1898, HONG KONG.
ELIZABETH LEE: Born in Hong Kong as the only daughter of an extremely wealthy man and his concubine, Elizabeth is disposable. A pawn to be bought, sold, and traded - specifically, for the drug, opium, the business in which her fath...
JEALOUS. OF ALL THINGS, HE WAS JEALOUS. THE idea had never occurred to me before, that a man might be jealous because of me. That he might view me as something, someone, that belonged to him—with him—and view another man's greeting as an encroachment upon his territory. Not just William, but any man, really.
My father was quietly confident in the way that perhaps only very rich men can be, not possessive over his wife or any of his concubines because he had the assurance that there was no one better whom they could leave him for. The other men in my life were my uncles, but women were always segregated so rigidly from the men that I rarely saw them interact with their wives. The mere notion that a man might be jealous of me embracing my cousin was an utterly foreign one.
That it was not just any man but my fiancé who was possessive of me, well... The thought would take some time to become accustomed to. I wasn't quite sure that I liked it, or if it was even something I ought to resign myself to. If it was a healthy attitude to have. I was no man's object, trophy, or treasure; not something to be lusted after or paraded around or fiercely guarded.
"What is on your mind, daughter?" My mother asked me in Cantonese, as she pushed an embroidery needle through a length of red silk. Her embroidery was much more skilled than mine, the delicate birds and flowers blooming to life in her hands. "You seem awfully morose today."
I opened my mouth to speak, then paused, unsure of how to collect my thoughts and not even knowing if they were suitable to be spoken aloud. "I was only thinking of the wedding."
"Ah." She deftly tied a knot before breaking the thread off with her teeth. "There is still time enough for you to become prepared for your new life."
Part of me had hoped she would say that there was time enough for her to convince my father to break off this engagement. The other part of me had become resigned to the idea, but that didn't mean I liked it any better. What had I dreamed of when I had dreamed of marriage as a child? To be a man's first choice, his first wife and certainly not a concubine. I hadn't cared if he was handsome as long as he had the capabilities to support a family. I had been practical. He would be a good husband if he did not beat me or commit adultery or drink too much or gamble. If he was a man of God. Now perhaps I would be getting all of those things. But should I have asked for more? should I have asked for love?
"Prepared how?" I asked, trying to stitch a proper design onto my length of cloth. "How should I be prepared, I mean?"
She did not respond for a moment and I waited anxiously, fiddling with my embroidery. "Childbearing."
I made a face, not wishing to speak about this with her, even if she was, for all intents and purposes, my mother. "Mama..."
"Elizabeth, do not blush at such a topic. You have had your yuut geng, you mustn't shy away from such conversations--" (1)
"Mother, I do not wish to talk about this--" I interrupted her.
She levelled me a cold stare that said, Do not interrupt me. Was this how you were raised?
I looked down at my lap, more ashamed of my outburst than I was embarrassed about the conversation. "Apologies."
Her gaze softened. "As I was saying..."
Sighing, I prepared to listen.
☕
"So, tell me about this guaizai (2)," Anna said as we walked through the market. A Mui Tsai walked behind us, carrying our packages and holding a parasol to keep us in the shade (3).
I studied a selection of street food being stir-fried in a wok, avoiding her gaze. "He's... different."
"Different in what way?" she asked. "You've known him for a few weeks now, and you still cannot tell me anything more about the man than he is 'different'? You are going to marry him."
I sighed and ordered some food in Cantonese. "Curry fish ball, please."
As I reached into my pocket for money, Anna kept blathering on. "How tall is he? Is he handsome? What does he look like? What about his family, do they approve?"
I quirked a smile. "Does anyone get married without their family's approval?"
She sighed. "That's not even an answer, Elizabeth."
Life, I was learning, had very few satisfying answers. Why should I grant her one?
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