The Last Rose of Shanghai(92)
The Garden Bridge should be ahead of him. He shuffled down the muddy road, stopped to take a breather, and began to walk again.
A rifle jammed into his chest, choking him. He fought for breath, staring at the chrysanthemum carved in the bolt-action rifle. Shouting, the soldier dragged him and threw him in a truck.
Lying flat, he stared at the muddy sky and didn’t want to get up. The truck jolted and bounced, passing a wooden picket that read THE DESIGNATED AREA FOR STATELESS PERSONS.
75
AIYI
I had never thought this wretched life would be mine, to be unloved, to be homeless, to be poor. Without money, I couldn’t stay in an inn or rent an apartment. Not knowing where to go, I went to Emily’s apartment in the French Concession. If she had indeed returned, I could stay with her.
The streets to the Concession were barricaded; I read the notice plastered on a telegraph pole. It was in Japanese, but I could make out the meaning of kanji. It seemed that the French Vichy government had handed over the Concession to the Japanese, who now had completely dominated the entirety of Shanghai.
A truck rattled past, loaded with foreigners with suitcases. A flyer fell out and dropped to the ground. I picked it up. It said that all stateless people must be relocated to a district in Hongkou. Ernest was stateless, I remembered. Was he in the district now? What a fate for us. He a prisoner, and I homeless.
I avoided the patrolling Japanese soldiers and went into an alley to reach Emily’s apartment; it was shut with a lock. No sign of her cook.
In the end I hailed a rickshaw and went to the last place I could seek shelter.
Beneath a high stone arch decorated with European-style carvings was a narrow, dim alley draped with underwear and threadbare rags. Inside the alley, bare-chested men pissed along the wall and old men shot out spit like bullets. The rancid stench of urine and night soil made me gag. Carrying two suitcases like a porter, I ducked and swerved, picking my way through cockroaches and rats and animal feces. Then without a warning, a woman dumped a basin of brown water in front of me, cold liquid splashing on my shin.
I could hear children’s screams from behind a low gate at the end of the dank alleyway. I stopped in front of it and called out for Peiyu. The small door opened.
“What are you doing here?” Peiyu was sitting at a charcoal stove in the courtyard, braiding her long hair; near her, two of my nieces, one nicknamed Willow and the other Serenity, were fanning the fire in the stove. The youngest of the six, nicknamed Little Star, was chewing a cricket, a paste of yellow snot and grime on her face.
The courtyard was pitiful, smaller than my bedroom. The walls were covered with mold; the mud ground was slippery and infested with rat droppings. The place had no bathroom, only a night bucket, no electricity wires or water pipes. The only source of water was a communal underground well, heavily contaminated with sewage.
Who knew I would end up here with them. I had wanted to help them, knowing the deplorable living conditions they were in. Had I not told my husband about the trip, Cheng would still be alive, and I could be coming here to help them, not move in with them.
“I hope you’ll let me live with you.” I told her about Cheng and his mother’s decision to force me out.
“That’s sad. I didn’t know he was gone. Do you have money?”
My face was hot. “I have jewelry.”
That night I took out the dresses from my suitcase and spread them on the floor to drive out the chill from the damp muddy ground. The only bed was occupied by Peiyu and the six kids. I listened to their siren-like shrieks as they kicked and complained, barely getting any shut-eye. Around dawn they finally quieted, and I dozed off. When I awoke, no one was in the room. Even the courtyard was empty. I went out to the alleyway.
Behind the unkempt women doing laundry and men pissing in the corner sat a rickshaw. In her small shoes, a knapsack hanging around her neck, Peiyu toddled toward it. She piled quilts and two rattan suitcases on the rickshaw and climbed in. The children clung around her, fighting among themselves.
“Where are you going?” I asked. Peiyu, with bound feet, rarely traveled. The rickshaw was barely large enough to fit her and the quilts, suitcases, and children.
She tucked the knapsack on her lap and slapped at a small hand that tried to hold hers. “To my parents’. You can stay here. Can you leave me alone, kids? I can’t live here, taking care of them by myself. Stop fighting! I wrote to my parents a few months ago, and they agreed to take me in. If Sinmay comes back, tell him to find me at my parents’ home.”
The rickshaw puller, a young man wearing straw sandals, raised the two bamboo poles, and Peiyu and her children leaned back. Wheels squeaking, the rickshaw raced out of the alleyway. It would take them to the railway station in the north, where they would take the train to her parents’ house in the Jiangsu province.
I went back to the courtyard and sat by my suitcases. The room was quiet without children’s noises, without any footfalls. I was alone.
I had never been truly alone in my life. No matter where I went, I was always surrounded by my brothers, Cheng, Peiyu, my chauffeur, servants, dancers, or the men working in the nightclub. Since my birth, I had been shielded by a glittery screen of awe and wealth. Now I was truly alone. And poor.
For a moment, I was at a loss for what to do. I could remarry—I was only twenty-three—or I could earn a living by becoming a dancer, the profession I created years ago. If I really wanted, I could stop by the home of one of my relatives, ingratiating myself as a guest, and stay there for a few months. Anywhere would be better than this squalid stone-arch shelter. I picked up my suitcases, ready to leave.