The Valley of Amazement Read Online Free Page B

of my day. During that lean hour, she would ask me about the subjects I was learning, and she often would add interesting facts. She would ask about my reported transgressions: what I had done to cause one of the maids to want to kill herself, whether I had been sassy to Golden Dove, how I had torn yet another dress. I offered my opinion on a new courtesan, or on a new hat Mother was wearing, or on Carlotta’s latest antics, and other similar matters that I thought were important to the management of the household.
    Mother had another room adjoining her office. These two rooms were separated by French glass doors with thick curtains for privacy. That room was called Boulevard, because its windows faced a view of Nanking Road and it served several purposes. During the day, I took my lessons there with my American tutors. However, if Mother or Golden Dove had guests from out of town, the visitors were given that room as their accommodations. On occasion, a courtesan showed poor planning or excessive popularity by booking two clients for the same night. She would entertain one client in Boulevard and the other in her boudoir. If she was careful, neither client would know of her duplicity.
    My room was on the north side of the east wing, and being close to the main corridor, it enabled me to hear the gossip of the four maids who stood just around the corner from my window while awaiting orders to bring tea, fruit, or hot towels and such. As they served the courtesan, they were privy to how well she was succeeding with a new admirer. It always puzzled me why the courtesans assumed the maids were deaf.
    “You should have seen her face when the necklace he showed her was worth less than half what she had hoped for. I wasn’t surprised.”
    “Her situation is dire. Within a month, she’ll be gone. Ai-ya, poor girl. She’s too good for this kind of fate.”
    In the early evening, at least one Cloud Beauty would lead her patron to the larger courtyard below for romantic talk about nature. I stood on the walkway and listened to those rehearsed murmurings so often that I could recite them as wistfully as the courtesans. The moon was a topic they brought up often.
    I should be happy seeing the full moon, my love. But I feel sick, because I’m reminded my debts are waxing and your ardor is waning. Why else have you not given me a gift lately ? Should my devotion be rewarded with poverty ?
    It did not matter how generous the patron was. The beauty would press him for more. And often, the long-suffering patron would sigh and tell his courtesan to not cry anymore. He would agree to whatever formula of happiness would quench the girl’s complaints.
    That was usually how it worked. But one night, I heard with glee as a patron said: “If you had your way, there would be a full moon every day. Don’t harangue me with this moon nonsense ever again.”
    In the late morning, I would hear the girls talking in the courtyard among themselves.
    “The cheapskate pretended to be deaf.”
    “Just like that, he agreed. I should have asked months ago.”
    “His love is genuine. He told me I’m not like other flower beauties.”
    By the light of day, they saw different meanings in the sky. How changeable those clouds were, just like fate. They saw ominous signs in wispy streaks high in the sky, noting that they were so far away. They rejoiced when the clouds were as fat as babies’ bottoms, and they were fearful when those babies turned over, showing underbellies that were black. So many Cloud Beauties before them had seen their fates change in one day. They had been warned by the older flower sisters that popularity was as lasting as a fashionable hat. But as their reputations grew, most would forget the warning. They believed they would be the exception.
    On cold nights, I cracked open the window and listened to the maids. On warm nights, I opened wide the window and stood quietly in the dark behind my lattice screen shutters. Carlotta sat on