Steamed Osmanthus Flower Ah Xiao's Unhappy Autumn

Autumn is a song. On nights of 'steamed osmanthus flower' it is like a flute melody played in a kitchen. In the daytime, it is a song sung by small children: ardent and familiar and clear and moist.
Fatima Mohideen

Leading her son Baishun by the hand, Ding Ah Xiao climbed the stairs, one floor after another. Out beyond the rear balconies of the tall apartment building, the city became a vast open wilderness, an endless blur of innumerable red and grey roofs with backyards, back windows, back alleyways everywhere. Even the sky-----now a gloomy, featureless expanse had turned its face away. The Mid-Autumn Festival had been and gone but the weather was still so hot----what on earth was it up to? Sounds floated up from below: the noise of vehicles of various kinds, of rugs being beaten, of school bells being rung, of workmen banging and sawing, of motors humming. Yet it was all indistinct, as if none of it mattered in the slightest to God, being of no more importance than a gust of wind.
The amah of the apartment directly opposite took her children out onto the rear balcony to eat their congee. The weather was very hot and the congee so scalding that she blew on it with pursed lips, frowning as she did so. But it was hard to tell which she was worried about more: her mouth or the snow-white congee. The neighbour's amah was a yellow-faced woman who had once bound her feet. Her hair, however, was cropped fashionably short. She was busy giving the boys their breakfast and getting them ready for school. A fine, short lock of hair hung clown alongside each of her ears. These were so damp they looked like wet paint on her face. She exchanged greetings with Ah Xiao: 'Good morning, Little Sister!' The children chorused: 'Good morning, Auntie!' Ah Xiao replied: 'Good morning, Big Sister!' with Baishun adding, 'Auntie! Big Brothers!'
Ah Xiao said 'I'm running late this morning. The blasted tram was jam-packed like a can of sardines and I wasn't able to get off until we'd gone past my stop. I'm sure a foreigner must have pressed the bell!'
The neighbour's amah replied, 'This weather's gone crazy. It's so hot!'
Ah Xiao said, 'You can say that again! And it's nearly the ninth month and all!'
Just now in the third-class compartment of the tram, she had been jostled about so much she had barely managed to keep her feet. She had had her face pressed right up close against a tall man's deep-blue gown. Because it was so filthy, the cloth had a peculiar softness about it. It didn't look like cloth at all. Waves of heat emanated from its blue depths. This weather smelled just like that gown but not one's own clothes, absolutely not. One's own dirt was a lot easier to live with.
Ah Xiao hurriedly opened the door with her key and went inside, going straight to the box that housed the electric bell. Sure enough, the plaque for number two had fallen off. Her employer had not eaten at home last night and had let her finish two hours earlier. It was her guess that today he would go out of his way to make life bumpy for her, just to even the score. She removed the lid of the water vat and filled the kettle using an iron ladle. She then put the kettle on the gas-stove to boil. Since it was wartime, restrictions applied to the supply of water. Every household had a vat like this one, large and soy-sauce-brown with a pale yellow dragon painted on it. Any woman gazing at her own reflection in the water would have seen herself as a classic beauty, but Ah Xiao was a woman of the metropolis who preferred to look at herself in a small chipped make-up mirror (it had come as an accessory in a handbag). This was stuck on the green wall by the door. She examined her hair; it wasn't very fluffy. She wore it in a plait, tightly twisting together small clumps of hair until she could no longer see it. Only then did she feel neat and tidy. Her fringe was tightly permed in the latest style and only needed brushing every three or four days. She took down her white apron from behind the door and tied it on. Then she carried over a bench, stepped up onto it and reached out for the coffee. She was born to be short.’
Baishun! Where's that child got to now? This is no time to think about playing. Come and have your breakfast and then get yourself off to school!' she scolded. Her beautiful, bony face was as stern as a step-mother's when she was angry; Baishun had a round face with small eyes and eyebrows. Trying his best not to annoy his mother, he shifted a bench out through the door, then carried over a biscuit barrel in his arms. He sat down on the barrel, put his cup and his plate on the bench and waited quietly. From a crockery jar on top of the refrigerator, Ah Xiao took out half a loaf of leftover bread and said, 'Here! Take this! Eat it all up if you can! It'd be nice to leave some for somebody else. No one would ever guess that a mite like you could eat more than a grown-up!'
There was a blue glass on the sill. She took the toothbrush out of it, filled it with water from the thermos flask, and handed it to Baishun, then continued her harangue: 'You expect me to do everything for you! How much are you paying me a month to be your servant? I don't know what I owed you in my last life to deserve this! Hurry up now it's time to get going!'
Baishun still had his mouth full. As he went to get his school-bag, he felt suddenly tired of wearing the dirty, blue overalls he had worn all summer and asked: 'Mum, can I wear a jumper tomorrow" Ah Xiao replied, 'What's got into you? A jumper, for Heaven's sake! In this weather!'
After Baishun had gone, she sighed and thought about how hard it was to cope with the demands of the child's school. Fees had risen considerably and there were all sorts of additional expenses. The cost of the coloured paper and foil she had to buy for his art and craft classes was itself shocking enough. A soy-sauce bottle on the windowsill weighed down a small flag he had made, a slender piece of bamboo poked through the national colours--blue for the sky, white for the sun and red for the earth. Ah Xiao turned to look at it for a moment; the sight of it made her miserable.
The coffee was made and she had just finished arranging the breakfast things neatly on a large silver tray when the telephone rang. Ah Xiao picked up the receiver and spoke into it in sharp, self-important English, 'Hel-lo. Ye-s Mis-s. Plea-se wai-t a mo- ment.' She had not heard this woman's voice before. Another new one. She went and knocked on his door: 'Telephone, Sir!'
Her employer was already washed, groomed and dressed. He looked distinctly annoyed with her. The flesh on his face was like undercooked meat, bright red with traces of blood. Of late, he'd taken to cultivating an abbreviated moustache. This made his face look like a particularly nourishing egg which had already begun to hatch open to reveal a pair of tiny yellow wings. Nevertheless, Mr Garter still passed for a handsome man. There was something extremely artful about his grey eyes, and he carried himself with aplomb. He walked over to the telephone and cleared his throat before answering it, but a slight hoarseness remained. After an interrogative 'Hello?' he immediately dropped his voice to a whisper that conveyed mingled surprise and delight: Oh, hello!' Beside himself with joy, this was the same as saying, 'Could it be true? Is that really you?' Even after rising so early he still knew how to turn on the charm.
Ah Xiao, on the other hand, had heard this seductive Oh, hello! countless times before and so withdrew into the kitchen. Yesterday the Blonde had thrown a party. Afterwards she had presumably accompanied him back here—there were two unwashed wineglasses in the kitchen, one kissed with lipstick. What time she had left was anybody's guess. None of his women actually ever stayed the night. After she had left, he'd gone back into the kitchen and eaten a raw egg. Ah Xiao had noticed the intact egg-shell in the Western-style rubbish tin. After pricking a small hole in it, he had sucked out its contents. Ah Xiao shook her head. He was nothing but a savage! There was no electricity for the refrigerator now and so it should not have been left shut, but after taking out his egg he had closed the door. She was assailed by a sweet, fetid stink as soon as she opened it. She took out the cheese, pate and an egg. Except for breakfast which he ate at home, Garter generally accepted invitations to dine out for his other meals. There was still half a bowl of uneaten fried rice in the refrigerator. It had been there for more than a week already. She knew that he hadn't forgotten about it because he frequently opened the refrigerator to check its contents. If he didn't take the trouble to say 'I don't want it. You finish it up' she wasn't going to ask him 'Do you still want it?' She knew what he was like.
After hanging up the telephone, her employer checked the memorandum book for a telephone number All Xiao had written clown for someone who had called while he was out. He dialled the number accordingly but could not get through. Sticking his head in through the kitchen door, he called to her, drawing out his words: `Amah, this is embarrassing. Why can't you ever get the numbers right!' He pointed a finger and shook it disapprovingly. Ah Xiao twisted her hands in her apron, a reddening grin bright on her face.
He glanced down at her son's leftover bread. Ah Xiao sensed his suspicion. She had in fact bought the bread with a ration ticket given to her by the Mrs next door. Before her employer said a word, she had flushed bright red. Suzhou amahs are a proud lot and are upset by the merest show of displeasure on the part of their employers, let alone a reprimand. Ah Xiao was particularly vulnerable. As soon as she blushed it looked as if she had been slapped in the face. Red welts like fingermarks rose on her thin cheeks. The whole shape of her face gave her a look of suffering. Her fine eyes were like two long slits, and the distant world revealed in them was one of classical beauty that was capable of 'charming geese and fishes while shaming moon and flowers'.
Her employer was thinking to himself: 'Finding a replacement for her would be difficult. I'll keep in her good books for as long as she's in my employment.' For this reason he didn't question her about the bread. Instead he said: 'Amah, you will serve dinner for two tonight. Buy a pound of beef.' Ah Xiao asked: 'Shall I make soup with the meat first and then fry it, Sir?' Her employer nodded. Ah Xiao then asked: 'Anything else, Sir?' Her employer stood there thinking to himself, one hand propped against the frame of the door, the other pressed on his hip. When he wasn't giving women flirtatious looks, those grey eyes of his grew large and staring, their whites exposed. He glared at the leftover bread, making Ah Xiao feel uncomfortable. 'Corn, perhaps,' he suggested. She nodded and said: 'Corn, Sir.' It was the same thing every time. Fortunately, she thought, the guest was always a different woman. He continued: `I'd like a dessert as well. A couple of pancakes would do nicely.' Ah Xiao replied: 'There's no flour, Sir.' He said: 'Make them with eggs, then. You don't need flour.' Ah Xiao had never in her life heard of anyone serving up sweetened egg but assented readily: 'Yes, Sir.'
She brought out breakfast, and noticed that the photograph of the Blonde had been removed from the small cabinet. Tonight's guest was presumably the new woman. He was never willing to take away the photograph when Miss Li and her like came to dinner. Miss Li was very considerate. She gave Ah Xiao a hundred dollars every time she visited. Ah Xiao thought she might be the concubine of some very rich family, but she could not say for sure: she seemed to enjoy more freedom and was not pretty enough although of course not all concubines were
beautiful.
Ah Xiao answered another telephone call: `Hel-lo? . . . Ye-s Mis-s. Plea-se wai-t a mo-ment.' She knocked and went in: 'Telephone, Sir.' Her employer asked who it was. 'Miss Li,' she replied. Her employer did not wish to speak with her and so she had to put the caller off: 'Mr Garter . . . she's in the bath!' Ah Xiao could only pronounce 'hello' with any degree of accuracy; anything after that came out rather muddled. She had never quite grasped the difference between he and she. 'I'm sorry, Miss. Perhaps you could call back later?' To the 'Thank you' on the other end of the line she responded: 'Don't mention it. Goodbye, Miss.'
Mr Garter went to the office after breakfast. Before leaving, he had as usual bid her a charming farewell from the front door: 'Goodbye, Amah!' He was determined to make women like him, regardless of who they were. Ah Xiao came out smiling and replied: 'Goodbye, Sir!' She went in to tidy up. As she walked into the bathroom, she could not help gritting her teeth in anger. Mr Garter had put all the sheets, pillowcases, shirts, pants, and small and large towels in the bath to soak, worried that she wasn't piing to do all the washing in one go. But there was no sun today; how on earth was she going to get everything dry and do the shopping as well? Running water in the apartment was available for only one hour a day, but with the bathtub full of clothes she would miss this opportunity. Yet he insisted on a daily bath.
Miss Li called a second time. Ah Xiao said: 'Mr Garter . . . she's gone to the office!' Switching into Chinese, Miss Li asked her for his telephone number at work. Doing likewise, Ah Xiao replied: 'This is Miss Li I'm speaking to, isn't it?' She laughed, her whole face flushing bright red with the embarrassment she felt for her on behalf of all decent women. 'I don't know his number at the office. . . . He didn't go out yesterday . . Yes, he ate dinner at home. . . . He dined alone. I'm not sure about tonight. He hasn't said anything about it. . .
Then the Blonde rang. She wanted to send somebody round with the plates and cutlery she had borrowed from Garter for her big party the night before. Ah Xiao replied: 'Mr Garter . . . she's gone to the office! . . . Yes, Mis-s. This is Amah speaking. . . . I'm very well, thank you Mis-s.' The voice of the Blonde was as sweet as a toffeed candy-twist, and everything she said was coated with affected friendliness. Ah Xiao's responses were similarly false. With her shy laughter she seemed unable to bridge the social gap between them. She asked: 'What time will you be sending the amah round? I'm about to go to the market and probably won't be back until 9.30. . . . Thank you, Mis-s. . . . Don't mention it. Goodbye, Mis-s.' She made her voice sharp and shrill, emitting a series of crackling sounds. The world of •foreign language was always happy, well-to-do, founded on sand.
She went out, did her shopping, and returned to the apartment. Xiuqin, the Blonde's amah, was a younger friend of hers; it was Ah Xiao who had asked Mr Garter to recommend her. She knocked at the back door and called out: 'Big Sis! Big Sis!' Xiuqin was only twenty-one or two, of strong build; she wore her hair long and curly. She didn't seem to feel the heat: over her blue chemise she wore a jade-green angora jacket. It was obviously a rare blessing to be able to dress like a university student. The two small, reddened eyes set in her large, round face were more closed than open (was she perhaps suffering from trachoma?) and she seemed to show an awareness of this unusual distinction, looking out at the world like a Mongolian woman peering through the heavy, brightly-coloured tassels which covered her face.
Ah Xiao took a stack of plates wrapped in newspaper from her, and asked, smiling: 'What time did they finish up last night then?' Xiuqin replied: 'They were carrying on until two or three in the morning.' Ah Xiao commented: 'Your Mrs came over here afterwards and didn't leave until some time after daybreak.' Xiuqin replied: 'She came over here, did she?' Ah Xiao said, 'Well, it seems she did.' As they gossiped about these things, they smiled with a special innocence as if they weren't discussing the affairs of other people at all. Their male employers were like the wind, rushing about helter-skelter, blowing up dust, while the women resembled the ornate carvings on expensive furniture, so particularly attractive to dust that they were kept busy cleaning from morning to night. Their grumbling, however, had nothing to do with this.
Xiuqin held her arms crossed before her breasts, looking on as Ah Xiao tidied the crockery away. She rambled on as if speaking to herself: 'My mistress and your master are two of a kind. When it comes to money they sure know how to spend up big, but they're not willing to part with a cent for everyday expenses. The other night when she had guests over, we were a few chairs short, so she asked the people across from us if she could have a loan of some of theirs. When there wasn't enough bread, she made do by borrowing a bowl of rice from the neighbours.' Ah Xiao responded: 'Well, compared to our Master, she's a bit more generous. We've never had people over for dinner parties, only solitary women, and I'll tell you what they get to eat: beef boiled up to make soup followed by the same piece of beef fried and served as a separate dish. Then there's corn. And if it's her first time, she also gets a dessert, but never the second time. . . He,'s got this Miss Li who can't get used to eating such food so she gets a restaurant to deliver here. Miss Li really cares about him! Now he's gone and found himself another new one. I think he's getting less and less choosy: each one's worse than the last. This new one can't even pronounce his name.' Xiuqin asked: 'Is she Chinese?' Ah Xiao nodded: 'Even the Chinese have their different levels. . . . Little Sis, come and have a look at this set of silver bowl and chopsticks Miss Li gave him for his birthday. She knows how much he likes Chinese things so she had them specially made by a jeweller. They come in a glass case decorated with a red paper-cut of the word for "longevity".' Xiuqin looked at the gift, clicking her tongue and sighing: 'They must have cost a few thousand, I reckon.' Ah Xiao replied: 'And the rest!'
By this time the sun had come out a little and shone into the room like a blue haze the shade of cigarette smoke. Colourful silk cushions lay scattered on the bed. There was a wireless and some illustrated magazines on the bed-head. By the bed there was a pair of slippers, a small blue and red Peking rug, a waste-paper basket in the shape of a palace lantern, and a set of carved tables of different sizes neatly stacked one inside the other. Hanging on the wall was a Peking opera mask; on the table, a pair of tin candle-holders. The knick-knacks which filled the room made it look somewhat like the boudoir of a high-class white Russian prostitute who had gathered together some Chinese odds and ends to build herself a nest of peace and happiness. Most exquisite of all were the smoky-purple glasses arranged on top of a small cabinet. They came in various shapes and sizes for different sorts of drinks. There was an orderly row of bottles sealed with large wooden egg-shaped stoppers lacquered red and blue and green. And then in the bathroom there was a whole set of light yellow-grey glass combs, seven or eight in all, arranged according to the fineness of their teeth. The sight of these made one's heart ache with sadness because the master had already begun to lose his hair. The more he worried about it, the more those precious strands became like eyelashes to him: prone to fall out at the slightest touch.
On the wall there was an advertisement for a brand of Western spirits enclosed in a narrow silver frame. Leaning in the darkness was a naked beauty of astonishing proportions with red hair and fair skin. The caption read: 'The best in town', rating her as highly as this particular brand of whiskey. She was resting one arm on an invisible piece of furniture for support and it looked very uncomfortable, stiffly propping up her entire frame. She was a real Snow Queen, her body like a Popsicle with sinews of ice congealed on its surface. She tilted herself to highlight her large, turned-up breasts, her exaggeratedly slim waist and her tapering thighs. Her feet were bare, but she was doing her best to balance on the very tips of her toes as if standing in high-heels. She had the face of a child, squat and square, and large brown eyes indicating neither pleasure nor voluptuousness that gazed out blankly at her viewers beyond the frame. She was like a small child being photographed in new clothes. There wasn't even a trace of pride in her look. She wore her trim suit of armour-----her magnificent breasts her thighs her bouffant hair like a fashion model parading a store's garments for the customers to admire.
This was Mr Garter's ideal. But he had as yet never met her in the flesh. Had he done so, he would have only tried to gain some slight advantage by her. If it involved too much trouble, it wouldn't have been worth it. He himself was a mature beauty, and had become more and more economical with time and money as he grew older. Moreover, it was now clear to him that women were all more or less the same. He had always believed in making relationships with women of good families, or with ladies of the demi-monde in search of a little romance outside working hours. He didn't expect them to rob the rich for his benefit; all he wanted was an equitable exchange. He knew that long-term gamblers had to lose, just as long-time lovers had their blues'. At the gaming table he always checked to see which way the wind was blowing and, if things were favourable, took advantage of the situation to make a bit of a profit. But he always knew when to stop.
There was nothing obscene about the photo-like painting on the wall. It was the equivalent of a streamlined sports car in a showroom: worth a look even if you weren't in the market to buy. Ah Xiao and Xiuqin avoided looking at it directly, unwilling to give the impression that they were from the country and therefore easily shocked by such things.
Ah Xiao said: 'I should do this tub of washing while there's still water. Sit down and rest a moment, Sister. To think there are such infatuated women in this world!' she said, still thinking of Miss Li as she bent over kneading the wet clothes, and panting as she spoke. 'Why should she take a fancy to him?! The man is pettier than ten women put together! The Mrs. next door was given an extra ration-ticket for bread and so gave it to me to buy a loaf. But he thought it was his. You should have seen the way he stared at it. Even if I had to steal, I wouldn't steal from him! There are some leftovers from last week but if he won't come out and say he doesn't want them I'm not going to touch anything that belongs to him. He says: 'Shanghai's a terrible place! Even the Chinese servants cheat foreigners!' But if he wasn't in Shanghai, he would have been killed off long ago in the foreigners' own war. It was like this last time. He filled the bathtub with clothes and left them to soak, afraid I wasn't going to wash them. The colour of the shirts ran, making a real mess, but he never said a word about it. I think he's getting cheaper and cheaper. This woman he's seeing tonight. . . It's no wonder he catches those diseases! In the last couple of months he's had these sores like boils all over his head and face. He's much better now, but that medicine he was using made a mess of the sheets.'
Xiuqin hadn't said a word for a long time. When Ah Xiao turned around, she found her leaning against the door, biting on a finger and deep in thought. Ah Xiao then remembered that the family of her husband-to-be wanted them to be married. Her mother had come to take her back to the country but she didn't want to go. She asked: 'Is your mother still in Shanghai?' Xiuqin responded with a rush of intimacy: 'Oh, Sis. I can't bear it!' She was on the verge of weeping. Her gentle eyes, red and moist with tears, looked exactly like lips.
Ah Xiao said: 'I think you'll have to go back. Otherwise, people will gossip. "Such a.grown-up girl," they'll say, "she must be up to something in Shanghai".' Xiuqin replied: 'That's what Mother says! I'll have to go, but I'll come back right away. I could never get used to living in the country! In the last few days Mother has been running around buying this and that and complaining no end about the cost of things. I told her, "What are you making such a fuss about? You only bought these quilts and pillows to show off, and as for those embroidered clothes, I'll never be able to wear them in Shanghai." I couldn't care less about anything else but they must give me a gold ring. By rights that is what they have to do. You wait and see. If they try to give me one that's only gold-plated, I'm going to throw it away! Just see if I don't!'
This display of pride displeased Ah Xiao somewhat. She and her husband had not had a proper marriage ceremony. All these years she had regretted her decision to move in with him without going through all the excitement of a wedding. She said: 'In fact, you'd be better off making a few compromises. Things aren't like they used to be. Where on earth do you expect them to lay their hands on gold?' She had intended to make a few rather icy remarks but couldn't manage it. Bent over the bathtub, the heat stupefied her. The perspiration on her upper lip stung, and sweat trickled down from her scalp. When she wiped her head with her hand she was surprised by just how much she was sweating. She squatted low on the floor, and Xiuqin could smell the wafts of sweat rising up from her black glazed-silk shirt, acrid as the crisp, fishy smell a watermelon has when it is sliced open.
Xiuqin heaved another sigh: 'I suppose I can't not go! The floor of their home is earthen, but they have laid a proper one in our bedroom. . . . The worry is killing me! I've heard the man likes to gamble. Sis, what do you think I should do?'
After wringing the water out of the washing, Ah Xiao took it out to dry on the front balcony. Baishun had come home from school, but not daring to ring the door-bell, waited outside the back door, calling 'Mum! Mum!' as he banged on the wooden railing. Beyond the apartment building, the pale city looked even more deserted under the midday sun. Ah Xiao didn't hear him until she had hung out all the clothes and returned to the kitchen to start lunch. As she opened the door and let him in she scolded: 'Why are you making such a racket? You couldn't wait, could you!'
She asked Xiuqin to stay and eat with them; in addition, two guests turned up. One was an elderly lady from their home village who liked to chat with Ah Xiao. This was the only time in the day she was free and, since she didn't want to put anyone to any trouble, she brought along her own cold rice in a basket, patiently climbing up eleven flights of stairs. The other, another 'Sister', carried rice and did temporary work. It was Ah Xiao who had found her a .job doing the laundry for a family on the next floor down. She looked at Baishun and asked: `So this is your boy, is it?' 'Say hello to your "auntie",' Ah Xiao bawled at Baishun, blushing as she turned to her friends as if she owed them an apology: 'He looks like a little tramp, doesn't he?'
In times such as these, Ah Xiao didn't often invite guests to stay for lunch with such warmth. She liked to put up a good front, and was pleased that she happened to have rice. As she fried the food, the elderly woman began questioning Xiuqin about the preparations for her dowry. Xiuqin smiled but could hardly get a word out, blushing like a bride. Ah Xiao answered every question on her behalf, and the old woman made numerous suggestions.
The short-term worker asked: 'That couple that's just moved into the upstairs apartment in your building are they newly-weds too?' Ah Xiao replied: `Ah-hah. They bought that apartment for 1.5 million. His family's got money. So does hers. They put on a real show! The apartment, the furniture, several dozen sets of bedding, as well as ten piculs of rice and the same amount of coal! I don't know where they're going to find space for everything in an apartment like that! Four servants accompanied the bride: a male and female domestic, a cook and a trishaw-puller.' The four servants looked- like the paper dolls used in funeral services; they stood ram-rod straight, as neat and tidy as can be. People with money really knew how to do things in style! Ah Xiao began to cheer up. All this talk eclipsed Xiuqin entirely: even her anxieties seemed to pale into insignificance.
The short-term worker then asked: 'How many clays have they been married?' Ah Xiao replied: 'About three altogether, I think.' The elderly woman asked: 'And was it a new-style wedding or an old-style one?' Ah Xiao answered: 'New style, of course. But there was also a trousseau: I saw them carrying box after box up the stairs.' Xiuqin chimed in with a question of her own: 'Is the bride pretty?' Ah Xiao replied: 'I haven't actually seen the bride. They don't go out at all and things upstairs are always quiet. I never hear a peep out of them.' The short-term worker commented: 'I saw her when they came to inspect the apartment. She was quite fat and wore glasses.' As if jumping to her defence, Ah Xiao replied with annoyance: 'Perhaps that wasn't the bride you saw after all.'
Leaning against the door frame and holding her bowl of food in her hands, the elderly woman sighed: 'We're better off working for the foreigners. Everything is spelled out clearly!' Ah Xiao said: `Aiya! These days, I'd rather get paid less. At least you had enough to eat and somewhere to live working for Chinese families. Someone like me earns 3,000 dollars a month on paper, but I could spend more than that on food alone! Some employers provide meals even though they're under no obligation to do so. Look at the people who live opposite us, for instance. When they eat potatoes they always fry up half a basin full and so the servants get their share too.' Baishun said: 'Mum, the people opposite are having dried vegetables and roast meat today.' Ah Xiao put her chopsticks together and hit him with the thick ends, scolding: 'If they eat so well, why don't you go and join them? Well, why don't you? Huh? Why don't you?' Baishun blinked but did not cry, the others all doing their best to console him. The short-term worker said: 'I've got two little tramps of my own, but although they're older, they're not nearly as clever as this one!' She came up to him and said affectionately: 'Tramp!' trying to make him forget his upset. 'Why aren't you eating your rice? You've polished off most of the vegetables, but you've still got a bowl full of rice there!' Softening towards her son, Ah Xiao said: 'Leave him be. If he's not allowed to eat whatever he wants at lunch, the next thing you know he'll be asking for a snack.' Then she turned to him and urged: 'Eat all you want while there's still food. There won't be anything else to eat later on even if you kick up a fuss.'
The elderly woman asked Baishun: 'Don't you have to go back to school after lunch?' Ah Xiao explained: 'It's Saturday today.' She turned around and grabbed a hold of Baishun: 'Come Saturday and you vanish as soon as I let you out the door. You sit here quietly and do your revision for a couple of hours before you go out and play' Baishun sat on the biscuit barrel, his book propped against a bench, rocking from side to side as he read in a sing-song voice: 'I want to grow up big and strong, big and strong! Mummy and daddy say I'm a good boy, a good boy!' Even before he had read a couple of sentences he asked: 'Mummy, after I've read for two hours I'll go out and play. Mummy, what time is it now?'
Ah Xiao ignored him, but Xiuqin laughed and said: `Baishun has a good voice. Why don't you send him off to study story-telling, Sister? He could earn a lot of money.' Ah Xiao was speechless for a moment. She blushed, laughed weakly and said: 'He wouldn't be any good at that, would he? He's still got a way to go before he finishes primary school. Although he's not much of a student, I'd still like him to do well at school and have a good future.' Xiuqin replied: 'What grade's he in?' Ah Xiao said: 'Only the third. He repeated a year. It's embarrassing!' She glanced over at Baishun, a widow's sadness welling up in her heart. Although she had a husband, it wasn't much different from being on her own: she had to rely on herself. Her look frightened Baishun, and he rocked with greater speed as he chanted: 'I want to grow up big and strong, big and strong. . .
The elderly woman said: 'This weather's very strange. Even when it's not a leap month, it usually starts to cool down by now' Baishun suddenly thought of something and looked up, laughing: 'Mummy, when it gets cold I want to buy a face-mask. The teacher said face-masks are good because you don't catch cold!' This threw Ah Xiao into a rage: 'You've got a nerve with your "Teacher this, Teacher that"! You repeated a year but you're quite pleased with yourself Pleased with yourself! Pleased!' She struck out at him, hitting him twice. Baishun burst into tears. The elderly woman immediately tried to stop her: 'That's enough. You've hit him twice already.'
Ah Xiao wiped Baishun's runny nose for him and shouted: 'All right, stop crying and get on with your reading!' Baishun read quietly to himself, sobbing as he did so. All of a sudden, he called out in delight: 'Mummy, daddy's here!' Daddy's arrival always made mummy happy, and even he shared in the benefits of that. The guests all knew that Ah Xiao's man worked as a tailor, and that because he lived in his shop, the couple rarely had a chance to be together. This made them extremely affectionate towards one another. They all greeted him, made several remarks for the sake of polite conversation, and then said their goodbyes. Ah Xiao saw them to the back door, saying: 'Please come again!' Trailing along behind her, Baishun added: 'Come again, Aunties!'
Ah Xiao's husband wore an old silk gown with a high collar and carried a large white cloth bundle in his arms. Ah Xiao brought over a chair for him to sit down. Although the sun gradually shifted until its light shone on his body, he stayed where he was, hugging his knees in his arms. The fierce afternoon sunlight stuck to the bright kitchen, with its steel pots, metal stove and white ceramic tiles, like a hot baked pancake. Being small, there was nowhere in it to escape from the heat. Ah Xiao set up her ironing board to do the ironing, making things hotter still. She made her man a cup of tea. As a rule, she never used any of her employer's tea-leaves, but she made an exception when her man visited. Clasping his cup in his hands, he sipped his tea, and, with a hint of a smile on his lips, listened to all the things Ah Xiao told him as she ironed. He had a yellowish face, and his dense black hair and eyebrows made him look intelligent. But for some unknown reason, the lower part of his face simply fell away. His bucked teeth were like a hand reaching downwards, pulling his mouth along with it.
She told him all about Xiuqin's marriage, about how she wouldn't marry without a gold ring, about her extravagance. He would punctuate her remarks with the occasional `NImm', his cagey black pupils gazing into his tea and his smile very understanding, sympathetic. This hurt her; it also made her angry. The worry was all hers, it seemed. It didn't make much difference to a man whether he got married or not. At the same time she also felt bored by the whole affair. Their child was a big boy now, so what use was there thinking about such things? It was true he wasn't supporting her, but he probably wouldn't have been able to support her even if they had been legally married. What powers had chosen this life of drudgery for her? He only made enough to cover his own expenses. Sometimes he even asked her for money to pay into his savings club.
The man turned to test his son, pointing to Chinese words in the school reader and asking Baishun what they were. This reminded Ah Xiao of something: 'A letter arrived from my mother today. There are a couple of sentences in it I didn't quite understand.' The words 'Wu County Government' were printed on the envelope and it was addressed to 'Miss Ding Ah Xiao'. In the left-hand corner was written 'Best Wishes'. He read the letter, explaining its contents to her:
My clear daughter Ah Xiao,
I am writing you this letter. Because a couple of days ago you wrote. Here in the country, I kuow all your news. I think of you in Shanghai, I hope you are in the best of health, and all is well with you. In your letter, you said you are coming back to visit in the tenth month. Very good. Please bring me some Three Days Headache Powder when you come. Very important. Don't forget. Lately, all is quiet here. I am doing well, don't worry about me. I also ask you to bring a woollen jumper for my mother. Don't forget. If you are not coming, get someone else to bring it. Don't break promise. I'll stop now We can talk when you come.
Your mother, Wang Yuzhen 14th Ninth Month

There had never been any mention of her man in letters from her home town. Ah Xiao often had Baishun write back on her behalf; there was never any expression of concern for him either. After reading the letter, Ah Xiao and her husband felt somewhat cut-off. He sat there in silence. Suddenly, as if trying to justify himself, he began to speak about his work: 'As well as making clothes, I'm now doing a bit of business in leather goods. These days, you've got to be versatile to make a go of it.' He opened his bundle and pulled out two leather overcoats for her to have a look at, then took out a kind of bag made of fur and said: Tor this reason the sea otter . . .' and began a story about the life and habits of the sea otter which was really intended for Baishun. Baishun was playing up to him. He had left off his reading long ago and was now cuddled up next to Ah Xiao, clinging to her, one hand rummaging around in her pocket. Ah Xiao listened to her husband with rapt attention: `Mmm . . Mmm . . . Aha . . Oh. . . Ah . . .'. Her man came to the end of his tale: 'And so you see, the sea is full of weird and wonderful things.' Ah Xiao couldn't think of an appropriate response right away. She wondered for a moment and said: 'There's a lot of cuttlefish for sale at the market at the moment.' He replied: `FImm. Cuttlefish are strange things too. You haven't seen those giant cuttlefish. They're bigger than a man and look like a spider with all their legs . . Ah Xiao wrinkled up her face and said: 'Really? How disgusting!' She then turned to Baishun and said: 'What are you muttering about? . . . What did you say? . . . I can't hear you. . . . Are you kidding? . . . Where am I going to get five dollars from?' Nevertheless, she felt in her pockets and gave him the money.
When she had finished her ironing, Ah Xiao mixed up some batter and made pancakes, using the rationed flour and sugar which she and Baishun were entitled to. Her man felt as if he had been given a treat he hadn't deserved, and followed her around everywhere with his hands clasped behind his back trying to make conversation. Father and son ate first while the pancakes were hot; she went on with her cooking. Hot yellow sunlight shone on their three faces. A cicada landed on the broken bamboo blind out on the rear balcony. Although summer was over it had somehow managed to survive and took advantage of the heat, happily chirping its loud and resonant chua-chua-chua!
Her employer returned, and as he passed by the kitchen door, he stuck his head in and called to her tenderly: 'Hello, Amahr Her man had already retreated to the rear balcony, taking in the scenery with his hands folded behind his back. Carter spent 3,000 dollars on hiring a servant and was only too anxious to have her flapping and pecking around his head like a tame pigeon on his return. He kept ringing the bell for her until he had her running in circles. As she was taking ice out of the refrigerator, her man came behind her and said in a low voice: 'I'll come over tonight.' Ah Xiao replied resentfully: 'We'll die in this heat!' The room she shared with Baishun was like a steam-cooker. But then she suddenly sensed him standing there, so lonely on his own. He wasn't in the habit of asking for favours at least, he had never asked her to do anything. She stood facing the silver-grey rib-cage of the refrigerator. She understood nothing of its workings—it was like an x-ray photograph of the human body—but she could hear the heavy pounding of its heart. Waves of cold made her nose hurt and she wanted to cry. Without turning around she remarked:
Taishun had better spend the night with the people opposite. Their amah lives there with her children."Hmm,' he replied.
After she had delivered the ice to her employer, she found that her man had gone. She went downstairs to fetch two buckets of water for her employer's bath. The door-bell rang. It was the new woman, as expected. Ah Xiao guessed she was a taxi-dancer. 'Is the foreigner at home?' she asked, jiggling her way into the apartment. A great clump of curly hair stuck out from the back of her head; it was dry and yellow from over-perming, while the rest of her hair was black. It looked like a fur collar wrapped round her neck, the pelt of some dead animal. In this case it was hard to say for sure that it was actually dead. It seemed to quiver, jumping with every step she took.
Ah Xiao took in the cocktails and biscuits. Miss Li called again on the telephone. Ah Xiao told her that her employer was not at home. This time, Miss Li could not contain her resentment and interrogated Ah Xiao: 'Did you tell him I rang this morning?' Ah Xiao also lost her temper. No one had ever doubted her professional integrity before. She replied with faint laughter: 'Of course I did! Perhaps he forgot. Didn't he call you later?' Miss Li paused for a moment and then answered: `No, he didn't' in a very faint voice. Ah Xiao thought to herself: You asked for it. Fancy being told off by a servant! But when she remembered the hundred dollars Miss Li gave her every time she visited, she proffered a gracious explanation on Mr Garter's behalf. Regardless of whether Miss Li believed it or not, it spared her something of the embarrassment. `He got up late today and left in a hurry for the office. With all the work he has to do and all the people he has to deal with, I'm afraid it's not convenient for him to call. .. .' Miss Li responded with a `Hmm, hmm' on the other end of the line but she sounded as though she were now crying. Ah Xiao said: `When he gets back I'll tell him that you rang. . . In a voice that came from far, far away, Miss Li said indistinctly: 'Don't mention anything to him. . . But then she added: call again in a few days' time when I'm free.' It seemed that she couldn't even let go of this lowly amah, whom she started to engage in small talk. She had noticed last time she called that the fitted sheet on Garter's bed needed mending. Seeing he was a bachelor and had no one to take care of him, she was thinking of making him a new one. At this point, Ah Xiao began to find Miss Li's fussiness somewhat repellent and she rose to her employer's defence: `Oh, he's been planning to get a new one for some time. When he bought the apartment, the bed came with it, but it has never been very suitable. All along he's been thinking of buying a bigger one. If you make a cover for this bed, it will be the wrong size. I recently mended it for him and it looks fine now' She suddenly felt a motherly protectiveness towards Garter that was both firm and ferocious.
As she was speaking, Mr Garter stuck his head out the door to see what was going on. Flustered, Ah Xiao said to Miss Li: 'Why, that sounds like the lift. I can't be sure, but it might be him coming now!' With one hand covering the receiver she told Mr Garter who it was. Garter frowned, walked over to the telephone, pointed in the direction of the inner room and told Ah Xiao to go in and remove the wineglasses. He picked up the receiver and remained standing for the time being, leaning against the wall with one hand on his hip. On his guard, he asked: 'Hello. . . Yes, I've been extremely busy these last few days. . . . Now don't be silly. It's not like that.' There was no explosion on the other end of the line. Even her sobbing was concealed by an intake of breath. He relaxed, and repeated gaily in a low voice: 'Don't be silly. . . . How are you, anyway?' Twittering on like this was best just in case the other woman was listening in. 'I've already had him buy those shares for you. See how lucky you are! Have you had one of your headaches recently? And how have you been sleeping? . .' He blew into the telephone twice, making her ears tickle terribly. Perhaps in the past he had often playfully blown into her ears like this. Both of them appeared to be reliving the sweet experiences of days gone by. There was loud laughter. Then he continued: 'Well, when can I see you?' At the mention of a meeting, he became very businesslike; his tone instantly stiffening, intent on precision. 'What about Friday? . . . How about this: come over to my place 'first, then we'll decide.' If she comes to his place first, that means they definitely won't go out anywhere; they'll eat at home instead. With one hand he untangled the twisted cord of the telephone while bending down to read the wrongly written telephone numbers Ah Xiao had taken down in the memorandum book on the table. She always wrote the number '9' upside down. Who was it then who had called? Could it have been. . . Oh, this amah was impossible! He spoke abruptly into the telephone: 'No, I have to go out tonight. I only came back to change before going out. . . .' But then he softened again: a telephone conversation should end on a lingering note. He said: 'So . . . until Friday!' with a hint of a sigh, and then urged: 'Take care. Bye-bye, my sweet!' The last phrase sounded like a gentle kiss.
Ah Xiao went in to gather up the glasses on the cane table out on the balcony where the woman was leaning on the railing.
All this was probably so fresh and romantic for the young taxi-dancer. A layer of mist rose over the twilit city, and rickshaws emerging from the dimness in the far distance seemed to pass at incredibly slow speeds. The lights of cars, the bells of bicycles were diminished, unusually faint, as if Shanghai too had become a Forbidden City.
One corner of a balcony on the floor below jutted out like the prow of a steamship. A young master sat out on it enjoying the cool air, one leg propped up on the railing, chair tilted, rockily- backwards and 'forwards without falling. In one hand he held a tabloid newspaper although it was already too dark to read. Night was frilling, and the balcony floor was littered with the remains of persimmons and water chestnuts he had eaten. Ah Xiao felt an overwhelming urge to go and sweep up for him. All around, the night was as black as the bottom of the sea. This dark balcony was a sunken ship laden with faintly shining treasure. In her heart Ah Xiao felt calm and contentment.
She went back to her cooking. Hot oil crackled explosively in the pan as she made herself busy, dashing about like a startled bird. First of all, she carried in an old-style folding kitchen table and spread a table-cloth over it. She brought in the soup and the meat first and then started dessert. Sweetened omelette was just too revolting. In a moment of weakness, she relented and used some of her own rationed flour to make pancakes for him.
She and Baishun ate doughballs in soup with vegetables. In the pot it looked like a light green paste, quivering as it cooked, its surface wobbling slightly. Baishun finished first and went out on the rear balcony where he recited to himself: 'The moon grows smaller! The stars grow fewer!'
This took Ah Xiao by surprise: 'What's that nonsense you're saying?' she laughed. 'What do you mean "The moon grows smaller! The stars grow fewer"? You must be mad!'
She went back inside to clean up the dinner things. Her employer told her: 'We're going out in a minute. Get the bed ready after we've left and then you can go.' Ah Xiao assented, but she couldn't help feeling that this was unusual. This woman must have really had her wits about her. At any rate, it looked as if he were prepared to spend a bit more money on her than he had with the others.
She thought she'd wait until she was about to leave before she took Baishun over to her neighbours' amah, otherwise she might think it was too much trouble. She boiled up the kettle twice so that she could wash Baishun's face, neck and feet. The telephone rang and she went to answer it: `Hel-lo?' There was a long silence on the other end of the line. She gathered that the caller must be Chinese who had dialled the wrong number and so adopted the tone of an aggressive, hot-tempered Western woman, repeating fierily: `Hel-lo!' The caller responded with a tentative: 'Hello. Is the amah still there?' It was her man. He'd been waiting for her for a long time already. `It's already ten o'clock,' he told her.
Ah Xiao listened out: not a sound came from her employer's room. Baishun sat dozing on the biscuit barrel. It had begun to rain and the bamboo blind was dripping with water, as if the slats were dreaming of the leaves they once sprouted. She thought: 'That's worked out well. Now I have an excuse.' She woke Baishun and took him over to the neighbours, explaining the situation to the amah: 'It's raining. I can't take him back with me, I'm afraid the child will slip over in the wet. He catches cold easily, too. He's better off spending the night here with his auntie.' When she returned to the apartment, there was still no sign that her employer was about to make a move. Her temper flared. When no one responded to her knock, she quietly pushed open the door a fraction. The room was pitch-black: the pair of them had already slipped out without her knowing. Ah Xiao swallowed down her anger and made the bed ready. She herself got ready to leave, clutching her keys, a string bag and an umbrella. Not wanting to get her knee-length overcoat thoroughly drenched, she folded it inside-out over one arm. Then she opened the back door and went downstairs.
It rained more and more heavily. Suddenly the sky had turned around to show the world its enormous pitch-black face, and everything in this mortal sphere fled away in panic. There was banging and clattering in the darkness, and the thunder and lightning boomed and flashed frenetically. An anguished blue, white and violet lit up the small kitchen time and again. Wind bowed the glass of the window inwards.
Ah Xiao walked two blocks defiantly, but she had no choice but to turn back, trudging her way step by step back up the stairs, fumbling for the lock of the door, opening it, turning on the light with her bag gloved over her hand. Her head and the rest of her body had been drenched by the dark waters. She took off her shoes and socks. The colour in the red flowers embroidered on her white satin shoes had run, bleeding all over the uppers. She squeezed out the water and hung up her shoes to dry on the knobs of the window. Walking around on the tiled floor in her bare feet, she felt as if she were touching her own heart with her hands: it was as cold as a slab of stone. There was no one else in or outside the kitchen; she could have cried aloud if she had wanted to. The unexpected arrival of this insane freedom startled her and made her feel vaguely ill at ease. I can't stay here on my own. Go and get Baishun this minute. She went over to her neighbour's place. Fortunately their back-door was unbolted, and there was still a light on in the kitchen. She went straight in, tapping on the window, calling with a hoarseness in her voice: 'Sister, open up!' The amah replied: 'What? You haven't left yet?' Smiling, Ah Xiao replied: 'The rain was too heavy and there are no lights in that blasted street. The road is full of holes and they were all filled to the brim with water. What a nuisance! I think I'm better off spending the night here. Has that little tramp of mine gone to bed yet? It's best if I take him back with me.' The neighbouring amah asked: 'Do you have a quilt here?' 'Yes, I do,' Ah Xiao replied.
She spread a quilt over the kitchen table, cushioned underneath with newspaper, then turned out the light, so that she and Baishun could try and get some sleep in this makeshift bed. The cramped quality of their warm reunion gave birth to two flies which buzzed around their heads. It was still pouring with rain. There was a sudden flash of lightning, its bluish glare illuminating a spider crawling across the white enamel basin.
The newly-weds upstairs started arguing. There was a loud noise which sounded like someone stamping her feet, or being kicked or pushed back against a kitchen cupboard or the window. Sobbing, the woman ranted on at length in what sounded like Yangzhou dialect: 'Go on, hit me! . . . Hit me! . . . Kill me, I dare you! . . Ah Xiao listened attentively, her head on her pillow, thinking to herself: 'They've bought a 1.5 million-dollar apartment so they can fight in it! They've only been married three days. They've got no reason to argue! . . . Unless of course the woman hasn't been completely honest. . . By some obscure connection she thought of Xiuqin and the family of her future husband who had specially put down a proper floor in what was to be the couple's bedroom. Xiuqin had no choice but to get married.
Upstairs, the argument went on in fits and starts. It flared up again. This time the loud sounds had to be those of the woman opening the French windows. It sounded as if she were preparing to throw herself clown into the street but was being restrained by her husband. No longer hurling abuse at him, she merely wailed loudly. The sound of her crying gradually diminished, but the storm outside raged like a high tide, baying mournfiffly. Later, there was another spate of shouting and crying in the dead still of the night, followed by a burst of howling wind and rain strangely separate from one another like sound effects applied too obviously in a play.
Ah Xiao dragged over a woollen jumper and covered Baishun with it. She remembered how she had once gone to see a film with her son and her husband. The woman in the movie had somehow managed to push open a window and climb through it. Outside in the street it was pouring with rain. She staggered around in the storm, but no matter where she ran to, it poured down on her in torrents. Ah Xiao turned over anxiously Beyond her pillow, the rain bucketed down towards her head. She fell asleep in the rain.
Around midnight, Garter returned to the apartment with the woman and came into the kitchen to get some ice. As soon as the electric light was switched on, it shone directly onto the large kitchen table. Baishun murmured in his sleep. Ah Xiao woke up, but made out she was still asleep. She was only wearing a singlet and a pair of striped drawers. She lay on her side facing away from the door, her short, thin arms and legs pressed frog-like against Baishun. The two flies left her head and buzzed against the light globe with a tinkling sound. Garter looked her over. In the light of day, this amah was actually extremely pretty and quite charming, but in her underwear she wasn't really much to look at. This thought consoled him because he had never had any intention of getting involved with her: having an affair with a woman from the serving classes would have given her ideas above her station a most unwise thing to do. Moreover, in extraordinary times such as these, competent servants were difficult to find, while there were plenty of women available for the taking.
Garter went out with a glass bowl filled with icc. In the room, the woman laughed her full laugh, all the alcohol she had drunk sloshing around inside her. She became a gleaming, transparent bottle of wine, a bottle of perfume, an expensive gift item lying in a box on a bed of curled strips of pale-green paper. When the door closed, the laughter became inaudible, but the reek of alcohol and perfume lingered a long time in the air. When the light in the kitchen was turned out, the flies flew aimlessly back to Ah Xiao's head.
The rain had stopped quite some time ago, it seemed. Out on the street, a pedlar selling food cried his wares in a long, drawn-out phrase of four syllables. It wasn't clear what he was selling; all one heard was the prolonged sadness. A drunken party of men and women staggered down the street singing in a foreign language, giggling and laughing as they went. Their song was a form of defiance against the dead weight of the night, but it was flimsy, weak, and would soon vanish. It was the pedlar's cry which filled the entire street, all the cares of the world loaded on the carrying pole he shouldered.
The following day, Ah Xiao asked the elevator-operator why the new bride upstairs had made such a row, threatening to kill herself in the middle of the night. Taken aback, the elevator- operator replied: 'Did she really? They're having guests over tonight, members of the woman's family. They asked me to give them a hand.' So they were still entertaining as if nothing had happened.
Ah Xiao went out onto the balcony to hang out the washing. She noticed the chair on which the young master had sat when enjoying the breeze of the previous evening. It had been left outside. The weather had suddenly turned cold. A grey sky. Dark, emerald-green trees lined both sides of the street in placid rows like telegraph poles, unmoved by the least flight of fancy. Surrounding the base of each tree was a tight ring of green leaves that looked at first glance like a reflection.
Enjoying the evening breeze now seemed to belong to the distant past. That brown lacquer chair rested unsteadily and creaked as it rocked in the wind as if your average Chinese still sat there on it. On the ground beneath it there were the shells of water chestnuts and peanuts, together with the rinds and pith of persimmons. The tabloid newspaper had been blown by the wind into the guttering, where it remained, sucked firmly against the cement railing by the air. Ah Xiao glanced down and thought to herself with unconcern that there would always be people like that making a mess. Fortunately, however, it was none of her business.

Translated by Simon Patton

Editor's Note: The fragrance of the osmanthus flower is synonymous with autumn. 'Steamed' refers both to the heat and the humidity of an oppressive Indian summer. The title is also a metaphor for the heroine who is past her prime.