The Tapestries (40 page)
Ven stiffened as she heard how casually he converted her from his first wife into his custodian. Or was that how he had always viewed her?
What could she expect from him? What could she expect from anyone? A surge of guilt flooded her chest. For the first time since she had left Cam Le, Ven began to understand how her lover, Big Con, must feel. She recalled the muddy pasture by the river, his crouching position, his cries, the way he had grabbed at his head to try to contain his tormented love for her. Big Con was right. By abandoning him—a damaged person—she had abandoned herself. A longing for his presence ate at her like acid. If she could only explain to him why she had come to the city with Dan! But that was impossible; the time-teller was far away, and she was so close to what she wanted to achieve in the citadel.
The old man's voice broke the silence, gliding toward the highest pitch. “I beg the young master's pardon for keeping you waiting the past few days, but the funds deposited by Lady Chin required some legal clearances before I could withdraw them from the treasury. It has all been handled now. I am here to pay out her estate, the sum of fifty thousand silver coins.” He reached inside his gray satin robe and, to Dan's surprise, removed a stack of paper. “The money is here, in the form of imperial banknotes. It is a luxury to have such credit and not have to carry so many coins all at once. That is one good thing we have learned from the French. You must see it to believe it.”
“I believe you, Mr. Ung,” said Dan. “And I am grateful to both Lady Chin and you. I will always remember her for her generosity.”
“Then you shall keep this money. It is yours!” He shoved the banknotes in Dan's hands and turned away.
At the entrance, the eunuch paused and scratched his naked scalp. “There is one other thing,” he added. “Before you went away with my lady, you left me a document—your will and testament.”
“I remember,” said Dan.
“Well, sir.” The old man was nervous. “There was also a letter for Lady Tai May, the opera dancer, in case…in case…”
“In case I did not return,” Dan interrupted.
At the sound of the familiar name, Ven went limp inside. How could she be so blind to what was so obvious? The girl's image appeared all over the apartment, in drawings, in the tapestry, every day. She would have confronted him about this deception if she had had a tongue. However, even if she could speak…she was now so far removed from his life, it was impossible for her to be authoritative. Her mind echoed,
What happens to those tadpoles that were captured by the goldfish ? Will they ever realise their true origin and run away from the captors?
That story was told to her by her mother, who had learned it from her own mother growing up, and that was the only happy ending she knew. Ven felt as though she had run a longdistance race, and while she was still far from the final destination, she had burned up all her fuel. Nevertheless, she couldn't stop now.
“Please, sir.” The old man fell upon his knees, clutching Dan's hands. “Forgive me for reading that letter. My curiosity and my loyalty to my lady were so great that I could not help myself. But I swear I would have delivered it to the young miss, if you did not return.”
Dan's face twisted in annoyance. “May I please have the letter returned to me?” he asked.
“Indeed,” the old man said, wiping his eyes with the hem of his tunic. “I shall deliver it to you tomorrow morning. But I have more to tell you before I leave. Miss Tai May and her troupe will be leaving the citadel tomorrow. The Royal Court has dismissed them from their duties. The emperor replaced them with another group of artists, formed and educated in France. The new performers are widely acclaimed for their acrobatic acts and the tricks they do with trained tigers. From reading your letter, I've learned how important the young lady is to you. I feel compelled to report the news of her departure, so that you can make the necessary arrangements to meet her before it is too late. No longer the emperor's property, she is now a free woman.”
“Mr. Ung!” cried Dan. “Can this be true?”
The eunuch got up from his kneeling position and said, “That is what I heard on leaving the Imperial Palace a few hours ago. If you still want me to deliver that note to her, I shall try my best to accommodate your wishes. It is the very least that I can do to regain your friendship.”
“Oh!” Dan exclaimed, grabbing the old man in his arms and squeezing him tight. “Thank you, thank you, Mr. Ung! This is wonderful news! You must discard the old letter, and I will compose another to her immediately.” He turned his face to Ven so that she could see his smile under the light. “Can you imagine that, Ven?” he said in a triumphant voice. “I have nothing more to ask of Heaven—now that I will see Tai May again. Tomorrow I shall tell her how much I love her and that I will devote myself to her until the day I die. Better yet, I will tell her now, using this pen and paper. I must let her know that my passion for her is still burning brightly, in spite of time and adversities.” Turning back to Ung, he said, “Please take a seat, dear Mr. Ung. This will take but a few moments.”
He dipped the feather's tip in the inkwell, smoothed out a piece of paper, and began to write. All Ven heard was the steady scratching of the quill on the page, digging at her head like a termite's crunching. The eunuch inspected his reflection in a mirror that was hung by the door to ward off evil spirits.
Rising from her chair, Ven stood in the moonlight, watching him. She knew at once that it was Heaven's will to place her in this room at this hour, so she could stop his obsession with the girl. Now was her chance. She had to bring a perfect ending to her story, the only way she knew how.
Dan rose gracefully from the floor. In his hand, the sheet of paper was still wet with black ink. He blew at it impatiently. Ven rushed over and snatched the letter from his hand. She must show him that she—his sole custodian—opposed this forbidden union of the two enemy houses. She hid the paper behind her. Dan grabbed her shoulders. She stared in his eyes, just as she had done throughout his childhood, expecting him to surrender to her will. But instead of fear she saw a wall of anger and a blaze of defiance, and for the first time in her relationship with Dan, she had to look away.
“Listen to me, Ven,” he said. “I understand how you feel, although I never felt the same way.”
You don't know how I feel,
she heard herself screaming in her mind.
You do not know how deep my devotion to you is.
He continued. “You are bound to an old belief system, and you follow its rules so blindly that you cannot see the coming of your own doom. Time has changed for the two of us. You must free me to discover life for myself. With you, I have always played the passive role of a voyeur, watching life from a safe distance. You solve every puzzle, every calamity for me. You even came close to dying once to let me live. For such a long time I carried this infection of fear in me, and I have infected everyone I have touched. I cannot do that anymore. I am all grown up, and—”
He burst out in tears. “I don't need you anymore.”
His words collapsed upon her like a falling tower. She released her fingers, letting the letter slip away. The eunuch caught it before it hit the floor.
“Go back to Tutor Con, my dearest Ven,” Dan said. He put his hand on her shoulder. “I must go and see my mother before the night is over. This unexpected inheritance will help me redeem her freedom. When tomorrow comes, my life will change forever.”
L
eaving Ven behind in his apartment, Dan moved through New Town with the single-mindedness of a stalking panther. Though the streets were alive with noise and motion, he had little awareness of their raucous vitality. A drunken coolie jostled him, but he never faltered, nor did his nose turn away from the smells of rotten fruits, decaying fish, and overflowing sewage. From a dark wall came a voice: “Five pennies to have your fortune told.” Ignoring every distraction, he strode to the tea shop on Morin Street.
Crossing into the front parlor, he stopped to catch his breath. The glass wall with its man-made waterfall sent tiny bubbles swimming in the air like silver coins. The light was dimmed to almost black, and the rotating ceiling fans made the room so cool that his skin became covered in gooseflesh. The room was alive with the sounds of customers enjoying the company of the female employees.
Dan walked to the end of the room, where the man with the black beard stood behind the counter. He slammed his fist against the bar's surface with a loud smacking sound to get the bartender's attention.
“Well,” the burly man said, looking up and wiping an empty glass with a dirty rag he hooked at the end of his sleeve. “It is you, Dan the farmer. How are you doing this evening? I imagine you are looking for Camille. I'll send for her.”
Straddling a barstool, Dan said, “I am here to conduct a business transaction. As you know, up to this time, it has been Camille that I came to see. However, tonight the meeting I am requesting must have your presence as well as hers. I must warn you, it is your signature that I want.”
Setting the glass on a rack at his side, the bartender narrowed his eyes. “You wish to speak to me? What sort of business?”
“Tell me, do you possess a bill of ownership for every woman that works for you in this brothel?”
The man bristled. “You are incorrect in using the term ‘brothel.’ This is the finest tea shop in town. Still, I must confess that I do need to obtain proper police documents and ownership licenses for the girls.”
“Aha,” Dan said, nodding. “Knowing your strict moral code, I assume that you will not surrender these bills bearing your released signature unless you first receive a substantial sum of money in exchange for them.”
There was a moment of silence as the bartender's eyebrows rose. Then he burst out laughing as if Dan had said something funny. “Why?” he asked with sudden friendliness. “Are you trying to negotiate for Camille 's freedom? If so, how much are you thinking of?”
He paused and looked up at the sound of a woman's nervous laughter. Under the churning yellow and orange lights, Camille stood wearing an elegant black dress, like a deity of destruction, fragile but ferocious. Her dark eyes shone from her powdered pale face.
“Van Tong,” she said, breaking right through their conversation, “you failed to inform me that my customer is here.”
She glided to Dan's side. Her hand caressed his collar as she said, “You speak as though you have just stumbled upon a great treasure. Do not disclose to strangers your vital business, since they may cause you more harm than good. Come into my room! We shall talk where no one can hear us.”
“No one leaves my station,” said the bartender. His massive hand caught Lady Yen's shoulder. “What have you been hiding from me, Camille? I am beginning to think that this young farmer is your new lover. Is this so? I demand a straightforward answer.”
Turning to Dan, he said, “Yes, you shall pay me for her freedom—if, as I hope, you have enough silver coins to help me procure a new girl who is blessed with as many talents as she has. If not, I must content myself with Camille. In this business, one cannot afford to be parted easily from such a valuable property.”
Camille wrenched away. The tight knot in her hair became undone, and it spilled down her arching back like a school of snakes.
“Take your hand off me,” she hissed. “I wish Hell would open this minute and swallow you whole, damnable brute. Do you wish for a straightforward answer? Here it is. This is my son, and whatever cash he brought to this place shall belong to me. You are not my keeper.” Her exploding words brought the room to silence.
The bartender raised his brows until the whites of his eyes became opaque. He breathed in her face, “Be careful! You are not being truthful to either of us. Forgive me for being the messenger of bad news. Have you informed your son that I, Van Tong, am your legal husband? Judging from his behavior, I think he was led to believe that you are just one of my whores.”
His words stabbed her with enough venom to make her collapse on top of a barstool. In the stillness of the cavernous room, Dan said to her, “Is that true what he said, madam?”
She covered her face in her hands. The bartender cleared his throat and snickered, wagging his fingers. Her silence was enough to confirm Dan's suspicion.
He rose; anger magnified in his voice. “Where is your heart, Mother? You have forsaken me once again! When I was just a child, you chose your life over mine. I came here with the intention of saving your honor, but now I see that even the gods in Heaven could not rescue you. Here is the treasure that you were waiting for.” He reached inside his tunic for a banknote and threw it on the counter. “This is a bill that is worth twenty thousand silver coins, intended to procure your freedom. I am turning it over to both of you. I hope you will kill each other over this money. As for you, madam, I shall expect you to keep away from me. And someday when I have children, I shall teach them a new legacy of my ancestors, that I was born under a rock.”
He backed away from her, holding the rim of the bar for support. Camille stifled a sob, watching her son stagger to the door.
Clumps of Bindweed
D
an sat on his haunches against the cool darkness of the great stone wall overlooking the courtyard that led to the Meridian Gate. He had been sitting in the same huddled position since returning from the tea shop the previous night. Above him an oak tree stretched its brawny branches around a central trunk like the hinged ribs of a parasol.
With his chin resting on his bent knees, Dan watched the night fade into dawn. Beside him a reedy and neglected rosebush held a single blossom. The graceful curve of its stem reminded him of Tai May. To Dan there was no beauty more wonderful than the sight of her in soft white silk garments, and he longed to see her among the crowd of strangers. He wondered how much longer he had to wait.
He was disheartened to see how many people were traveling in and out of this opulent city through the two majestic banks of granite. Rich men and women in silvery rickshas and horse-drawn carriages waved their ivory passes at the guards. Laborers carried bread and cakes and cauldrons of stew meat on their backs to cater the endless feasts inside the city. Once in a while, among the dirty black clothing of the peasants, he caught a glimpse of a sumptuous silk robe, or a belt cut tight at the waist, or a wide pair of trousers, and he jumped up. He craned his neck to follow these faceless visions, only to realize that he was looking at a complete stranger, and he would sigh in disappointment, then begin his search once more.