Fortune Is a Woman - Elizabeth Adler [95]
“Our simple country heads were filled with city sights and sounds and smells, but we still mourned the demise of our tired little ducks as we herded them into the wooden godown and left them to their fate. Ke Chungfen collected the money and then he turned to us and told us curtly to return to our sampan and wait there until he sent someone to fetch us.
“Mayling was still sobbing and I reminded him that we had not eaten since breakfast upriver at dawn and it was now five in the evening. Grudgingly he took a few coins from his pocket and told us to go to a teahouse and buy the smallest bowl of rice. I was excited as we ran back through the streets searching for a place that was cheap enough. We had never in our lives been in a teahouse. It was a great adventure and for once our hearts felt kindly toward our father for giving us this treat. But in the end all our few coins bought us was a single bowl of salty maize gruel.
“Still, it was enough to satisfy our hunger temporarily and we wandered back through the busy streets, hand in hand, gazing into alleys that sold only ironware, or silverware or vegetables or live fish. But we were frightened by the pushy, harsh-voiced city people. It was all too much for such young, unworldly country-bred peasant children and by the time we reached the river we were exhausted. We curled up in our little sampan and fell straight to sleep, dreaming of the ducks and their sad fate.
“I was awakened a couple of hours later by a coolie shouting in my ear and shaking me by the shoulder. ‘Your father has ordered you to come now,’ he said, prodding Mayling awake. I thought he looked strangely at us as we climbed from our little sampan, but we followed him anyway.
“Night had fallen and only an occasional oil lamp lit our way. We held hands for safety, glancing many times over our shoulders. Incense sticks, lit to appease the household god, burned outside every door and their powerful scent helped disguise the foul odors coming from the muddy drains as the sinister-looking coolie led us through a maze of dark alleys, until finally we came to a small square.
“A group of men were gathered in the corner under a flickering lantern and among them was our father in close conversation with a squat, swarthy-looking man wearing a black cheongsam and a round buttoned hat. He had a long, drooping moustache and narrow, slitted eyes and instinctively I did not trust him. My father said something to the bearded man and he turned to look at us. His eyes lingered a long time on Mayling, taking her in from the top of her shiny black pigtailed head to the tip of her worn cloth shoes and she shivered, blushing under his gaze. He shrugged and said something to my father, who flung out his arms and began to argue with him, and we stared at them puzzled.
“I noticed a little platform had been erected in the corner and half-hidden behind it cowered a frightened group of young girls. Men were crowding into the square, staring boldly at them, laughing and prodding their breasts and touching them intimately.
“I grasped Mayling’s hand, terrified. She was just a little girl, barely thirteen, not yet even a woman. Even though she worked hard for our father he knew that one day, if he were ever to be rid of her, he would be forced to give her a dowry. His elder sons were soon to be married and he needed money to pay for their weddings. If he sold Mayling now he would not have the burden of filling her hungry mouth every night until she married, he would not have to provide a dowry, and he could also pay for the weddings.
“My eyes met Mayling’s and I knew she understood. She had turned pale and her dark eyes were big and glassy with panic. I glanced quickly back at my father, still arguing over her price with the flesh-peddler. I grasped her hand tighter. I said, ‘Run, Mayling. Run