Gold Mountain Blues - Ling Zhang [75]
This was the First Sino-Japanese War, and the Treaty of Shimonoseki.
Gradually, the candidates calmed down and they drew up a petition ten thousand characters long. Several thousands of them congregated before the Office of the Superintendent and requested permission to present their petition to His Imperial Majesty. Their demands: the treaty should be rejected, the capital should be relocated, a new army should be trained and constitutional reform should be implemented.
The tumult in Peking reached Ah-Fat’s ears through Mr. Auyung Ming.
Since Ah-Fat’s return from Gold Mountain, he had become firm friends with his old teacher. Mr. Auyung had been left a small family inheritance which was enough to support all the members of his household and he did not need to bother much with his tutor school. He only had a very few students, but his house was filled from morning till night with visiting friends and acquaintances. They were a motley crew: private tutors like himself, petty officials, rickshaw-pullers and Cantonese opera singers, as well as hangers-on around local government offices. They did not come empty-handed to eat and drink at Mr. Auyung’s table—they brought the latest news and gossip which they had picked up in the streets and markets. Most of it was about events at the Imperial Court in Peking, and this was precisely the kind of news that their host was most interested in.
Inevitably they were introduced to Ah-Fat during these dinners, and when they heard he was from Gold Mountain and was literate, they plied him with questions: What kind of constitution did Gold Mountain have? Did the common people live decently and in peace? There was a queen, Ah-Fat told them, but she did not govern. The country was governed by Parliament, whose members did not depend on passing the Imperial examinations, or on the Queen’s favour. They were elected by the common people. A member of Parliament had to curry favour with the common people so that they would vote for him. “You’re one of the common people,” said the other guests. “Do they try and curry favour with you?” Ah-Fat sighed: “The likes of us are just coolies. The Gold Mountain government doesn’t give us the right to vote.”
Mr. Auyung thumped the table with his fist so hard that the rice grains jumped out of the bowls onto the floor. “Our emperor has studied Western sciences, and he knows what’s good about the West. If it wasn’t for that person who gets in his way, we’d have had a new government like a Western government long ago.”
Everyone knew who he was referring to, and they lowered their voices. The rickshaw-puller got up to shut the door firmly before saying quietly into Mr. Auyung’s ear: “Over in Sanwui, they’ve just set up a new party and they’re armed with weapons. They say they’re going to raise money and send hired assassins to Peking to kill that old woman and clear the way for the young emperor.”
Ah-Fat was horrified when he heard this. He pulled at Mr. Auyung’s sleeve: “Aren’t you afraid of being killed yourself, if you allow this kind of wild talk?” But his friend just roared with laughter: “Her days are numbered, can’t you see? Who knows who’ll die first?”
Just as Ah-Fat was seeing off Mr. Auyung, who had come to visit him that day, Six Fingers went into labour.
The midwife hung a large red curtain over the door. No one was allowed in except Ah-Choi, the servant. Behind the curtain, Six Fingers moaned and groaned. Her moans at first sound stifled as if she had stopped her mouth with cotton wool. Later they turned into hoarse, pitiful wails. Ah-Choi came out of the room carrying a wooden bowl and emptied into the gutter. The water in the bowl was red with blood. A vision of his father butchering pigs suddenly came into Ah-Fat’s mind and he made dash for the bedroom door. His way was blocked by his mother.
“It’s