Fox Spirit 66: Another Side of the Story

The Tully’s Coffee Shop chain had always seemed a bit bizarre to Sara, a knock-off of Starbucks set down in Beijing as if from a different planet, filled with bustling office-workers seeking a quick snack and a Western-style energy infusion. She saw Ruth Cheng at a small table at the rear of the shop, eyes scanning the shop as she stirred a cup of coffee.  Sara ordered the quickest and simplest coffee and joined her. 

            “So kind of you to come to meet me.  Please excuse my rudeness in asking on such short notice.  I am so sorry to be a trouble.” Mrs. Cheng was looking anywhere but at Sara.

            “Bu keqi” Sara cut off the ritual courtesies.  “You know I am always happy to talk with you, though we have not met often.  You must have some special reason to come into the city. It is good of you to make time to see me also.”

            Mrs. Cheng pressed her lips together and risked a quick glance at Sara. “No, no other reason.  I have come to see you only.”

            “I am honored, Mrs. Cheng.  Is there some reason?”

            “Yes.”  Mrs. Cheng hesitated, then started again. “It’s very awkward, but I must ask you.  I have heard there is a child.”

            Sara smiled. “You have heard correctly. There is a child, called Riqi.  Storm is very good with him.”

            Mrs. Cheng dropped her spoon and gripped the table with both hands.  Her voice was a hiss of anger.  “Wo mei xiang dao.   I cannot believe this. This is terrible.  You have betrayed me, betrayed my son!   How could you?” She leaned forward over the table.

            “I thought we understood each other.  You would teach Storm how to be with a woman – this is good; this he needs.  But of course I believed you would not have a child, that an older woman would know how to prevent one.  Now this! Storm can only have one child, you know; it is the law.  That must be with his wife, when he has one.   Now you have this child – you have betrayed my trust, you have betrayed our family.  What can we do?”

            Sara stared at Ms. Cheng.   She must have heard something garbled about Richie. But how could this woman speak to her of betrayal?  How dare she of all people claim a mother’s concern?

            “Ah.  I think I understand.”  Sara’s voice was cold despite the hot anger rising inside her.  “Whatever you heard about a child, you understood it wrongly.  He is not Storm’s child, not my child.  It’s not a problem for you.”

            Mrs. Cheng moved back only a millimeter. Her voice was sharp with disbelief. “But who is this child? Storm has been away from the house so many evenings. Then I heard about a child with you.  Why would he be interested in a child that is not his or yours?”

            “Not my son, but my grandson.  His mother died, and my son asked me to take care of their child. Storm is fond of children, you must know this.  It is no surprise that he enjoys Riqi.”

            “Aiyee!”  Relief swept over Mrs. Cheng’s face, followed by a wave of embarrassment. “Please forgive me, Mrs. Miller.   You know it was concern for my son only that made me speak to you as I did.  He is our only son, our future.  Please excuse a mother’s anxiety.”

            Sara could not hold back her resentment and contempt. “A mother’s anxiety?  I am surprised to hear you say this.  You showed no such anxiety when you abandoned Storm Cheng to be raised by peasants in Two Ox Village!”  She heard the anger in her voice, knew it was un-Chinese, saw the flash in the eyes of her opponent, braced herself for the riposte, and still was unprepared when Ruth Cheng sprang to her feet, almost knocking over the chair.  Her words came so quickly that Sara could barely follow her words, so forcefully that she could barely catch her breath.

            “So, Storm has told you his story – from his point of view!  Maybe you also have understood wrongly!  Did he say he had ever asked for the truth?  Did he say he had ever talked with his father or me?  If he said so, he lied!  He knows nothing. He was sheltered. He was protected. And you judge me from what a child has seen and known?  What do you know of what was risked for him?  What do you, Miss American Foreigner, know of fear?  You are as sheltered as he, although you claim to be a grandmother.  Until you have risked your life to save your son, you may not judge me!”

            Sara’s surprise fought with her temper.  Her siding with Storm had been so automatic, the thought of another side of the story had not occurred to her.  Still, how could Storm have been wrong? How had his life been ‘saved’ by his parents’ deserting him? She replied stiffly, “Mrs. Cheng, it’s true that I have heard only Storm’s account.  I am ignorant.  Please sit down again.”

            Ruth Cheng was breathing hard, her eyes bright with anger and unshed tears.  Slowly she sat down, lifted her coffee cup, and sipped.   Finally Ruth Cheng spoke, carefully choosing her words as if she were offering a lecture, in contrast to the emotional storm which Sara had just seen.

            “I don’t know how much you know of the last thirty years in China, the years of Storm’s life.  Since you’ve become his great friend, maybe you can help him understand his fate.  This would be good for all of us, I think.  So I will try to tell you.  It will be hard – these are things that we don’t speak of. You will understand once you’ve heard…. “

            She took another sip of the coffee, then carefully set the cup down and folded her hands in her lap.  Her eyes went back and forth from the cup to Sara’s face.

            “First, you must know something of my class background.”

            Sara hid her surprise.  What did Ruth Cheng’s class background have to do with her abandoning Storm? She took a breath and chided herself.  Don’t start debating. Hear her story first. 

            Mrs. Cheng leaned forward again; her face was very near Sara’s now. Her anger was no longer visible, but her voice was muted, so that Sara had to lean even closer to hear. 

            “Our parents – Mr. Cheng’s and mine – were all labeled ‘bad elements’ during the Ten Years Turmoil – you call it the Cultural Revolution, maybe.  My husband’s father had been with Deng Xiao Ping on the Long March. He thought he was safe, but when Deng was denounced, Cheng’s father also was struggled against. My husband’s mother taught music on the violin and piano; these were Western instruments, and she taught Western music. They were denounced as rightists, and their own son had to participate in the ‘struggle sessions’ or be denounced himself. Still, Cheng’s parents were luckier than some.  They were not beaten badly or tortured, only humiliated. They had some powerful friends in the Party who must have helped to protect them.

            “My own father would probably have been denounced too for Old Thinking, but he had already died.  My mother was a doctor, working at a health clinic in Beijing.  She was allowed to practice medicine, but only with the supervision of a party member. Medicines were few, hygiene was difficult. If the patient lived, it was because of Mao’s right thinking and the correctness of the Communist supervisor. If the patient did not recover, it was because of my mother’s rightist loyalties, Western training and Old Thinking.  Many times she was beaten when a patient died. 

            “It is hard to speak of what happened in those years.  Cheng had finished high school and was ready to start university; I had nearly finished high school.  We did not know each other then.  We had both been highly ranked in our class, but we were children of rightists.  We had to prove ourselves to be dedicated Communists in order to be part of the Red Guard. We did things that I can’t talk about.  Our education was what we learned on the streets and from the Red Guard mobs.  Sometimes we fought other students who claimed to be more devoted followers of Mao.  Really we were nothing but street gangs.

            “Then came a change. Mao mandated the Down to the Countryside Movement. All the youth in the large cities – Beijing, Shanghai, Nanjing, Guangdong, Jinan, Chengdu –were sent to the remote provinces.  Mao said that the students should ‘learn from the peasants’.  Maybe the real reason was to break up the Red Guards, stop the disruption.  History changes with the writer.”

            “So you were sent to…?”               

“To Anhui. To a small village called Two Ox Village.” 

Fox Spirit 48 – Turn of the Wheel

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Fox Spirit 42 – Parenting, Chinese Style

Storm fell silent again. Sara did not interrupt his thought. The faint light from the curtained window silhouetted his head, caught a gleam from the smooth black hair. Muffled traffic noises came through the same window, a distant sound of a siren, perhaps voices on the street outside.

            Storm began again. He had also been listening to the sounds, noticing the light. “Life here was so different. Beijing was so strange to me. In Two Ox Village the nights were blacker than you can imagine. The street lights were turned off to save energy. There were no factories in our region; at night I could see the Silver River of stars almost in a solid band overhead; I could watch the planets dance. In Beijing there are no stars.

            “And here it is never quiet – even in the deadest hour there’s movement, traffic, people, alarms. In Two Ox Village there was always noise in the day – the broadcasts from loudspeakers of news, music, the Plan of the Day – but at night it was quiet. Pa’s house was made of rammed earth; the walls were thick. It was so silent at night that I could hear the blood flowing in my skin.” He fell silent again.

            “Your parents.” Sara recalled him to the story. “How did you discover that they were your true parents?”

            “Ah, that was hard. I cried each night for Ma and Pa. I woke in the night calling for them. I tried to run away and they locked me in my room. One night Auntie… she was very tired, I think. One night she slapped me and shouted that I must sleep, stop crying like a baby, stop calling for Ma; it was not respectful to her. I shouted back, “I don’t need to respect you. You’re not my mother!”

            “And she told me then, ’But I am your mother. And Cheng is your father. Uncle Hu and Auntie Du, you were only on loan to them.  Would they have given you to us if this were not true?’

            “I didn’t want to believe her. I ran from the room right into the arms of Uncle. I asked him if it was true, what Auntie had said. How could it be true?

            “He told me yes, it was true. He and Auntie had a chance to come to Beijing to study after the Ten Years’ Turmoil, but they couldn’t bring me. So Uncle Hua and Auntie Du had agreed to be my foster parents for a while. It was never meant to be for always. Uncle Hua and Auntie Du did wrong to let me think they were my parents. I looked in his face and saw my own face. I had never seen myself in Pa’s face. I had to believe Uncle.”

            “They must have been happy to have you with them” Sara prompted. “And your grandparents?”

            “Perhaps my parents and grandparents were happy. But a child doesn’t care for that. I felt that my own heart had twice been torn in two – first when they left and I had only Ma and Pa. Then when they took me back and I had only them, I missed Ma and Pa so much.

            “Auntie Lan and Uncle Cheng were among the first of the sent-downers to return to the universities. They had to work so hard. After they had brought me to Beijing they left me with my father’s mother and my father’s father. Nai Nai was kind and gentle; she tried to teach me music, but I had no patience. My grandfather knew only scholarly things; he wasn’t like Pa. Grandfather couldn’t fix machines, or gut animals for the market, or carve toys from bits of wood to entertain me. And both of the grandparents had been through so much during the Ten Years’ Turmoil. They were like hollow reeds; the life was sucked from them. They believed in nothing, hoped for nothing.” Again he fell silent.

            “Did you find friends in Beijing?” Sara prompted again.

            Storm shook his head. “It took me a long time to find Beijing friends. I talked like a villager, a hick. I hadn’t had any schooling since Auntie and Uncle had left. There was no teacher in Two Ox Village except for the Communist Party councilor, nothing to read except Party bulletins.

            “Of course, schools in Beijing hadn’t fared much better during the Turmoil. I wasn’t so far behind there.  But I had no idea of what interested city kids, no idea of how to spend my time. I read a lot, Chinese and English books, anything I could find. I think I nearly memorized Gone with the Wind; that book was a big hit in China when the Chinese version was released.” Suddenly he laughed. “I believe every literate Chinese person within five years of my age has an idea of America that comes from Gone with the Wind/ Funny, isn’t it? My first conversation with Bright Liu, it was because I had a copy of Gone With the Wind under my arm and he asked if he could borrow it.”

            Sara smiled along with him, glad that the darkness of his story had broken. “So, your mother missed five years of mothering while you were back in the village, and your grandparents have ten years that they missed; they have a lot to make up! No wonder they take great care!”

            “Perhaps they do take care now. My grandparents sacrificed a two bedroom apartment with a parlor and a bathroom which they were given because of what they endured during the Ten Years Turmoil. Instead they took two 1-bedroom apartments with a bathroom down the hall so that my parents and I could have our own place close to a good high school. This is the way they show their care.

            “My parents are also entitled to an apartment because of their work. If I should marry, my grandparents would ask for their two-bedroom apartment again and my parents would move in with them. I and my wife would have the one-bedroom apartment.  But I’m not yet thirty. It’s not approved that I should marry yet.”

            “What happened to Ma and Pa in Two Ox Village?  Have you seen them? Do you write to them?”

            Storm’s face darkened. “I wrote to them. I sent them packages. I had a few letters, but Ma and Pa weren’t so good at writing. Then the letters stopped.”

            “Just before I left school, I met a new student who was from Two Ox Village. I asked him about Ma and Pa. He told me there had been cholera at Two Ox Village. Pa died first; he had never recovered from the sickness of the winter that I left. Ma died after. He said that she didn’t eat well or sleep well after Pa died. I don’t know what happened to their ashes. Sometimes I worry that their ghosts haven’t been cared for and that’s why I’m haunted by dreams.”

            Sara said nothing. Her mind boiled with questions. How could these young parents have let their child think another couple were his parents?  How could they abandon their child, leave him to live with unlettered peasants while they returned to a privileged life in Beijing? She tried to imagine, if John’s work had taken their family to some remote rural spot and then they had the opportunity to return to city life, but only if they left Mark behind, could they have accepted?  Of course, for Storm’s parents the government had forced them into the countryside. But then they had left Storm behind at the first chance. She couldn’t have done it to Mark, not for any opportunity.  Her anger against Storm’s mother burned hotter than ever.

Fox Spirit 28 – A Door Opens

Jerry Wang looked uncomfortable as he approached Sara after the meeting. “We’ll be taking the Hong Kong group to dinner, of course,” he began. He stopped, as if hunting for words, then began again. “Since Mrs. Anderson is part of the group… it is difficult with only one woman… would you be able to join us and entertain Mrs. Anderson?”            

Sara could almost read his thoughts. He was only asking her because of Mrs. Anderson. He was going back on his resolution to exclude her from these meetings. He was all but telling her to limit her attentions to the other woman. But if things went well… “Of course I’ll come. Please make sure I am seated next to her at the table. I won’t change for dinner, since this is short notice, all right?”

            Jerry nodded, a smile of relief breaking over his face. And by the end of the evening Sara felt confident that for Jerry Wang at least, his American Face had again become an asset. Sara and  Mrs. Anderson had found common ground in talking of  the difficulties of being women in the patriarchal Chinese and British business worlds. Sara had deferred to Trueheart Zhang each time a question or compliment was directed at her and gradually the wary look was leaving his eyes. Baby steps. Baby steps.

            As February wore on, the daily bus ride left Sara irritated from the crowding, twitchy from lack of exercise, and with an extra thirty minutes to fill at the office. She had finished her review of the marketing collateral and financial statements. Zhang did the day by day accounting and though his manner was more casually friendly than before the Hong Kong people had visited, Sara did not risk asking him if she could review his work. Scarlet Li managed the office. The programmers coded. Her co-workers occasionally asked her opinion or solicited her assistance, but her days were not full. “Not enough foreign investors to impress” she thought to herself ruefully. Storm Cheng was traveling a lot, so there was no secret thrill of observing him. “Is there more I could do to help you?” Sara asked Scarlet. “Even if it’s only filing.  I mustn’t be idle.”

            Scarlet Li looked seriously at Sara as if weighing her up and then said “The office is my domain. All is going smoothly now, each one doing his own task. But I have an idea. Let me inquire.”

            Later Sara heard her name as Scarlet Li spoke quietly to Boss Wang. “Why did you rock the boat?” she scolded herself. Even if this job was a sinecure, it had given her what she wanted. It had taken her away from the accusing glances of neighbors, it had left Mark and Rennie free to work out their marriage and there was so much to learn in China. She wanted all this and meaningful work too?   Stupid!

The next day Scarlet Li appeared at Sara’s cubicle at 3PM. “Come,” she said. “I’d like to offer you an opportunity to do more, as you asked. Please put on your coat.”

            “We’re leaving the office? But what can I do to help you outside of the office?” asked Sara, putting down her papers and turning toward Scarlet.

            “I’ll explain; it will be easier as we go.”  Sara obediently put on her coat and followed Scarlet. Outside, Scarlet Li waved down a taxi and ushered Sara inside. “To the Children’s Palace,” she told the driver, and smiled at Sara. “Just this once, the company will pay.”   

            “It’s too early to pick up Snow Plum,” Sara began.

            “No, that’s not my plan. Here’s my idea: I’ve seen you at the Children’s Palace and with Snow Plum. You are fond of children, yes?  The Children’s Palace needs a foreign teacher to help with English lessons. You are an English speaker and good with children, yes?  You don’t have enough to do at Rainbow Software – this is correct?

            Sara nodded, unsure what would come next.

            “I’ve spoken to Teacher Wu and to Boss Wang. The Children’s Palace can pay you a small amount to help with English lessons, and Rainbow Software will deduct that amount from your salary so we don’t pay for your time at the Palace. This is good business for both. Do you agree?”

            Sara nodded, speechless with a mixture of elation and fear. She would love to spend her time  at the Children’s Palace instead of twiddling her thumbs at the office. But she had never tried to teach children. What if she was sent back as failure to Rainbow Software?

            When they arrived at the Children’s Palace, Scarlet Li swept Sara into the classroom and greeted Teacher Wu. “Here is Mrs. Miller. Perhaps she could begin to know the children today.”

            Teacher Wu was all smiles at the prospect of assistance. “Huan ying! Welcome! We are about to have a story telling time. Perhaps Mei Le Taitai could tell the children an American story?”

            Sara was overwhelmed. “Aiee!  Wode putonghua bu gou!” My Chinese is not good enough!  

            “Not so!  If you know a story, you should try. The children will help you.”

            Sara could not resist the challenge. “Very well, if the children will help me.” At the sound of a whistle the children assembled, filed into the classroom, formed a circle, and Sarah began the story of Xiao Heisede Sen Bo. Groping for the word for “jungle”, she turned to the chalkboard and drew one tree. “Shu, dui ba?”  A few of the children nodded in response. Then she drew more trees. “Lin?”   More of the children nodded at the word for “woods”. Still more trees. “Sen lin?”  The children agreed this is the word for “forest.”  Then more trees, with a tiger peeking out, a monkey swinging from a branch. “Shi shenme? What is this?”  She turned to the children, hands open in question. The children looked at their teacher uncertainly and then one boy raised his hand. “Conglin?”

            “Ah, xie xie! Conglin! Jungle!”     

            Aided by the chalkboard, she was able to draw well enough so that the children could supply the words when she stumbled at “trousers”, “umbrella”, “tiger”,  “stripes” and “pancakes”. By the time Sara finished with the pancake feast and signaled the end “Wanle”, the children had lost most of their shyness and were barely able torestrain themselves from calling out the words she needed. Teacher Wu was smiling.

            “This was good for the children to see a foreigner struggling to learn Chinese, just as they struggle to learn English. We have our English lessons every day at three-thirty. Sometimes we do an English story in Chinese, sometimes a story in English. Please come again tomorrow and maybe tell the same story in English, see if they can understand.”

            Sara was exhilarated. The children enjoyed me!  That was fun!  “Thank you, Teacher Wu. I will love to be your assistant. And thank you, Manager Li, for finding this opportunity for me. Tomorrow I’ll be here at half past three without fail.”

            “That was well done,” Scarlet Li said to her. “Now Teacher Wang is happy, the children are happy, and you will have more to fill your time. This is – how to say in English – win-win?”

            “Yes. Win-win.” Sara was already planning her next visit, thinking how she would help the students tell the story back to her.

[Images by Gustav Tenggren]

Fox Spirit 19 – Americans in Beijing

October 1997

Storm

            Trueheart Zhang leaned back in the padded corner booth at the Old Gold Mountain Wine Shop and regarded Storm Cheng and Bright Liu through the haze of cigarette smoke which drifted across the table. He ignored the press of young Chinese men clustering to watch the flickering television set above the bar and his sharp-edged voice cut through the moans and jeers as China’s men’s soccer team stood poised for yet another defeat.

             “So, now we all have broken our iron rice bowls. No more working for the government at standard pay. I wonder whether in five years we will still live in the same world. Bright, you will be wearing blue jeans and a polo shirt, speaking American slang, and driving a Buick to your home outside the fifth ring road behind a stone fence with a guard. Storm, you will be wearing a Western suit, talking like a Hong Kong hustler, and checking your stocks every 20 minutes. I will be wearing contact lenses and riding to work every day in a limousine with my leather briefcase at my side. Or else Rainbow Software will go bust, the tourist business will be outlawed by the government, and we will all be back to wearing buxie and riding to our bureaucratic jobs on the subway.”

            Storm pressed his lips together and said nothing. Bright laughed, his round face impervious to irony. “Old Zhang, if you have worn cotton slippersto work any day since you have left middle school, I will eat them. You have always been the first to find the latest fad of us all – who had the first cell phone?”

            Trueheart held up his hands as if acknowledging a hit, then went on. “Truly, how do you like herding foreigners around like a dog herding sheep?  I don’t envy your work all day in another language trying to bring understanding to the foreigners.”

            Bright sighed and nodded. “You are right – sometimes they are like silly sheep. Last week at lunch, my group were eating at a very good restaurant on the way to the Ming Tombs. You know the guides are not allowed to sit and eat with the guests, but I went into their dining room to check to see that all was well. I was chatting with one table – you have to chat with the guests if you want a good tip at the end – and one American lady asked me ‘Leo, don’t you ever get tired of eating Chinese food?’ She was only a little embarrassed when I answered, ‘I hope not, since I must eat it for maybe 60 more years!’.”

            The three friends laughed and Trueheart continued in his ironic vein. “When you are finished with your tour, do these foreign guests understand anything about Chinese culture, or are they just checking off a list of ‘100 Famous Places to see in Asia’?  Are they really interested in China?”

            Bright shrugged and held out his hands to show his bafflement. “It is impossible to predict what they will be interested in. I take them to the Temple of Heaven and there I explain how the Emperor stood just so to send his prayers to the Jade Emperor in Heaven.  I study very hard to be able to say everything in English and they all want to stand on that spot and pretend to be Emperor. Then next they are all taking pictures of the toilets!

            “How can they learn about Chinese life when they always stay in four-star hotels, places built only for Westerners?  If I didn’t have my tour guide credential, I wouldn’t even be allowed into the lobby of these hotels by the security guard. Everything is new and shiny, with mirrors, gold paint, red velvet, and glass elevators going up from the lobby. Don’t they notice that in this Chinese hotel there are no Chinese guests? That the only Chinese they see are the servants?”

            Storm stirred and spoke. “Maybe we have moved back to old times when there were Western areas carved out of our country and the only Chinese allowed there were servants.”

            Bright answered, “More likely our government thinks these foreigners have some contagious disease and they are all in quarantine. They move through our country in air-conditioned buses like big metal bubbles so they don’t have to breathe the same air as us.” 

            Storm nodded. “And what disease could it be?  Maybe… riches?” He grinned. ‘I wouldn’t mind catching that disease!”

            “But there is another side,” Bright went on through the laughter. “On one trip I cut my hand while helping load baggage on the bus. One of the women took her own handkerchief and helped me stop the blood. I think Chinese tour guests wouldn’t be so quick to help or be so kind.”

            “No,” agreed Storm. “Chinese still believe that if a man has trouble, it is his fate. Be careful, when you are taking your Chinese tours down the Yangtze River, that you do not fall overboard!”

            “No problem yet.” Trueheart pointed out. “There are not so many tours for Chinese people. Chinese families don’t tour China for eighteen days!  They’re too busy saving for …”

            “Buying American blue jeans and a Japanese cell phone,” interrupted Storm.

            “You are one to talk!” retorted Liu. “You with your American clothes and your cell phone and your American Face at work – how is that going?”

            Storm waited for Trueheart to speak, but he said nothing. Storm thought about Manager Miller for a moment – bent toward Boss Wang at the company meeting, her fiery hair glowing in the light of the projector, her pale face lit with laughter as she played with Snow Plum,. “It is too soon to say,” he replied slowly. “Not a problem for me yet.”

Sara

Later in October the rains began. Sara abandoned her bicycle in favor of the buses that stopped just outside the gate of Bei Hai, passing only a block from the office on the other side of the campus. The buses were always unbelievably crowded, yet somehow there was always room made for her, as if her foreign looks created their own force field.

            Her rooms seemed even grayer in the rain. She had finally obtained a phone, but calling home through the university exchange was difficult. She had set up a routine with Mark for him to call on   Sunday mornings when the family would be there. Somehow Rennie was often at early Mass or had taken Richie to visit her parents.  She felt her connection to her son’s life thinning with each call and her apartment seemed to echo with emptiness afterward.

            At the office she found light and warmth and activity. Here she could chat with Scarlet Li about Snow Plum and the Children’s Palace and with Jade about food and shopping. She exchanged language lessons with the programmers, talked business and news with Trueheart, and watched Storm Cheng’s coming and going. She thought he watched her also; sometimes she felt his gaze as she conferred with Trueheart or as he passed her cubicle on the way to his.

            She didn’t know what to do with this awareness. It made the office more interesting, there was no harm in it, why not?  She wondered how Storm Cheng spent his time outside the office. Who were his friends?  He and Jade Wang had talked and laughed together at the picnic – did they see each other outside of the office? What did they talk about? Did he ever mention her?

Fox Spirit 18 – Rabbits and Revelations

Snow Plum had been shy at the Children’s Palace, but with the protection of her parents she could not help reaching out toward Sara’s red curling hair and staring into her light-colored eyes. For Sara, interaction at the level of a two-year-old was very refreshing compared to the struggle to understand conversation at the adult level. Soon the two of them were exchanging words and giggling on the grass. Scarlet Li watched them with bemusement. “You’re a different person with Snow Plum,” Scarlet observed. “You’re not like this at the office.” 

            “There are no two-year-olds at the office!” answered Sara with a smile.

            The feast was spread. Sara tried everything with enthusiasm: dumplings, cold noodles, baby bok choy, tofu cakes, chicken wings served warm in a garlicky sauce, pork buns and bean cakes. Her cookies disappeared quickly at the end of the meal, leaving chocolate traces on Snow Plum’s fingers and chin. “Ah, such a child!” scolded Scarlet Li as she reached for a napkin. “What will Manager Miller think, can’t even eat a cookie neatly.” Snow Plum retreated, laughing, dodging the napkin and ready to play tag.

            “Let me,” said Storm, taking the napkin. He corralled the giggling toddler by lowering himself to her level and surrounding her with his arms before she realized what was happening. She froze in surprise, he took a few quick swipes with a napkin, and she was released, clean faced, as Storm smiled at her. “See, you are all clean and now my rabbit can finish the chocolate and crumbs.”  A few quick folds and he had transformed the napkin into a rabbit finger puppet, hopping toward Snow Plum on his finger. She laughed with delight and reached for the puppet. Silver Wing demanded to be shown how to make a rabbit and soon a hutchful of napkin rabbits were hopping across the grass.

            “Can you show me?” Sara felt timid asking, not wanting to interrupt the fun.

            “Sure, it’s easy,” replied Storm. “You need a square piece of paper to start – a napkin is the perfect size.”  He showed her the simple folds and she quickly had a rabbit of her own. They smiled at each other without reserve for the first time.

Sara was sitting next to Silver Wing, who was quietly folding napkins and watching Snow Plum. Sara remembered her own difficulty settling on a Chinese name and asked “Why did your parents name you ‘Silver Wing’ – do you know?”

            Silver Wing bent over her task without looking at Sara. Her dark curtain of hair fell across her face. “My father liked to watch the airplanes flying low near our house – they live not far from the airport. He hoped that I could one day fly on one, travel to far places. I don’t know what he thought. Maybe I could be a stewardess or a travel agent. So he named me for the flash of an airplane’s wing when it turns in the sun toward its destination. But so far my life has not happened as he dreamed.”

            “Still, many things may happen,” Sara tried to reassure her. “Wang Jie Ri has been to America. Why didn’t you come with him?”

            “It isn’t so easy to go to America. First you must have a reason, not just to see a far place. Then you must have someone in America who will write a letter for you, invite you to stay, and promise to pay any debt if you spend money in America which you do not have. Your American government is very strict about this. The Rainbow Software contact in America was willing to sponsor Wang but not me. Also, I was hoping I was pregnant. I was afraid to go so far from my parents. But that dream also did not happen as we hoped.”

            “I am sorry,” said Sara, feeling she had trespassed once again. “But next time you must come with Wang. I will write you a letter and you both can stay with me.”

            Silver Wing raised her head in surprise. “But you could not keep us with you!  Where would you put us?”

             “I have a house,” Sara answered. “There would be room for you – mei wenti.” She thought of her California ranch house, with its four bedrooms and broad lawn. What a mansion it might seem to Silver Wing.  

            Silver Wing looked at her with amazement. “You have a house?”

            “Yes, in California, not far from the Rainbow Software office there.”

            “I don’t understand you Americans,” Silver Wing said softly. “You have a brother, a son and grandson, a house, and yet you are so far from them.”

            Sara found nothing to say. She had been far from her brother and her son before she left California, although they were located close by. She didn’t know the word for “loneliness.”   Perhaps loneliness was not possible in Chinese society any more than privacy. She would have to ask Jerry Wang if there existed a word.

            By late afternoon the food was gone, the toddler was cranky, and the rabbits were scattered across the lawn, gradually unfolding back into their napkin existence. Sara excused herself and headed for the public restroom. She emerged gasping for breath after inhaling as little as she could of the fetid air inside. She saw that the group was packed up and headed toward the park entrance and Storm Cheng, evidently assigned to wait for her, was squatting patiently at the side of the path.

            How can he do that? Sara thought. All that elegance folded up like a carpenter’s ruler. Crouching, but without the least subservience, only waiting with endless patience. He looked up, saw her and uncoiled. “Aha, now we can go.”

            “I am sorry to keep you waiting.  I had to….” She fumbled for a polite term.

             “No problem. Westerners always must be examining the restroom, it is well known.” The reserve was back, the slight tone of condescension. “You must teach me the vocabulary for these basic things – I didn’t learn these words in my English class.”

            Sara’s voice sharpened at his tone. “There were also many words for basic things I didn’t learn in my Chinese class.”

            Storm gave her a measuring look before answering. “Perhaps, some Chinese hope to show our best faces to the Western guests, not bathroom talk.” He smiled slightly, a small crack in the mask.

            “Just so,” she answered to the person behind the mask. “You, for example?”

            The mask crumbled. “Wo jiu shi. Including me” and he smiled again, more openly.

            Encouraged, Sara said, “It was good of you to wait for me. Do you have far to go to your home?  And who waits for you there, since you have not found your dream?

            “I live with parents, like most sons until they are married, and even after. My parents are careful of me, but I come and go freely now that I am earning money. They understand that I can’t always be at dinner, or even at home before they sleep.”

            “Ah, this isn’t so different from America.” Sara smiled, remembering the days when Mark returned home after college graduation, lived in the end room with its own entrance and bathroom, and shared only bits and pieces of his life. “My son also did this, before he married.” 

            “You have a son who is married?” 

            “Yes,” Sara said, stung by his surprise. Now he’ll look at me differently – like an old woman. So! I wish I hadn’t said it – but it’s no secret. Silly vanity!

Fox Spirit 12: In the Dark

Sara had studied idioms with a native speaker; she knew the story of the man who pretended to be an expert yu player and collected the emperor’s stipend for court musicians without challenge until the day when he was asked to play a solo. Better not to give away that she had understood the implied insult; she could be cool while Cheng lost face by showing his anger.

            “Excuse me, Manager Cheng. I have not touched your Chinese materials. Only, because Manager Li asked, I reviewed English translations.” Sara remembered another Chinese story, about the man who saw the reflection in his wine glass of a bow hung on the wall and mistook it for a snake. “Ni bei gong shi ying –you are jumping to the wrong conclusion.”

            The others laughed; Jerry Wang raised his coffee cup in a toast to Sara. “Well said!”He turned to Storm Cheng, whose face had darkened at Sara’s deft response. “Xiao Cheng, bu bi xiaoqi gui! Mustn’t be jealous, young Cheng!”

            Cheng’s mouth twisted into a forced smile. “Shuo bu gou – I will say no more.Go on, go on.”

            Sara’s eyes sparkled at the concession. With proper modesty she mentioned what a good base she had to work with, what a good job Managers Cheng and Li had done, “I made only a few changes to make the materials more American-sounding. Manager Li tells me that Hong Kong people like American-sounding English; it sounds to them like success.” 

            “Very good,” Jerry Wang said approvingly. “You will continue with this review, I hope?”

            Sara nodded. “I will give some time every month, to make them more and more correct. Mei yue lai yue jing.”

            There was complete silence. Scarlet Li’s hands stopped taking notes of the meeting, Jerry Wang stopped rummaging through his papers, Storm Cheng made a choking sound, Shi’s hand flew to cover his mouth. They all stared at Sara, then averted their eyes, lips twitching.

            “Oh.” Sara recognized the symptoms. “I meant “month by month it will be better”. I didn’t say that correctly, did I?”  She looked at Scarlet Li for help, asked in English, “What did I say?” 

            Scarlet Li’s lips trembled with the effort to hold back a laugh. “I don’t know how to say in English….”  She leaned over to whisper in Sara’s ear. “You said, ‘Every month I have … I don’t know the word… woman’s blood- coming time’.”

Storm

            Storm watched Sara’s eyes widen, her intake of breath. He was waiting for another ugly flush of blood to her face, but it did not come. Instead she shook her head, shrugged, and gave a rueful look around the table. “It is certainly a good thing that I am only reviewing the English versions of our materials!  I promise, Cheng Jingli, I will not touch the Chinese!”

            The table burst into laughter, as Storm nodded in acknowledgement. But he wondered. A Chinese woman would have been overcome with embarrassment at such a mistake, but the American had not shown embarrassment. She had not turned red. She had joined in the laughter. Maybe women’s private things were more public in America? Or was the mistake on purpose, to save his face?  If it was on purpose, then the American Face was clever. He would continue to be on his guard.

               After the meeting, Storm stopped next to Sara as she was collecting her papers. “Perhaps you will share with me this English presentation then. And the text you propose to change in our marketing brochures. We must be consistent in both languages, yes?”

            “Of course. Perhaps Scarlet Li can join us? For helping with the translations. Your English is very good, I can see and hear that, but you are very busy. Maybe it’s not the best way to use your valuable time.”

            Her eyes were still downcast; her hands busy with the papers. Her Chinese was very formal. Was she turning his words against him again?  He answered equally formally.

            “Today I’m not so busy. After lunch will be good for me. I’ll arrange with Manager Li to use this room; we can use the projector. I’ll pretend to be a customer, you can give a presentation to me. Then we’ll look at marketing papers… hao bu hao?”  She had stiffened at his peremptory tone, then relaxed a bit when he remembered to add the polite “Will that be good?” at the end of his plan.

“Hao”.

       ###

            In the darkened conference room they became shadows. Sara’s hair glowed backlit from the presentation screen. Scarlet Li sat quietly to the side, her face lit from below by the screen of the computer where she was alternately advancing the slides and taking notes. Storm Cheng sat in half-darkness, leaning back in his chair, fidgeting with a pencil in one hand, occasionally leaning forward to ask a question. He couldn’t see Sara’s face, except occasionally when she stepped into the path of the projector to answer a question or emphasize a point on the screen. He heard only her clear, carrying voice as she began the company story.

            Suddenly he interrupted her. “These slides are so empty. This tool you use – you could have more information on each slide and give the customer more to think about, right?”

            Sara kept her eyes on the screen. “This is American style – We try not to put too much information on each slide. If the eyes are too busy, the ears will not hear, yes?” 

            Storm shook his head. “The audience can’t see you when you talk, only the screen. It’s hard to pay attention to just words coming in the ear.”

            She still kept her eyes on the screen; was that a smile twitching the corner of her mouth?  “In American style, the room is not so dark.”

            Was she making fun of him? He had been lulled by her voice, by the glowing silhouette, the fiery curls. Brighter lights would help. “Ah, yes. I forgot. We must see the American face.”

            Sara’s eyes jerked up to meet his. “Yes, I believe that is so.” An edge to her voice replaced the demure tone. He had touched a sore spot? He did not know how to follow up his advantage. He rose from his seat to turn up the lights. Better not to imagine her expression, better to see clearly.

===

Episodes of Fox Spirit appear on Monday and Thursday. To follow Fox Spirit, scroll down to the blue bar saying “Follow Chinese Puzzle Box” and click on it. It’s not too late to catch up with Sara and Storm!

Goodbye, My Brother – Qi Sui Nu (Tang dynasty)

Clouds hide the beginning
Of the road on which you’re leaving.
Around the pavilion leaves have fallen
All the trees are almost barren.
Left behind, alone I sigh
Like a lone wild goose unable to fly.

I love the image of the wild goose earthbound looking up as the straggling V’s of flying geese pass overhead.

送兄
song xiong
Seeing off elder brother

诗人：七岁女
Poet: seven-year-old girl (Tang dynasty)

别路云初起，
bie lu jun qu qi,
farewell road cloud at the beginning rise
At the start of the other road clouds are rising

离亭叶正稀。
li ting ye zheng xi
leave pavilion leaf at this time scarce.
Going away from the pavilion now leaves are scarce.

所嗟人异雁，
suo jie ren yi yan,
place sigh person separate/surprise wild goose
sighing person like a lone wild goose
不作一行飞。
bu zuo yi hang fei.
not make the traveling party fly.
Not able to fly with the flock.

Yearning – Wang Wei

Yearning -Wang Wei (Tang dynasty poet)

In the south the love-peas grow.
Spring comes, with new green branches.
Gather them all, dear friend, please do
And through them know I yearn for you.

==========

相思 【xiāng sī】 yearning between lovers; lovesickness.

唐代：王维 Tang poet Wang Wei

红豆生南国，
hong dou sheng nan guo
red peas grow south country
红豆 【hóng dòu】 ormosia; love pea; red bean (Abrus precatorius, Indian licorice or paternoster pea, a shrub famous for its red seeds which were used as love tokens, hence the variant name ‘lovesickness seeds’).

春来发几枝。
chun lai fa ji zhi.
spring come send out several twigs

愿君多采撷，
yuan jun dou cai xie,
wish friend/colleague all gather,

此物最相思。
ci wu zui xiang si.
this outside world most yearning between lovers.

=====

The “Love peas” referred to are, ironically, deeply toxic.  The shrub itself is highly invasive in tropical climates, and has been seen in Hawaii and Florida where it may have originated from jewelry made from the berries and brought back by tourists.  Love is dangerous!

Wang Wei #2: Returning Home

回乡偶书

少小离家老大回
乡音无改鬓毛衰
儿童相间不相识
笑问客从何处来

When I was young I left my home and kin;
Now in my middle age back home I’ve come.
My  accent is still thick, my hair’s grown thin.
The children don’t recognize me, nor I them.
Laughing, they ask me where I’m from.

shǎo xiǎo lí jiā lǎo dà huí
少 小 离 家 老 大 回
When young leave home, grown old return

xiāng yīn wú gǎi bìn máo shuāi
乡 音 无 改 鬓 毛 衰
local accent not have altered, hair on the temples has receded

ér tóng xiāng jiān bù xiāng shí
儿 童 相 间 不 相 识
Children among each other not acquainted

xiào wèn kè cóng hé chǔ lái
笑 问 客 从 何 处 来
Laughing ask visitor where he is from