and Purple Jade cowering beside her. She grabbed the slippery, bloodied steering wheel as she readjusted her rear-view mirror. The soldiers shouted, cursed, tripped over themselves, draped themselves on lamp-posts, and crashed into road signs and buildings. The run had exhausted them; their bullets went wide of the mark. At last they drifted off to cause trouble elsewhere.

Comely Brook switched off the headlights and turned into a side street. Purple Jade’s eyes blazed with satisfaction and excitement. She gave her sister-wife a quiet nod and a shy smile as they prepared to steal home. Just as they felt free and triumphant, a soldier appeared from nowhere. He tucked his wine bottle into his pocket, and flung himself in the path of the car. He raised his rifle in the pool of streetlight and aimed straight at them. Purple Jade froze in her seat. Panic flushed Comely Brook. The car lurched forward in a spurt of smoke. The rifle shot muffled a loud thud and the soldier’s final shout as they ran him down.

Comely Brook stopped the car while Purple Jade helped her push and pull the soldier into the back seat. Purple Jade’s heart pounded and her head ached, but her eyes registered the scowl on the face of the dead man. The soldier had unbuttoned his uniform and taken off his undershirt, leaving his hairy chest exposed to his waist. In the tangle and tussle of pushing the dead man, the bottle slipped out of the loose flapping jacket. The sound of shattered glass and the sudden stench of cheap alcohol rushed them to finish the task. A quiet tension enveloped them. Comely Brook crept up to the end of the street and parked the car in the shadows to steady their nerves.

“We did right.” Purple Jade was the first to speak. “If we left him dead on the street, this whole neighborhood would suffer.”

“We can’t bring the dead body home.”

“We’ll dump him in the ocean. Perhaps we should dump the car with him. It’ll be easier to go home on foot, now that the soldiers are looking for our car.” Purple Jade was barely audible.

Comely Brook did not answer. Her head was a whirl of pain. They stole toward the harbor. They met no patrols; the soldiers must have gone on their separate drunken sprees. They edged close to a deserted embankment and Comely Brook let Purple Jade out in the shadows of a building. Comely Brook opened her door and raced the engine. She rolled out of the moving car and watched their beloved Buick plunge into the sea with a loud splash, carrying its deadly cargo.

There was no sense of triumph as they trudged home, hiding in the shadow of houses and buildings along the way. They whispered to each other and wondered what they might do if the soldiers returned the following evening. What if the Japanese found the car and the dead soldier in it? What if the soldier had not been dead after all, and somehow managed to get back on shore? A cold sweat drenched them. Fear enveloped them like heavy, humid air. Their cooperation, which had been so exhilarating, now evaporated.

Righteous Virtue, pacing in extreme anxiety, was waiting for them as they limped in the door looking like lacerated ghouls. With a horrible cry, he prepared hot water, as Purple Jade began picking the pieces of glass from Comely Brook’s face. She ignored her own injuries and proceeded to clean and dress her sister-wife’s wounds. She remembered the only other time she had touched Comely Brook’s face — when she had helped Orchid apply makeup before their raid of the opium den. Oh, how they had all changed. Glorious Dragon would be so proud of them. She smiled.

“I killed a man tonight!” Comely Brook whispered in a trembling voice. “He might have been a father. He wore a wedding ring.”

“Hush, Brook-
mei
, you did what you must.” Purple Jade opened her medicine bag. She worked meticulously with a steady hand, and her mind raced back to the escape. “Eventually, they will find our car. My lord, they will assume you killed the soldier! You must find a way to leave for Chungking as soon as possible.”

“If I’m not here, they will punish my whole family. No! I will not leave.”

Purple Jade knew it was futile to argue. When Comely Brook was all bandaged, Righteous Virtue was allowed to wash and clean Purple Jade’s cuts.

The next day, Purple Jade again changed into Winter Plum’s clothes and stole into the market to contact the fishermen. They arranged for a fishing junk to take her husband to Hainan Island, where there still remained a small stronghold of the Nationalist army.

When Righteous Virtue learned of the plan, he still refused to go. He would only leave, he said, if his family returned to their home in Shanghai. He finally wrote a note asking for help and took it to his office, where he managed to cable Iris Kamasaki in Shanghai.

T
HE GROVE OF green bamboo by her house across the causeway glistens in the charcoal haze
.

The bamboo erupts. Flying pieces of cane ignite in a macabre display of fireworks. Plumes of black smoke suffocate the morning sun and drain the blue horizon
.

“
Help, help
. . .”

“
Little Six, where are you . . . where are you?
”

“
Water, someone, please, water
. . .”

The cedar in the garden singes like incense sticks, filling the air with pungent smoke. Flickering fires rain on heaps of broken furniture, collapsed doors, shattered windows, and grounds littered with torn clothing and broken toys
.

Purple jade shook herself to regain her composure.

Another interminable week had passed. The balmy winter days were cool and dry — perfect for picnics and walks around the Peak. Purple Jade remembered former family outings with a painful knot in her chest. The winter sun warmed her, but she no longer saw the colors. Although the Chinese New Year was approaching, she felt no need to prepare. The splendor of Hangzhou brought poignant memories of perfume, color, music and pain.

The shipping office was closed, so Righteous Virtue could not arrange passage for the women to Shanghai. Calls to his friends were fruitless. Many had suffered greater losses than they. Though it would mean the breakup of his family, he did his best to find a way to escape before the Japanese could find the car in the harbor.

They felt safe in the daytime. But at night there was never-ending vigilance. The marauding soldiers left everyone’s nerves frazzled. They fumbled through the day like old people who had lived too long, bent and burdened by time.

Silver Bell seemed to have lost all her childish ways. She wept with the adults; studied hard even though she no longer attended school, but helped to take care of baby Coral Bell everyday.

Righteous Virtue tried to find solace in his reading. As usual, Comely Brook did physical labor to allay her fears. The house was scrubbed clean, and no one noticed that she had fully resumed her role as a servant, cooking, cleaning and serving.

One day, Purple Jade found Comely Brook standing by Little Jade’s empty bed, trembling and staring at it. Without a word, she led her sister-wife to her husband, searching for a way to calm her.

“Brook-
mei
, it was good of you to come and fetch me at the Piens. I might not have made it home otherwise.”

Righteous Virtue saw the women’s tear-stained faces and motioned them to sit.

“I think I wanted to kill the soldier because of Little Jade. Now the master’s life is in danger!” Comely Brook sobbed.

“Brook-
mei
, we’re at war with the soldier we killed.” Somehow, Purple Jade felt her hatred of the enemy had been drained into hollowness. Her patriotic rhetoric sounded trite. The old saying rang true:

How rhen boo doung bing
.

(A good man does not become a soldier.)

She knew she must not dwell on her old learning but find a way to distract her sister-wife.