Gold Mountain Blues - Ling Zhang [68]
“I’ll send a message with Ah-Choi to Auntie Cheung Tai. We’ll pay for three days of Daoist ceremonies, to expiate the soul of the dead girl.”
Her words seemed to fall like a pebble into ancient still waters. It was some time before the ripples gradually appeared on the surface.
“Six Fingers isn’t dead yet, Mum.”
“The herbalist said to prepare for the funeral.”
Ah-Fat made no sound. She strained to stare with the “eyes” in her ears, but they suddenly seemed to have grown opaque. Now she knew she was completely blind. Never again would she see into her son’s heart.
“I’m going to find out when the next boat for Gold Mountain leaves, Mum.”
Her son had changed his clothes and put on his shoes and was off to inquire about the boat—when it suddenly dawned on Mrs. Mak that she was being very foolish. Every brick and tile of their house, every field and every beast they owned, every grain of rice in the bowls of everyone from mistress to minions, had come to them thanks to Ah-Fat’s bank drafts. She had been under the impression that she commanded her son, but now she realized that actually it was her son who commanded the whole family. He was master of all their fates; the whole family’s continued existence depended on his loyalty to her. If she lost his heart, then they were all lost. She was filled with terror and muddy yellow tears gathered at the corner of her eyes.
It also occurred to her that Six Fingers had quite a few merits. She was capable, upright and had a mind of her own. When it came to important family affairs, there was no way that blind old Mrs. Mak or her weak and helpless sister-in-law could cope. What they needed, when her son was not there, was someone like Six Fingers to be the mainstay of the family. She had not permitted Ah-Fat to marry Six Fingers as his senior wife because she was afraid of losing face in the village. Yet face was only a veneer on the surface of their lives. Face without life was no face at all.
Besides, Six Fingers did not have six fingers any more. With the stroke of a knife, Six Fingers had altered her fate.
“Ah-Fat, tell Ah-Choi to get Third Granny here. I want Third Granny to say to Auntie Cheung Tai that providing Six Fingers pulls through, we’ll scrap the other betrothal, and you’ll make Six Fingers your first wife,” she said. “All this trouble can only be sorted out by the person who caused it. And she was born tough, that girl. Who knows, when she hears the news, it may bring her back to life.”
Mrs. Mak heard her son’s footsteps slow down.
“Right,” he said. “But I’m not calling Ah-Choi. I’ll take you to see Third Granny.”
Mother and son hastily left the house, Mrs. Mak hobbling so fast that Ah-Fat could scarcely keep up with her.
Third Granny went into Auntie Cheung Tai’s house and Ah-Fat and his mother waited outside. Mrs. Mak was gripping a handkerchief, which had been brand new and crisply starched but was now wringing wet. She could hear Ah-Fat’s big feet pacing up and down on the tamped mud pavement in front of the house and the sound not only grated on her ears but seemed to grate slivers of flesh from her heart too. She was as anxious as her son.
A long time later Third Granny came out. She seemed downcast and instead of her usual glib manner, she spoke awkwardly.
“She didn’t say a word, didn’t even give a flicker of her eyelids.”
“Did you ask Auntie Cheung Tai to tell her, or did you tell her yourself?” asked Mrs. Mak.
“Of course I told her myself. I spoke right into her ear. Too bad it doesn’t look like I’ll be enjoying your matchmaking gifts. The herbalist says it’ll be tonight.”
On the way home, Mrs. Mak could not keep up with her son. She felt as if the heavens above had caved in on her. She could hardly drag her little “lotus” bound feet along and the walking stick in her hand