A Concubine for the Family: A Family Saga in China (12 page)

“You talk like a barbarian, saying the first thing on your mind,” her mother said, frowning. “What’s wrong with having a concubine? My late mother, your grandmother, was a concubine. If a person is properly educated, personal choices should coincide with the welfare and prestige of the whole family!”

“Eighty coppers? I may still spit on your fruit!” Orchid’s voice intruded on the conversation.

“Why, that’s . . . that’s cruel, and an insult to womanhood,” Golden Bell stammered.

“Iris, tell your young mistress whether you think it is cruel to be a concubine.”

Iris blushed. “I’m only a servant.” She wrung her hands and looked down. “Concubines are not different from maids. If the master is kind, it is an honor to be chosen.”

“Why Iris.” Golden Bell stared at Iris open-mouthed. She looked to her teacher for help. “Miss Tyler?”

“Seventy coppers! Aiya, you think I’m your Buddha?” Orchid’s exclamation flew against the peddler’s entreaties.

“Westerners believe all men are created equal. Here maids can be married off to any poor farmer or laborer. A concubine has more protection,” Iris said.

“There is a different system here.” Miss Tyler nodded soberly. “We believe democracy and independence can uphold individual dignity. Perhaps it may not be possible here because people are born into classes and have a different understanding of freedom and equality.”

Purple Jade thought this strange modern talk of freedom had only encouraged selfishness, ruthless competition and breakdowns like Chin Snow Song’s. But it was time for her to be gracious, and not to point out the troublesome ideas the teacher was bringing to China.

“How could a lady manage without her maid?” Purple Jade asked. “It would be a great loss of face for a mistress of the house to bargain, as Orchid is doing for me now.”

“Miss Tyler, you often complained that you have to pay double for everything,” Iris added, eager to make peace.

Miss Tyler adjusted herself in her seat, uncomfortable with the drift of the conversation. She knew her students’ confusion and conflicts of loyalty. She also understood the mother’s concerns. However, she must not teach and lecture in front of the mother. She merely nodded to Iris in response.

Purple Jade wanted to ask how Westerners could think everyone was created equal. Surely men and women could not do the same things, and master and servants were born with different gifts! How did they arrange marriages and manage their households? She had heard of divorces and wondered who took care of the divorced women and children. She speculated on Western households, where women functioned without the solidarity of other women. Her heart ached for Miss Tyler in her single, lonely state. She decided not to ask any more questions. She accepted Miss Tyler’s “different” system for civility’s sake. She was satisfied that the teacher showed restraint, was not contentious, and had enough grace to acknowledge her desire to learn from another culture. Golden Bell was impetuous because of her youth. Her teacher was not to blame.

“All right, all right, fifty coppers for all these lichee nuts and three extra bunches of dragon-eyes too.” Orchid’s voice rang triumphantly over the pavilion. “You’re fortunate today, old turtle!”

When Orchid came with the fruits, Purple Jade took Miss Tyler with her to feed the songbirds. Miss Tyler remembered the camera she had brought and took pictures of Purple Jade feeding the birds. Together they discussed the birds’ plumage and habits. They agreed that while the birds were of different colors, and sang different songs, it was obvious that they enjoyed each other’s company.

Purple Jade steered the conversation to Miss Tyler’s work. They spoke of a foreign woman’s difficulties adjusting to life in Hangzhou: starting a school and dealing with Chinese men who held the purse strings. Purple Jade took note of all Miss Tyler’s needs and promised to speak to her husband about them. Finally, she asked, “You work so far away from home. Did your family object to your choice of profession?”

“No, it is a Christian tradition for women to do God’s work inside and outside the home. People respect women who serve their communities at home or in the world, especially in nursing and teaching.”

“Nurturing the young and dependent is also central to the teachings of Confucius, but you have an admirable tradition — allowing women into the community!” Purple Jade thought this might be their meaning of equality for women. The Chinese would not encourage a woman to be inquisitive, but she must be gracious. “I wish we could learn more of that from you,” she said in earnest. Both women smiled, surprised to discover how much they liked each other.

T
HE MORNING SUN shone on the terra-cotta roof tiles, and the flowering apricot tree formed lacy patterns outside the schoolroom. Golden Bell and Iris huddled around Miss Tyler. They stood behind a tripod, taking turns to peer into a viewfinder.

“The subject must face the light, and the camera must remain very still,” Miss Tyler said. “Iris, go and stand by the apricot tree. Now, Golden Bell, come and take a look.”

Golden Bell had to stand on tiptoes to look into the camera. She was almost half a head shorter than Miss Tyler.

“My! Iris looks as if she’s been caught in a pink net!”

“That’s the reflected light from the blossoms.” Miss Tyler waved her arm. “Iris, move in front of the tree.” After many adjustments, she motioned Golden Bell to come and look again. “We mustn’t get branch shadows on her face. There!” She clicked the shutter.

“Oh, Miss Tyler, if the picture doesn’t show your red hair and blue eyes, do you think you’ll look more Chinese?” Golden Bell asked.

“Maybe not. My big nose will give me away.” Miss Tyler twitched her nose, sending the girls into peals of laughter. “Now, Golden Bell, you go stand in Iris’s place, and I’ll take your picture.”

“How do I look?” Golden Bell’s long eyes sparkled. She straightened her blue brocade jacket and dark silk trousers.

Iris swung her pigtails behind her. “I’ve never seen myself in a photo before!” She giggled. “I can’t wait for the picture to develop and show it to Peony.”

Loud banging sounds came from Golden Bell’s room. Roof tiles and walls shook and rattled. Teacher and students looked at each other and ran to inspect.

They found the scrawny, pigtailed Little Six waving her hammer and smiling. “I found this faucet. Now the young mistress will have water in her own room!” She beamed, showing her crooked teeth. She had already nailed the faucet to the wall behind Golden Bell’s dressing table and placed a washbasin under the faucet.

Golden Bell and Miss Tyler looked confused, but Iris burst out laughing so hard she had to lean against a wall to steady herself. “Oh, ho, ho, Little Six, such a country bumpkin! What a dumb egg! Oh ho, ho, she thinks she can bring on the self-coming-water.”

“I didn’t ask permission first?” Little Six lowered her head. Immediately, she brightened and tried to turn on her faucet, “I wanted to surprise the elder-young-mistress.” She twisted the faucet this way and that, almost wrenching it loose from the wall. No water came, and she scratched her head.

Giggling, Golden Bell explained: “Little Six is the new scullery maid. Mother found her begging on the street. I gave her some of my old play clothes. She meant to repay the kindness!”

“How old are you?” Miss Tyler asked.

“No one told me. Maybe twelve?” Little Six wrinkled her nose.

“More like ten, I’d say.” Iris took the hammer from her.

“Come, come, Little Six.” Miss Tyler gently pried the child’s hands from the faucet. “You’ve done a gracious thing.” She led her into the schoolroom where she tried to wash both their hands together. Little Six felt the running water and ran back to her faucet in the bedroom. She turned it and muttered, “Strange, magic. Water there, but no water here!”

Golden Bell and Iris laughed and giggled some more, but Miss Tyler said, “There are no pipes inside this wall. The water is carried by pipes, which probably start from a stream up in the mountain.”

“No pipes? What pipes?” Little Six whined. “Pipes come into this wall? How did the mountain pipes come in here?”

“Perhaps we can all go out and trace the pipe route. You can help us carry my photography equipment, and we’ll take some pictures.”

“What is the foreign devil talking about?” Little Six shouted to Iris. “What pictures?”

“You know, a likeness of yourself on a shiny piece of paper.”

“Oh no, no, people say your spirit is taken away with your likeness!” Little Six shrieked, shielding her face behind her palms. “My uncle went into the city — came back so sick, he almost died. Someone took his picture, and he only recovered after my mother burned his likeness!”

Miss Tyler did not know how to answer, but Iris shook her head in exasperation. She shouted: “That has nothing to do with it. Nothing to do with it at all! You dumb egg! Country bumpkin!”

“Well, we won’t take your picture, Little Six.” Miss Tyler herded the girls into the courtyard. “Look, here is the pipe from the schoolroom. Look how cunningly it is blended with the eaves of the roof tiles.”

Miss Tyler carried her own camera. Little Six tried to pick up the tripod, but Iris grabbed it away from her. “You’ll only drop it. What a dumb egg!”

The pipe led them to the kitchen then out into the large garden. “Oh I must go back. I must go in,” Little Six cried when they were only a few steps out of the kitchen courtyard. “Cook will be so mad at me for being away so long.
Tai-tai
asked him to teach me ten characters a day. Sorry, young mistress.” She curtsied to Golden Bell, wringing her hands. Golden Bell turned away, speechless with embarrassment.

“Sorry.” Little Six looked at Miss Tyler, not knowing how to address her. Miss Tyler was just going to reply when Little Sixth tugged on Iris’s sleeve. “Sorry, Iris-jei.” She ran.

Iris grimaced, grumbling, “A dumb egg, what a dumb egg!”

Miss Tyler and Golden Bell walked into the walled-in garden with Iris trailing behind. They passed a moon-gate framed by a circle of rosewood. The view of the glistening lake welcomed them.

“Isn’t this beautiful?” The teacher pointed out the calculated compositions of color and design. “You have a beautiful home.”

Little Six’s histrionics still bothered Golden Bell. She asked, “Miss Tyler, you told my mother that you came here to learn from China.” She took a deep breath. “There are so many stupid people like Little Six. What can you learn in China?”

“Little Six is ignorant, not stupid.” Miss Tyler smiled. “The whole world is full of people like Little Six. It is only when we are allowed to make mistakes and given time to correct them that we can learn how things work.” She put down her camera and stood under a willow tree, waiting for Iris to come with the tripod.

“But China is so . . . so . . .” Golden Bell meant to say “backward,” but she could not utter the word. She had always heard her parents prate about China being the most civilized nation, and that all foreigners ever wanted was to steal from her riches. “Cruel,” she whispered instead. “Look what happened to Snow Song. I heard she didn’t want to marry the man her mother picked for her.”

Miss Tyler remained quiet for a long time. She finally said, “It pains me to think of Snow Song. I wonder why she did it.” She cleared her throat. “Such desperation, throwing herself into the river.”

“Suicide seems to be the only way out for a Chinese girl!” Golden Bell stamped her foot and spat out her outrage. “Mother never wants to learn anything from the outside world. The Chinese always want to do things the Chinese way.” She swallowed but could not control her anger. “They want to make the women weak — they used to bind our feet. Now they bind our spirit — they won’t educate us or make us equal heirs!”

“I wish the missionary school had given Snow Song more strength and the means to be independent.” Miss Tyler sat down on a rock. “Changes always bring turmoil. I wonder if Snow Song’s schooling confused her instead.”

“Did you know her?”

“I knew her as a scholarship student.” She frowned. “But I cannot possibly know the personal life of every student in our school. I wish I had known her better.”

Golden Bell saw Iris put down the tripod and stop to catch her breath. “The Chinese do not allow servants and especially girls to learn the free thinking in your world!” Golden Bell groaned, shaking her upturned hands in frustration.

“That is more or less the same in the West,” Miss Tyler said. “The servants never have time to study, and the women are supposed to be wives, mothers, and objects of pleasure or service. Men are encouraged toward personal accomplishments — to become thinkers, dreamers, doctors, lawyers, engineers, or soldiers.” She enumerated them on her fingers. She sounded almost angry. “They do things, but a woman is suspect when she makes her work her life.”

“But you went to a university, Miss Tyler!”

“Yes, things may change. Some years ago, American women marched and even went to prison to demand an equal vote. My university is one of the very first to have coeducation.”

“Oh, I wish someday I’ll go there also! Someday I hope to bring equality to women in this country!”

“Perhaps you will. I’ll certainly recommend it.”