Without my strict supervision, heaven knows what kind of girl she will turn out to be, she thought.

  The more Ho De spoiled her, the harder she had to discipline that child. It would have been much easier just to stop her husband from spoiling Yan with his little treats, but Jin Lai’s upbringing only allowed her to obey Ho De and not to contradict him. In a family, a husband ruled. She shook her head.

  “Yan!” Ho De called, as he gently pushed her door open.

  Soft, melancholy music wafted around his ears, and with it, the sad song of a lonely young heroine burying fallen flower petals in the classic tragedy, Dream of the Red Chamber. Yan was leaning against her window like a statue. She stared at the dim lights in the distance as tears streamed down her cheeks and made two wet spots on the front of her blouse.

  Ho De walked quietly to the radio and turned it off. Only then did Yan notice his presence.

  “Dad,” she breathed in a barely audible voice.

  “You have listened to this song too many times,” Ho De said gently, trying to give her some fatherly advice. “Dream of the Red Chamber is good literature, but too sad for a sensitive girl like you.”

  Yan flushed as Ho De stared at her puffy, red eyes.

  “You are a smart young lady,” Ho De went on, trying to gloss over her embarrassment. “I’ve decided to tutor you myself, and soon, you’ll be the first girl in our family to read and write.”

  “What? What did you say, Dad?” Yan couldn’t believe what she had just heard. She blinked her eyes again and again to make sure she was not dreaming.

  “I’ve decided to teach you to read and write,” he repeated a word at a time, still wondering whether he had made the right decision.

  “Really?” Yan’s face brightened up.

  “Yes,” Ho De promised.

  “Thank you, Dad! Thank you!” she said, as her eyes welled up with tears again, this time with happiness and gratitude.

  “It’s my pleasure, daughter. I should have done it sooner.” Ho De was pleased that Yan embraced his idea with such enthusiasm.

  He then presented Yan with the gift box and told her that he would teach her Chinese, mathematics, and calligraphy.

  He did not know it, but Ho De was fulfilling his daughter’s secret wish. Yan had always wanted to go to school, although she never said so. Sometimes, she wished she was a boy, since she believed boys could do anything they wanted. She knew that all her boy cousins attended school, while most of her girl cousins stayed home learning knitting and embroidery. Now, she could do schoolwork at home! Soon, she would be able to read books and newspapers, put her most secret feelings on paper, and write down songs from radio broadcasts … imagine that!

  As she untied the gift wrapping, and took out the pencils, writing brush, and notebooks one at a time, she could see herself filling the paper with words, her own words. I will work hard and make Dad proud. I will read and write from morning till night if that will help make me a good student. Yan was determined to impress Ho De. Her eagerness drove her to absorb every bit of new knowledge, like a dry sponge dropped into a bucket of water.

  Home schooling went well. As his confidence in her grew, Ho De even allowed her to cross the street to the Wellington Clock Shop by herself when he was too busy to come home on time. He would teach her in the manager’s office so she would not miss her lessons. Back home, she never stopped reading and practicing her calligraphy. She did all her homework and was eager to get more. Between her radio, homework, and the arrival of her brother, life was getting more satisfying. Still, there was still a hollow feeling in her heart that could never be filled by anything other than her real family. She missed them and could never find an answer as to why she was given away. Instead of letting her feelings subside, her obsession to find both her real family and the truth grew stronger over time. Since she couldn’t ask Ho De and Jin Lai, she suppressed her feelings and put her energy into learning and becoming somebody.

  After only one year of home schooling, Yan reached the third grade. Ho De was very proud of her, both as her teacher and as her parent. To celebrate, he took her to his store and presented her with a dozen gold watches of the latest European design. He asked her to pick any one of the twelve to keep. Looking over the parade of gleaming, ticking watches, Yan felt at a loss. She was not drawn to any one of them. What really caught her attention was a slim, three-inch-long object inlaid with ivory. On it was an image of a crouching lion with the exotic word “Cyma” engraved on its tail. On the other side, inscribed in stainless steel, it proclaimed, “On time, all the time.”

  She shyly avoided the eyes around her, pointed her index finger toward the object with the lion on it and hesitated. “What is this, Dad?”

  It was a pocketknife. For every dozen gold watches the store bought, there was a bonus knife in the package for promotional purposes. And that was what she wanted. She liked the lion. She liked its smooth touch and the practicality of its being a knife.

  “Are you sure you want this knife and not a watch?” Ho De wanted to make sure that his daughter was happy.

  Yan nodded with glee.

  “When you do well the next time, will you let Dad buy you a watch?”

  “Yes, father.”

  Yan was very happy that day. On the way back home, her fingers clasped her father’s big, firm hand tightly while with the other hand she held her trophy knife against her heart. She could see her tears twinkling on her lashes as she blinked her eyes. I’ll always treasure this moment and take care of this knife, she thought. And she did, for she never lost the knife, or sold it during hard times. Yan kept it with her throughout her life. It even traveled to the western frontier with her.

  Yan’s life became more settled and enjoyable with home schooling, occasional outings with her dad as rewards for her academic achievements, and her favorite companion, the radio. She grew fonder of her little baby brother and learned to cook and take care of all the household chores whenever the maids and serving ladies left. This happened more and more often since none of them stayed long. They were either fired by her ill-tempered mother or ran away after a few days of backbreaking labor. Instead of changing her ways, her mother only became pickier and less compromising after each servant was fired. She was always angry and thought they were stupid or lazy—or both. Somehow, no maid could ever follow her commands quickly enough. She never liked any of them anyway, but she could not live without their help, for she could not, and would not, do any housework herself.

  Without servants, life would have come to a halt. Fortunately, Yan always intervened. Being a good observer and a quick learner, she was able to perform most chores early in life. She found herself cooking and washing dishes and clothes for the family, but it never seemed to please her mother, who reacted to her doing more by making more and more cutting remarks.

  “You were born to be a servant.”

  “You must have been a servant in your last lifetime.”

  “When did you learn that? I would never want to do that!”

  Her mother screamed in horror one day when she saw Yan’s bloody hands after she had gutted a fish and scooped out its stomach.

  “Mother,” little Yan innocently replied. “I’m making your favorite fish dish for dinner tonight.”

  Her mother waved her arms and stamped her feet. “If you do everything, what’s left for you to say to the servants when you have a family?”

  Those were the typical rebukes Yan would get for helping out when the servants ran off. She was even beaten a couple of times by her mother for having spiced the food with a little too much salt or breaking a plate. Housework was not rewarding for her.

  Chapter IX

  Treasure … and Pirates on

  the China Sea

  Though she would be hard-pressed to say exactly when she first noticed it, Yan began to feel an air of brooding hanging over the family. There were secretive murmurs behind locked doors. There were unfamiliar relatives who came to call. There were firm handshakes and serious faces that made her wonder.

  Sure enough, one day, her parents summoned her. It must be serious, Yan said to herself, when her eyes met her parents’ as she entered the living room. Her father and mother were sitting on two exquisitely carved, extra-large mahogany armchairs with such straight, high backs that they made even her father, who was a very tall man, seem small. There were four such chairs in the living room and a matching tea table in between each pair. Yan knew that her parents reserved such formal settings exclusively for serious events.

  Are they going to give me back to my own family?

  Has something gone horribly wrong?

  Have I done anything bad?

  Yan kept guessing.

  Her father motioned for her to come closer, and she walked gingerly toward them with little steps, hoping she would not be reprimanded. His first words told her it wasn’t anything like that, but as the conversation went on, her anxiety grew.

  Having been carved into foreign concessions, Shanghai was then subject to the rules and laws of several different nations. To maintain international peace, each of these small “foreign countries” within the city coexisted and respected each other, creating a safe haven for foreign businessmen and rich Chinese families alike. Lately, however, worries plagued the city, causing chaos. Fanned by rumors that Communist Party troops were approaching and the ruling Nationalists were secretly planning a retreat to an unknown place, rich and influential foreigners were packing up the fortunes they had made in Shanghai and sending them to safer harbors.

  As the city became more unstable and unpredictable, the Gu clan finally held a meeting. They decided to charter a big boat, load up the family’s wealth, and ship it back to their ancestral hometown near Ningbo. Because of the size of the boat, each family was only allowed to send two members.

  Ho De and Jin Lai talked long and hard about who would accompany the ten trunks they had filled with their most valuable possessions. Ho De could not leave his job, and his wife had to take care of their son who was too small and tender to go on a rough sea trip. That left Yan. Ho De worried that she was too young to travel alone, but Jin Lai pointed out that the boat would be filled with other relatives, and she would not have to handle anything herself. Ho De reluctantly agreed, and the sailing was set to take place in a week’s time. He did insist on her having a guardian and arranged that, once she got to the destination, she would live with Lao Ma, the caretaker of their ancestral family estate.

  At 15, Yan longed for adventure, but her feelings about going to Ningbo were mixed. She still remembered the last sea voyage she took when she left for Shanghai. She could smell and taste the bitter, salty air and remembered the fear of sailing with strangers into an ocean of uncertainty. Didn’t Jin Lai grab her arm and pull her onto the boat, while she struggled to get off? No one came to the dock to see her off, not her own mother, not her older brother who always protected her, not anyone. Drowned by her own tears and emotion, she didn’t remember much of the voyage and how she arrived in Shanghai. She hated the water. She hated the big steamboat. Since then, the same water had consumed her father, the man she loved more than anyone. But in her mind, Arh Chin was now also part of that water, and this trip would offer her an opportunity to be with him. Would Arh Chin be upset that she had another father? Does it matter now? I just want to be where he is. Oh, how I miss him!

  Yan was aware of the dangers. On her radio, she heard about pirates roaming the seas and how people were kidnapped and kept on faraway uncharted islands until huge ransoms were paid. A number never came back and those family members who refused to pay the pirates sometimes received packages containing the chopped-off body parts of their unlucky relatives. It was a time when “Shanghai” lived up to its name as a verb more than a noun, and the China Sea was a war zone filled with greedy outlaws and gruesome stories. But what was the use of worrying over every possible danger? After all, not everyone who went to sea was kidnapped.

  In front of her seated parents, Yan silently nodded her head and agreed to go. Ho De and Jin Lai smiled and praised her for being a dutiful and obedient daughter. They then revealed a stunning secret that at the same time pained and pleased her: They told Yan that half of the trunks contained her dowry, which they had prepared for her future, and that they loved her like a real daughter.

  On the morning of her departure, a special black taxi was hired to take Yan and the trunks to the Shanghai harbor where the boat was docked. As they stopped at the pier, Yan could see laborers using thick straw ropes to tie trunks and boxes to bamboo poles, which were then lifted by two men, one at each end. They sang a rhythmic chant to synchronize their work and walked up the thin wooden planks connecting the dock to all the boats lined up at the pier.

  Quite a few rich families were loading up that day. Most of the passengers were middle-aged women and young children. Many passengers wore flashy silk garments and fur coats, and shiny gems encrusted their fingers. They had to be helped up the narrow walks into the boats, which were gently rocking from side to side.

  Yan was introduced to a distant aunt who would be her chaperone for the trip and settled down next to her as the boat pulled slowly away from the pier. Yan waved good-bye to everyone on the dock until they disappeared. Then she turned toward the water. The bow waves foamed as the boat started to pick up speed, heading along the China coastline.

  The voyage proved to be the worst decision the Gu family clan ever made. What was supposed to be a day trip became a two-week ordeal, and when it finally came to an end, most of the family’s fortune went into the pockets of pirates.

  Later, they learned that danger had been present even before the boat sailed away. Pirates were apparently monitoring the harbor’s activities, searching for easy targets—boats that were loaded with goods and women. They knew where they could find the best pickings just by counting the number of diamond rings that went into a boat. Whatever was in the trunks and boxes was gravy. The boat the Gu clan had hired appeared to be their best opportunity for the day. A pirate ship shadowed the unwary boat. When they reached a remote section of the coast, dotted by small, uncharted islands, several pirate ships in the area attacked and robbed Yan’s boat. The women and children aboard panicked, and the boat was captured without a fight.

  The able-bodied crew held up their hands and surrendered almost too quickly, raising questions later as to whether or not they had any connection with the pirates. But for now, it was everyone for him or herself.

  Yan was resting in a deckchair when she heard a commotion. Before she could open her eyes—PLOP!—a huge, fat woman fell on top of her, knocking the wind out of her.

  “Pirates! Pirates! They’re climbing up onto the ship!” she shouted, before struggling to her feet and running off. Yan looked around: The boat was lurching violently, and the deck beneath her feet was shaking with footsteps. She quickly woke up her dozing aunt, who was half asleep and disoriented. They moved around aimlessly in search of a hiding place. When the aunt spotted a pile of coal ashes, she smeared them all over Yan’s face, hands, and clothes. She undid her pigtails and messed up her hair.

  “You are dirty, plain, and thin as a stick—you look like an ugly little servant girl,” the aunt comforted her. “No one will bother with you.” But the fat under her chin trembled as she moved her lips, and Yan did not feel so sure.

  With Yan safely transformed, the aunt began furiously applying ashes to herself, but halfway through, she realized it wouldn’t work. She stared sadly at her spoiled brocade jacket and fur coat. Her diamond rings and gold bangles sparkled even under the grime. She realized that to look like a servant herself, she would have to get rid of all her finery and her beloved jewelry, so instead, she and Yan frantically began looking for a hiding place.

  Their search ended seconds later as the bandits swarmed around them, holding knives and grinning as the women screamed. The boat was commandeered and taken to a wild island where the brigands opened and inspected all their loot. Trunks and boxes were tossed overboard to bare-chested men standing in the surf. Gold, jewels, jade, rare boxwood carvings, and the greatest treasures of cosmopolitan Shanghai soon disappeared into the island’s wild thickets, never to be seen again. The passengers were all left stranded on the boat, except for one of Yan’s distant cousins. She was taken by the pirates, along with her trunks and boxes, leaving her mother behind, weeping and moaning.

  Later, Yan learned that the head of the outlaws wanted her cousin to be his mistress and would not release her. It took her family a fortune and months of negotiations to get her back. But after her release, her university-educated fiancé broke off their engagement when he heard a rumor that she was not a virgin anymore.

  Back on the boat, the provisions stocked for what was supposed to be a day trip were quickly consumed. Everyone was living on dried salty fish and rice porridge made with sea water. The more they ate, the thirstier they got. With no fresh water and no rescue in sight, Yan felt weak and dozed by her aunt’s side most of the time. She could not eat. The very smell of fish and porridge made her want to throw up. She was also scared. What were the bandits going to do with her and all the people on board? Stories of hostages being cut up and mailed home in pieces haunted her. She felt homesick and missed her parents and her little brother who was just becoming a wonderful chatterbox, eager to ask every silly question in the world. Most of all, she missed her radio with all her favorite operas. But she was glad that it wasn’t there, or the pirates would surely have taken that away, too. Would she be able to get home? It didn’t look that easy. They were being watched closely. They took away her favorite silver necklace and bracelet set, which she had been wearing for as long as she could remember. Did her parents, or anyone, even know that she and everyone on the boat had been kidnapped?