upon.
Yik-Munn accepted the merchant’s offer gratefully; less than one more year and he would be rid of Li-Xia, and his life would be complete. He set her to work in the godown, or warehouse, with orders for the dockworkers to keep an eye on her. The long, low-roofed wharf shed faced the river, its large doors opened wide to invite fresh air, but the mixed smells of peppercorns, nutmeg, black beans, and drying garlic were overpowering. This was where the harvested and winnowed spices were sorted, weighed, and packed to await shipment.
Li-Xia was set the task of filling sacks, bins, boxes, stone jars, and clay pots—three scoops of spice to one scoop of sweepings from the floor—with a rag around her mouth and nose. Yik-Munn had insisted she mustwear gloves at all times; if she could not be graced with lotus feet, her hands must be those of a weaver, with hummingbird fingers soft and nimble enough that they might one day caress the lordly limbs of the great Ming-Chou.
Ah-Su, who performed the task of comprador from an office of her own, a hut at the end of the loading dock, commanded much respect and was left to herself, keeping tally of the cargoes that filled the holds of the sampans and junks and other boats on the river.
Recognizing that the godown was no place for the child, she convinced Yik-Munn that Li-Xia would be better used helping her—fetching tea and tidying her office—than risking her health and her precious fingers among the crude boys who labored in the godown. He agreed, on the condition that the girl did not shame him further by trying to rise above her lowly station, forbidding her to be taught the mischief of letters and figures.
Number Three had the child properly bathed and dressed, and gave her a bed to replace the mattress on the boards of the rice shed, as well as a chest to keep her things in and and a bucket to fetch water. She even hung a scrap of pretty curtain at the window, and set a vase of wildflowers on the sill, but most important of all was an old desk with a mended chair, matches, and a box of candles.
She was given a seat of her own in a corner of the small, well-ordered tally office.
“You may sit here if you are quiet and cause me no concern. See that there is fresh tea in the pot, and the water jar is always filled. You will fetch the rice and if I need you to run an errand, I will tell you.”
Ah-Su did not smile, but said with firmness, “If you wish to grow brains, you may watch and listen. Learn what it is to be a comprador. In this office I am no longer Ah-Su, Number-Three Aunt—I am your teacher. But this must be our secret.” She looked down at Li-Xia with eyes that smiled. “I cannot teach you to read; it will make much trouble and is difficult to hide. But that you will one day learn what it is to be a scholar like your mother is as sure as the rising of the sun.”
Li-Xia spent almost six months in the corner of the office, happy todo as she was told, fascinated by the tallying of figures and the transfer of spice cargoes from the wharf to the open hatches and into the holds of river junks. It was a joy to discover that she could keep things in her mind and find answers to questions that she asked herself. Ah-Su was contented with her company, speaking to her often and answering her questions with thoroughness and patience, showing her approval at the brightness of her little assistant’s mind.
One morning, she delighted Li-Xia with the gift of a broken abacus: “Take this, and if you can mend it with the right number of beads, you may try to use it, but let no one see you.”
Ah-Su was amazed at the speed and accuracy with which Li-Xia learned the abacus with little coaching. “You have the fingers and the brains of your mother.”
When Yik-Munn appeared unexpectedly and caught Li-Xia with the abacus, he snatched it from her and trampled it into matchwood. That this defiant creature was idly wasting time seated on a chair and playing with a frame of
Yik-Munn accepted the merchant’s offer gratefully; less than one more year and he would be rid of Li-Xia, and his life would be complete. He set her to work in the godown, or warehouse, with orders for the dockworkers to keep an eye on her. The long, low-roofed wharf shed faced the river, its large doors opened wide to invite fresh air, but the mixed smells of peppercorns, nutmeg, black beans, and drying garlic were overpowering. This was where the harvested and winnowed spices were sorted, weighed, and packed to await shipment.
Li-Xia was set the task of filling sacks, bins, boxes, stone jars, and clay pots—three scoops of spice to one scoop of sweepings from the floor—with a rag around her mouth and nose. Yik-Munn had insisted she mustwear gloves at all times; if she could not be graced with lotus feet, her hands must be those of a weaver, with hummingbird fingers soft and nimble enough that they might one day caress the lordly limbs of the great Ming-Chou.
Ah-Su, who performed the task of comprador from an office of her own, a hut at the end of the loading dock, commanded much respect and was left to herself, keeping tally of the cargoes that filled the holds of the sampans and junks and other boats on the river.
Recognizing that the godown was no place for the child, she convinced Yik-Munn that Li-Xia would be better used helping her—fetching tea and tidying her office—than risking her health and her precious fingers among the crude boys who labored in the godown. He agreed, on the condition that the girl did not shame him further by trying to rise above her lowly station, forbidding her to be taught the mischief of letters and figures.
Number Three had the child properly bathed and dressed, and gave her a bed to replace the mattress on the boards of the rice shed, as well as a chest to keep her things in and and a bucket to fetch water. She even hung a scrap of pretty curtain at the window, and set a vase of wildflowers on the sill, but most important of all was an old desk with a mended chair, matches, and a box of candles.
She was given a seat of her own in a corner of the small, well-ordered tally office.
“You may sit here if you are quiet and cause me no concern. See that there is fresh tea in the pot, and the water jar is always filled. You will fetch the rice and if I need you to run an errand, I will tell you.”
Ah-Su did not smile, but said with firmness, “If you wish to grow brains, you may watch and listen. Learn what it is to be a comprador. In this office I am no longer Ah-Su, Number-Three Aunt—I am your teacher. But this must be our secret.” She looked down at Li-Xia with eyes that smiled. “I cannot teach you to read; it will make much trouble and is difficult to hide. But that you will one day learn what it is to be a scholar like your mother is as sure as the rising of the sun.”
Li-Xia spent almost six months in the corner of the office, happy todo as she was told, fascinated by the tallying of figures and the transfer of spice cargoes from the wharf to the open hatches and into the holds of river junks. It was a joy to discover that she could keep things in her mind and find answers to questions that she asked herself. Ah-Su was contented with her company, speaking to her often and answering her questions with thoroughness and patience, showing her approval at the brightness of her little assistant’s mind.
One morning, she delighted Li-Xia with the gift of a broken abacus: “Take this, and if you can mend it with the right number of beads, you may try to use it, but let no one see you.”
Ah-Su was amazed at the speed and accuracy with which Li-Xia learned the abacus with little coaching. “You have the fingers and the brains of your mother.”
When Yik-Munn appeared unexpectedly and caught Li-Xia with the abacus, he snatched it from her and trampled it into matchwood. That this defiant creature was idly wasting time seated on a chair and playing with a frame of
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