‘To a white devil?’ It was not the proper term for a Caucasian man, but it was the term everyone used.
‘You know as well as I that there are good men among the foreigners.’
‘And bad ones!’
She nodded. ‘I don’t speak English, but you do.’
‘Trade language!’ And she hadn’t used it for several years now. Not since her breasts had grown to their full size.
‘Meet him with me. Help me find out if it is safe.’ Nayao was pleading with her. Neither of them wanted to be separated again. It was too lonely as a half child. They only had each other.
‘Or,’ intoned the Abbott, ‘remain here and walk an honest path.’
As a nun.
Nayao’s eyes pleaded with her. She had faith that she could forge a future outside of China. Out there among the ships where there were people of every race. She had not been stabbed while taking risks with the white men.
‘What do you want?’ Nayao pressed. ‘What future do you long for?’
She didn’t need to ask the question. Nayao knew she wanted a family of her own. ‘B-but among the whites?’ she stammered.
‘Will you find a husband in China?’
No. Not since Ah-Lan had left. But the danger was overwhelming.
‘Do you hate it here so much,’ she asked Nayao, ‘that you will risk everything on a foreigner’s word?’
‘Do you love it here so much,’ her sister returned, ‘that you will give up everything you want to sweep floors in a storeroom? For the rest of your life?’
That wasn’t a fair question. Of all the possible futures, she had built a safe life here. She had charge of the storeroom, a position no half child had ever had before. Certainly not a woman. She managed the accounts for the monks, and that wasno small task. She had worked hard to gain such a position at the temple. And it was a good one.
Well, it was a safe one. But could she do this for the rest of her life? Stay in the temple, sweep floors and click-clack with her abacus as she maintained the accounts?
What an empty life that would be. Especially without her sister beside her.
‘Take the risk with me,’ Nayao pleaded. ‘At least meet the man. Tell me if you think he is honourable.’
Lu-Jing had no faith in her own judgement. Not since she’d been exposed in the Thirteen Factories district because she’d trusted a liar. But she also couldn’t let Nayao leave without fighting to stay together. They had grown up here, each protecting the other. Two half-Chinese girls surviving as best they could. Most souls in Canton cursed the half children. Some of the monks did, as well. But to be a girl half child was to be the most reviled of all.
Neither would have survived without the other.
‘There is no more time,’ the Abbott snapped. ‘Decide now.’
What else could she do? Though the thought of leaving the temple terrified her, being a nun here without Nayao frightened her more.
‘I will come with you,’ she said softly. ‘If only to tell you that generous white men do not exist.’
Except, apparently, they did exist. They met him in a dark corner of the Thirteen Factories district. A place Lu-Jing knew well. Lord Wenshire was an older man with kind eyes and a cough that he tried to cover. Through a translator, he told them a tale of a Chinese woman he’d loved and of their daughter together.
The woman was dead. He had verified that. But the child? He searched their faces, clearly hoping to see traces of the woman he’d loved.
Nayao looked to Lu-Jing, silently asking the question.Do we go with him? Do we trust him?
No and no! And yet, what other chance was there for them? Nayao would not become a nun. It had been foolish to pretend otherwise. She was too wild and free to be content inside the temple walls. So she would take the risk with this Lord Wenshire.
Did Lu-Jing?
‘We go two,’ she said in her rough English. ‘Or no go.’
The man smiled. ‘Together then. My daughters.’