Bride of the Moso Prince (34 page)

“Most of these were older than the house. Some had served the chief’s family for generations. When they searched to confiscate properties in the house during cultural revolution they took away jewelries and everything made of gold and most of the silverwares. They smashed the large items that they couldn’t take or hide.”

“How did these items survive?”

“My grandfather put them in trunks, some were buried in the island. Others sank into the lake.”

“And you retrieved them after the cultural revolution?”

“Out of the dozen trunks we retrieved only the ones buried in the island. The ones in the lake were gone, taken by the others that were looking for hidden treasures. It was a common to hide things in the lake. Some folks even hid a whole salted pig in the lake.”

“No kidding?”

“No. The bacons wouldn’t be ruined in cold water.”

Sharon nodded. She remembered seeing a whole preserved pig in one of the Moso houses. It looked as if it were petrified.

“Maybe you should keep looking.” Sharon said, feeling sad that half of the treasures were gone.

“Nay,” Nobul shook his head, “My brother and I had already dived thousands of times for that. Besides, when my grandfather hid those treasures, he was mainly hoping that they would not be destroyed. As long as they’ve survived, it’s fine with me.”

He walked over to the iron tools and ran his fingers over the mill.

             
“These were considered junks so no one bothered to remove them… thank goddess for that. I’m having a hard time to gather other traditional artifacts, like embroidery and woven bags that had been passed down from the family. Since these were vanity items that had been burned… these are all I have.”

             
He led her to another corner where camphor trunk lay. Inside were costumes and other accessories like head scarves, sashes, and baby’s hat, baby’s front wraps.

             
“I purchased these from various families in farther mountains undestroyed by cultural revolution. They are poor families that hardly had any cash income, but are still reluctant to sell these antiques to me for however high a price I offered. But when I told them my purpose, that I was opening a cultural museum, they suddenly became generous, some even refused to take the money. I was amazed by their ethnic pride.”

             
Sharon could hardly hear what he was
s
peaking. She was absorbed by the beautiful handicrafts. One of the Manchurian gown was adorned with silver beads all over the front, sewn in patterns of diamonds. A sash was made of hides of some animal and was sewn with alternative rows of corals, turquoise, and silver.

             
“Gorgeous!” She murmured, feeling the materials with her fingers.

             
“I’m debating whether I should let the main room be used to display costumes or everyday life objects.” He looked at her expectantly.

             
Sharon considered. “I think it should be devoted to historic and life styles of the Moso, thus these artifacts should go there, and the costumes will go to the flower room.”

             
“Good idea!” Nobul nodded, “Ok, it’s time to get to work. Your job is to group these items before putting them in the right place in the main room.”

             
“But I don’t even know the functions of most of the things.”

             
“I’ll tell you.”

             
“Oh,” Sharon nodded, thrilled by the task she was about to perform.

             
Using a large bamboo basket they carried the relevant objects little by little into the main room.

             
They had barely finished shelving the section for living items when it was past noon. Before leaving for lunch, Sharon said to Nobul, “We’ll need tags that explained the history and functions of these items.”

             
“That’ll be your job too. Why don’t you draft them and I’ll copy them over to index cards, like what we’ve done with the photos?”

             
“Of course. That’ll do. But,” Sharon paused for a moment, “I was thinking about the photo notes last night. Wouldn’t it better to have an English version for each description, since lots of tourists are foreigners?”

             
“Excellent idea,” Nobul smiled. “Could you do that?”

             
“Of course! But it’ll take time. If you don’t mind waiting I could do it after I return home,” She volunteered, “And mail them to you.”

             
The mention of her departure dampened his spirit. The flickers in his eyes vanished when he looked at her again, “Don’t worry about it. I could find someone nearby to do it. The oversea postage will cost more than the labor. Besides, your sister might be willing to do it.”

             
The thought that someone else would do the job, even though it might be Charlene, made Sharon envious. She had been
so
inv
olved in the museum by now
that she was feeling a bit of possessive
.
Silently she glanced over the room, feeling a lump in her throat, she went out of to the washroom.

             
The clouds hanging above were much heavier now than they had been in the morning. The sun had completely hidden. When Nobul was gathering his net in the lake for some fish, Sharon tried building a fire. The smoke stung her eyes and she started to cry.  While watching the flame she had an overwhelming desire to stay in the island. She wanted to not only decorate the main room, but also the costume room and the rest. But that was a crazy idea.  Nobul had told her that it would take him at least one more month to finish the remolding other rooms. She couldn’t possibly wait that long.

             
Droplets of rain splattered on the roof when they were having lunch in the kitchen, in an irregular rhythm. But then a casual prelude quickly turned into a fierce symphony. By the time they had finished, the rain had engulfed the house, the mountains and the lake. When they were about to cross the yard to the bedroom, Sharon wondered how on earth they could get through that forest of water arrows without getting soaked. They had no umbrellas or rain coats.

             
Improvising, Nobul picked up the large tin basin on the floor. It was big enough to hide their heads and shoulders. Each holding the edge, they skit through the rain puddles across the courtyard and reached the veranda of main building. Their shoes were soaked but that was the worst part.

             
To her surprise the bedroom was warm. From the scent of the smoky pine she knew that Nobul had made a fire.

             
“When did you do it?” She asked as they entered the room.

             
“When you were boiling the fish.”

             
A chord inside her was struck by his consideration. Sooner or later this man would
melt her
. But she hid her feeling and laughed aloud, “You’ll spoil me. Fire in July.”

             
“But that’s common in here. The temperature here is unlike in the city. You could experience four seasons in a single day.”

             
He’s right. The distant mountains were shrouded in fogs.

             
“Besides,” he murmured as he took her hands in his, “It’s a privilege to spoil you.”

             
The tone of his made her throat dry, “sweet words again.”

             
Everything was going exactly the way she had imagined. There was a layer of mist on the window pane, although what was rising was not steam, but smoke. The roaring of thunder echoed their groans, and the splash of the rain was nature’s applau
se
to their consummation of love. Sharon had always enjoyed staying in bed on rainy days. Unlike here, in LA the storms would come in winters. The knowledge that she was protected against the coldness and wetness outside always made her feel blissful. And now, huddled in the arms of her prince, in the soft linens and in a fire lit room, that feeling only intensified. Sharon closed her eyes contently and wished that the moment would last forever. But not before long she felt a kiss stamped on her forehead and heard Nobul whispering to her ear.

             
“Guess what? I got a name for my boat.”
             

             
“What is it?” Sharon opened her eyes widely.

             
“Solar Snow.” Nobul’s eyes twinkled with excitement.

             
Sharon couldn’t believe what she heard. Did he mean to say that he was naming his boat after her? She paused for a moment and said while staring at the canopy, “Solar Snow, that’s a beautiful name.”

             
Not getting the expected effect of his suggestion, Nobul took her face in his hand and forced her to look at him. “As beautiful as you’re. You’re my snow, and you’re my sun.”

             
The intensity in his eyes made her tremble and she couldn’t utter a word.

             
“Tomorrow I’ll paint it on the boat.”

             
“You can’t be serious. After I’m gone you’ll have to erase it.”

             
The enthusiasm in his eyes died out and he let go of her hand. They lay side by side and listened to the sound of the rain. Sharon felt an overwhelming sadness, but tried hard not to cry. It was a love affair and it didn’t mean to last. It was good enough just to know that the playboy prince wanted to name his boat after her.

A moment later Nobul kissed her forehead, and said to her in a low and husky voice, “Stay here with me.”

             
Sharon almost broke into a cry, but managed a joke instead. “Sure, I have no intention to go anywhere in the rain.”

             
“That’s not what I mean,” he stroked her cheek, “stay after today, tomorrow, forever.”

             
Her heart raced, “forever?” her voice trembled, “I can’t.”

             
“Why not?”

             
“I have to work. My life is in LA.”

             
“You can work here. You’ve been doing it for the past weeks.”

             
She paused. Perhaps he was right. Working was not the real reason. She could always be a freelanced web-designer if Web Genius wouldn’t hire her as contract employee. Her real concern was something else. The island, the lake, the museum, and the man next to her, were they worth the change? And how long would the relationship last? When it was over, she would have to leave anyway, right? It was just a matter of time.

             
She sighed and uttered these words with difficulty, “Nobul, I really enjoyed the time here with you. I love working on the museum. But I’m old enough to know that a relationship is not everything. If I compromise my career because of the fever in my head, I’m afraid I’ll regret one day.”

             
“I’m not asking a relationship,” he said, looking into her eyes with such intensity that she held her breath in expectation, “I’m asking you to marry me.”

             
She couldn’t believe what she had heard, “you mean, walk-marry? Uh, we’re sort of doing it, right?”

             
“No! We’re not walk-marrying,” he corrected her, “In a walking marriage. The man and the woman only meet at night. But no I’m not asking for that. Hell no, I’ve never wanted it. I want a real marriage, a Han marriage, or a western marriage, whatever you call it.”

             
Sharon was more or less shocked by the last line of his speech. “Are you serious?”

             
“Do I look like I’m joking?” She realized that his cheeks were flaming. It had taken him courage to propose to her.

             
“But what about your custom?”

             
“What is my custom? I have a quarter Han blood in me. I follow Han custom as well.”

             
He was really looking serious. Sharon was scared. “I don’t know. I have to think. It’s too soon. We know each other for less than a month.”

             
“What you know about me is everything there is to know. I haven’t hidden anything from you. I’ve told you everything from my family history to my current business and my future plans. What else do you want to know? My past relationships? I haven’t had any serious relationships but a bunch of casual…”

             
Sharon covered her ears, “I don’t want to know about them. I don’t care…”

             
Nobul stopped for a moment and murmured, “So you don’t want a serious relationship with me. You’re having a casual fling.”

The dejection in his
voice made her heart ache.
“That’s not what I mean…I know you’re a talented guy, a desirable man, but, but…you know very little about me. I haven’t told you everything…”