My Splendid Concubine (47 page)

Guan-jiah
’s third cousin arrived at the consulate a few days later demanding money for the loss of the cottage. Before Robert had a chance to reply, Guan-jiah rushed into the room, grabbed his cousin by the ear and dragged him into the courtyard. The cousin shrieked in pain. Robert heard most of the argument, and it only added to his confusion.

“
Your master burned the cottage. He killed his concubine in a fit of rage,” the cousin said.

“
That is not true!” Guan-jiah replied. “My master is a good man. He is kind. He would never do that. He cares about people. He even treats me as an equal instead of a slave.”

The cousin snorted a loud nasal sound.
“Hah, you don’t know your master. Another foreign devil told me your master is a thief.”

“
Who told you that?” Guan-jiah said. “My master has a right to defend himself against such accusations. They are lies. What is this foreign devil’s name?”

“
You are blind,” the cousin replied. “Your master caught his concubine having sex with another man. He killed her in a fit of rage.”

“
You will tell me who this man is that accused my master of theft and murder,” Guan-jiah said.

Robert couldn
’t move from his desk. The shock of hearing the cousin’s accusations had frozen him in place. Part of him wanted to join Guan-jiah in discovering the identity of this foreigner. Maybe this man without a name was Ward’s agent sent to destroy Robert’s reputation. If so, Ward wasn’t done with him yet. He felt fear slice through him. Had Ward discovered he’d killed the wrong woman? Was he plotting to come for Ayaou?

“
I do not know who this foreign devil is,” the cousin said. “He came to me and told me these things. He said he couldn’t afford to let anyone know who he was. He said if he did, your master would send an assassin to have him killed. Your master must pay for burning the cottage.”

Guan-jiah gasped.
“He will do no such thing. You are the one who must worry about assassination, and I will be the assassin if you spread such gossip about my master. You will embarrass our family with such talk. It will be a great loss of face.”

The cousin started to argue. Then Robert heard what soun
ded like someone being slapped or slugged. There was a cry of pain from the cousin, and the clatter of shoes on pavement leaving the consulate. Robert never heard from the cousin again.

Guan-jiah
’s defense added to Robert’s growing respect for him. Through his actions, he taught Robert about the honesty of the Chinese peasant. Until then, Robert thought honesty and integrity rare in China. When he realized that Guan-jiah’s honesty and loyalty had been born out of a mixture of Taoist and Confucian upbringing, which had a moral code similar to Christianity’s, he knew there were tens of millions like his servant. Most thieves in China were in the Imperial government or were merchants dealing with foreigners like Patridge.

Days passed, and he was never alone. Either Guan-jiah or Uncle Bark stayed in the house keeping an eye on him.

The mental pain caused by Shao-mei
’s death was so excruciating that he attempted forgetting she’d lived, but she was everywhere. Every time he arrived home, she was inside the entry waiting for him with that dimpled smile—her thin arms stretched wide inviting him to hug her. He stumbled forward to hold her. When her ghostly apparition vanished, his mental anguish returned as an ache he couldn’t escape.

Uncle Bark guided Robert in setting up a lotus seat altar on one of t
he smaller tables. They put the altar in a corner facing east. On it sat a block of wood with Shao-mei’s name carved into it. Flowers, candles, incense, food and drink were displayed around the block of wood and replenished on a regular basis. A monk arrived every seven days and performed rituals Robert couldn’t watch. Uncle Bark attended, while Robert hid upstairs in the dark, covered his ears and cried.

He considered moving out of the Ningpo house and finding somewhere else to live.

Sometimes life is like living in the middle of a freezing blizzard. The noise keeps you from thinking clearly. The white blinds you. The cold numbs you. To escape, you think of nothing but death. You just want to go to sleep and never wake.

Robert sat at
the kitchen table staring at the loaded pistol waiting between his hands. He imagined himself surrounded by noise along with the white and the cold that made you so brittle you might shatter. He was desperate to escape the daily nightmares filled with Ward’s demon laugh.

Uncle Bark moved from where he was watching
near the stove. He took two steps to the table and slid the pistol out of Robert’s reach.

“
I have lost five women and twenty-two children in my life,” he said. “I have been wealthy and poor. I have outlived all but one son. He lives in southeast China in Macao. Starvation, storms, disease, war, bandits, and the Tapings each took a little here and a little there. Now, I have only my memories. Those memories are my rock in the raging river. Although I never talk to those I loved, I cling to my memories of them. I do not run away from them and deny they ever lived. You still have a woman. You must live for her. Ayaou has almost left her mind. She is going to be a living dead thing if you do not go to her. You must find your rock, cling to it, and let the river of life flow around you. Ayaou cannot be that rock for you. I cannot either. You must be that rock.”

“
I’m going to collect Ward’s head. Then I’ll come back for Ayaou,” Robert said.

“
He will kill you if you do,” Uncle Bark said. “He wants you to go after him.”

Robert
tried to think, but his brain was still trapped in that blizzard.

“
Wait for an opportunity to surface,” Uncle Bark said. “Then you will get what you want. Even if years or decades must pass, it is the Chinese way. Now I want you to go to Ayaou. I want you both to return to this life and let Shao-mei rest.”

He
didn’t know anything else he could do, so he listened to the old man. His body was all-ice as he went up the stairs and into the bedroom seeking comfort and warmth by crawling onto the bed beside Ayaou. They stayed that way without food or water until Uncle Bark brought summer fruit cut into small pieces with a container of boiled water and demanded they eat and drink. Robert took the food, but Ayaou didn’t move or open her eyes. It was as if she were waiting for death to claim her.

For what felt like hours, she
didn’t respond to any of his words. Her spirit was chasing Shao-mei. Eventually he went to the kitchen, lit a fire in the stove and cooked rice porridge and yams—Ayaou’s favorite food. He took it to her, begged her to eat, but she ignored him.

Guan-jiah arrived. He stood along the wall in the shadows b
eside Uncle Bark and watched.

Then she spoke in a lifeless tone.
“I cannot look at you, Robert, because Shao-mei can no longer look at you. It was always this time of the day when she hurried me to the stream. She wanted to be the first to greet you.”

The tears in her eyes overflowed.
“I was jealous of her and wanted her gone, so I could have you to myself. It was my curse that killed her!”

“
Ayaou!” he said, unable to control the anger. “It was Ward who killed Shao-mei! Not you!”

“
I know,” she replied. “But Ward was in my body. I went to Mr. Yin-Yang, and he confirmed that it was true.”

“
You’re crazy, Ayaou!” He almost yelled the words. “Mr. Yin-Yang is a fortuneteller.” His anger embarrassed him, and he fought it wanting to be calm and at peace. Uncle Bark was right. He had to be a rock—no, a boulder. A boulder would survive in the blizzard. A rock might get buried but not a boulder, and there would be room for Ayaou to hang on too. During the last year, he’d almost forgotten that he had fallen in love with her first, and she was still alive.

“
No, I m not crazy,” she said. “There have been indications everywhere. Remember when I cut Shao-mei’s embroidered lovebirds to pieces? Mr. Yin-Yang said it was a sign that Shao-mei would die a violent death.” She wailed, and then said, “Oh, Shao-mei, how could I do that to you? Oh, Shao-mei—”

Ward had not just taken the life of one of his concubine
’s—he’d taken both of them. If Robert made the mercenary die once, it would not be enough to pay for what he had done. When the opportunity Uncle Bark mentioned presented itself, he wanted to make sure the bastard paid dearly. To do that, he had to take charge of his life and leave the suffering behind. After all, he had to stay alive to collect that debt, and he didn’t want to do it without Ayaou beside him. He had to revive her will to live. There had to be a way. Then he knew how.

He gathered her into his arms and held her wanting to take the burden of grief from her
. He was now a mighty boulder. He was not going to be swept away by floods or buried in snow. “If you don’t eat, I will die with you,” he said. “Shao-mei will not like that.”

She stirred in his arms and
brushed stray strands of hair from her eyes. She sighed, and he held out a piece of yam for her to eat. She took it, chewed, and swallowed. He offered water. She drank.

“
That yam tastes exactly the way Shao-mei liked them,” she said. “Did you cook it?”

“
Yes,” he said. “I cooked it for a long time at a low temperature.”

“
I could tell. It melted in my mouth, and it was sweet. How did you know what to do?”

“
Shao-mei told me last night.”

“
That is impossible. Shao-mei’s gone.”

“
No, she’s not,” he replied. “She will always be with us. We played a game of
Weiqi
. She cheated as she always does.”

“
You knew she cheated and did not stop her?” Ayaou said.

“
She wouldn’t play with me again if she lost, so I let her.”

Ayaou
stared into his eyes searching for the truth. “Is her spirit here?”

“
Yes.”

“
I miss her laugh. Spirits cannot laugh.”

“
She can,” Robert said. “She’s laughing now. She’s happy we are still alive and together. Listen carefully and you will hear her.”

Silence wrapped its
silky cocoon around them, and she listened. After a moment, her eyes widened. “Robert, you are right. She said she still hates massaging cabbages. She wanted you to know.”

“
I remember,” he said. “The first time I met her, she told me about learning how to give massages by practicing on cabbages.”

“
Her cabbages were like my carrots,” Ayaou said. “What else did she say?”

He started to tell her.

Uncle Bark nodded. “They will be all right,” he said.

“
Yes,” Guan-jiah replied. “It is time for us to go.” Guan-jiah and Uncle Bark left the room.

Years later, the scene of Ayaou cutting his hair and Shao-mei running around having fun teasing him often visited him in his dreams. When it happened, Robert didn’t want to wake. In sleep, he was in a true paradise. He awoke weeping and smiling at the same time and was glad to be bald in his later years because no one cut his hair the way Ayaou did. It was, he realized, exactly what he had wanted.

Several years passed before a chance presented itself for Robert to seek re
venge against Ward. He met another man, a Han Chinese, who
lost face
because of Ward’s lies and accusations. Robert and this high-ranking Han Chinese official formed an alliance. What they could not do alone, they achieved together.

During the waiting, Robert often had an odd feeling every time he glanced in the mirror. The shape of his wrinkles started to change. The
fish-tails
gradually turned into
cactus
—anger and misery formed a wild bush between his eyebrows. He started to age visibly. He felt his vitality slowly draining from his body threatening to leave him empty.

He
might have been a boulder, but his moods darkened. He developed a habit of using a black, porcelain, hand sized spittoon with a hunting tiger painted on its side. Every time he got upset, he would cough and spit. It was his way to keep the anger from boiling out.

This irritated Ayaou, but she did not complain. She knew what Shao-mei would have said.
“Let him be, Ayaou. He has to spit out his bitterness.” She followed her younger sister’s advice.

PART TWO

Chapter 26

God could not be blamed for Shao-mei’s rape and murder. Instead, Robert blamed himself. The guilt felt as if he were eating ground glass. He should have protected her.

It was 1857
, and he was heedless of the events happening around him.

Ningpo
had changed since he arrived in 1854. Crime and corruption had collapsed Chinese Maritime Customs, a service established in 1685. Mobs looted its treasury in Shanghai, and Wu Chien-chang, the Chinese official in charge, had gone into hiding.