Three Souls (4 page)

“Bitterly cold.”

“I see.” More silence. I stole a look at his hands, elegantly shaped, tanned. I hoped I wasn’t blushing. Changyin’s friends treated me like a little sister. I didn’t want Yen Hanchin to think of me as a little sister.

“I do have one question, Mr. Yen. Then you can return to talking politics.”

“Maybe I prefer being fascinating to talking politics.”

“Now you’re making fun of me. I’m not a child, you know. I’ve nearly finished high school.”

“My apologies. What’s your question?”

“Why is
Anna Karenina
considered such a great novel? It’s all about adultery and the unhappiness it causes, nothing unusual in novels, surely.”

“Did you skip over the parts about life in rural Russia, industrialization, the Slavic campaign?”

Now I did blush. “Yes. But I borrowed the book and have to give it back soon. So I’m just following the love stories.”

“Perhaps you could read it again when you’re older.”

When I was older. I groaned silently.

“The novel’s about family relationships, class, and social change. It’s important because it is considered the first realist novel, a true depiction of life, not romanticized or idealized.”

“Is that why you translated it?” I wanted him to keep talking, so I could listen to his voice, watch his lips move.

“Partly. But also because it mirrors some of our own struggles to turn China into a modern nation.”

“I don’t know why people think it’s so scandalous. Some of the classics,
The Scholars,
for example, are about courtesans and even allude to love between men.”

Did he think it was daring of me to use such words?
Courtesans. Love between men.
Hanchin didn’t seem shocked. But after all, he was a poet and an author. He considered every subject from a literary point of view. I couldn’t wait to tell Nanmei about this evening, to say I’d been discussing
Anna Karenina
with its handsome translator.

“Well, I suppose they think that Western decadence is more corrupting than the Chinese kind,” he said. “If you’re interested in Russian literature, try Turgenev’s
Fathers and Sons.
There’s also
The Brothers Karamazov.
I found it surprisingly modern for a nineteenth-century novel.”

He reached for the enamelled case to help himself to a cigarette. “Tell me, Miss Song, what will you do once you’ve finished high school?”

I wanted him to keep talking, not turn the conversation to my suddenly inadequate life.

“I plan to go to teacher’s college.”

“Excellent. China needs more teachers. The college in Hangchow or the one in Peking?”

“Oh! Hangchow of course, the one affiliated with Zhejiang University.”

“That is indeed a good school.” He nodded, and a warm current flowed through my chest. I wanted to hear that tone of approval again, to know he considered my plans worthwhile.
China needs more teachers.
I would tell Father that my wish to attend university wasn’t just a whim, it was for our country.

My mind devoid of anything intelligent to say, I waved over a maidservant to offer Hanchin some shrimp toasts. She leaned down, the platter neatly balanced.

“My favourite,” he said, looking up appreciatively. He smiled his thanks and the maid blushed deep scarlet. Servants just aren’t used to guests paying them any attention.

When I handed a napkin to Hanchin, our fingers touched, his cool and dry, mine hot as melting candle wax. I turned to dismiss the servant and caught a glimpse of the woman in pink across the room, watching.

***

I hold on to this scene for a while. My
yin
soul and I shiver slightly with pleasure at this memory of falling in love for the first time. My
yang
soul
isn’t so approving. My
hun
soul seems to be paying no attention at all, circling the drawing room inspecting flower arrangements.

You do realize it was lust,
says my
yang
soul, stern as an ancestral portrait. He pulls a square of white cotton out of his sleeve and polishes his glasses.

Yang, I can’t believe you just used that word.
My
yin
soul giggles.

I was seventeen and unmarried,
I remind him.
I didn’t recognize those feelings back then, but now that I’m dead, why bother feeling ashamed? Yes, I admit to lust.

How could you expect her to recognize such a tangle of feelings?
says my
yin
soul, her brown eyes still fixed on Hanchin.
She was just a girl. She wouldn’t be the first person to confuse lust with love. Nor the last.

No, no,
I object.
Not merely lust. By the time Tongyin interrupted our conversation, I knew I was in love. As certainly as Anna knew she couldn’t live without Vronsky.

***

My brother held his hand out to Hanchin. “Sir, I’m Song Tongyin, Changyin’s brother.”

I restrained a scowl. Second Brother and I were close in age, but we were not close in any other ways. When we were younger, he played little tricks on me, filling the toes of my shoes with small stones or hiding chunks of hot ginger among the pieces of fruit that Nanny put into my bowl. Now we merely ignored each other.

“Sit, sit.” Hanchin waved at the seat between us. “Changyin tells me you’re interested in Russia.”

“Sir, perhaps you could come out to the terrace and meet my friends,” Tongyin said, giving me a dismissive glance that made me want to kick him. “You needn’t bore yourself entertaining my little sister.”

“On the contrary, Leiyin and I have become great friends. I hope to turn her to the Socialist cause.” He smiled at me, and again, heat rose from the centre of my being.

“Ah. Ha, ha. A good joke, sir. A splendid joke. Yes, she’ll make a fine peasant rebel in that silk dress.”

Hanchin turned to face me. “It’s been a pleasure. If you have problems finding those books, Miss Song, write to me care of the
China Millennium
Journal
office
.
I’m sure we have spare copies lying around.”

Tongyin looked startled. I gave Hanchin my widest smile. “Thank you so much, Mr. Yen. You’re very kind.”

I watched Hanchin stroll through the French doors with Tongyin. Then I walked as fast as decently possible out of the drawing room and ran up the stairs to the first landing. From behind the heavy silk drapes I peeked out the tall windows that overlooked the terrace. I watched him, drank in the sight of him. Outside, torches scented with citronella lit the terrace and their softly pungent fragrance drifted up. Hanchin was seated in a wicker chair, his long legs crossed, gesturing with his hands as he spoke. Hovering around him, an admiring circle of young men, their summer suits pale as moth wings.

***

The Liu family was the first to leave the party. We gathered to see them off at the front gate. After our repeated promises that we would visit their home very soon, they got into their motorcar and departed.

“A fine old family,” said Father, “with good habits. Early to bed and early to rise.”

“Well now, Second Sister.” Gaoyin slipped an arm around Sueyin’s shoulders as we returned to the villa. “Liu Tienzhen seems very nice.”

Sueyin said nothing but when we entered the front door, she darted up the staircase in a near run. My father and brothers, who had gone ahead to rejoin our guests, didn’t notice.

“What’s wrong with her?” said Gaoyin. We hurried upstairs and found Sueyin sobbing on her bed. Gaoyin knelt beside her.

“What’s the matter? We still have guests to entertain, Second Sister.”

“Second Sister, what is wrong?” I had begun to wonder at her fiancé’s early departure.

Sueyin turned to us, eyes red, expression bitter. “Didn’t you notice? Couldn’t you see?”

“Notice what?”

“Tienzhen left early because he missed his pipe. Father has betrothed me to a man who takes opium.” Her voice was low, trembling with the effort required to keep hysteria from creeping into her words.

“Are you sure?” Gaoyin was shocked. I slumped against the bedroom wall, my fingers running over the flocked surface, pale green leaves on vines.

“He asked me if I also took opium,” said Sueyin. “So yes, I’m sure.”

How could we not have noticed? The soft, dreamy gaze that we had thought was directed at her beauty, the languid movements that had seemed so refined.

Sueyin kicked off her shoes wearily and sank onto the bed, a crumpled swath of emerald silk. She turned her face away from us. “I’m not going down to the party again.”

***

I turn to my souls.
I should have stayed with Sueyin to console her, not left her alone. But I was seventeen and self-centred.

Yes, look at you,
my
hun
soul agrees.
There you go to your room, to devour the rest of
Anna Karenina.

My two other souls say nothing, but my
yang
soul shakes his grey head and my
yin
soul gives me a shrug. I taste salt, catch the faintest whiff of pipe tobacco, and look at them. My
yin
soul shrugs again.

Taste is yang, the scent is mine,
she says.
We can’t hide our feelings from you.

So that’s what it is,
I say.
And how does my
hun
soul show displeasure? Unpleasant noises?

No,
it says with a shrug of its gleaming shoulders.
I would just slap you.

***

When I lay in bed that night, Sueyin’s predicament didn’t occupy my thoughts for long. My brain seethed with schemes. Next time, I would be ready. Next time, I would have read all the books Hanchin had mentioned. Next time, my hair would be pinned up and I would look older. Next time, I would have read all the recent issues of
China Millennium
and know what to say to him.

The following morning I took my time waking up. Hanchin would wait for me to finish university before proposing. We’d give readings where Hanchin would recite his poetry, some dedicated to his muse, his young wife. He’d give lectures all over China and I would travel with him as his secretary, his helpmate.

Nanny Qiu’s stage whisper cut through my drowsy daydreams.

“
Wah, wah,
Third Young Mistress. Get up, get up!” A firm hand shook my shoulder.

“Oh, Nanny, let me sleep some more.”

“Your eldest sister and eldest brother are in the Master’s study, arguing with him.”

Immediately, I sat up and swung my legs out from under the covers. Changyin never challenged Father’s decisions. Nobody did. I pulled on my dressing gown while my toes searched the floor beside my bed for slippers.

“What are they arguing about, Nanny?”

She held my feet still and pulled a slipper onto each foot. “It’s about your second sister’s marriage. But once they shut the door, I heard nothing. I have no reason to be in that part of the house.” She looked at me very pointedly, her face bland and virtuous.

I hurried to the east wing of the house just in time to see Tongyin quietly pull open the balcony door. He glared but I held a finger to my lips. Our curiosity proved stronger than the animosity between us, and he shrugged, letting me join him. The long balcony ran nearly the full width of the house, sheltering the French doors below from all but the worst gusts of rain. We crawled along and crouched beneath Father’s study window, which he kept slightly open even on the coldest days. Knees drawn up to our chins like children, we strained to listen.

“He would need to be a man of enormous willpower to overcome the habit, Father.” Gaoyin’s voice was shrill, agitated. “His mother gave him opium when he was only a child, he won’t be able to give it up.”

“Father, he’ll bankrupt his family. As all opium addicts do. What would happen to Sueyin then?” Changyin, reasonable and calm.

“He couldn’t bankrupt that family’s wealth in three lifetimes,” said Father. “The betrothal has been official for years. The marriage will go ahead.”

“Father, we beg you. Any man in China would give thanks to the gods for a wife like Sueyin,” Gaoyin pleaded. “Please, don’t marry our sister to a man who will only shame her.”

“Enough!” Father’s voice, like thunder.

Although we were safe outside, both Tongyin and I winced. Inside, the silence was absolute. I had no doubt my brother and sister had dropped to their knees at Father’s bark of displeasure.

“Are you saying your father does not know what he is doing?”

There was no reply. He wasn’t asking a question.

“Are you saying your father did not think this through? These are dangerous times for China. We will see far worse turmoil soon. We must be well-connected to survive. The judge’s integrity is respected by even the most corrupt officials. Do you understand? Sueyin isn’t marrying the son of Judge Liu, she is marrying into his
family.
”

Another brief silence.

“Now let us go down to breakfast.”

We waited outside until we heard them leave the study. Tongyin slid to the balcony door to take a peek, but before he reached for the handle, I pulled him back.

“Second Brother, why would Madame Liu give opium to her own son?”

“Liu Tienzhen is an only child, you idiot. She doesn’t want him to leave home for a career or to travel. The pipe keeps him docile.”

He slipped through the balcony door and ran silently down the staircase.

***

I shake my head.
Father looked down on opium users. He scorned families who allowed opium in their homes. He said it was a certain sign the family would lose all their wealth and standing. He despised the drug.

So would anyone,
my
hun
soul says,
who understood how Western nations gained power by holding China ransom over opium.

Father told us about classmates and friends of his who had taken up the pipe and set aside ambition,
I recall.
I thought that surely once he knew about Tienzhen, he would have called off the marriage. But he didn’t.