Gold Mountain Blues - Ling Zhang [114]
Six Fingers had nothing to say to that. The iron had entered Mrs. Mak’s soul all those years ago, when Ah-Fat had broken off his engagement to his betrothed and married Six Fingers instead. She now knew the bitterness still festered. Mak Dau felt for his pipe and went to light it. “You want to die?” shouted Ha Kau, grabbing it from him. Mak Dau froze for an instant, then smiled. “This is another pipe,” he said, lighting it and taking a couple of leisurely puffs. Then he said: “Don’t get angry, old Missus. You know, Chu Sei has had his eye on our family for a long time. Even if the young Missus had stayed at home every day to look after both the young masters, he would have come knocking.”
Mak Dau’s teeth lit up the whole room, but sadly Mrs. Mak could not see it. She shouted furiously: “And who might you be? Who gave you the right to speak in the Fong family?” And she hurled her walking stick blindly at him. Mak Dau easily dodged the stick, which hit one of the pillars and snapped in two. There was dead silence, not a cheep or a rustle to be heard. Even the banyan leaves were still. Everyone knew that Mrs. Mak was strict, but they had never seen her humiliate the young Missus in public or beat a servant with a stick.
After a moment, Kam Shan knelt down in front of his grandmother: “Please don’t be angry, Granny. Mum and Kam Ho are back safe and sound now. When I’m big, I’ll buy back the fields for you, and we’ll have even more than before.”
Mrs. Mak allowed his words to touch her heart. Her eyes moistened and, wiping them with the front of her jacket, she sighed. “Take Six Fingers and Kam Ho to their rooms,” she told Ah-Choi. “Wipe them down and give them some lotus-seed soup. They shouldn’t eat till they’ve had the soup. People who’ve gone without food for a long time mustn’t eat solids straightaway.”
When everyone had left, Mrs. Mak called to Ah-Choi. “From now on, you keep an eye on her for me. You report to me if she wants to go out.” Then she added: “That Mak Dau, he’s more use than your husband. You keep a good lookout for a suitable woman servant. They can marry and then he can stay with the family.” “Yes, Missus,” said Ah-Choi. She was about to go, when Mrs. Mak coughed, and said a few words in a low voice into her ear: “I want you to take a good look and see if she’s got any injuries.” Ah-Choi looked blankly at her, and then finally caught on. “Yes, Missus.”
For a couple of weeks afterwards, Mrs. Mak kept to her room, burned incense and prayed to the Buddha. Every corner of every courtyard echoed to the rhythmic striking of the wooden fish as Mrs. Mak intoned her prayers.
One morning, Ah-Choi came into the room just as Mrs. Mak was kneeling to kowtow before the yellowing portrait of her husband on the wall. “She … she.…” she began. Ah-Choi was a woman who flustered easily, and when that happened, she stammered. Mrs. Mak straightened up. “What is it? Spit it out if you’ve got something to say.” Ah-Choi hesitated, then started again: “The young Missus, she … her … her period’s come.”
Mrs. Mak clasped her hands over her heart and her body went as limp as a boned fish.
“Merciful Buddha,” she muttered to herself.
It was several months before Ah-Fat found out that Six Fingers had been kidnapped. He heard it from some of the men who had gone to visit their folks back home. He wrote to his wife straightaway:
My dear Ah-Yin,
I suppose you did not tell me about this grave family event because you did not want to worry me. I have now decided to build a fortified diulau for you to live in so you will be protected from bandits. I have got an architect to draw up plans based on the instructions I gave him. I will buy all the materials