Fundless and friendless, Tsiu Sing begged A-mi to stay with him – soon, he assured her, he would rebuild his fortune, and then they could marry (Sing had neglected to tell A-mi that he already had a wife, not that it would’ve made any difference to her anyway.) A-mi: Tsiu Sing!
Tsiu Sing: Yes?
A-mi: You know what this place is, don’t you?
Tsiu Sing: Uh, yeah, ’course I do.
A-mi: Around here it’s pay to play – what part of that don’t you get?
Tsiu Sing: But Mi-a, don’t you remember how we were in the beginning?
You said you’d be mine, all mine – doesn’t love conquer all?
A-mi: We call this house a knocking shop,
Whenever a customer got out of line, Mistreated a girl or drank too much wine, A gaggle of bouncers, a bruiser elite, Would set him aright with fists and feet.
At the head of the mob, a big galoot, A thoroughly mean and nasty brute – Tattooed with a dragon,
A brow like Cro-Magnon, In manner aggressive and rude, Used language abusive and crude:
Get the hell out and be quick about it!
We’re runnin’ a business – we’re in it for profit.
Don't come around if you ain’t got the cash
This cathouse don’t cater to indigent trash!
His face aflame with rage and shame, Sing cursed the rowdies, “Sons of whores!”
The thugs came at him in rush, And drove him out the brothel doors.
They dragged him out of the bawdy house Onto the open ground,
With bamboo canes and clubs in hand The ruffians gathered ’round.
“You talk mighty tough but you’re one against ten.
Let’s have ourselves some fun, boys” said the leader to his men.
They beat him near senseless with punches and kicks, Hit him with blackjacks, cudgels, and bricks.
His ribs were all shattered; they’d broken his nose, Battered and bruised, blood covered his clothes.
Sing cried out for help but none was forthcoming, A wonder at all that he lived through the drubbing.
Better to tousle a tiger’s ruff than to tangle with Taiwanese hooligans!
Beaten and disgraced, Tsiu Sing made his way to a river that ran through the city, intending to drown himself in atonement for his shameful behavior:
With ruptured spleen and battered liver,
He dragged himself down to the edge of the river.
Beaten nearly half to death,
It pained him just to draw a breath.
Bruises, contusions, Shattered illusions.
The thugs had nearly maimed him – Clubbed and caned him,
But the thing that really pained him Was the way the woman gamed him, Dissed and disdained him.
The shame would ever outlive him, His family would never forgive him.
Tsiu Sing: Rejected, dejected … intentions misdirected … family long neglected … parents disrespected … I had a life but wrecked it.
“The fault all’s mine, I do admit – She set the trap; I fell in it.
The time has come to leave this life, I’d cut my throat if I had a knife.”
Sing stood on the bank, stare down into the dark, rushing water, and leapt.
***
“Stop!” A hand caught Sing’s arm just as he jumped, yanking him back to solid ground.
Stranger: Why, oh why, do want to die? What’s driven you to the brink?
The weather’s cold, the water chill, You’ll freeze before you drown.
Better to live for good or ill,
Who knows? Your luck may turn around.
I counsel you, friend, come away from the river!
Tsiu Sing tried to wrench free, but the man’s grip was like iron.
Tsiu Sing: Why this dire decision? A failure at business! A woman’s derision?
Let me leap, goodhearted one, My money’s gone, my life’s undone, A heartless woman brought me low, Into the river I shall go!
A prostitute, Kueh A-mi, took me for all I had. My money, my livelihood – everything!
My money gone, she spurned my love, Cast me off like a worn-out glove.
But I myself must bear the blame, And death alone will quell the shame.
Stranger: I’ve come for the very same reason as you – to put an end to my life:
I, too, have been a woman’s fool, She used me as she would a tool.
Money lost is no disgrace – What pains me is the loss of face.
I headed up a shipping concern, sent freight all over the world.
Times were good and business was booming, But aught did I know, my downfall was looming – A-tinn was clever, ruthless and smart,
She was my weakness and I was her mark.
Indeed, A-tinn was truly an eyeful;
But to her I was merely a trifle.
She emptied out my bank account, Her own indulgence paramount.
Tsiu Sing: If that’s the case, then death won’t do.
We’ve much in common, we two.
It’s not too late to start anew.
Let us be brothers, you and I, United till the day we die.
Stranger: The very thing I was about to suggest! I’m surnamed Ong, given name Kin.
Bound we are by fate’s long tether, By fortune we’ve been brought together.
Tsiu Sing: And I am Tsiu Sing, of Anxi County in Quanzhou prefecture. I’ve only just come to Taiwan.
You saved my life – I thank you, brother, Henceforth let us support each other.
Ong Kin: It’s settled then; together we’ll make a new beginning!
Let’s think no more of self-destruction, An awful notion, misbegotten –
Self-deceived by a notion ill conceived!
Come home with me, I’ll take you there – We’ll catch a trolley; I’ve got the fare.
***
On the way to his home, Ong’s Kin filled Tsiu Sing in on his family situation. Ong Thai-hua, Kin’s father, was very wealthy; it was his money that had given his son a start in the world of commerce. Of course, Kin couldn’t admit to losing the business because of his involvement with a prostitute. Instead, he’d tell the old man that the building which housed his company had first caught fire and burned to the ground and then been burgled.
Despairing, Kin had gone to the river, intending to drown himself. Fortunately, there he
met Tsiu Sing, who had talked him out it, saving his life. Sing agreed to go along with the ruse.
Ong Kin: I know it’s really bad,
To play a trick on dear old dad.
But better a burned-out store, Than money lavished on a whore.
On returning home Ong Kin put on a proper show of grief for his father’s benefit:
“A raging fire engulfed the place, From ridge to rafters, joint to brace.
In blaze’s wake there came a thief!”
Kin wept and wailed in bogus grief.
“My fortunes took a ruinous turn – The thief took all that didn’t burn!”
Between crying bouts, Kin introduced Tsiu Sing to his father, mentioning that Sing too had lately suffered a financial setback:
“This man saved me or I should have died – He pulled me away from the riverside.”
Ong Kin broke down in sobs again and fell to his knees, kowtowing to his father in expiation for even considering the supremely unfilial act:
“‘Body, hair, and skin are all from one’s parents, thus one dares not harm them.’
Truly, I am an unworthy son!”
The elder Ong heard the younger out, and then he spoke:
“Don’t be disheartened, don’t despond, Alive you are, though money’s gone.”
A shrewd businessman, Ong Thai-hua was ever on the lookout for lucrative new opportunities. At the time, tea exports were booming in Taiwan.
Turning to Sing, he said to his son:
Our benefactor, is this man, It’s only right we lend a hand We’ll start a business, trade in tea, I’ll fund the venture – count on me.
***
With a geomancer’s aid they found a suitable location in Taipei’s Twatutia district:
The storefront faced the rising sun, A setting most propitious,
The business venture was begun Upon a day auspicious.
For product fine and prices fair They duly won renown,
Their tealeaves famous everywhere, The best in Taipei town.
The venture a was resounding success, and Tsiu Sing came into a fortune far greater than the one he’d lost.
Part Two
Wealthy once more, Sing had yet to send a cent to his family in Quanzhou. Inredibly he couldn’t get his mind off Kueh A-mi, the woman who’d nearly destroyed him:
Now that Sing had cash to burn, His thoughts returned to Mi-a – His lesson unlearned!
He arrived at the brothel in his personal rickshaw, dressed in a gray silken robe, a stylish black bowler like those worn by the British businessmen he traded with, and black leather shoes, waxed and buffed to a high, glossy shine. Word of his wealth had gotten around, and the old madam – the very one who’d sicced the bouncers on him just a year or so earlier – now greeted him like a long lost nephew.
Knowing very well why he’d had come, she invited him in, and over tea in the parlor asked if he’d like to have a little chat with Kueh A-mi, renew an old acquaintance, so to speak. When Sing expressed an eagerness to do just that, the procuress sent a servant girl to fetch A-mi. The latter appeared within minutes, freshly powdered and perfumed, showing surprise and delight at seeing Tsiu Sing again – her joy not entirely bogus, as she too was aware of his recent turn of fortune.
Before long the two were spending every night in each other’s arms, Sing falling ever deeper in love the woman. But the tea-tycoon wasn’t satisfied with merely renting, he wanted to buy – that is, he wanted to marry A-mi. When he took the issue up with the madam, she allowed that anything was possible for a man of his means, so long as the price was right. And so, after a brief negotiation and at no little cost, Tsiu Sing purchased A-mi’s indenture, freeing her from the brothel. What’s more, he plunked down another fat bundle of cash as a prenuptial gift for his bride-to-be, with the promise of an annuity.
Sing bought her out of the brothel,
Spent in the thousands to seal the betrothal – Indeed, none were as free with money as he!
When Ong Kin got wind of the deal he had to sit down and pour himself a stiff drink, such was his surprise and dismay. His friend and business partner engaged to the very woman he’d almost died over! Had the fool lost his mind?
Kin, an honest, upright man,
Abhorred his brother’s feckless plan:
She who’d nearly cost his life, He now would take as lawful wife!
Indeed, he looked with great dubiety, On she of notoriety.
But left he did his doubts unsaid, And soon the two were wed.
***
In Taiwan, Tsiu Sing thrived;
At home, his family barely survived.
Soon after Tsiu Sing’s departure, Guat-li gave birth to a healthy baby boy, now approaching his second birthday, but she still hadn’t heard from the boy’s father.
Guat-li: Even if he’s not earned enough to send money home, at very least he should let us know how he’s faring.
The faithless scoundrel!
What of his avowal To see us clear of debt?
Two years have passed and no word from him yet!
Poorer than ever before, the family subsisted on a diet of wild greens and watery porridge.
Were it not for the daughter-in-law’s diligence, they would surely have starved:
Guat-li spun cloth to make ends meet, For else there’d be no food to eat.
She’d kin to care for, mouths to feed, A family sunk in dire need.
Appalled at his cousin’s behavior, Tsiu A-lak made a trip back to Dragon Creek to inform Tsiu Sing’s family of what he’d done. After exchanging greetings, wife and parents made anxious inquiries as to Tsiu Sing’s whereabouts and wellbeing. A-lak first apprised them of Sing’s dizzying rise from poverty to riches, then broke the bad news:
Tsiu A-lak then spoke his piece:
After a short silence, old Tsiu Un spoke up, voice quaking in indignation:
Tsiu Un: Taking a concubine, all very well. But letting us starve…may he rot in hell!
He’s made a fortune selling teas, Enjoys a life of wealth and ease – From rags to riches in a trice, And send us not a grain of rice!
Shocked at the magnitude of her husband’s betrayal – his sheer, unmitigated audacity – minutes passed before Guat-li found her voice.
First, the cash he failed to send, And now he’d abandoned them!
Ever loath to execrate, Now she didn’t hesitate:
Guat-li: Damn him!
The one I loved the most,
The one to whom I pledged my troth, A cad, a heel, a rake –
To wed the man: a great mistake!
She swore again, angry and bitter:
If the child is weaned by the end of the winter, We’ll cross the Strait to find him.
At home, devotion defined him – In Taiwan, he’s let lust blind him.
I’ll track him down, of that no doubt, Find the rogue and call him out!
***
Outraged at his son’s unfiliality, Tsiu Un fell ill and took to his bed. Fevered and delirious, the patriarch praised Guat-li but abominated Tsiu Sing:
A daughter-in-law so wise and kind – Damn that no good son of mine!
Better old and childless,
Than father to one so conscienceless.
Incensed, the old man choked and sputtered – Invectives shouted, curses muttered!
Poor Guat-li could not control The raging pater’s vitriol.
Ever the faithful daughter-in-law, Guat-li tried to comfort the old man, assuring him she would see the family through to better times.
Feigning a smile and fighting back tears, She said to the elder, a man of great years:
“When sick and abed, one mustn’t repine, For worries and cares unsettle the mind.”
Indeed, she put on a good face for friends and neighbors as well.
Her laughter rang with false good cheer, So to all it would appear
She had no sorrows, worried not, Of wayward husband, scarce a thought.
But looks, my friends, can be deceiving – For in her heart she still was grieving.
Anger and resentment burned – She held no hope for his return.
Tsiu Un went from bad to worse, In fitful dreams he raged and cursed, Wracked with fever, chills and pain – They prayed to Buddha, all in vain.
Consumed by his son’s dereliction, No doctor could cure his affliction.
His breath grew fainter by hour and day, It was plain to see he’d soon slip away.
Guat-li was beside herself with grief:
Guat-li: Papa, don’t leave us! Daddy, don’t go! Your grandson needs you – how can I raise him alone?
But soon she heard death’s awful rattle – Old Tsiu had lost his final battle.
Friends and neighbors offered prayers, And sounds of mourning filled the air.
The entire Tsiu clan – uncles, cousins, nephews – pitched in to defray the cost of funeral expenses: a casket, Buddhist monks to chant sutras, a Taoist priest to conduct the rites, and a feng shui adept to divine an auspicious burial site, none of which came cheap. At
the appropriate day and hour, Tsiu Un was laid away, high on a sunlit mountainside, at peace at last.
***
Guat-li was set on crossing over to Taiwan to find Tsiu Sing, determined that he should meet his responsibilities as husband, father, and man. Borrowing yet again from
sympathetic friends and family, she managed to scrape up boat fare for herself and the tot.
After leaving the house in a relative’s care, mother and child boarded a Taiwan-bound freighter, with a satchel of worn clothing, one or two rice dumplings, a supply of water, and little else. Halfway across the treacherous currents of the Taiwan Strait, ugly black clouds rose up, followed by strong winds and heavy rains. Tall, roiling waves lashed the boat:
The tiny vessel pitched and tossed, And those on board thought all was lost – Forlorn beneath a darkened sky,
In ocean waters doomed to die.
But the captain, a veteran helmsman who’d made the perilous crossing more times than anyone could remember, somehow kept the ship from capsizing, until, finally, the storm had passed. Soon the lush green mountains of Taiwan appeared on the horizon:
The seasick, weary passengers, At sight of land broke into cheers – On shoulders hoisted sons and daughters, Safe at last in harbor waters!
***
The ship put in at the port of Tamsui. A crowd of family and friends had turned out to meet the new arrivals, more than half of whom were wives and children whose husbands and fathers had established themselves in Taiwan before sending for loved ones, the dock the scene of many a joyous reunion. When all had gone their various ways, only Guat-li and the remained on the pier, alone and destitute. How would they get to Taipei’s Twatutia district, where A-lak had told her she would find Tsiu Sing’s tea emporium?
New to Taiwan, Guat-li asked the way;
A man pointed out a passenger dray –
With no money for fare, she swallowed her pride, Bowed to the driver and asked for a ride.
Guat-li: Please, kind sir, I beg you, have pity! Spare us a seat; take us into the city.
My husband’s a merchant, a man well-to-do – he’ll pay for your services, handsomely too!
But the coachman refused her, Cursed and abused her, With words too vile to quote –
So mother and son set out on foot.
On she went with the babe on her back, All they that owned in an old haversack.
The day was hot, dusty and dry, The noonday sun, an unblinking eye.
Now, had Guat-li been on her own, she would never have stooped to begging, for food or anything else. Poor as they were, she had her pride – she’d always worked for everything she and the family needed. But the baby was hungry, colicky and crying.
They begged door-to-door as they went on their way, But hard-hearted householders turned them away.
Mother and child, weary and beaten, Days had passed since they’d last eaten.
What had they done to deserve such a fate?
And when would they reach Taipei?
***
As the sun was setting, they crested a rise,
And what should appear to their hunger-pained eyes?
A sea of commerce, a vast expanse:
Food stalls, kiosks, roadside stands.
Crowds of people –
Eating and drinking, laughing and talking;
Touts and pitchmen –
Singing the praises of goods they were hawking.
.
Fragrant aromas taunted their noses; spread before them, bounty of foodstuffs such as they’d never seen:
Plump juicy sausages, candied tomatoes,
Plump juicy sausages, candied tomatoes,