The Tea Girl of Hummingbird Lane(73)
“I beg you, Auntie. Please let me visit. We’ll speak the language of the mountains and share our friendship through tea.”
He seems so lonely and frail that against my better judgment I agree.
* * *
The subway is packed, but it feels even more suffocating than usual as I make my way to the stop closest to Shamian Island. Walking alone to the café to meet Jin, I struggle to rein in my emotions. Mr. Huang. Why did he have to come to my shop? When the café comes into view and I see Jin sitting at our favorite table under the colored lights with a single cup of tea before him, it’s all I can do to keep from running to him for solace. Instead, I take a deep breath to fortify myself, mortar into place another brick to hide my secrets, and settle my face into what I hope is a pleasant expression. When he sees me, he rises, drops a few coins on the table, and leaves the café before I reach it.
“Li-yan,” he says, his voice serious, “will you come with me?”
My mind is in such turmoil that I automatically think he’s going to tell me he no longer wants to see me. We walk together side by side. I try to memorize the moment: the height of his shoulder next to mine, the occasional brush of his sweater against my jacket, the sound of our footsteps on the cobblestones, the way the trees rustle above our heads.
When he passes through an iron gate and into a courtyard, I have enough sense to call out, “Wait! You can’t go in there!”
He doesn’t respond or even glance back at me. Instead, he strides along the rose-lined pathway and up some steps to the porch of a colonial mansion I’ve admired, despite its run-down condition. Now the layers of peeling paint have been stripped away and replaced by a coat of yellow, with the shutters and other woodwork shining glossy white. Jin opens the front door and extends his hand for me to join him. He must know what he’s doing, I tell myself, but a part of me is terrified we’ll be arrested for trespassing.
Once I reach him, he takes my hand, pulls me through a small entry, and brings me into a large room to the right that overlooks the garden and the tree-lined pedestrian walkway. I soak in the details in seconds: Fragrant freshly cut flowers in crystal vases. Handwoven Chinese silk carpets in intricate designs. Antique lamps on the end tables, but recessed lights to create atmosphere. A pair of ancestor scrolls hang on one wall. The opposite wall is dotted with small paintings of life in the city that must have been done when this house was first built.
“What is this place?” My voice shakes. “What are we doing here?”
“For months we’ve visited spots in the countryside and neighborhoods in the city,” he answers. “I’ve shown you villa parks and apartments abutting the river, but always you’ve seemed happiest on this little island, which is why I bought this house a while ago. I’ve been restoring it since. I hope we’ll be happy here.”
I’m too stunned—beyond stunned, really—to speak. My confused silence sends a flicker of doubt across his face. Then he sets his jaw.
“I’m asking you to marry me, Li-yan,” he forges ahead. “What I mean is, will you marry me?”
I answer without hesitation. “Yes, I’ll go-work-eat with you.”
We kiss. I’m dizzy with emotion as the walls I’ve built to guard my heart crumble. In my chaotic mixture of confusion and joy, I manage to put together a clear thought.
“I once promised myself I’d never marry unless my mother and father thought it was a good match.” I leave out the word again, as in I would never marry again. Jin can’t possibly know that, but a knife of guilt slices into my happiness. Before it can overpower me, Jin delivers into my hands a large and surprisingly heavy package wrapped in homemade indigo fabric.
“Open it,” he says. “Your parents’ blessing is inside.”
I fold back the layers of fabric to find a new headdress decorated with trinkets I immediately recognize: a silver fish from First Sister-in-law, a string of silver balls the size of peas from Second Sister-in-law, a burst of appliquéd butterflies done in Third Sister-in-law’s fine stitches, a coin from A-ma, as well as feathers and colorful pom-poms. Beneath that are folded a traditional wedding skirt, tunic, and leggings, plus a belt buckle, earrings, breastplate, and necklaces. All in all, there’s perhaps fifteen kilos in silver—so much heavier than when I married San-pa—between the headdress and accessories. While I’m trying to take it all in, Jin is still talking.
“I’ve lied to you about some things,” he begins. “I’m rich, as you can see. I didn’t tell you, because I wanted you to love me for me and not just for my money. But that’s not my only lie. This week, I wasn’t in Los Angeles. I was in Spring Well.”
My cheeks flush in embarrassment to think of him in my backward village.
“It wasn’t my first visit,” he continues, purposefully ignoring my obvious shame. “In the last six months, I’ve traveled four times to Spring Well to meet your family and ask permission to marry you.” He pauses to let that sink in. Then, “Your father kept telling me to come back another time.”
I cover my eyes and shake my head. “This is too much.”
“They wanted me to prove to them you were happy. I brought photographs I’d taken of you. I wouldn’t accept no. I even met with your . . . What is he called? The person who selects propitious dates? Like a feng shui diviner?”