The Paper Daughters of Chinatown - Heather B. Moore Page 0,38
she knew it was ending.
She was tired, so tired, and she decided she could close her eyes for a few minutes. Then escape later. When she wasn’t exhausted.
“Mei Lien.” The woman’s voice sounded familiar.
But no matter how hard Mei Lien tried to remember, she wasn’t sure where she knew this voice from.
Something shook Mei Lien’s shoulder, and it made her teeth rattle.
The woman spoke again, this time more quietly but also with more force. “Mei Lien. You must wake up now. It’s time to get out. We are here.”
Here? Mei Lien was still tired and knew she could sleep for hours and hours more. But she opened her eyes to see that they’d arrived at an elegant building that was much fancier than the hotel where Uncle and Auntie had taken her. This building towered three stories high, or maybe four. The windows were long and narrow, fitted with red-painted balconies.
And she could smell delicious food. Not rotting vegetables or stinging opium smoke.
She pushed off the bench, her legs feeling wobbly, but Ah-Peen Oie helped her down out of the buggy almost gently. What had happened to cause the woman’s kindness? Even Wang Foo was gazing at her with approval as he stood by the front door, holding it wide for the women.
“Come inside.” The music in Ah-Peen Oie’s tone returned. “We will bathe you, and you’ll wear beautiful clothing. I have a pretty jade comb I’d like you to try on. It will bring out the sparkle in your eyes.”
Mei Lien wanted to laugh at this woman’s words. Was she speaking in jest? One part of Mei Lien’s mind wanted to climb back into the buggy, but the other part propelled her forward. It seemed that her legs and feet agreed with following Ah-Peen Oie wherever she commanded.
The interior of the nice hotel was brightly lit with what must have been electricity—something that wasn’t available in Mei Lien’s village back in Hong Kong. She slowly looked around at the rich furnishings, and at the men who sat among the low tables, many of them smoking pipes of opium mixed with tobacco.
This time, Mei Lien knew better than to cough.
The men noticed the new arrivals, and a few smiled at Ah-Peen Oie. Mei Lien looked at her mistress to see the woman blushing and giving small smiles to the men as if she were able to share wordless signals with them.
The admiration in the men’s gazes caused Mei Lien’s thoughts to jumble. What was this place? And who was Ah-Peen Oie to these men? As they walked through the lobby, the men bowed in turn, and Ah-Peen Oie murmured honeyed greetings.
Mei Lien followed, because Ah-Peen Oie’s grasp was still firm, but Mei Lien’s actions felt as if they were two steps behind her thought processes. By the time she realized this place wasn’t a traditional hotel, she had already been ushered up a flight of stairs. They passed a series of closed doors. At the end of the hallway, a young servant girl with two braids waited, her eyes lowered. She opened a door, and Ah-Peen Oie led Mei Lien through it. They stepped into a small, dark bedroom, lit only by a single lamp, casting the rest of the room in shadows.
Another bedroom. Another hotel. Would she be asked to undress again?
Panic lanced through her stomach, and she twisted away from Ah-Peen Oie’s grasp. Futile, Mei Lien knew, but this time it wasn’t because she dared flee but because she was about to be sick.
“Get her a bowl,” Ah-Peen Oie commanded.
The servant girl produced that bowl, and as Mei Lien retched, Ah-Peen Oie kept her upright, preventing her from collapsing onto the rug and seeking the oblivion she craved.
“You will not be ready tonight,” Ah-Peen Oie said, gripping her shoulders. “By tomorrow, you’d better be cooperative. Or you’ll not taste a morsel of food again.”
Mei Lien heard the words but hadn’t fully processed them until Ah-Peen Oie shook her shoulders. “Did you hear me? Answer.”
“I heard you.” Mei Lien’s voice sounded far away, even to her own ears.
Mercifully, she was led to the bed and told to lie down. This she could do. Sleep. She closed her eyes with a sigh, and even though her stomach felt as if it had been turned inside out, she hoped the ache would ease soon. Yet the bitterness in her mouth and parched state of her throat caused her to risk speaking again. “May I have water?”