Gold Mountain Blues - Ling Zhang [102]
She left, casting a slender shadow which stretched long and thin in the remaining light, seeming to waver like bamboo leaves. He found himself following. From a distance, he saw a carriage waiting at the entrance to the alley. Through the glass windows, he could see the shadowy figure of a man in a suit. He opened the door and helped Gold Mountain Cloud in. The driver shouted to the horse and they drew away, the horse’s hooves clip-clopping away into the darkness of the night. Ah-Fat stood there, suddenly feeling disconsolate.
When he got back to his lodgings, Ah-Lam and the others were not home yet. Everyone stayed out late on payday. If they were not gambling or smoking opium they would be in a girl’s arms. Ah-Fat lit a cigarette and smoked for a while but still could not sleep. He turned up the oil lamp, got out paper and brush and prepared some ink. His hand trembled slightly and he had trouble grinding the lumps out of the ink. He smoothed some paper flat and began to write to Six Fingers. The characters seemed as distracted as he was, and lacked their usual dignified firmness.
Dear Ah-Yin,
An opera troupe has come to Vancouver and New Westminster. When I was a kid, I used to go with my dad, but I haven’t been for years. There was a woman playing the lead male role. She was not as heroic as the male usually is, nor as delicate and gentle as the female role, yet she was more appealing than both. Is there anything which comes halfway between a man and woman? If there is, then that third gender must surely embody the essence and the energy of both man and woman because they are not constrained by either. There is something wonderful and fantastic about that. You’re probably thinking I’ve gone crazy. Ah-Yin
Ah-Fat went to all ten remaining performances, but did not have a chance to talk to Gold Mountain Cloud again. Every night after the play was finished, she changed into her everyday clothes and was picked up straightaway by the carriage waiting at the stage door. Every evening as she came onstage, her gaze swept over the audience. Ah-Fat felt her eyes boring into him and the scar on his face burned. He could almost hear her heartbeat returning to normal, just before the performance began. He remembered her words on the other night, “I won’t sing till I see you.” Perhaps they had not been entirely empty words.
The last opera they put on was Giving a Warm Coat at Night. It was a very long and rather subtle piece and Ah-Fat found his attention wandering. He felt torn that evening, between longing for the play to be over, and wanting it to go on forever. When it ended, he could speak with Gold Mountain Cloud again. He could be, for another moment, in her presence. But with the last performance completed, she would move on to a new town and disappear from his life forever. He needed to catch hold of this spirit that was half-man and half-woman. But he did not know how, nor what he should do with her once he had her in his grasp. He was full of vague longings.
Finally the performance ended. Gold Mountain Cloud bowed deeply at each curtain call. Her looks and smiles included everyone, and Ah-Fat got his fair share too. Yet somehow that made him feel that he had been left with nothing at all. Gold Mountain Cloud finally disappeared behind the curtain and was gone. Ah-Fat derided himself for imagining that a rising opera star would remember a fish cannery worker like himself who understood so little about Cantonese opera. He meant nothing to her. To believe otherwise was wishful thinking; the feeling was all on his side. As he stood there lost in thought, the acrobat came over to him carrying something wrapped in cloth. “For you, from Gold Mountain Cloud,” he said. Inside the cloth was a large disk, black in