Shanghai Love, Layne Wong [big screen ebook reader .TXT] 📗

Excerpt

 

SHANGHAI LOVE

By Layne Wong

 

 EXCERPT

 

Peilin watched as news of the impending Matchmaker’s visit set her

mother into a flurry of preparation. At eight, Peilin was not quite sure

what all the commotion was about but knew that it was important by

the way her mother swept their small dwelling with the new straw

broom and tended to the ancestors’ altar, burning fragrant ylang-ylang

incense and leaving offerings of barley, sorghum, and fresh

plums. All this so the gods watching overhead would send blessings

from above.

         The day before the Matchmaker was to meet the Dus, Kwan

Taitai had instructed her cook to purchase the largest pig possible

and roast it with the finest basting of ginger, lemon, and honey. The

succulent gift was securely wrapped for the journey and delivered to

the Du family by the Matchmaker upon her arrival. At the day’s end,

Kwan Taitai hoped her marriage emissary would return bearing the

pig’s head and rump, a signal that the nuptial process had an auspicious

beginning with promises for an equally fortunate end.

         Peilin, hidden behind the door, caught a glimpse of the

Matchmaker when she arrived the next day. A stocky woman missing

several front teeth, she presented the roasted pig to Mother, Father,

and Grandpa Du. Peilin noticed that her mother wore her best acorn brown

jacket and trousers as she led their guest to the large bamboo

mat in their small sitting room.

         The elder Du had advised Peilin’s mother not to serve tea. Should

even a drop spill on this important day, Peilin’s future family would

withdraw their intentions, interpreting any mishap as a bad omen.

         The Matchmaker kneeled as she pulled out a heavy and wellworn

almanac—the Ten-Thousand Year Calendar. Generations of

matchmakers had referred to this definitive text when predicting

future marriages. Once the visiting woman was ready, Mother Du

officially presented her with Peilin’s ba zi.

         Peilin’s father, with his long straggly beard, paced the room. He

turned to Grandpa Du suddenly and announced, “Father, my own

sister did not receive such an opportunity. She was sold as a servant

at a very young age.”

         “Aiiii!” lamented Grandpa Du, his heavy eyes cast downward.

“And I have regretted that decision so many times. I should have sold

the animals, the land—anything but my own flesh and blood.”

         Peilin gasped. Prior to that point she hadn’t known she had an

aunt. She had heard of other girls in the village being sold off, but

she’d believed it was because they had done something wrong. Even

at her young age, Peilin knew in her heart that her adored grandfather

would never do such a thing unless he was forced.

         “It was the drought,” Peilin’s father reminded him. “It was for

survival.”

 

         “Still,” Grandpa Du sighed, “I should have figured out another

way.”

         Father Du grunted. As the second son, all he had known was

hard work. Peilin could sense the pain on her father’s face. His older

brother, Quong-Yiu, had been groomed to be the herbalist, while

Father Du tended to the labor-intensive rice fields. But when the boys

were still young, a plague hit the village. Grandpa Du and Quong-Yiu

did all they could to treat the sick. Quong-Yiu was in constant contact

with the disease and soon fell ill. He died as a teenager and Grandpa

Du never fully recovered. He abandoned his herbal garden for many

years, choosing to join his second son in the fields. In the years after

the plague it was critical to their survival. Grandpa Du put his passion

for herbs, remedies, and helping others on permanent hold.

         It wasn’t until all these many years later that Grandpa Du was

finally ready to return to the garden. It was partly about having the

stability to do so, but it was mostly because it took that many years to

heal from the loss of his first son. By the time Ping was born, Peilin

was already spending the majority of every day in the garden with

her grandfather. He had already claimed her as his little apprentice.

When Ping came along, he was naturally consigned to join his father

doing the hard labor of tending to the family’s fields.

         Peilin continued to think about her aunt. She wondered how old

she had been when she’d been sold. Peilin shuttered to think, What if

it had been me?

         Lost in contemplation, she didn’t detect Grandpa Du approaching

her. He must have sensed her distress because he reached over and

gently patted her on the back. The Matchmaker spoke up. “Destiny

cannot be changed.”

         With her oversized magnifying glass, the stout matron returned

to the pages of her large book, flipping back and forth between several

charts. Grandpa Du studied the Matchmaker as she toiled with

her calculations. Peilin sensed that her grandfather might have once

agreed with the intense woman’s assessment of destiny’s immutable

quality, but here he was changing hers. A lifetime of toiling under the

hot sun and years of studying the healing power of herbs taught him

a new way of thinking—while destiny may be impossible to change,

it was possible to refine.

         Working with Peilin’s eight characters, the Matchmaker drew

lines between the symbols, forming four columns. The venerable

time-honored system took years of training to master. Although it

was not customary, the sharp-witted woman attempted to explain her

calculations the best she could.

         “The Four Pillars of Fate are anchored by the prospective bride’s

year, month, date, and time of birth,” she explained. “This first column

is called the Earthly Branch. Peilin was born in the year of the rooster.”

         Mother Du nodded. “My daughter rises each day with the morning

sunlight.”

         “There is more,” continued the Matchmaker. “The calendar is a

sixty-year cycle. Therefore the rooster appears five times—each with

a different Heavenly Stem—wood, fire, earth, metal, or water.” The

toothless matron returned to Peilin’s chart. “Your daughter’s stem is

metal—power energy. Her confident bird sign is supported by two

elements of wood.” The visiting matron smiled. “Kwan Taitai will be

pleased to hear this.”

         Grandpa Du grinned as Peilin’s fate continued to grow more

positive. Peilin sensed that his heart was forever burdened with his

own children’s destiny. Anything he could do to change his granddaughter’s

might ease the difficult memory of what he’d allowed to

happen to his daughter.

         “And Master Yao?” queried Peilin’s anxious mother. “What does

his chart reveal?”

         The Matchmaker held up her hand, pulled out young Yao’s calculations,

and closely compared his to Peilin’s. “Kwan Taitai’s son is

a fire snake, supported by elements of earth,” she revealed. “Much

ambition, much power—fire must be kept under control,” she advised,

“For excess heat energy can be lethal.”

         Mother Du twisted her hands together, plagued by this possible

cloud in her daughter’s future, but the Matchmaker assured the

family. “This is a small caution, not a big concern.”

         Turning back to her almanac, the concentrating woman continued,

“The rooster and snake fall into the triangle of success.” She

looked up. “This is an excellent match.”

         Now Peilin’s father turned to the Matchmaker. “But how can we

ever provide enough dowry for such a prosperous match?”

         “Not to worry,” replied the confident fortune-teller. “The Kwans

will supply all that is needed, including the bridal dress. And due to

the distance, Peilin’s wedding preparations will take place at Dragon

Lake. The fact that Peilin’s eight characters match Master Yao’s will be

more than satisfactory for Kwan Taitai.”

         With the session completed, the Matchmaker packed up her

belongings. As Peilin watched her mother wrap the pig’s head and

hindquarters for Kwan Taitai, she noticed her grandfather alone

outside.

         Digging his walking stick into the ground, the elderly man

seemed to be murmuring. Peilin observed Grandpa Du turn his head

up toward the sky, but she was too far away to understand his words.

         And with that, Peilin’s fate had been sealed.

 

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Peilin sat in front of the small dressing table in her new family’s

home. The Good Luck Lady took her time performing the combing

ritual on Peilin’s long hair. “The first combing symbolizes beginning

to end,” the old lady recited. “Second, for harmony all your life,” she

continued. “Third—”

         The bathing room door flew open; the Matchmaker entered with

a flourish.

         “What is taking so long in here?” she wailed. “Kwan Taitai is

nearly in hysterics—the entire family waits for Peilin’s entrance.”

         But the attentive woman continued to stroke Peilin’s locks with

care. “Almost done. Third combing blesses this bride with many sons

and grandsons. Fourth—”

         “Give me that comb,” snapped the Matchmaker, but the Good

Luck Lady held on tight.

         “Fourth and final combing brings wealth and long-lasting marriage,”

she persisted. The Good Luck Lady finally put the comb down

and smiled at Peilin.

         Coiling Peilin’s hair into a tight bun, the caretaker declared, “The

proper hairstyle for a married woman.” She held up the bronze mirror.

Peilin stared at her reflection, surprised by the change she witnessed

in her own features. Prior to this day, like all unmarried women, she

had only worn her hair in a long ponytail against her back.

         “We must hurry,” said the Matchmaker, holding out the new

bride’s outfit.

         Peilin slipped on the two-piece red silk hong qua—a dress

adorned with golden phoenixes, chrysanthemums, and peonies. Red

shoes decorated her tiny feet. This was the day she had been waiting

for for many years.

         Finally, the ornate phoenix bridal crown was carefully fitted atop

Peilin’s head. It was embellished with numerous kingfisher feathers

and pearls. A red veil covering the bride’s face represented her loyalty

to her husband. As she rose for the first time, the elegant headdress

caused Peilin to balance herself against her kind caretaker.

         The Good Luck Lady smiled. “Beautiful bride,” she cooed.

         “Yes,” agreed the Matchmaker. “Like none I have ever seen.”

         Continuing the customs, the Good Luck Lady turned so that

Peilin could climb upon her back and be properly presented to her

new family.

         But Peilin stood, unable to move. A tear trickled down her cheek.

         The old matron turned around and saw the sadness in Peilin’s

eyes. “Wah! Why is my pretty bride crying?”

         Peilin bowed her head, unable to contain her heartache any

longer.

         “Good Luck Lady, you have shown me much kindness, but

maybe you do not know,” whispered Peilin. “My future husband is

already dead. I am marrying a ghost.”

 

 

Layne Wong is a novelist and advocate who writes her characters through her own multi-cultural lens.  Her perspective, based on her personal love story, takes into consideration influences that encompass culture, history and societal effects that are current and relevant and that impact all of humanity. Layne’s a native Californian. She graduated from UCLA with a degree in English Literature. She has written for TV and entertainment. She is of Chinese heritage, converted to Judaism in 2001, and married a Jewish man. More information can be found at www.laynewong.com

 

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Publication Date: 04-01-2013

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