Chapter 4 #2
She shook her head at this irrational notion. The more likely reason was that he simply hadn’t thought about her prospects.
She wasn’t important enough. She wasn’t his daughter.
Her classmates all knew what to expect once they’d graduated.
Once their time at school was finished, Lisan’s friends became very busy young adults.
In the first year after graduation, she received invitations to six weddings.
Most of the marriages were arranged—some with the young woman’s consent, that was true, and always to a husband within their own social class.
Some of her classmates, the serious ones hoping to put off marriage, were going to college abroad or in other provinces.
Others had entered Shanghai society, daringly modern as they attended dances and dinners, frequented theaters and nightclubs.
Escorted by fathers and brothers, some even bet on the horses at the Race Club.
They were from rich families, able to afford such entertainments, their social calendars scheduled so tightly they gave an
illusion of purpose. Ultimately, all her classmates would marry, and then they would belong to their husbands’ families. They
would be under scrutiny, carefully watched for signs of pregnancy, urged to bear sons. So perhaps this nonstop swirl of entertainment
was its own purpose, a time to enjoy being free of responsibilities.
Lisan couldn’t afford such a life, nor did she want one. After giving up her job at St. Clare’s, she passed her days drifting
restlessly. She could only read books for so long, could only window-shop so often. Thus when she’d seen the small advertisement
in the North China Daily News, she applied on impulse, writing a letter in her best penmanship to Mrs. Caroline Stanton. Unexpectedly, she’d received a
reply. Then, even more unexpectedly, she’d been hired.
As Mrs. Stanton’s secretary, she would indeed earn wages and have a place to live. But this merely transferred all her dependence
from Master Liu to a foreign woman. A woman who might not stay in Shanghai very long, a woman who might decide she didn’t
like Lisan after all—and then she would be unemployed. She knew full well what adversities young women suffered if they lacked
family protection. The servants and her old amah often reminded her how lucky she was to have such a kind guardian, how grateful
she should be for his generosity.
Ultimately, Master Liu was all that stood between her and the dirty streets of Shanghai, she thought in resignation as her
eyelids finally began to droop. So if her guardian forbade her to work for Mrs. Stanton, she had to obey.
In the morning, Lisan found Master Liu in the penjing room studying a tiny maple he had recently planted.
He’d put the potted tree on a marble turntable so he could look at it from all sides.
As a child, she had spent many hours fidgeting beside Master Liu, handing him lengths of wire and pruning tools, and he had explained what he was doing so she knew the correct names.
Tree penjing were single trees, also called bonsai in Japanese.
Mountain-and-water penjing were miniature landscapes in a container, with rocks added to represent mountains or islands. Master Liu’s collection contained
both kinds, but he preferred single trees.
“Are you working on a new penjing?” she asked. A question about his collection usually put her guardian in a good mood.
“One does not work on a bonsai,” he said, using the Japanese term. He bent low to peer at the underside of the maple. “You let it work on you. A true master
learns from the tree and envisions how to express himself in the decades to come through the medium of the tree.”
The oldest specimen in Master Liu’s collection was a hundred-and-ten-year-old trident maple. Master Liu had paid a fortune
for the specimen, purchased from a family fallen into poverty. Three generations of scholars had cared for the little tree,
and the man who sold it to Master Liu had wept on his way out.
He straightened up and wiped his hands on a towel. “Lisan, you may take the job at Lennox Manor.”
“Oh, sir! Thank you!” she gasped. This was not at all what she’d expected.
“On one condition,” he continued. “On your day off, you’ll come back home and spend your day here. No visiting with friends
or going to the theater or socializing in cafés. That is all.”
“Yes, of course,” she said. “Thank you, Master Liu. Thank you for allowing this.” She didn’t ask why he’d agreed or how Fourth
Uncle had reversed his initial reluctance. She didn’t want to say anything more in case it made him reconsider.
She could hardly believe it. She had a job again, one where she would live away from home for the first time. It would be an adventure, or at the very least, a first step toward independence.
“One more thing,” he said, turning back to the miniature maple tree. “It seems that Fourth Uncle’s tenant has finally hired
a gardener. He’s hired Yao, on Fourth Uncle’s recommendation.”
Yao.
She could barely hold back an audible intake of breath. Yao would be there. She would see him again.
Master Liu had his driver take Lisan to Lennox Manor in his newest American motorcar, a Cadillac. Traditional though he was
in many ways, Master Liu had a weakness for the latest in automobiles. Lisan suspected he’d started an import business to
indulge his love for cars and hired Mr. Zheng to visit European and American motorcar factories, inspecting and purchasing
the latest luxury vehicles. The garage at the villa currently held three shining automobiles.
This time, at the vehicle’s approach, the gatekeeper at Lennox Manor hurried to open the gates. Lisan suppressed a surge of
panic. What was she doing here? She had never spent a single night away from her home, and here she was moving to a strange
house filled with strangers. It no longer felt like an adventure or a step toward independence; it felt like a mistake.
The door opened and the thin, stern manservant she’d met on the day of her interview frowned at her. “The servants’ entrance
is at the back,” he said, “but you may as well come in now. Quickly. I’ll take you to your room. I’m Chin, Number One Boy.”
She had to treat him carefully. The Number One Boy was the head servant, someone whose goodwill she needed to win even after she had established her status in the hierarchy.
Had she been a white secretary, her authority would’ve been just below that of the Stantons, far above that of the Number One Boy.
As a Chinese employee and a woman, her standing had yet to be defined even though she was categorically not a servant.
“I’ll leave my luggage there and then pay my respects to Mrs. Stanton,” she said, struggling to keep up with his long strides.
He paused and took one of her valises.
“There’s no one home right now except servants,” he said, striding ahead of her. “Master Thomas and Missy Caroline left an
hour ago for a dinner engagement and Master Mason is staying at his club in Shanghai. So when you’ve unpacked, come down to
the kitchen and meet the rest of the household staff over lunch.”
“Will all the staff be there?” she couldn’t help asking, a frisson of excitement traveling up her spine as she thought of
Yao.
Chin shrugged. “Probably. They never miss a meal.”
The floorboards creaked under his cloth-soled shoes as he walked along the hall; he spoke rapidly, pointing at the doors of
the various rooms.
“Except for the ballroom, which is on the third floor, all the public rooms are here on the ground floor,” Chin said. “On
this side of the main hall are rooms that look out onto the back terrace and tennis courts: large parlor and dining room,
library, small breakfast room. This door here is the servants’ entrance from the back terrace. On the other side of this hall
are rooms with windows facing the front of the house: the drawing room, billiards room, smoking room, a small parlor for the
ladies.”
Walking to the end of the main hall, he took her through a door that opened to a narrower corridor with a steep wooden staircase.
“The servants’ hallway and stairs. Through this door is the kitchen, where we eat, the pantry, butler’s pantry, storage. Down
the stairwell is the basement and the servants’ quarters for the houseboys. Now, take these stairs up to the next floor.”
Lisan hoped it wouldn’t take her too long to learn the layout of this huge mansion. She hurried behind Chin; the steep and narrow staircase led to a small landing and two doors.
“This is your bedroom,” he said, opening one door. “It’s supposed to sleep two or three maidservants. It’s close to the mistress’s
room, which is through that door to the main hall. Missy Caroline put a desk in your room so you can use it as bedroom and
office. Your bathroom is through the other door. Come down to the kitchen for lunch as soon as you’ve put away your things.”
She barely heard him descend the stairs, so silently did he move on his cloth-soled shoes. Lisan looked around the room, which
was small and made smaller by heavy, dark furniture. At least there was a window with a view of lawns and a small lake with
willows. She quickly put away her garments and piled her books on top of the desk. She would take a closer look at her new
living quarters later. She didn’t want to be late to her first lunch with the rest of the household servants.
But something drew her back to the window, where her gaze fell upon the lake. The willows leaned toward the water, the tips
of their branches brushing so close to the surface they almost touched. Then the light shifted and for a moment she saw a
ripple of red behind the willows. She blinked and it was gone.
Lisan went down the staircase and found the kitchen by following the sound of lively conversation and the smell of food. Two
long tables were in the middle of the space, and the air was fragrant with the scent of steamed rice and a savory stew. The