Scarring Jasmine-Chapter Twenty Nine Opium

09/28/2024 Saturday 65-72F Rain

Although First Madam had told Jasmine that it didn’t need to be a routine to bid the morning greeting in person, Jasmine still did it every day.

“You are a good girl of many merits.” First Madam praised, “It is easy for a girl to get fondness from men, but hard to get it from another woman. I do like you.” She finished her pipe. “Cook me another one!” She spoke to a maid. The maid took over the pipe, opened a small wood box, and used a long needle to take a pea-sized piece of dark opium from it; then she held the opium over the flame of a lamp, turned the needle patiently to make sure it would be thoroughly cooked into a golden stretchy gooeyness; at last she quickly transferred the bubbling paste into the pipe and handed it back to First Madam.

A mysterious faint aroma scented the room. First Madam took a deep puff; her face looked softened. She noticed that Jasmine was watching curiously, thus she held out the pipe to her: “Try some! It is very entertaining! It can soothe your nerve and relax your body. You have been wrapped too tight; you should loosen up!”

Jasmine accepted the pipe hesitantly. “I am not lying to you. Try it.” First Madam encouraged. Jasmine took a smoke but coughed right after. “I am sorry elder sister. Perhaps I am just not suited to it.” 

First Madam smiled: “I was like you when I first tried it. I bet the second puff will make you feel good. The interesting thing about opium is, it tastes better and better every time you smoke it. People say it is harmful to the health, and will cause addiction, but I don’t think so. Without it, perhaps I would have been dead for a long time. It is my medicine, my spiritual sustenance; it cured my pains and helped me forget all the unhappiness.” She puffed on the pipe, slowly breathing out a swirl of smoke. It lingered in that lonesome room, blending with the fragrance of roses and eaglewood incense, creating a particular and charming smell. “Every day I smoke no more than six pipes. As long as you can control the amount, then it will only do good for you. Now you try another puff, see whether this time it tastes better to you or not.” Jasmine did. A strange pleasure started to spread through her body, she felt lazy yet comfortable—Just like a tipsy person bathing in the sun among the flowers. 

“Feel good, right?” First Madam wore a loving smile, “Lie down on the daybed, make yourself at ease. Poor kid, you blame yourself too much. You don’t understand, a woman’s youth is very short, perhaps just eight to ten years. You ought to enjoy it as much as you can because you will use the rest of your life to memorialize it.” The maid brought a pillow and put it under Jasmine’s head. “When I was your age,” First Madam gazed at the roof beam, “I just had my elder son. I wasn’t as pretty as you, but probably due to my position, people all complimented me on my appearance.” She slowly pushed up her sleeve to show Jasmine her arm, “At that time, my arms were round and full, which even couldn’t allow me to slide on the bangles of a similar size as yours. I had a plump face, soft cheeks; and my eyes were twinkling and clear. Youth is a such wonderful thing, especially when you are a princess. I had a lot of admirers then, and I admired someone.”

She chuckled, “I don’t mind telling you that when I was sixteen, I fell in love with a young man. He was the gardener in my parents’ house. Every morning he picked the freshest flowers and sent them to my maid, so when I woke up the first thing I could see were those flowers blooming in my vase. One day the flowers he sent were peonies. You don’t know how large and beautiful they were!” She opened her two skinny hands and showed Jasmine a big ball shape in the air. “I was so impressed so I told myself that I must say thank you to that gardener in person. The next morning, I woke up early and walked into the garden. From a distance I saw a young man picking roses, who already had a big bunch in his arm. 

‘You must be yesterday’s peony man!’ I spoke to him. 

‘Yes, young mistress.’ He smiled at me; his smile was so soft that I instantly fell in love with him. He handed me the roses, ‘Be careful, there are thorns.’ 

‘Can I come to see you again tomorrow morning?’ I was courageous enough to ask him that question. 

‘Yes, young mistress. I will be here.’ 

I don’t know whether it could be called a date or not; I had dated with him for about half a month. Then one morning I didn’t find him in the garden. I asked another gardener about him and was told that he was fired by my father. It was my fault; I wasn’t careful enough; I put him in danger. But I always had a strange feeling that he must have died rather than having been fired, because several days later I dreamt about him. He stood still around twenty feet away from me, holding a big bunch of roses and looking at me miserably. The roses were bleeding; then he turned his back to me. 

‘Where are you going?’ I called to him in my dream. He didn’t answer and vanished. 

Nobody was willing to tell me what exactly happened to him; so I had to convince myself that he was still alive, working in a large garden, and got married, having his own children.”

Jasmine moved her eyes to the roses in the vase. Yes, there were roses all the time; this was the way First Madame memorialized her love. Jasmine thought of Yu and his earrings; she sighed.

“A few months later, another young man showed up. He was a guest from Wuxi; his grandfather knew my grandfather; and his father was my father’s friend. You probably already figured out who he was; he was master Qian. His grandfather and father were big salt merchants, who had monopolized this area’s market for decades. That year his father was accused by two business competitors of manipulating the salt price; they apparently had spent money on some government guys because very soon his father was locked up and died in jail one month after. His family lost that lawsuit, as well as all their properties except for the house where they lived.”

“Since he was the only son, and my father was his father’s good friend, Master came to Beijing alone begging for my father’s help. ‘Uncle, please lend me five thousand silver coins! I must resume my father’s business; I can’t let the rivals win!’ 

My father asked curiously: ‘Five thousand isn’t a small sum, you are only sixteen, too young to do anything; Besides, you are my friend’s son, but it doesn’t mean that I am obliged to help you. Can you give me a good reason?’ 

Master replied, ‘I can give you more than one good reason. First, I can work for you for three years without any wage; during this period you can test whether I am qualified or not to get your loan. Second, you will take twenty percent of my profit each year as interest, until the day I pay your debt clean. Third, my father used to tell me that you were his best friend; people will regard you as a generous gentleman by helping an old friend’s son; and finally, you will have my loyalty. Please consider these reasons.’ 

He worked for my father from that day; two years later he got the loan of five thousand coins. Then after another three years, my father got all his five thousand back plus two thousand interest. With that rate of return, my father invested fifty thousand cash in his business right afterward, which partially supported him to beat those two rivals years later and cause their bankruptcies.”

First Madam stopped, sipped some tea from her cup, then went on: “When my father was gravely ill in bed, Master Qian came, and brought his marriage proposal to me. I was twenty-one; I guessed that my father must have thought about him to be his son-in-law for a while, because he never accepted anyone else’s proposal. 

‘Why should I marry my only daughter to you? You know that she will inherit all my fortune.’ My father asked straight, expecting a good answer. 

‘I admire your daughter. I saw her portrait in your study once before when I worked for you; since that day I told myself that I must marry her. Yes, you have a large fortune, but we are business partners. I have the potential to grow your money instead of taking your money.’ 

My father nodded but said: ‘You only saw my daughter’s portrait; you like her because she is young and pretty. But you know nothing about her as a person. I won’t live long; I must find a right man who can cherish her like I did. You are a typical businessman and too young; I don’t think you can do it.’

‘I can.’ he said, ‘Your daughter is the only one whom I will marry; I will cherish her, care for her; I will ask our children to sweep her ancestors’ graveyard every year.’ Those were his promises, so my father married me to him.”

First Madam lowered her eyes. “Actually, I wasn’t the only child in my family. I had an elder sister, whose mother was my father’s concubine and who died when she was three. My mother didn’t like her at all, finding fault with everything she did. But she was nice to me. When she was fourteen and I was twelve, one day she broke my mother’s favorite mirror by accident. My mother used a hair pin to prod her in her face; she begged and cried but all couldn’t stop my mother. That night when I was in bed, I saw my sister come in. 

She stroked my hair, whispering in my ear: ‘Dear sister, I can’t bear it anymore. I am going to look for my own mother. Take care of father and yourself.’ 

I was drowsy and didn’t answer her. Later the same night, some noises woke me up: My sister drowned herself in a well. My mother became ill since the death of my sister; she always yelled at night. Rumor had it that she saw my sister’s ghost. Four years later my mother died. On the day she died she kept using the same pin to prod her own face. If I didn’t see it in person, I would never have believed it. My mother is suffering in Hell, while I live long and rich. Sometimes I think that God must mistake me for someone else, because I am not worthy of what I have. People consider me a significant lady; but my respect was earned by my father and husband, it has nothing to do with me, which is really frustrating.”

“Last night I dreamt about going back to my youth: I held my hair in hand, and I was so thrilled to find that it was in a thick bunch, as thick as my wrist. I told myself that my hair didn’t fall at all, I was still young. Well, then I woke up, and checked my hair immediately, expecting to find the same sized bunch that had appeared in my dream. Of course the reality was very different and disappointing. I forever lost those blooming years! You are too young to understand how horrible it is getting old, bit by bit, just like watching leaves fall one after another from a tree, ruthlessly but fatefully. A man’s blooming years can last much longer than a woman’s; and no matter what the age of the man is, he can always marry young girls. Men are like trees and we are the flowers; a tree can bear a lot of blossoms and each year it will re-bloom, while a flower can only open once; when it fades, it dies. Men also are wind, women are water--The wind blows the water and stirs its mood, then sneaks away. We have to stay in the same place, waiting for either the ripples to stop, or another gust of wind. We are not the master of our lives and men are untrustworthy.”

First Madam instructed the maid to make one more pipe of opium, then she handed it to Jasmine: “In this large house, day by day, year by year, I have nothing to do but listen to crickets chirping. This pipe is my most intimate friend; I don’t need anything else.” 

Jasmine took a puff—The euphoria caused by the drug let her temporarily forget about her troubled past and the uncertain future; she felt that she was drifting in the sky at leisure like a kite, among those soft pure clouds. She was going to fly as high as paradise.