“I want to move the store one day,” Yulan said as she gathered up the discarded papers and tossed them into an embroidered bin. “Ma says no, but I want to bring in more clients.”
Zhengyi raised her eyebrows. “Western ones?”
“Any client who wants us.” Yulan shrugged. “Also, there’s a woman who would like one of your moli scents, if you have the energy.”
“Of course.” Zhengyi struggled to sit up straight and held her breath to force down the cough that rose to her lips. If the others thought she was too tired, they would decline on Zhengyi’s behalf. It infuriated her to be treated like a child again, she who used to be the most powerful member of the family. She had been the one to insist they come to this new country after their wealth had been lost, despite her own daughter’s tears and protests and her refusal to see they’d had no choice. When they were safe in Canada, Meihui had still complained about deserting China when they were needed to rebuild the country, even though the communists had outlawed bourgeois extravagances such as perfume.
She couldn’t think of those times now, especially while the sun was out. The day was for living, or what passed for living in this bed. The nights were for the dead who haunted her dreams. Her son and daughter and husband. Grandson. Her mother. Her brothers. Then there was Jun, dead as well but so alive in her mind.
Yulan was chattering on about the new client, Mrs. Chen—from one of the old families who had come to Canada from Taiwan, and who had been luckier with their riches than the Huas. “I don’t like her,” said Yulan, frowning, her hair long and parted in the middle. So flat, although Zhengyi told her setting it would be more attractive. “She was rude to Ma, as if Ma were a servant.”
“What was she wearing?”
“A summer fur. Mink, glossy and black around her shoulders. Her cigarette case was gold.”
Zhengyi nodded. “Charge her double.”
Yulan’s narrow eyes grew wide. “Double?”
“You said she was a Chen. I know that family. They respect only two things: themselves and money. The more they pay for something, the more they will value it. Don’t bargain with her. Act simply as if she would of course pay such a small amount for a treasure.” She paused, thinking. “Make it triple.”
Yulan looked at her with admiration. “You are a shark.”
Zhengyi snorted. “I am an old woman with no time. She wishes for her true love?”
“She wore a wedding ring.”
“Ah.” Zhengyi adjusted the thick duvet. She loved the way it felt like being embraced by a cloud. Her great-granddaughter came up to adjust the pillows behind her, then frowned and told her to lean forward. Zhengyi did and felt the relief of Yulan drumming lightly on her back.
It was several minutes until she finished coughing, and she discreetly folded the bloodied handkerchief in her hand before Yulan took it away. “Wedding rings are no evidence of love,” Zhengyi said as if their conversation had not been interrupted.
Yulan turned and arranged her face. She had looked in the handkerchief, then. Zhengyi prayed she had the sense to not worry her mother but knew it was a false hope.
“You say that with the tone of a woman who knows from personal experience,” Yulan said.
Zhengyi’s laugh resembled a bark, and this time it hurt. “Every fifth daughter knows this, the same way all Hua women know how difficult it is to trust people outside the family.”
She said this deliberately, for Yulan had been fighting with her mother about her marriage, the same way Zhengyi had fought withher own mother. Perhaps that was another tradition of Hua women, to fight with their mothers over their husbands. Or it could be true for all women, and probably some men. Not all people make suitable spouses.
“How did you know my great-grandfather was the man for you?” Yulan asked quietly.
Zhengyi looked at the book by her side and wondered if she could tell Yulan the story she had hesitated to write down.
“I didn’t want to marry your great-grandfather at first,” she said. “He was an old friend, as you know. He understood what I would be doing with my life and that I could not leave my family. I had known him for years.”
“You needed him to come to Canada.”
“I needed a man I could rely on. You know I couldn’t even open a bank account without his permission?” Zhengyi snorted. “The landlord refused to speak with me because I was a woman, so I couldn’t rent the store. Hao had to sign everything.”
“You must have loved him from the beginning?”
“He was good to me.” She wondered how honest to be before deciding the girl was old enough to understand. “I didn’t love him at first. I thought he was a bore. I was in love with a man named Jun. He was a friend of my brother’s, and when he saw me on the street, he liked the look of me.”
Yulan looked shocked. “He said that way back then?”
“Aiya, how old do you think I am? That I lived with dinosaurs?” Zhengyi was insulted. “It was 1900, the dawn of the new era, and I was very pretty those days. Prettier than you wearing that paint on your lips that looks like nothing. Not even pink.”
“Sorry.” Yulan looked appropriately penitent, so Zhengyi continued.
