• 
• 
• 
• 

Read a Review

"Pei"

Pei glanced down into the dark, glassy water of Hong Kong harbor
and suddenly felt shy and wordless. She saw herself as a child
again, whom, at the age of eight, her father had taken to the
girls' house in the village of Yung Kee. Compared to their small
farm, everything had been big and frightening. For nineteen years,
Pei had lived and worked with Lin doing the silk work, only this
time, Lin's patience and kindness wouldn't be waiting for her when
she arrived.

Now, she alone would have to care for Ji Shen in the big, vibrant
city; the thought terrified her. At fourteen, Ji Shen was almost
half Pei's age, and had already been orphaned once, fleeing from
the Japanese devils in Nanking. She had miraculously found her way
to the girls' house, where Pei and Lin had nursed her back to
health. As the Imperial Japanese Army closed in on Canton, they'd
made a desperate run to Hong Kong without Lin to guide them. That
the past weeks had been spent in constant movement was a saving
grace. Pei's days had been filled with the needs of Ji Shen and
with their impending voyage.

When the ferry groaned and finally docked, it swayed from side to
side, knocking and creaking against the wooden pier. As the crowd
pushed to disembark, Pei stopped abruptly at the railing and stared
down at the clapboard ramp that led to the crowded pier.

"We have to keep moving," Ji Shen whispered, gently urging her
forward.

Pei held onto her cloth sacks and inched toward the ramp. High
shrieking voices pierced the air, attacking them from every
direction. Pei felt a sharp jab from someone behind, then stepped
down the ramp into the dizzying, hypnotic life that would now be
hers and Ji Shen's.

"Hong Kong's so crowded," Ji Shen said, clutching the sleeve of
Pei's white tunic.

"Yes." Pei smiled wearily. She hoped Ji Shen couldn't see how
afraid she was. Everything around them hummed and buzzed with
movement. Ships from all over the world were docked in Hong Kong
harbor, ships with long, complicated names written on their sides.
Sampans huddled together, filled with families who lived their
lives on the boats crowded, swaying decks. Faces glared at them,
then quickly turned away. There were more Westerners than Pei had
ever seen. Even many of the Chinese women were dressed in Western
clothing.

From the pier they turned left and walked down the crowded street,
sidestepping swarms of people as if in a dance, sweating in the
humidity. The salty pungent smells and high whining voices were
overwhelming. They passed endless stalls of merchants, selling silk
stockings, flowers, fresh fruit, and hot noodles in soup. Filthy,
toothless beggars thrust their wooden bowls out, hoping for a coin
or two. Ji Shen squeezed Pei's arm tighter as they fought their way
through the crowd. A long, jagged line of rickshaws and their
drivers snaked from one end of the street to the next. Pei felt her
pocket for their envelope of money and the letter Chen Ling had
given her with the names and addresses of other silk sisters who
had made their way to Hong Kong. "Go to the address at the top of
the list," Chen Ling had directed. In her other hand, Pei grasped
her belongings, including the cloth bag Moi had insisted she take.
Pei carefully swung it over her shoulder, the jars of herbs and
dried fruits clinking against one another.

"Ride, missees? Cheap deal!" A barefoot boy wearing once-white
cotton pants and shirt --- he was no older, Pei guessed, than
thirteen or fourteen --- stopped in front of them. A pointed straw
hat hung from a string around his neck, thumping against his back.
He pointed to a red-and-green rickshaw, which sat next to a nearby
stone wall. On the ground beside it, an older woman in mismatched,
soiled clothing cradled two smaller children on a straw mat.

"I'll give you a much better price!" another voice, belonging to an
older, bigger man interjected.

"No, no, thank you." Pei took a step forward, but neither rickshaw
driver moved.

"Cheapest deal in Hong Kong!" the boy repeated.

Pei pulled Chen Ling's letter from her pocket and looked past Ji
Shen and the rickshaw drivers toward the crowded street ahead. In
the weeks before Lin died, she had told Pei of going to Hong Kong
with her father as a little girl. Across the street was a large
open space --- the one Lin had said was Statue Square. Statue
Square was where the Government House and city hall stood, flanked
by the precipitous green hills that loomed over everything. Pei
caught her breath at the sight.

"Where are we going?" Ji Shen asked.

Pei cleared her throat. "Over there." She straightened her
shoulders and began walking toward the square.

"Please, missees, cheapest deal in all of Hong Kong!" The boy was
still following them.

"Don't listen to him." The older man laughed. "He's too scrawny to
pull you more than a few feet!"

Pei stopped. She put down her belongings and looked up at the
darkening sky. It was getting late. Statue Square would have to
wait until another day. From the corner of her eye, Pei could see
another rickshaw driver approaching them. She turned toward the
boy. His smile grew wide now that he'd gained Pei's attention. She
pointed to the address at the top of Chen Ling's letter. "Do you
know where this is?"

The older rickshaw driver coughed and then spat on the ground in
front of them.

"Only a fool would choose a boy to do a man's job!" he said,
stomping away.

The boy studied the letter for a few moments. Finally, he nodded
his head in recognition. "In Wan Chai, not so far from here. No
problem. I'll have you there in no time," the boy boasted. He
glanced quickly at Ji Shen.

Pei hesitated. "Are you sure you know how to get there? Maybe we
should try ---"
"Yes, yes, right away." The boy nodded again. He ran back to the
woman sitting on the ground, whispered some words to her, then
grabbed the rickshaw and quickly pulled it toward Pei and Ji Shen.
"Right away, right away! I know just the place. No need to worry."
He stepped aside, offering Pei and Ji Shen help up into his
rickshaw.

Pei suddenly remembered the stories she'd heard of rickshaw pullers
doubling and even tripling prices once they arrived at their
passengers' destination. Lin had told her to settle on a price
immediately, before climbing up into the seat.

"How much?" Pei asked, fingering the Hong Kong coins she'd gotten
at the exchange in Canton. She kept her voice low and
confident.

"Don't worry, missee," The boy smiled. "I'll bring you there for a
fair price."

When they'd settled on a fare, Ji Shen stepped up into the
rickshaw. Then Pei squeezed into the torn leather seat next to her,
proud of her first Hong Kong transaction.

The boy jumped between the wooden poles, squatting low to grip a
pole in each hand. "Don't worry, Quan will get you there."

Pei felt sorry for him and wondered how such a skinny boy would be
able to pull them more than a few feet, but Quan straightened his
back, tightened his leg muscles, lifted up the poles, and moments
later had them gliding smoothly down the crowded street. He called
out, "Coming through! Coming through!" to urge the crowds and
waiting rickshaw drivers out of his way. Ji Shen let out a scream
and covered her eyes when they barely missed knocking down another
driver. "I'll kill you next time!" the man shouted after them,
raising his fists at them, but Quan simply turned around and yelled
back, "You have to catch me first!"

All the colorful, crowded shops that lined the busy street Quan had
turned on to mesmerized Pei. In the fading light of early evening,
the street seemed to open up and come alive right before their
eyes. Bars, curio shops, food stalls, fish stands, a shoe repair
shop, a dress shop all blended together. Bright, harsh lights
hissed and flashed --- garish red, green, and yellow against the
oncoming darkness. Pei had never seen anything like it, not even
when she'd visited Canton with Lin. A quick spirit seemed to live
here in Hong Kong, making everyone and everything move faster and
louder than they did anywhere else she'd been.

After weaving in and out of dozens of streets, Quan rounded a
corner down a narrow lane, which, though quieter, was just as dense
with people and brightly lit shops. He drew the rickshaw to a stop,
then turned around to face them.

Pei looked up at the narrow, grayish building, which rose four or
five stories above an herbalist's shop. Signs plastered across the
front window advertised ginseng and snake gallbladders and deer
horn. To the side of the shop, an entrance led upstairs. The small
window in the door was covered with a flimsy lace curtain. At one
time the door must have been painted an auspicious bright red; now
most of the paint had flaked down to the pale brown wood. In the
fading light, the building looked tired and forlorn.

"Here, missees, this is the place." The boy carefully lowered the
wooden poles and offered his dirty, callused hand to help them down
from the rickshaw.

Pei accepted his help. "Is it safe here?" The words slipped from
her lips.

"As safe as anywhere in Wan Chai. Just don't go wandering around
alone at night. There are many foreign-devil sailors looking for a
good time, and bad men roaming the streets at night." Quan shook
his head from side to side as if to make his point, his hands
brushing against Ji Shen's long braid as he helped her down and
signaled for them to follow him. "I think it's this way," he
said.

Pei and Ji Shen followed Quan as if he were an adult, not a young
boy barely older than Ji Shen. Strangely, Pei had felt comfortable
with him from the moment she touched his callused hands. He
swaggered up to the door and rapped hard three times. When no one
answered, he knocked again, harder and louder. Pei held the letter
up against the dim light to see the name and address again. "Song
Lee" was written in neat black characters. Chen Ling told her Song
Lee had been in Hong Kong for over eight years now, and would help
Pei just as she had helped other sisters who had left Yung Kee.
"She was a good worker," Chen Ling had said. "Tell her that I gave
you her name. The last thing I heard was that she had found work in
a good household."

At last, they heard the slow scrape of footsteps. Ji Shen held
tightly onto Pei's arm. Then an irritated voice called out, "I'm
coming, I'm coming!" The lace curtains parted and dark, suspicious
eyes glared out at them.

"I beg your pardon." Pei stepped forward. "We are looking for a
Song Lee. I was given this address as a place I might find
her."

The lace curtains fluttered closed, and in a few moments, they
heard the door unlatch and open just a crack. "What village are you
from?" the woman asked.

"The village of Yung Kee."

"Are you from the sisterhood?"

Pei nodded. "Yes. I was told by Chen Ling that Song Lee might be
able to help us."

The door swung open wider, and they stood in front of a thin, wiry
woman in her forties who glanced at Pei's clothing and
lacquered-black hair and chignon, then at Ji Shen's long single
braid. "Come in, come in. I'm sorry for all the questions, but you
must be careful in this area. Beggars will rob you blind if you let
them!"

Pei stepped in, then turned around, remembering Quan. "No, no, I'll
carry this up for you," he said, stepping in behind them. "All part
of the service."

Single file, they followed the woman up a dark, narrow stairway,
their steps resonating. Once upstairs, the building was slightly
more inviting. The first floor had a high ceiling, which at least
kept the building cool and comfortable. Doors to other rooms opened
in three directions.

The woman didn't say another word until they reached the landing.
"This way," she said. She led them through the middle door into a
small, yet comfortable sitting room. There was an old sofa, a few
chairs, and a small cabinet, which held a few small jade pieces.
"You must be thirsty. Let me bring you some tea."

Quan smiled, then spoke to the woman in a cheerful, bargaining
voice, a street voice. "These missees need a cheap and clean
room."

The woman bowed her head slightly toward Pei and Ji Shen. "We will
talk about that when I return with tea." She smiled. "Please, make
yourselves comfortable."

Pei looked around at the worn furniture. Her tongue flicked across
her parched lips. She reached deep into her pocket and brought out
a small silk pouch, from which she extracted several coins. "Here,
this is for you," she said to Quan. "You've been very kind to help
us."

Quan glanced at the money. "Too much," he said. "Just what we
agreed on."

"Please, take it," Pei insisted.

Quan hesitated, then quickly pocketed the coins. "I'll stay a
little longer. Just in case you need me to bring you somewhere else
tonight," he said shyly, watching Ji Shen.

When the woman returned, she sat down, poured each of them a cup of
tea, and spoke words Pei suspected she had repeated many times
before. "I am Ma-ling Lee. I was also a member of the sisterhood,
though I left it many years ago to come to Hong Kong. When other
sisters began migrating to Hong Kong, I decided that they might
need a place to stay while they decided what to do. Hong Kong is a
large, sometimes frightening place." Ma-ling sipped her tea. ''You
can stay here as long as you like, but there is a small fee. Many
sisters have passed through this way. Most of them find work in a
household within a few months. The less fortunate ones find
whatever work they can."

"What kind of work?" Ji Shen asked.

Ma-ling smiled. "We'll talk about that another time. You two must
be tired. Let me show you where you can sleep."

"And Song Lee?" Pei asked.

Ma-ling stood. "You can see her tomorrow. Right now she's working
as a domestic for a household up on the Peak. I'll try to get in
touch with her first thing in the morning," she offered.

Pei smiled. "We're very grateful."

Quan parted with them at the foot of the stairs. "I'm sure you'll
be all right here," he said. ''It looks as if she can get in touch
with your friend."

"Thank you," Ji Shen said.

Quan blushed. "If you ever need anything, just ask for Quan. I'm
around Wan Chai a lot. People here know me." He backed slowly down
the stairs. A moment later, they heard the front door open and
quietly click behind him.

The room Ma-ling brought them up to was not what Pei had expected.
Once a large, open space, it was now divided into numerous smaller
rooms by thin wooden partitions that didn't reach the ceiling. If
Pei stood on her toes she could look over the partitions from one
space to the next. They walked down the narrow- aisle that
separated the cubicles. At the entrance to each space hung a white
cotton curtain most of the curtains were askew. Bare and clean,
each small cubicle held two single cots and a wooden chair. Ma-ling
told them there were some larger cubicles in the back with two sets
of bunk beds.

"You can have this room." Ma-ling stopped and pointed to a cubicle
with a curtained window that looked out on a small, colorless
concrete courtyard. For a moment, Pei stood looking out at the
graying darkness.

"Thank you." She tried to smile, grateful at least for the
window.

"Everything will look better in the morning," Ma-ling assured her.
"The bathroom is down the hall. There are only a few other sisters
staying with us now, so it should be quiet. The kitchen is
downstairs. I'll bring you up some tea and sweet buns in case
you're hungry."

"Thank you for everything," Pei said, too exhausted to say anything
else.

Ma-ling closed the door behind them, leaving Pei and Ji Shen by
themselves. Pei couldn't believe they had come so far from their
life in Yung Kee and the silk factory. With the Japanese now
occupying most of China, she wondered whether Chen Ling and Ming
were safely hidden away at the temple in the countryside where
they'd taken refuge, and whether Moi would be all right by herself
at the girls' house. Pei tried to push these thoughts out of her
mind. Yet she couldn't stop wondering if she had made the right
choice leaving Yung Kee. Her doubt was like the constant prickling
of bristles.

"It's as if everything's alive here." Ji Shen's voice rose and
filled the small space.

Pei inhaled, the warm air tasting slightly stale. "l suppose it's
time we join in," she heard herself respond. She looked around at
the bare, colorless cubicle that was now their home, then hurried
to open the window, letting in the demanding, boisterous voices
from outside.

That night, in a restless sleep, Pei dreamed of Lin. Once again she
heard her friend's sweet, calm voice telling her that everything
would be all right. At twenty-seven, Pei had spent almost twenty
years of her life with Lin, first at the girls' house with Auntie
Yee and Moi, and then at the sisters' house, where their life took
on the comfortable rhythm of work at the silk factory. Pei was
amazed at how easy it was to forget. Suddenly gone were the raw,
sore fingers from soaking the cocoons in boiling water, the long,
grueling hours of standing on damp concrete floors, the lives that
were lost in their union's struggle against the rich factory
owners. And Lin's death. It wasn't just Lin's death that tormented
her, but how she had died, and what had gone through her mind as
she gasped for breath, slowly suffocating in the devastating fire
that destroyed the silk factory. In the past month, Pei had learned
what to hold on to, and what to discard.

Instead, Pei dreamed moments of pleasure. How Lin always found
answers to her smallest questions, even before Pei could ask them.
When she first came to work at the silk factory, the steamy,
sweet-sweaty smell of the soaking cocoons seeped into every pore of
her skin, clung to her clothes, hung on every strand of her hair.
It was so persistent, yet so subtle a scent, Pei thought it
wouldn't ever wash out.

"Wash your hair with this," Lin had told her one evening when
they'd returned to the girls' house. She held up a bottle filled
with an amber liquid. When Lin shook it, white jasmine petals
drifted through the liquid, floating slowly back down to the bottom
of the bottle.

"Does it work?"

Lin stepped closer. "Here, smell," she directed.

From that day on, the scent of jasmine became a part of Pei's
everyday life. Just after the girls had washed their hair, the
strong, sweet smell rose up and filled their room at the girls'
house; she couldn't help but think of Lin. Even the clean smell of
Auntie Yee's ammonia was no match for the jasmine.

Again, Pei smelled jasmine in her dreams. Ammonia. Cocoons boiling
in hot water. The fragrance of Moi's cooking wafting from under the
kitchen door they were forbidden to open without knocking first.
Again, Pei stood at the bottom of the wide wooden stairway that led
up to their rooms. She heard a sound, a small intake of breath, and
looked up to see Lin, radiant in her white burial gown, walking
down the steps toward her.

I’ve been waiting for you," Lin said, smiling.

Pei opened her mouth, but at first no words emerged. She felt so
dizzy she thought she might faint.

Lin answered her question even before she had asked it. "Yes, it's
me."

"I've missed you." Pei finally found her voice. "More than you can
know."

"I do know." Lin took her hand. "Now come along. Everyone is
waiting."

Pei held onto Lin's hand, never wanting to let go. It seemed so
real in hers she squeezed it tighter, feeling Lin's warm softness
in her own large, rough hand. "But who's waiting?" she asked.

"Still so curious." Lin smiled. "You'll soon see." She swept a
strand of Pei's hair away from her face, then swung open the double
doors to the reading room.

Pei's heart raced. She glanced around the crowded room. The smell
of burning incense was overpowering. Shadows flickered across the
walls. The chairs were filled with women dressed in the white
cotton trousers and tunic of the sisterhood. Pei closed her eyes
and opened them against the thick, stinging air. She touched Lin's
sleeve to make sure she was really there beside her. Faces from the
past appeared fresh and young.

"Come, come in," called a high, shrill voice. Pei knew it
immediately: It belonged to Auntie Yee.

Pei rushed toward the older woman, fell to her knees before her
chair, and threw her arms around her. She breathed deeply. The
faint clean smell of ammonia rose above the incense. "It's been so
long," Pei whispered into Auntie Yee's neck.

Auntie Yee squeezed her tightly before letting go. You’ve
grown into a fine young woman, just as I knew you would."

"Yes, you have," another voice added.

Pei faintly remembered it. She stood up and looked closely at all
the faces that surrounded her. "Who?" she asked.

"It's me," the voice said. Moving out and away from the other
sisters was Mei-li, who appeared just as she had so many years ago,
before she had drowned herself.

"Mei-li?" Pei asked.

"And don't forget me," another voice rang out.

Sui-Ying stood by the side of Mei-li—kind, sweet Sui-Ying,
who had been killed during their strike for better hours.

All through the years Pei had prayed to the gods that these two
friends would find the peace they so richly deserved. Like Lin's
their lives had ended much too soon.

Then, from the corner of her eye, Pei saw movement from behind the
others. The flash of gray hair stood out among the rest. Pei
strained to see beyond the sisters in front of her, hoping to catch
another glimpse. She wondered if this could really be. The last
time Pei had seen her mother, Yu-sung, she had been so thin and
fragile. "Ma Ma," Pei said softly, then again, louder. The hum of
voices died down around her.

Yu-sung stepped forward. Her gray hair was neatly combed back. She
smiled widely and said, "Yes, my tall daughter. I'm here."

Growing up, Pei had rarely seen a smile cross her mother's lips,
Now it glowed before her as bright as any light. Pei took a step
forward and began to say something, but the words became confused
and caught in her throat. Tears blurred and burned behind her
eyes.

"It's all right," Ma Ma said. "You have done well in life, just as
I always knew you would. After you and Lin visited, I knew I could
leave your world in peace."

Pei hung on to her mother for as long as she could, but soon she
felt Lin lean near and heard her whisper, "You have to leave
now."

Pei shook her head. "I don't want to leave. I want to stay here
with all of you."

Yu-sung pulled away. "That can't be. It isn't your time yet. There
are too many things you must still do. Don't forget your baba, and
your elder sister, Li."

Pei began to cry, at first softly and then without restraint. She
felt Lin take hold of her arm, pull her gently away from the
others. Ma Ma stood before her, whispering words she could no
longer hear.

Once outside the closed door, Pei held tight to Lin. "Not you,
too," she said, through tears. "Not again."

"You have to go on with your life in Hong Kong, just as we planned.
We will be together again one day," Lin whispered. "I
promise."

Voices. Footsteps. A dull thump against the fragile partition. Pei
awoke. In the darkness she felt lost. A thin, pale light filtered
into the room. Ji Shen slept soundly in the bed across from her.
Pei closed her eyes again, struggling hard to hold on to the memory
of Lin's sweet, lingering fragrance of jasmine.

Excerpted from THE LANGUAGE OF THREADS © Copyright 2002 by
Gail Tsukiyama. Reprinted with permission by Griffin Trade
Paperback. All rights reserved.

 

• 
• 
• 
•