The Valley of Amazement (25 page)

You may discover you feel little in the way of pleasure at the beginning. Many new beauties dislike sex. It may be that the first suitor is rough or the patron is old or has no lovemaking skills. Or he may be spoiled and have many ridiculous requirements, and you feel more like a nursemaid to a demanding child. Be patient. Not all of them are terrible. I am telling you about the bad ones so that if these situations happen, you will not be surprised. If you don’t have romantic ideas in your head about this work, you won’t be crushed.

Who knows—after your first patron, you might be surprised that your second treats you with such tenderness you will think this career is not work but play. That is seldom true with the first, however. They have purchased your defloration, and tenderness won’t be what gets them through the gates. If you cry, they won’t stop and soothe you. They won’t apologize.

But later there will be suitors who act like true lovers, and perhaps they will genuinely want to give you pleasure. A man like this loves to watch a woman reach the immortal heights. It gives him power when he has seduced a courtesan using the same ruses she used with him. You’ll be tempted to believe you are no longer a courtesan with this man. You will give yourself freely, without expectation of money, and you will believe with all your heart that this happiness will last forever. The scent of this man will cause you to abandon everything I have taught you. This will happen to you many times, with many men.

And I will be there to restore your common sense.

CHAPTER
5

T
HE
M
EMORY OF
D
ESIRE

Shanghai
August 1912
Violet

At Loyalty Fang’s dinner party, Magic Gourd and I stood by the wall near the far end of a long table crowded with revelers. Madam Li told me I would be no one special at the party, “just a little ornament,” and that I should simply look pleasant and smile. “Nothing more,” she warned and flashed her eyes as a threat to obey. She was nervous because the party was larger than expected, the room was too small, and a few of the extra courtesans who arrived did not meet her first-class standards of dress and manners. She was irritated that their attendants had accompanied them, and she informed them this was not the place for them to be casting for new business, so they would have to remain outside the room.

It had been nearly six months since I had been kidnapped, and over those six months, my hopes had calcified into bland acceptance in everything but the failure of my mother to return. I blamed her gullibility and carelessness for delivering me to a life in hell. During those earlier months, I had vowed to remain steadfast to who I was—the independent thinker, the student of Knowledge, the American girl who used ingenuity to solve any problem. How quickly that former self had retreated. Magic Gourd was right: My strong will had been nothing more than haughtiness, and when my freedoms were taken away from me, I was not even equal to a courtesan. Tonight, I was glad to be the little ornament. There would be no expectations and no criticism. I would simply pass the night, as if I were at the theater—once again the seven-year-old girl peering from the balcony at the guests of Hidden Jade Path.

Before the party, Madam Li had reviewed with the courtesans the names of the guests, what businesses they had, whether they were married and had concubines, and what flattery they might like to hear. Loyalty Fang, the host, was the best of the prospects. Madam Li did not have to say anything about him to the others. He was a celebrated habitué of courtesan houses. I asked Magic Gourd why there was such a clamor when it was announced that he would host a party.

“Besides being wealthy,” she began, “he is well educated and from a literati family with modern business sense. He is twenty-four and still has no wives or children, which is a great worry of his mother’s. Every courtesan, of course, would like to ease his mother’s mind and provide her with the next generation.”

“What does he look like?”

“He is not handsome in a typical way. But when he walks in the room, you see his aura of being from an elite family. He presents a cultured demeanor but is not a snob. He is at ease in whatever situation he finds himself. He immediately stands apart from those newly polished overnight successes. His eyes and mouth are sensuous—not the shape of them but how they move and express his delight and his sexual imagination. That’s what everyone says. I have not verified that what he seems to express is what he also expresses in bed. But many have said that when he looks at them, they instantly picture themselves beneath him. You’ll see what effect he has on the women tonight.”

Like an army general, Madam Li laid out our positions. Two courtesans would stand behind each of the eight men seated at the table. Madam Li placed her daughter Vermillion across the table from Loyalty Fang’s seat. He would be able to see her attributes and gracefulness, from smiling face to graceful swaying hips. And she would have opportunities to capture his attention and speak in the soft, caressing Soochow-style voice she had perfected. Madam Li would put a courtesan from another house next to Vermillion, one with far less appeal. Our
three other courtesans, Little Phoenix, Green Plum, and Spring Grass, would stand opposite the next best prospects, Eminent Tang, Unison Pan, and Perceptive Lu.

From my vantage point, I could freely observe the entire scene. I had watched many handsome men at Hidden Jade Path, Westerners and Chinese, young and old, those who acted important and those who actually were. Loyalty Fang entered the room, and it felt as if the temperature and brightness of the room had warmed. I scrutinized his face to see why he was so famously handsome. In dress, he looked Western and modern. But that was typical of many guests. His hair was groomed and pomaded in the style seen in fashion magazines. Nothing unusual about that. His face was long and, to my mind, his features were ordinary. But a few minutes later, they were not. I could not put my finger on what the exact difference was, because from moment to moment, his features changed: His eyebrows rose in attention while listening to his friends. When he smiled, his eyes crinkled. His eyes grew large and dark when the talk was serious. After studying him even longer, I decided he looked like a nobleman I had seen in a painting. I saw how his eyes fell on women and captured them. With each woman, his eyebrows rose just a bit, as if it were the first time he had beheld her beauty, and the smile that followed was mischievous, mysterious, and promising. He would gaze at her, giving her his full attention, which never lasted more than a few seconds. But in those seconds, it was clear that those courtesans were engulfed with desire. Even the courtesan who had no sexual desire for men at all seemed flattered that he had noticed her. And then I saw he gave the long stare to attendants, as well, and many had been courtesans in their younger years and had not enjoyed lingering stares for a long time. He revitalized them.

He had a charismatic way with men as well, which had more to do with his easygoing manner and the sense he seemed to give each man who he had chosen as his most trusted confidant. He drew his peers into conversation; no one was left out. He posed questions, listened well, brushed off their modesty, and cited their accomplishments, without apparent glibness. I was mesmerized and believed he was genuine in who he presented himself to be.

I saw which woman had drawn his attention and on whose face he had lingered the longest, and who had received a smile more secretive than the others. Thus far, that woman was Vermillion, as expected. “Of the hundreds of parties I have attended,” Vermillion said, “the food has never been more splendid. Our gratitude goes to our host for his generosity.”

Loyalty, in turn, thanked Madam Li for arranging the banquet. I wondered if he knew Vermillion’s flattery was insincere. She had not eaten a bite. We were not allowed to eat. If I was lucky, I would be able to taste what remained when the night was over.

A drunken guest called to me. “Eh, little flower! Eat! Enjoy!” He picked up a glistening scallop with his chopsticks, brought it over to me, and aimed for my mouth. How could I deny this man a chance to fulfill his generosity? The moment the scallop touched my parted lips, it slipped out of the man’s chopsticks and slid down the front of my new jacket, from breast to lap. The man mumbled apology, and as Madam Li led him back to his seat, she assured him that this was not his fault, but that of the clumsy girl. Magic Gourd’s mouth was agape. The oily stain had slithered down like the trail of a slug. “A month of earnings,” she grumbled. I refused to look chastised. This was not my doing.

A moment later, I heard a ruckus. Two courtesans—the ones Madam Li had not been pleased to see—were squabbling. A wind of whispers flew around the table and I learned that they were rivals for the same portly man they stood behind, and he had been going back and forth between them over the last two years. Madam Li quickly escorted the angry women out of the room. The portly man turned around as they left and faked confusion, as if he were the last to know what had happened. When Madam Li returned, she went to Magic Gourd. “Hurry. Take their places, both of you.” Magic Gourd nudged me forward. I stood on the portly man’s right side, and Magic Gourd was on his left. I had joined the theater and now had to be careful not to make mistakes, and the best way to do that was to do nothing.

I put on my simpleton smile, and was quite pleased with my acting, until Magic Gourd pinched me. She handed me a bottle of rice wine. “Hurry. Fill his bowl.” Then came another pinch. “Hurry. Offer to put more of the fish on his plate.” She pinched me again. “Remove the bones.” She pinched me again and again to hurry do this and hurry do that. She pinched me for scowling back at her, and that’s when I finally pinched her back, hard. She yelped. I heard great roars from the men and amused murmurs among the courtesans. Magic Gourd explained that I had stepped on her foot. Vermillion and Madam Li wore tight-lipped expressions, as if to keep from bursting with anger. My face was burning, and when I saw Magic Gourd staring at me, I refused to look ashamed. I looked away. And that’s when I saw that Loyalty Fang was beaming at me.

“She has such spirit,” he said, his eyes fixed on mine. Was he being sarcastic?

Madam Li hastened to apologize: “Our virgin courtesan has much to learn. As you can see, Violet is still very young.”

“Has she been learning to recite stories or poems?” he asked.

“She is learning everything.”

“Let her do a little something, then. A story, a song, a poem. She can choose.”

Madam Li demurred. She had seen me rehearse the other day and had criticized Magic Gourd for my poor
training. “She is not accomplished yet,” Madam Li said, “not ready for your ears. Wait a few more months. One of our other beauties can play the zither for you tonight.” She turned to Vermillion with bright eyes and gave a slight nod to signal this was her big chance.

But Loyalty Fang acted as if he had not heard her and beckoned me to go to where Vermillion’s zither lay waiting. “Take as much time as you need to prepare,” he called out. He then led the men into singing a ballad about youth and tigers. Magic Gourd arrived and seated herself by the zither. She looked as if we were about to be executed. “We will do ‘Peach Blossom Spring.’” I protested that I could not. I could not remember most of it. “Pay attention to what I play on the zither,” she said. “Tremble with the tremolo, sway with the glissando, and sweep your eyes upward as the music rises. Don’t forget to act natural. And don’t shame me,” she said, “or you will be the reason we sleep on the streets tonight. Tonight, you have an opportunity to build your reputation—and whether it is good or bad will depend on what you do.”

The room quieted. All eyes were on me. Loyalty Fang smiled broadly, as if he were already proud that he had discovered a talented singer in their midst. Magic Gourd swept across the zither and plucked the first few notes. I closed my eyes and opened my mouth to speak the first sentence. Nothing came out of my throat. The words were stuck. I tried for several minutes, and Magic Gourd continued to sweep across the zither, adding a few plucks that signaled the beginning of the story. I finally pushed out a strangled sound, and then trembling ones followed: “Has anyone heard the story of Peach Blossom Spring?” Of course, everyone had. A three-year-old child knew it. “I will tell it as it has never been told before,” I said. Loyalty Fang grinned, and when his guests looked at him, they complimented his choice of entertainer. “This is quite special.” “Excellent choice.”

I began in spurts of jumbled words, and when I related how the fisherman’s boat drifted lazily down the stream to paradise, I did so in a torrent of words that would have capsized the boat. Magic Gourd motioned for me to slow down and follow the zither’s music. I did so, stiffly, coming in either too late or too early, and being unsure whether my expressions matched the story. When I recounted the fisherman’s arrival in Peach Blossom Spring, I struggled to recall which facial expression I was supposed to show—the half-closed eyelids, or the parted lips, or the swooning tilt of my head. I did all three in sequence, and when I saw Magic Gourd, her eyes were wide with panic and she repeated a tremolo. At that point, I was so confused the jumbled contents of my memory congealed and turned me into a blockhead. I blundered into paradise like a terrified refugee. “The fisherman finds his wife still alive two hundred years later … even though everyone else is dead … and also the village is burnt to the ground. They get in the boat and return to paradise together, where virgin maidens greet him and provide him with immediate pleasure …”

The men burst into roars. “Immediate pleasure?
Wah!”
“This is a paradise where I want to go!” “No need to do any courting.” In a wobbly voice, I added that the pleasures were delicious peaches and wine—and that the fisherman shared those with his wife, too. That elicited more laughs. Magic Gourd blinked and her mouth was open, as if she were silently screaming. Vermillion and the madam were stony-faced statues. The courtesans from other houses were barely able to contain their delight, knowing I would not be future competition of any concern.