She screamed as I shook her, ripping out a good fistful of hair before Susu smashed a bowl over my head. As I crumpled to the ground, Baba and the maid wrenched me away down the stairs.
Richard was shrieking in the background, “Killing is bad! Don’t kill Ying Ying Jeh Jeh!”
Susu locked me in the cellar. It was dark and smelled like mold and had a brick-sized window. Cockroaches skittered where the light didn’t touch.
I pounded my fists against the door, screaming until the sound in my throat shriveled up.
In the morning, I became calm. I held my breath, welcoming the sudden cold that prickled my skin. Easy as that, I dissolved into the air and slipped through the door. That was as far as I got. No matter how I tried, my shadow wouldn’t follow me out of the cellar. It was worldly in a way I no longer was, and kept me chained to my prison.
I sank against the wall in defeat, hugging my knees. As the hours whittled away, I thought about how indifferent Lily had sounded about being locked in here, and wondered whether she’d been lying. Whether she’d felt as frightened as I did. As angry.
As helpless.
Inside a fermented sack of rice I found her flashlight and some books she’d hidden. There were stories about the Monkey King and the legend of Chang’e, and the rest were Western tales about sleeping princesses and poisoned apples and wolves that ate children wandering in the woods. I foundCinderella,but my light ran out before I reached the end.
On the third day, Gu Ma unlocked the cellar door. Guilt flickered across her face—a telling sign of how little my family thought of me. They hadn’t meant to keep me locked up so long, they’d just forgotten to let me out.
In a matter of days Gu Ma had aged years, white hairs creeping through the dyed blacks, and a web of wrinkles around her eyes. She sat beside me at the table as I ate, replenishing my strength so I could continue hating everyone in this house.
“The wedding won’t be until Lily turns seventeen,” she said, as if that were a consolation. “The Tsangs are good people. They’ll take better care of her than we can.”
How would you know?I wondered.You’ve never even tried.
. . .
There was truth to Gu Ma’s words: Lily was better off away from home. For in the following months, every seam that my family had so pridefully stitched into Hong Kong’s upper society came undone.
It started with little things, like the telephone. One day, Gu Ma disconnected it and locked it away in a cabinet, then she threw out Baba’s pipe and buried his opium. Next, she dismissed Susu. She said the maid had been stealing and she’d find a replacement as soon as possible. Lies. The real reason was obvious.
Money was tight. My family had spent a fortune on Lily’s dowry, really a bribe to keep the Tsangs on our side and delay an investigation as long as possible. It was thanks to Gu Ma’s connections that everything didn’t collapse at once.
Even so, our reputation fell swiftly. Invitations ceased, friends made excuses not to visit, and workers at the factory quit, including Sui Chan. When a handful of military officials came to interrogate the last remaining employees, my aunt ushered me out a back door into her car. During the ride home, I swore all of her hair turned gray.
Gu Ma wouldn’t admit it, but she was fearful for her life. People had begun vandalizing the factory and throwing stones at any cars that passed through the gates. In her paranoia that the house would be searched next, she buried her jewelry in the courtyard and tossed out all the albums by Li Hsiang-lan, a singer I liked. Li had been branded a traitor herself, sentenced to death by firing squad. Days before her execution, it was discovered that she was actually a Japanese spy, and she was released to Japan. My aunt, unfortunately, had nowhere she could go. Police drove by the house every day. We were being watched.
On her thirtieth birthday, Sai Ma couldn’t stand it anymore. None of her girlfriends would come visit the house—not even thekindly Mrs. Wong—and her own parents made excuses, citing too much traffic on the roads.
“You’ve ruined us,” she cried, turning on Gu Ma. “It’s my birthday, and we can’t even leave the house for a nice dinner!”
Gu Ma calmly picked up a slice of fish and set it on Sai Ma’s plate. “Sit down, Seet Ling. Your food is getting cold.”
“I will not sit down—”
“I seem to recall that during the occupation you said the Japanese were going to win the war, and we needed to be on their side before everyone else. Or have you forgotten?”
I chewed on my noodles, glad that I had taken the time to make them extra crispy. No one else was eating, so I served myself seconds.
Gu Ma slammed down her chopsticks. “If not for the sacrificesImade, do you think a woman like you would be sitting here now in your pearls and fur? Oh no, I forgot, you have a daughter you would’ve sold off.”
“It’sbecauseI sold Lily off that the British aren’t knocking at our door right this instant—to arrest you!”
“Enough!” Baba snapped. “You two, quiet down.”
“You tell your wife to shut her mouth,” Gu Ma hissed. “We didn’t hurt anyone, we didn’t kill anyone.” She grimaced, and I knew she was thinking about Zhou Hin Kong, that technically it was Yi Gor who killed him. “So long as we keep our mouths shut, nothing will happen. They won’t find anything.”
The rest of dinner, my family ate in spiteful silence. Afterward, while I cleaned the dishes, my stepmother retreated to the parlor. Lately she’d taken to heavy drink, and every few nights I’d jolt in my bed when I felt the vibrations of her drunkenly shattering a glass or hurling her records to the floor. Tonight she sat in her pearls and heels listening to old Cantonese operas as she drank herself into oblivion.
This was what I’d wanted: Sai Ma’s defeat. Too bad I couldn’t muster a single laugh.
