Pearl of China (3 page)

I had a hard time that afternoon. My neck felt stiff , as if pressed under a stone grinder. I went up into the hills and sat alone. I didn’t move until the sun set and the boatmen returned. Mist began to spread along the riverbank. The moisture was thick in my lungs. I lost sleep that evening. I was deeply ashamed. Pearl’s tearful face hovered before me all night long. I got up and admitted to Papa and NaiNai that I had taken the pancake.

They were not surprised.

C
HAPTER
3

The teahouses celebrated spring by hosting parties. “Men of words” gathered around blossoming camellias and peach and plum trees and composed poems. Papa loved the parties, while I loved the blooming peach flowers that looked like pink clouds. Then came the April wet season. The southern China rain didn’t come in showers. It came like a spreading thick fog. When I stuck out an arm, I could feel no drops. But once I stepped outside, wetness would wrap me. In ten minutes of walking, moisture would soak through my clothes. If I wiped my face with a hand, water would come off. Very slowly, my hair would droop. Strands of hair would paste against my skull.

In a month, the river would rise a few inches. Water and sky would become one gray color. Toads, eels, earthworms, and leeches would be found everywhere. The dirt path would become sluggish. Bamboo would thrive. By the time summer arrived, it would cover the southern slopes of the hills.

My teeth were green from chewing milkweeds. I had just turned nine. It became harder to resist the urge to steal. I had been thinking about a boy who had visited us during the past Chinese New Year. He was a distant relative and seventeen years old. His name was San-bao. He was an apprentice working for the local blacksmith. What I really had been thinking about were the soy nuts San-bao had promised me. I wondered when he would deliver his gift.

My legs carried me to San-bao’s shop. I wished that I had nicer clothes. San-bao was surprised to see me. He wore a dirty apron and was bare-shouldered. He was a strong and cheerful man who had a horse’s jaw. I could see wormlike thick veins under his skin. Putting down his sledgehammer, he asked what had brought me to visit.

I couldn’t tell him the truth. I couldn’t say that I had come for the soy nuts. I said that I was just passing by. He smiled gleefully.

“Have you eaten?” he asked after a moment.

“No.” I was embarrassed for replying too quickly.

“What would you like me to get you?”

Before I could stop myself, my tongue went, “Soy nuts would be nice.”

“Oh, right, soy nuts.” He remembered his promise. He told me to wait and went inside the shop. When he came out, he said, “We’ll take a walk, and I’ll get you the soy nuts.”

As soon as San-bao paid for the soy nuts, I reached for the bag.

“No, not yet.” San-bao took it away. “I don’t want the beggar children to jump on you. We must find a quiet place to sit.”

I followed San-bao. We arrived at the back of the old churchyard where the weeds were waist-high. Black crows shot into the sky. Field mice ran through the wild berry bushes. We sat down. San-bao watched me eating the soy nuts. As soon as I finished, he put his arm around my shoulders.

“I am good to you, aren’t I?” he asked.

I nodded, feeling a little awkward.

“Do me a favor,” he said, pulling my hand over and placing it on top of his crotch.

I was shocked.

“You don’t have to be so serious.” He grinned.

“I’m going home, San-bao.”

“Come on, Willow.”

“No, San-bao.”

“You owe me.” He dropped his smile and his voice turned cold.

I was frightened. I got up and ran, but he caught me.

“You really believe that I’d let a cooked duck fly away?” He pushed me down.

I struggled to free myself.

He held my neck and twisted my head to the side. “I paid for your soy nuts.”

“I’ll give you the money back!”

“You have no money.”

“I’ll find a way.”

“I want it right now!”

“I don’t have it.”

“Yes, you do. You have something I like. All you have to do is to let me touch it . . .” He reached inside my clothes.

“San-bao, please!”

“Willow, give me no trouble.”

“Let me go!”

“Don’t make me hurt you.”

“No!”

“You bitch!”

“No!”

He pressed my face down to stop me from screaming.

I fought and kicked, but he was too strong.

My clothes were ripped.

I begged him to stop.

Refusing, he forced himself onto me.

Losing strength, I broke down. There was no way I could escape. I regretted my foolishness.

It was when San-bao pushed my face to the side that I saw a shadow. There was a figure hiding behind a stone tablet.

A familiar black knitted cap revealed who it was.

“Help!” I screamed.

Before San-bao could react, Pearl ran up. She struck San-bao with a big rock.

Instantly, San-bao fell over and was still.

“Oh, my God.” Pearl stepped back. “Did I kill him?”

I gasped getting up.

Pearl bent down and put a finger under San-bao’s nose.

“He’s not dead!” Pearl said. “Should I hit him more?”

“No, no more!” San-bao pleaded, trying to raise himself.

“You deserve to die!” I yelled.

Pearl picked up the rock again.

“No!” San-bao rose and ran.

Pearl chased him until he disappeared.

Gratitude filled my chest.

Pearl came back and brushed the dirt off my clothes.

“Thank you for the rescue, my friend,” I uttered.

“Who is your friend?” She turned away. “Liar!”

“Please forgive me, Pearl. I’ll do anything to make it up to you.”

“Do you expect me to trust you?” She looked at me, disgusted. “You took my father’s wallet and spent his money; you stole Wang Ah-ma’s pancakes and lied to my mother . . . You little donkey ass!” You little donkey She walked down the hill, swinging her basket.

I tried to hold back my tears.

She sang a Chinese song that I knew well. The hills echoed. The colorful wild flowers in her basket bounced under the bright sunshine.

Noises filled the Sunday church. Men exchanged opinions on the weather and methods for pest control. Women knitted, mended, embroidered, and chatted. Someone shouted across the room. Children threw pine nuts at each other. Mothers nursed their infants and yelled at their elder children. Absalom was unable to quiet the crowd until Papa rang a merchant’s bell.

“Folks, the Western monk needs our help,” Papa said with raised voice. “In my opinion, Absalom offers not an alternative but a better deal. Look, we have fed our gods and they are fat and happy. But what have they done for us? Nothing. Now, folks, I’d like you to take a hard look at Absalom’s God, Jesus Christ. Just look at his appearance. Anyone who is not blind can tell that he works harder than the Chinese gods. So listen, folks, listen to Absalom.”

Absalom picked up the opportunity. “Today we shall learn about the Baptism of Christ.” He pulled out his color drawing and pointed. “The two men are Lord Christ and John.”

I saw two figures standing in a river performing a ceremony. John and Christ had almost oriental features, with smaller noses and slightly slanted eyes. Absalom had finally taken Papa’s advice. He had smoothed the deep-set Western eyes and flattened their pointed noses. Christ now had longer earlobes, resembling Buddha’s.

Papa told me that Absalom at first had insisted on presenting a fully bearded Christ. It wasn’t until Papa proved to him that no Chinese would worship a god that looked like a monkey that he agreed to trim the beard.

“Buddha’s face changed as he traveled from India to China.” Papa pointed out to Absalom the difference between the early India Buddha and the later Chinese Buddha. Buddha’s eyes grew smaller as he arrived in China, his skin lighter and smoother. The Chinese sculptors made sure that Buddha appeared well fed. With his eyes half closed, Buddha looks like he is about to nap after a satisfying meal.

When Absalom baptized Papa, it was a big day for the town. Everyone wanted to see Papa being dipped in the river like a pot sticker in soy sauce. It was the first time Pearl and I sat together. We both had been trying to help our fathers draw a crowd.

Absalom and Papa stood face-to-face in the river with water up to their waists. Absalom was in his dark gray robe, while Papa wore his washed white cotton gown. Papa was red-faced and looked nervous, while Absalom was serious and solemn.

Speaking his heavily accented Chinese, Absalom explained, “Descending into the waters implies a confession of guilt and a plea for forgiveness.”

Papa repeated loudly after Absalom.

“Make a new beginning!” Absalom shouted. “Come to the light on the Cross!”

Papa tried to stand still but wasn’t able to. “When should I take a breath?” he asked.

Absalom ignored him. “‘Take me and throw me into the sea,’ says Jesus,” he sang.

“Tell me when,” Papa spoke again.

“Wait.” Absalom held him.

“I am afraid of drowning,” Papa said. “I really am.”

“Trust in God.”

Gently, Absalom pushed Papa back until his head went under the water.

The crowd held its breath.

“Lord Jesus bears all righteousness!” Absalom hailed.

The crowd cheered.

Papa looked frozen. He emerged from the water and immediately sank back again.

“Papa, what are you doing?” I shouted.

“He is accepting Christ’s death,” Pearl said quietly.

“For what?”

“For his sins and the sins of humanity.”

Papa reemerged from the river, spilling water like a fountain. He didn’t choke. I was relieved. I saw NaiNai among the crowd wiping her tears. The night before she had told us that she liked the idea that her son was getting a cleaning.

“God calls out, ‘This is my beloved son!’” Absalom shouted. “‘This is the anticipation of his death on the Cross and his Resurrection!’”

Led by Absalom, Papa walked out of the river.

“I feel God and his Will!” Papa said to the crowd. “Jesus made me shake off a failed life. I am to begin a new one!”

I was sure Papa did it for Absalom to thank him.

As if touched by Papa’s transformation, Absalom stuck out both of his arms toward the sky, calling out, “Praise the Lord!”

Speaking together as if singing a duet, Papa and Absalom stood side by side in the church on Sundays. Folks were curious when they heard about Papa’s new luck on getting blessed by the foreign god. They came to see if they could acquire the same protection.

Papa delivered an outstanding performance for Absalom.

“We live in an underworld filled with demons,” Papa began with the same enthusiasm he showed when reciting his Chinese poems. “Doomed by fate, we are captured by evil, spellbound by mean spirits. We, the incense burners, the coolies, the losers, gamblers, drunkards, thieves, and deaf-n-blinds. Be afraid no more, because Jesus is here to help. All you have to do is to make a new start by signing up with Absalom.”

Papa asked the town’s seventeen-year-old widow, Lilac, who was an egg seller, “Am I right to guess that Buddha hasn’t answered your prayers?”

“No, he certainly has not,” Lilac replied.

“Are you losing faith in him?”

“I am afraid to say yes, but yes.”

“You are disappointed.”

“I don’t mean to offend Buddha. But yes.”

“Lilac, you have been visiting the temple since birth. The incense you have burned could make a hill. Did your life change for the good? You were bought and sold twice. You were married to a sick man who was dying. You were forced to sleep with the crop in order to balance his yin and yang elements. You barely escaped from your in-laws. You came to Chin-kiang friendless and family-less and still are. Have you ever questioned the god you worship?”

Lilac shook her head and began to weep.

“Well, consider your disappointment an investment!” Papa said.

“An investment?” Lilac’s big eyes widened.

Absalom frowned.

Papa’s tongue had never been so slippery as his words poured. “This investment warns you not to make any more bad choices, so that you won’t end up captive to evil spirits forever!”

“But I have been burning incense!” Lilac protested. “I don’t deserve bad luck forever!”

“Have you ever asked yourself the reason that bad luck still follows you?” Papa asked.

Lilac shook her head.

“Why you and no one else?”

“Why?”

To drive home his point, Papa punched his right fist into his left palm. “It’s the wrong god you have been worshipping!”

Lilac was stunned.

“The Christian God says, Lilac, you deserve a chance for a better life. Yes, you, Lilac!” Like an opera singer, Papa commanded the stage. “God tells me that Lilac deserves the same chance as his beloved son, the Lord Jesus Christ! Now make your wish and claim it!”