13

She called in matchmakers.
'His wife will keep an eye on him, I can't any more.'
It was understood that he had to make a suitable marriage. It was the only way they could make use of the family background─the only honourable way, not like getting into new governments on the strength of being a Yao. But when it came to the point nobody seemed to want to give his daughter to the Yaos' second branch, the father a freak, the mother from the lower classes and known to be fierce. It would not have mattered if he was the son of a concubine, who had to be self-effacing while this one would be a regular mother-in-law. They were said to have money, but did not look it. The matchmakers had to go farther afield to the interior to get them a photo-graph from the Fungs of Wuweichow, distant relatives. When the family was right they could not be too choosy about looks.
'Such a big mouth,' Yensheng said but did not object strongly which was taken as consent, as was the custom. Marriage should make him a man and set him free. His mother was already more agreeable since the talks started with the Fungs. He also wanted to humour her.
'Roll me a pill,' she said. 'That stupid slave girl will never learn. You used to play at it when you were little.'
'I liked the tools.' He twiddled the long needle and the little shield with cut-out designs.
He lay down and fixed her a pipe that puffed and hissed straight to the end.
'Not stuck once,' she said, 'and that was a large one too.
The thing is to make it an even brown and loose-knit. You must have had practice in the singsong houses.'
It was the first time she had spoken tolerantly of his outings. He murmured no, half laughing and made her another.
'You have this one,' she said. 'It's fun as long as it doesn't get to be a habit. When you were a sick baby you used to have smoke blown in your face.'
He took it and put-putted away like a little train. 'You must have smoked outside.'
'No, I didn't.'
'Play is play, all right in its place, but don't go out just now, wait till we've settled this with the Fungs. You're still so young, they will say.'
No wonder people talked business on the opium couch in singsong houses; it put you in a nocturnal mood, relaxed and intimate around the little lamp. But what did he care how his suit went?
She seemed to read his thoughts. 'What I like about the Fungs is they are old-fashioned, not like the girls of today—heaven help us if we get one of those in the house. Also you might say the family has roots. Your Aunt Chu has seen the girl, so it can't go far wrong. You want a beauty, wait until the important business is out of the way. Even I won't have you unhappy. You're all I have.'
Other parents had struck this bargain with their sons to make them go through with a marriage. Coming from his mother it was still a surprise. Only a gleam at the edge of his glasses betrayed his unseemly joy.
'As long as you choose well. Just don't be a garbage cart like your uncles. Your Third Uncle has ruined his own signboard, it doesn't give you face to be seen with him. You never can tell when a person is desperate, he may take his cut behind your back, maybe on your girl too. These singsong houses, once they take you for a fool, they can let you hang around forever getting your appetite up.'
A controlled expression on his face gave her the feeling that may be exactly what happened. If he had got a taste of it his heart would have flowered as a bean might sprout. It is a madness, especially at first. He wouldn't be so quiet after being kept home for days, nor would he be so sensitive to mere tenderness from a woman. The little oil lamp shone brighter than any other, being seen lying down from a fresh angle of the eye. The face beyond the light revolted her slightly. There was something monstrous about a face grown unrecognizable over the years, but she was not the young mother he remembered either. They felt so safe together, a little sad too at the reunion. For a moment she was close to tears, willing to live her life through him. He was a part of her and male.
He was looking at her with a curious smile that made his face pathetically thin. He had never expected anything from her in all his life but now she loved him. She did not like it, as if he had his hand on a soft spot on her. Right away she was angry. Even her own son─the minute she got affectionate it meant a great outlay of money. It made no difference that the suggestion had come from herself.
She changed the subject, back to the usual topic of relatives to make him talk. He had a turn for wry sarcasm that showed only when he was talking to her.
'Was Big Master there that day?' They were still speak-ing of the birthday party.
'Just put in an appearance.'
Even in their own home voices automatically dropped to a whisper with a sense of the sinister and some awe.
'Was Ma Chifang there?' in the same hushed tone. Peripheral relatives were referred to by their full names with a hint of contempt. This was Big Master's brother-in-law, the head of the secretariat of the war lord Wu Peifu, now back in Shanghai after Wu's downfall.
'He never goes out. Somebody went to see him and was told Master was not well.'
'That's why how can you tell about things nowadays.'
'Well, he just printed a collection of his poems. Sent us a copy too. He was the ghostwriter of Old Wu's bad poems.'
'What a coincidence, these two brothers-in-law. It has to be all in their branch.' And it had to be Big Master, the only likely son, the one Old Mistress had leaned on, the only one that could possibly be said to remind people of his grandfather.
'"The poet Ma Chifang" he's called. It makes your flesh creep the way he flatters Old Wu, the wise lord, the scholarly general.'
'The Mas have always been shameless, the way they made up to your family. It's different for Big Master. That's where Old Mistress was really blessed, not to have lived to see it.'
'It wouldn't have happened if Old Mistress was alive.'
'Who was it that was still speaking for him the other day?─said "He was a district governor originally." So he was a mandarin in his own right, he has the seniority any time he cares to come out again and owes nothing to his ancestors.'
'He probably had no choice. Said to be in terrible straits,' he said in his confidential elderly manner.
'With his way of spending,' she grunted. She had always said the two brothers were just as bad but she did not want to bring up Third Master again so soon. Big Master had taken more trouble covering up in his mother's days. Having stuck it out he had simply spread out in all directions. How else would he have come to this within a few years of the division of property? However the subject of inheritance was never mentioned to Yensheng.
'So Little Feng is going abroad,' he said enviously.
'Just don't bring a foreign wife back. I wonder Big Mistress is not worried. People make them marry before they go.'
'They'd just want a divorce when they come back. Take off trousers to fart─why bother?'
'At least he's not sending Little Pu abroad, much as he likes him.' It was just like Big Master to adopt a clans-man's son, when he had sons himself. To show the old clan spirit, and it happened that his grandfather had also adopted a son from the clan when there was a son and heir already.
'Can't do without him,' said Yensheng.
'They say Little Pu is bad.' So was Second Old Master, the other adopted son. As a mandarin he had been known for wanting money. As an ambassador he had brought back a French concubine to add to his large collection. So far Little Pu was only going with singsong girls, no mean feat for a poor young man who was short and fat to boot with a greasy dark complexion and a grumpy furtive look. Of course he must be making some money out of the errands he ran. He hung around the favourite con-cubine's house, the de facto official residence. Big Mistress sometimes did not get to see the master for days, then Little Pu would bring a message. 'Big Mistress just can't stand him.' How like Big Master to take on somebody like that just for the feudal sense of patronage and power and the imagined devotion of the runt everybody disliked. Even Third Master was more sensible there and got more out of his money.
'He managed to get on the good side of the concubine.'
'Yes, it wouldn't do either if he's too handsome.' She opened the seamless little silvery box shaped like a flat seal stood on end, dipped the needle in the thick black liquid and held the tip over the flame. 'The Wong sisters were the belles that day, dressed like twins,' she went back to the birthday. 'Did you see?'
'I saw,' he mumbled boredly. They were his prettiest cousins and laughed at people more than any of the others. The very mention of Second Aunt and Cousin Yensheng and they collapsed backwards and forwards laughing.
'These two─no father, no mother, live with an aunt so they'd have somebody to look after them. Even if the widow lady doesn't benefit by it you'd think at least she'd save a little. Huh! Always squealing for Aunt to stand them treats. And Sixth Mistress Wong is pitiful now, really has to pinch and save. She's supposed to keep the young ladies company in sewing, embroidering and going out, keep an eye on them. Of course it's Aunt who pays at theatres and restaurants, can't let the children pay. Small advantages mean a lot to these rich girls. When boy friends give them presents, the more expensive the more they like it. The boys are willing to invest too and poor Sixth Mistress Wong dies of fright. Just shocking goings on she says.'
'As if that lady can control them,' he snickered blushing.
'Such skinflints already at their age and always sneering at people─not a sign of longevity, although I shouldn't say this. Both their parents died of tuberculosis. They all have it.'
'They do?' He sounded shaken.
'Why not? Only they don't like to mention it. In all fairness though, but for this illness in the family they wouldn't be so well off either. That's why they're the only Wongs that have money. Their father didn't get to spend it. They said our second branch has no man. We're lucky to have no man.'
They had one now. It struck her the minute the words were out of her mouth but he didn't seem to notice. He was still in a rosy glow, shy and happy.
'Second Master Liu is a bank manager now,' he said.
'He must have put money in.' Shanghai was a jungle for those with a little money to invest. It was retribution in a way, that these men should become as hemmed in as she. Some held it in for years before they burst out in a gambling binge, a new woman or business venture, then lay low apparently for good.
'He made a bit on stocks.'
'He has money,' she grunted in a tone of dismissal. 'The Chans still live on Bubbling Well Road?'
'Yes. Their eldest is said to like to dance.'
'What do the Chans live on nowadays?'
'Their mother has money,' she grunted.
It was enough just to mention a name to make you smile. Each was well set up in his own niche in the cata-combs. Any news from them was always a surprise and good for a laugh. The relatives had become mutually dependent there, with an instant quickening as the word went round, the only blood circulation in their system. It was reassuring to know that life was still going on else-where, at other people's peril. The sense of foreboding made it rain outside, dark grey in the windows and cosier than ever around the little lamp at eye-level. He had learned all these names and kinships from her ever since he was little. The roll-call never got to his father or her family. He had no parents and she had no past but they never felt it, their world was so full and self-sufficient. 'Their Little Fifth has his eyes on Pink Cloud,' he said grinning, back to the birthday performance.
'I saw them together after she got out of costume.' 'She's not much to look at offstage.'
'She has a certain dash.'
'Lively enough,' he admitted and hastened to add, 'onstage.'
'Yes, offstage these actresses can be very stiff. Actually they are more strictly brought up than the young ladies nowadays. They're so afraid of their teacher. There's also their parents, usually very old-fashioned, these northern theatre people.'
'They have terrible burdens, the family and their own musicians, their own troupe, scores of people depending on them for a living. How much will it cost Little Fifth to retire Pink Cloud?'
'Little Fifth won't get her. For one thing his father won't let him. Too much in the public eye. They generally end up as gangsters' concubines. Theirs is a sad life too in spite of all the glory. They're grateful when people have real feelings for them. There's this Old Mrs Wang, she's an opera fan. She boosted an actress, paid for her costumes and curtains and adopted her as daughter as the men do, and they say she was very filial, always coming to the house to stay. In the end she became the old lady's son's concubine.'
He reddened. 'Who was that? Did she sing in Shanghai?' And, 'Which Wangs are these?'
The only way to reach inside him was through some girl. 'She was the leading lady at the Great World in Hangchow.'
He half giggled. The Great World was an indoors amusement park in Shanghai. The one in Hangchow must be a still more countrified carnival.
`No, their Peking opera was supposed to be good. She played serious roles. Good-looking they say and good voice.' 'Pink Cloud doesn't have much of a voice.'
'You don't need it for comedy. Besides girls' voices are too sharp and often squeaky. That's why female impersonators are supposed to sing better. But after they become women their voice broadens.'
'About how old is she?' he said after a moment's silence. 'It's not likely that she still needs broadening?'
'Oh, these actresses are so closely watched by their families, you can't judge by the way they go about with the likes of Little Fifth.'
They compared her with all the others. Her waist was not the smallest but it was supple. Her face was too full, you could see how far the false lock of hair in front of the ears was moved forward to cut down the cheek. She looked smart in men's clothes, she would probably do well in turnabout roles. Yindi felt slightly ridiculous standing there adoring shoulder to shoulder, fondly critical, two fatuous faces basking in a distant sun. But it was exciting to tempt him, she could feel the warmth of a young man's desire. She was the first woman in the world as long as she would talk to him about that girl.
She did not really know much about Peking opera. Being a native of Shanghai she had trouble understanding the lyrics and jokes. But the common enemy of the women of her generation were the singsong girls and the songs they sang were from Peking opera. To admire the real singers would be going one better on them. The women on the stage had rouged eyelids continuous with the deep pink cheeks just like she herself when she was young. Their spangled head-dress full at the back and cut into a pointed arch over the forehead reminded her of the pearl cap she used to wear. The comediennes wore the jacket and trousers fashionable about ten years ago, like hers, just flashier and embroidered all over, which looked right over the footlights. The resemblance was so haunting she was easily moved by the story. If it was possible to take such a one into the house, then that glittering world that once she could only eavesdrop on from the veranda in the dark, she could go in at last even if it was only in the role of dowager empress. Like the old lady in A Dream in the Red Chamber who likes to be surrounded by beauties and served only by them. Even their own Old Mistress here had had her court made up of her sons' wives and concubines, all chosen for their charms and then relegated to a manless life. It would be different with her son and his famous beauty, they would attend on her like the Golden Boy and White Jade Maid of the Goddess Kwannon, with a mysterious smile between the three of them that came of her knowledge of that love she had brought about and shut away in a room for life. It was as if the bond of flesh and blood had come alive. But she knew it was all make-believe, enough for some women when they were old enough.
'I know you like Pink Cloud,' she said smiling.
'I'm not qualified,' he mumbled smiling.
'There are ways and means too if we really want it. Nothing is easier than meeting them. The thing is to find the right person to talk terms to the parents. For instance Third Master Liu, he goes in for amateur theatricals and knows all the famous actors. And all the actresses want to be known as their pupils. A word from the teacher would mean a lot. Ninth Old Master is a big promoter himself but there's no need to go to him. There's lots of others, people who know theatre owners and those are the gangsters. You have to be, to open a theatre. And it takes a gangster to have a hold on those theatre families.'
To hear her talking gently and reasonably it all sounded very possible. He had no idea what influence they still had. Of course they were richer than she would have him believe. Could it be that she had only kept things from him until he was old enough to know? She was saving up for this one adventure, to buy him love and fame as the owner of a celebrity. Who knows?─if it was understood to be his first and last romance. . . . As long as one has to be a concubine─except in the case of the actress marrying her own accompanist, an ignoble end─of course one pre-fers to be a young man's concubine, especially when he is from an old family and not a playboy, in fact a virgin. Unfortunately there had to be a wife first, then a decent interval. But endless waiting is a thing you learn to get used to when you are young.
'The trouble is when they're still on the rise the parents won't let them go until they've had a few years' big earn-ings behind them,' she went on murmuring, spinning her opium dream. At his age he needed a dream to keep him in bounds. Once he got into the opium habit he would have more sense of proportion.
She was not worried about the Fungs hearing about the smoking.
'What of it? We can afford it,' she would tell the go-betweens.
Opium smoking was no longer common among young men, they went in for dancing and cabaret girls now. The Fungs would see that it was a good thing if it kept a man at home. It had not stopped Big Master and Third Master from going out but they were different. For one thing it was easy for them to lay hands on money. An opium smoker with no money for a smoke can think of nothing else. He could get it at the singsong houses but how long could Third Master carry him there? This couch was the only place for it. In time he would get to be like her, concerned only with keeping the hearth fire burning and the lamp alight on the couch. Let him get away, she had the kite string in hand now.