Secret of a Thousand Beauties (9 page)

But Aunty seemed unimpressed. “Not bad. But do you have something better?”

“Of course, we have the very best work of any store here.”

Again, she disappeared into the back of the store, then quickly returned, this time with a flat wooden box. She opened it very cautiously, as if she were afraid to find out what lurked inside. With a flourish, she lifted off a swatch of yellow cloth, revealing a folded fabric with a proud dragon on the chest.

Plump lifted the object from the box. “Who knows what this is?” she asked, eyes challenging us.

Leilei beat us to the answer. “An emperor’s robe!”

“Correct.” Plump pointed to the different images on the robe and pedantically explained to us what they were—“Dragons are symbols of the Son of Heaven’s absolute power; colored clouds are auspicious; the sun, moon, stars represent the resplendent light of the throne. . . .”

“
Wah,
how beautiful!” we all exclaimed—except Aunty.

She seemed preoccupied, as if remembering something sad and dark.

Suddenly she blurted out a question. “Have you heard of an embroiderer by the name of Qiu Niang?”

Plump looked deep in thought for a moment, then answered, “Hmm . . . the name sounds familiar. I think I might have heard of her, but why do you ask?”

“Just curious. She was very famous for a while, but then her fame faded. Now no one knows where she is. I just wonder if she’s still alive.”

“Hmm . . . Yes, Qiu Niang. Now I remember. I think I heard that she became a nun. Or maybe she jumped into a river and the nun is someone else.”

“Where did you hear this?”

“Oh, I can’t remember. You know, there are so many people coming in and out of our store gossiping every day—”

“Do you have any of her work here?”

Plump scratched her round head. “Hmmm . . . I’m not sure. I can go back to our storage room a few miles from here and take a look. But then you may have to wait a day or two. That’s if you want to buy her work, if not . . .”

“I understand.”

“You want me to show you our other works here?”

Aunty waved her hand. “Oh, no. We do not want to trouble you anymore. Thank you for showing us the work, especially the dragon robe.”

And that ended our first glimpse into the life of the emperor’s court.

As we all made our way out of the Lotus Embroidery Shop, we didn’t have the heart to see the disappointment on Plump’s face.

Once we were some distance away from the store, I asked Aunty, “You never mentioned this Qiu Niang. Who is she?”

She cast me a disapproving look. But then said softly, as if to herself, “She’s a very special woman—one of the greatest embroiderers.”

“Even better than you?”

But seemingly lost in thought, Aunty ignored my question. Or maybe she didn’t want to say that someone could be a better embroiderer than she. Soon we were again in front of the photography shop. Aunty was not in a good mood, so maybe she had changed her mind about the picture-taking.

But then she suddenly exclaimed, “That dragon robe is a fake!”

“Fake?” all the girls asked simultaneously.

“Yes, how could anyone get an emperor’s robe and have it in a store just like that?”

Purple said, “That’s true, how come we never thought of that?”

“Then how come the sales woman never thought of that?” I asked.

“Because the world is full of ignorant people who can’t tell a fake when it’s as obvious as the nose on their face,” Aunty hissed.

Now it was Leilei’s turn to ask. “So it’s just a copy?”

“Yes, and it’s a very bad copy.”

Leilei said, “It looks pretty good to me, though.”

Aunty cast her a disgusted look. “You think you have better eyes than me?”

“Of course not, Aunty, I’m sorry.”

“Ignorant girl, it’s at most mediocre. Worse, one symbolism for emperor is missing. It has the sun, moon, stars, and fire for brightness, mountains for steadfastness, bronze vessels for offerings, rice for nourishment, and opposite-facing bows for justice, and, of course, dragons . . . But there is no seaweed!”

“Seaweed?” we all asked at once.

“Haven’t any of you heard the phrase, ‘Following the sea’s rising and falling currents’?”

Of course we hadn’t, so Aunty went on triumphantly. “Because all emperors hoped they would ride forever over the ups and downs of fortune.”

Leilei blurted out, “Aunty Peony, how do you know about all this?”

Our teacher simply ignored her question and continued. “The emperor didn’t just wear one robe, but had many for different occasions, such as meeting with high ministers at court, leading his soldiers into battle, and especially important rituals, such as honoring Heaven and Earth at the Temple of Heaven.”

Just then Little Doll piped up. “Aunty Peony, are we going to have our picture taken now?”

Aunty’s voice softened a bit. “Of course, Little Doll.”

10

T
he Memory Lane Photography Studio was a small space filled with photography paraphernalia. Tripods supporting large, accordion-like cameras were scattered around. Framed black-and-white pictures and hand-colored ones hung on the walls. Yellow film boxes spilled from shelves. However, one corner was neat, primly decorated with stiff, high-backed chairs, a vase with flowers on a carved stand, and landscape paintings on the wall. Aimed at these decorations were two large lamps with black covers.

Aunty Peony told the skinny, fortyish photographer that we wanted group pictures with her sitting in the middle, the three of us standing behind her, and Little Doll squatting in front. After fussing with his strange equipment, the photographer finally asked Aunty to sit and us girls to gather around her. After that, he carefully instructed us as to how to arrange our heads, hands, and legs into the “just right” positions.

Then he yelled, “That’s it, don’t move. Now, smile!”

We did what we’d been told. But I also thought:
What is there to smile about?

He pressed the button repeatedly, resulting in a series of crisp
click, click, click.
After that, he announced that the pictures were taken and we could all relax. He said it’d take a couple of weeks or even longer for the pictures to be ready. But since we were not going to stay that long, either the store would have to send us the pictures or one of us would come back here for them. I secretly hoped Aunty would choose me, but knew this was unlikely.

Our stay in the famous city lasted only six days. We visited a few more shops, which gave Aunty the opportunity to criticize everyone else’s work. In the evenings she would treat us to Peking duck and other special local dishes at an elegant restaurant, then walk us back to the inn and admonish us to go to sleep early. Although we heard the door of her room close, I was pretty sure she would go out alone, but where and for what I had no idea.

Finally, the day before we went back to Soochow, Aunty said she’d take us to the Forbidden City. She said since we didn’t have much time, we’d only see a small part of it—the emperor’s throne room. I wondered why, among all the treasures of this famous place, all she wanted to see was a chair, not where the Empress Dowager had slept, or her huge collection of jewelry.

The Forbidden City was conveniently within walking distance of where our inn was located. When we arrived at the enormous palace, Aunty seemed to know exactly where she was going—the Grand Hall of Ultimate Harmony, the site of the dragon throne. There were not many tourists around, so we were able to get quite close to
the
chair. It was impressive, indeed, with its high back, gold cushions, and many dragons.

The mythical creature was everywhere—on the chair’s back, arm rests, and the screen behind it. There were also other auspicious creatures such as cranes, tortoises, and elephants. Strangely, instead of feeling awed by this chair’s grandeur and beauty, I found it oppressive. The dragons running around with its dazzling gold made me dizzy. It was so overwhelming that I could hardly breathe. I guessed I was just not emperor or empress material.

But Leilei
oohed
and Little Doll drooled over its sumptuousness, sparkling gold, and elaborate carvings that only the emperor was permitted.

With a smug expression, Leilei exclaimed, “If I were the empress, I could ascend this throne with my husband the emperor!”

“Me too!” Little Doll echoed. “If I were their daughter, I’d be a princess!”

“I’d have maids and servants to wait on me hand and foot,” Leilei added.

“Me too!”

Since Purple and I remained silent, Aunty asked, “What do you two think?”

Purple spoke first. “It’s beautiful, but none of us will ever be an empress. We can only admire it from a distance.”

When she finished, I said, “It’s too much for me.”

Leilei said sarcastically, “Spring Swallow,
you
will certainly never be an empress.”

As I was trying to think of a retort, Aunty said softly, as if to herself, “I do like this throne. It’s truly beautiful.”

Her eyes lingered on the chair for long moments. After that, she said, “Let me tell you a story.”

We all quieted down to attend to our teacher’s words.

“In 1908, the three-year-old emperor was seated on this same chair next to the imperial minister for his coronation. Startled by the loud drums, cymbals, and bells, the little emperor burst out crying hysterically. The minister tried to comfort him, saying, ‘Don’t cry! It’s going to be over soon.’ And it was. Three years later, the whole Qing dynasty was overthrown.”

When we were all trying to digest the story and its message, Aunty added bitterly, “If it’s not your destiny, it’s not going to happen.”

What was she trying to tell us?

 

The following morning, I wondered about the little emperor’s fate as I helped pack for our trip back to Soochow. When we were done, we went into Aunty Peony’s room to tell her we were ready.

Then I wondered aloud, “Aunty Peony, how come you didn’t take us to where our embroideries are sold—the Heavenly Phoenix store?”

Now all the girls asked simultaneously, “Yes, Aunty Peony, how come?”

Aunty cast us a penetrating look. “Because Heavenly Phoenix only has business with me, not you girls, that’s why. Don’t think you’re so special just because I let you work on
Along the River.
I am
the
embroiderer, you girls are only helpers, you understand? Remember, without me, you’d all be homeless nobodies!”

Now enlightened to the fact that we were not only homeless but also nobodies, we girls left behind the North Capital, the Forbidden City, the dragon throne, and the doomed little emperor to accompany Aunty back to nowhere, where we lived....

Soon we were back to reality: our house near the mountain, our long hours of embroidering, our celibate lives. For me, I was happy enough to be back to work, because only with embroidering did I feel any sense of accomplishment. Seeing Aunty back at work after our visit to the imperial capital, I wondered anew why she had chosen such an improvised life. Aunty rarely took us out to have fun, nor—as far as we knew—did she go out for lavish meals or entertainment for herself. Though she continued to teach us, she seemed depressed. Lately she would finish working early and go upstairs to rest. She must have made a lot from our work, but what did she spend it on? And why the trip to Peking? I knew my teacher well enough to know that the trip was not just to be nice to us.

Now that she was spending more time by herself in her room, I was more curious than ever what her room was like and what she did there.

I asked Purple about it again, but she would not tell me anything more, warning me, “Don’t do it, Spring Swallow. Aunty would disown you. Besides, some secrets are best left secret.”

I had my own secrets, so I knew what she meant, but I still asked, “Why is that?”

“It’s bad luck to pry; it can be dangerous.”

But I had never heard that knowing others’ secrets could bring bad luck.

“You think Leilei ever snuck into her room?”

“I really don’t know. Leilei is weird and she is nasty to everyone, except Aunty, of course. I think she’s very cunning and won’t be here much longer. Like Aunty, she never really tells us about herself or anything. She might already have broken into Aunty’s room and snooped around, but she’d never tell anyone, certainly not me.”

Bad luck or not, I did plan to have a look at Aunty’s room if the opportunity ever presented itself. I went up a few times when Aunty went out, only to find her door was locked as tightly as a virginity belt. What was she so afraid of? Since I couldn’t go upstairs, the next time she went out, I went to the mountain. With the Peking trip and catching up afterward, it had been nearly a month since I’d had the chance to visit my writing place.

In my thick-soled cloth shoes, I climbed as rapidly as I could, not even pausing to rest or look down. Once at the top, I found myself alone in my little sanctuary, sharing the warm sun and soothing breeze only with the birds, trees, and the flowers peeping through the rocks. As I breathed in the pure air I felt my frayed nerves gradually relax. I wasn’t even sure what I was so nervous about.

From the distance, I’d already spotted what looked like a new “letter” from Shen Feng and hurried to the rock.

By the time I finished reading, my heart was pounding. How could he be so interested in me even though we’d never met? I read the poem again, then sat down on a rock to think. How could this man, who had never even seen me, read my mind? He seemed to know I climbed mountains to be alone and to expand my vision. And he knew I would love his poem about mountain climbing.

I remembered Father Edwin had read me a poem about ascending mountains. I loved the way he recited it so much that I kept nagging him to repeat it. Looking up at the clear, blue sky, I recited to myself the lines he’d taught me:

Father said the Tang dynasty poet Du Mu was telling us that life is short and harsh, so we should grab happy moments as we can. I knew that life is harsh, but I disagreed with Du Mu that life is short. To me, it was pretty long and tedious. But who was I to argue with the erudite Father Edwin—or the famous poet!

Another poem he had taught me was by Wang Wei, also from the Tang dynasty.

Father Edwin said that if we keep warm in our memory of the friends who are gone, then life is not so sad. I wondered who was the missing person in this poem. I also wondered why most Chinese poems are sad. But Father Edwin said when I was older, life’s experiences would make me understand a lot of things, both sad but also happy. Then he said that nothing is sure in life except God’s love. So we should always have faith in our Creator. But I was pretty sure that Wang Wei was not thinking about God’s love when he composed the poem. Still, Father Edwin was the kindest person I had ever met and I hoped that someday I would see him again.

Though feeling sorry for myself, my spirit was again lifted when I remembered this poem by Du Fu.

I looked down and thought that perhaps someday I would climb a mountain much higher than this one. I took out my brush and ink and wrote this simple poem next to Shen Feng’s letter and also a reminder for him to write inside the cave next time. After that, I picked a few wildflowers, put them on my head, then hummed a tune as I headed down the steep path.

Once I was home, however, I started to worry that Shen Feng might think me boastful to want to climb the highest mountain. Would he think I was so conceited as to fancy I could be on top of the world? Maybe I’d get to the top someday, but for now it was back to hour after hour with needle and thread. I knew I had not much chance in life, except by learning embroidery.

 

During the next few days Aunty Peony would catch me staring into space—fortunately I was sure she could not know I was daydreaming about a man I had never met. But she must have had a secret preoccupation of her own because two weeks later, to all of our surprise, Aunty Peony announced that she was about to take another trip to Peking to collect the photographs, but that she would only bring Little Doll.

Purple asked timidly, “Can’t they send us the photos?”

Aunty said, “We don’t have a real address and the photos might get lost. We won’t have many chances to get pictures taken together like this, let alone by a photographer in Peking.”

The three of us, Purple, Leilei, and I, cast each other questioning glances, but none of us dared to ask why only Little Doll was so lucky.

Aunty must have already guessed what was on our minds. “Don’t be jealous of a little orphan girl.”

But I thought, weren’t we all orphan girls?

Aunty spoke again. “We’ll leave tomorrow and be back in a week.”

That evening when the others had gone to sleep, Purple took me into the courtyard and whispered, “I bet Aunty has something else to do in Peking besides getting the pictures.”

“We can probably find out from Little Doll when they come back.”

She shook her head. “I’m sure Aunty will tell Little Doll not to say anything. Or she may just leave her in the inn when she goes out. Since she wouldn’t take us to Heavenly Phoenix, I guess this trip has to have something to do with the store—secret deals that Aunty doesn’t want us to know about.”

She sighed. “
Hai,
I’ve lived with her for five years, but Aunty Peony is still an enigma to me.”

I nodded in agreement, but besides Aunty, I also found Purple an enigma. She was quiet, kind, resigned—very different from the jealous and sarcastic Leilei.

“Sister Purple, you’re an enigma to me too. Why don’t you tell me more about yourself?”