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8

The green bamboo blind kept moving in the summer breeze coming in the window. Sunlight tiger-striped the room and swayed back and forth. A large black-framed photograph of Second Master knocked on the wall. That time it had been he who called out and she was let down in time. She had never worn mourning white for him because Old Mistress was still alive. Heavy mourning would have been a bad omen pointing to the head of the house. Now she wore mourning for Old Mistress. She stood in front of the dressing-table with a finger in the back of her collar. The rough white cotton pricked the neck.
That had been sixteen years ago. There's the old saying, a good death is not as good as a bad life. Everybody was whispering at the time, 'Don't know why Second Mistress hanged herself.' According to Second Master they'd had words that night because the baby caught cold and he I darned her for being careless. Some said it still had to do with the theft a couple of months back. There were actually servants who heard it come up during the quarrel.
Was the third branch too scared to talk? If Third Master did let out some hints and he was the one that was always saying, 'Second Mistress Sun is unreliable', 'Eighth Mis-tress Liu is unreliable'─all the livelier women relatives─people would be more inclined to believe it of her because of her background. Her attempt at suicide was all the proof they would need. Was it because it was such a monstrous crime that nobody was ever accused of it? All this was her later conjecture. At the time she did not know her fate for months. Even a year later she was still not sure the family wasn't waiting for some excuse to act. Old Mistress was supposed to be angry with her just for hanging herself. What a scandal if she had succeeded. The matter was never mentioned when she waited on Old Mistress again after a few days' rest, but ever since then Old Mistress never wanted her around much. It seemed that Second Master needed more nursing now.
That year the whole family went on a pilgrimage to Pootaw Mountains to pray for his health, and chartered a steamship to the island; even he went. Only she was left behind to look after the house. But there was a move-ment of troops, calling back the caretakers of their houses in Nanking and Wuhu to replace the staff that had gone on the trip and patrol the house and grounds all night. As if people needed to be reminded of the loss of the pearl flower.
She had given up and got the opium habit from Second Master. It gave them some companionship and helped to kill time. His smoking had been more or less legitimized as his asthma got worse. It was more difficult for her after his death without him as shield. Women smokers were rare outside singsong houses. And it was not as if she was an old lady with failing health who had to resort to this panacea.
With men it was different. It always was with men. And they did not even have the excuse of it being the sole pastime allowed them. They should have better things to do than languish in bed with a little oil lamp and a pipe. But everybody smoked. At the singsong houses the pipe of opium was sometimes offered before the cup of tea. In Big Master and Third Master's case it first came into the open after their mother's death when they brought their opium trays into the curtained-off area in the parlour. They curled up smoking behind the white mourning curtain when they were not crouched weeping, kotowing back to mourners paying their last respects to the dead.
There was a continuation of the funeral every seven days. Troops of monks and Taoist priests took turns chant-ing, circling before the closed coffin. The 'seven sevens' would be completed at the end of forty-nine days. Tailors had been called in, sitting in rows making mourning clothes and the give-away sashes, working day and night. The whole house smelled of new cloth with its faint stench. A superstructure of blue and white paper flowers was built over the front gate, lighted by gas and stringed bulbs at night. The blue had run over the white after rain. The flute band played at the entrance of every mourner. The wiggly nasal squeals at a dozen different pitches blended into a single exultant blare. No wonder the same music was used in both 'red and white weddings'—'white wedding' being euphemism for funeral. This day was bound to come but it could have been too late for her. She used to squirm inside every time she saw Fifth Mistress Fung, close to sixty and a grandmother but still a daughter-in-law, standing at attention all day on wobbly bound feet in her mother-in-law's room, fetching and carrying, relaying orders, taking rebuffs with smiles and blushes. Except that she herself was not even considered good enough to serve there or anywhere in the public eye. She would have a daughter-in-law in a couple of years, a rich girl of course. How was she to put people in their place when she was so humiliated? The young couple would no longer be fledglings by the time Old Mistress died and the family was divided. The daughter-in-law would take charge and the past and future overlap leaving her no room in between.
Money would not really change anything for her except that she had been kept waiting so long and so miserably,
just being on her own had come to mean everything. She had very little idea of what there was. This was not a matter a future heir could ask about. There were only chance remarks to piece together. On alternate days Big Mistress and Third Mistress went over the house accounts with cook and steward─one of the duties she was excused from─which still told them nothing of family finances. But they may pick up some information from their hus-bands. Old Mistress sometimes consulted Big Master on business matters. Even Third Master could not help learn-ing something from his sessions at the book-keeper's office.
The minute Old Mistress died all her things were locked up, the keys given to the leading member of the gung chin, impartial relatives, those that were no closer to one of the heirs than to the other. After a decent interval they would divide and move out. Meanwhile Third Master still had access to the open account. Naturally the others were anxious to move. The house was haunted. Everybody had heard Old Mistress clearing her throat at night in her characteristic manner, khum khum! and knocking her pipe on the rosewood couch. Her rooms were locked up and yet the sounds came out of there. Big Master taking turns with his brother, keeping night watch over the coffin, had heard the thump of a pair of small wooden heels striking the floor upstairs, the way she got down from a chair. Yindi thought it might be that Big Mistress had keys made and got into the room. In fact she herself was also suspect.
Everybody was frightened. Still it was left to Old Mistress's brother to suggest, 'It's not healthy to live in this house. With two deaths in three years the vapour of the shades is too heavy here. You shouldn't wait till the end of the seven sevens. Call the family council now.'
All the guests had arrived but she still had to wait to be asked downstairs. Of the family itself only the men who headed each branch were to be present. She would be the only woman there. Poke her head out of the bag at last. She had never got used to her face without the bangs. An unwritten law had it that no bangs were to be worn after thirty. Gone old, she said to herself. The rough white blouse and skirt had a peasant smartness. Earrings were not worn in heavy mourning so she had stuck the stalk of a tea leaf in the hole in the ear lobe to keep it from filling up. A touch of rouge on the eyelids made them seem red from weeping and made the eyes brighter too. She hadn't gone much thinner from the opium either. For the want of something to do she lifted the lid off her teacup and drank standing up, feeling cold all over as the broad stream flowed straight down inside with a puzzling slow-ness. Her heart thumped in the hot tea.
'Big Master asks Second Mistress to come downstairs,' an amah came in saying.
Three rosewood tables set end to end made a long table in the parlour with everybody seated around it.The elders only nodded and made as if to rise as she came in, addressing everybody by name. Only Third Master and the book-keeper got up and greeted her back. They had left her a seat at the bottom of the table between Big Master and Old Mr Chu, his account books piled high before him, a rosy pink label pasted on each blue cloth cover. In a roomful of turquoise summer gown sand gold‑flecked fans the three heirs in ill-fitting white looked slightly ridiculous together, overgrown orphans, especially Third Master who seemed to need a haircut, the way bereaved sons were supposed to. Men did not wear pigtails any more but he kept his hair long enough to tuck behind the ears like the girls who had cut their hair. Now that his natural hairline had grown back it set off the eyes and the black eyebrows. She had scarecely looked at him for years. He had gone thin so that his mouth protruded. It made him look more manly. A search party had been sent out for him in all the singsong houses when Old Mistress died.
Ninth Old Master at the head of the table made a little speech on the advisability of having this settled before the burial. He stood ninth in the clan but he was the only brother of the old master of the house. Like the other yi lao here, the surviving mandarins, he had kept his pigtail coiled and tucked out of sight under the black satin cap as a compromise. He was small and slight with a pale baby face, quite beardless and did not look his age. He leaned sideways in the rosewood armchair, half reluctant and withdrawn; she had seen him just like this at New Years and festivals when he had to sit there to be kotowed to.
Old Mr Chu started to rattle off a list of acres, shares, bank accounts, trunkfuls of silverware. Every time he paused to address the head of the table he half rose and took off his tortoise-shell glasses, a sign of age and a pre-sumption to wear in front of one's elders and betters. Now he had come to Third Master's withdrawals from the open account, apart from the two times Old Mistress had per-sonally settled his debts. Yindi was never even sure that these counted as loans. Evidently it came as no surprise to him. He took a sip of tea and removed a tea leaf from his lower lip. It was gratifying to see him face to face on his day of reckoning. He had raced it all these years as if he couldn't spend money fast enough. Now it was here in front of him. So was she. The reflected glare of their cheap white cotton clothes threw a wan light on the face. She knew he was aware of the little smile that she held down. Surely they were not going to leave him nothing. Did Old Mistress know? Hard to tell. More and more toward the end there had been many things she preferred not to know. Perhaps nobody quite knew what was going to happen when the time came. It stood to reason not to let it all go to pay his other debts. Still it must have taken some doing on Big Master's part. Elders did not like to take it on themselves to disinherit a son. Besides Big Master was deep in debt himself, only he cared more about face.
They worked it out that Third Master still had over four thousand dollars left and would get it in land.
'Land is the one sure base for a new start, and the best retreat,' said Ninth Old Master.
He got the choice land around Wuhu. Hers was up north. He got his full share of his mother's jewellery for keepsakes. This was stretched to cover the gold bars and gold leaves.
'Stocks and bonds take manoeuvring. The second branch has no man. For their convenience they'll have less of these and make it up with land and housing properties.'
Finally came a lull in the readings which turned out to be the end. She had had time to get the drift of it and make up her mind although she had to stiffen her scalp to make herself speak.
'Ninth Old Master, this is too hard on us.' In the sudden silence, her woman's voice sounded unnaturally thin, flat as a razor-blade. 'In times like these, a war every year, it's difficult to get money from the land up north. Houses also have to be in Shanghai to be worth anything. As Ninth Old Master said the second branch has no man. A woman is a crab without legs and the child is still little. There're long years ahead. What's to become of us?'
The shocked silence ground on audibly like a gramo-phone after the record had finished. All eyes flitted away from her to stare into space.
Ninth Old Master cleared his throat. 'It's true what Second Mistress said about the times being bad. The fact that times have changed has to be taken into account. Naturally you cannot keep up the old way of living as when Old Mistress was alive. Nowadays who doesn't think of retrenching? A good thing you have a small family. I didn't make the decisions for today. All of us helped to make these arrangements, and I may say at considerable trouble. Bills should be settled openly between brothers. On the other hand moderation is in our family tradition. After all it's all among your own flesh and blood. One pen cannot write two Yaos. What do you think, Tzu-mei? Now, you're their maternal uncle. What you say ought to carry more weight.'
Old Mistress's brother bowed slightly and repeatedly in his seat smiling. 'As long as Ninth Old Master is here, we'll have to trouble Ninth Old Master. After all, I'm an outsider.'
'You're the closest kin, their mother's brother from the same womb.'
'She was a Yao. I'd be speaking out of turn in front of so many Yao elders.'
'What do you say, Ching-huai?' he turned to another Yao. 'Don't let me shoulder all the blame. It's a grave charge, bullying widows and orphans.'
She reddened with tears in her eyes. 'I was so upset I may have offended my elders. It's not that I can't stand hardships─what are we to do when there's just not enough to live on? Poor Second Master has only this bit of blood and bones left in the world, the child has to have tutors, then there's his engagement and wedding, all the big things coming up. If I don't do right by him how am I to face Second Master when I die?'
He shouted her down, 'What am I to do, Second Mistress, if you insist it's not enough? And what if there's really not enough? If you're to take more who's to take less?'
She started to cry. 'All I ask is one fair word from Ninth Old Master. Who can we turn to with Old Mistress gone? As long as Old Mistress was here even if the sky falls down there's the tall one to hold it up with his head. Now what are we going to do, a woman with a child in tow living on some dead money, with just outgoings and none coming in.'
He jumped up. 'I wash my hands of the whole business.' He kicked the marble-inlaid armchair over with a crash and walked out.
The men looked at one another up and down the table except for the two brothers slumped in their seats avoiding everybody's eyes. Then they all got up and hurried after him.
She sat there crying. 'My husband, dear person, how cruel you are!' she wailed. 'Leave us all alone in the world. Poor you, never had a single happy day when you were alive. Whatever you did wrong in other lives you paid for it. Haven't you suffered enough, your son has to be trampled down too? What sins were they that you never finish paying for, dear person?'
Old Mr Chu was the only one who stayed. He could not leave his valuable account books and it would be rude for him to just walk away. 'Second Mistress. Second Mistress,' he pleaded.
'I want to go and explain to Old Mistress, her spirit can't be so far away yet. I'll catch up with her. Where's Little Monk? I'll take him with me to kotow to Old Mistress. His father's only seed and I had to stand there and see him get trodden down. I'll tell Old Mistress I'm sorry I failed the Yao ancestors, I'll ram my head against the coffin and follow Old Mistress.'
'Second Mistress,' he begged. It would be impudence if he were to call for a woman to wait on her or for a cup of tea, making light of her grief, or to say anything at all besides 'Second Mistress' in an urgent whisper. Beads of sweat stood on his forehead. He hovered round her in circles, took off his black satin cap to fan himself and fanned her instead.