Chu Ju's House

  At last I understood. Somewhere close by must be the silkworms that fed on the leaves. I gave up my hope of gathering fruit and said, “I need to find work. Will this Ji Rong hire me to gather leaves?”

  “You would be a fool to work for him if you did not have to.” She rolled up her sleeve to show me ugly black-and-blue marks.

  “Why do you stay?”

  “I was sent to work here by an orphanage. If I tried to leave, he would come after me and punish me. Anyhow, where would I go? Here I have a bed and food, and at the end of each month a few yuan.”

  My thoughts flew to Hua. Had I not left, one day she might have been sent from an orphanage to work for someone like this Ji Rong. “I must have work,” I said. “Is there no place else?”

  The girl gathered up her shoulder pole. She pointed away from the rising sun. “Over there is the place of the silkworms. There is work there, but I would rather have Ji Rong’s beatings than the tongue-lashings of the woman.” Before I could ask a further question, she hurried away.

  I had borne Nai Nai’s scoldings, and did not see why I could not bear the scoldings of this woman. I hurried off in the direction the girl had pointed, passing several girls my age and even younger going from tree to tree to gather leaves. If it had not been for their shoulder poles, they could have been playing some game of hide-and-seek among the trees.

  I thought the trees would never end, but I came at last to a long, low building. A doorway stood open. From inside the building came a noise such as I had never heard before. I peered inside. Covering long tables were trays of green leaves, and chewing the leaves were thousands of fat white worms. It was their chewing that I had heard. Moving among the tables were women dressed in white smocks, white masks tied around their faces.

  A hand reached out and pushed me outside so hard that I fell to the ground. A woman was standing over me. I could not believe so small a woman could give so great a push. Like the girls, she wore a white smock and also a mask, which was tied about the lower half of her wrinkled face. She was old and shriveled, as if all the air had been squeezed out of her. Her gray hair was pulled into a knot on the top of her head, and her narrowed eyes looked at me as Nai Nai had looked upon a cockroach that had crept by night into our rice flour. A moment later the cockroach was dead.

  In a whisper she hissed, “You are polluting my worms! How do you dare try to come into this building?”

  “Please, I need a job. Could I tend the worms?”

  “Never! You would poison my worms with your fishy smell.”

  “That is only because I lived on a fishing boat. I could clean myself.”

  Her eyes narrowed even further. “I could not pay you. A bed in the dormitory with the other girls and food. That is all.”

  A bed and food and safety for a bit. I nodded my head.

  “Sit outside, well away from the building,” she ordered. “When the girls stop for lunch, I will send one to show you where to go. Scrub yourself and get back here at once. No garlic. My worms don’t like it.” She caught sight of my jar of fireflies. She snatched it out of my hand and flung it away. With horror I watched it land on a rock and break into pieces.

  “What! You would bring dirty bugs near my beauties! There had better be no more stupidities or I will turn you over to the police. Doubtless you have run away after some mischief.”

  When she left me, I settled down in a bit of shade made by a small stand of bamboo. I did not think the woman would call the police as long as I would work for her without a wage. The sound of the thousands of chewing worms was very loud. All those little mouths at work frightened me. However much I was in want of food and a bed, I did not think I could live each day with such chewing noises. Small as the worms were, they sounded as if they would eat anything in their way.

  The sun was overhead when the girls came out of the building, pulling off their masks and smocks and reaching for pickles and bowls of rice passed to them by a woman who had come loaded with baskets. The day had been hot, and the faces of the girls ran with sweat. One girl hurried over to me, a pigtail bouncing on her back as she ran. In age she was nearly a woman. Her smile was friendly, but she urged me to run alongside her.

  “I am Song Su. Quickly. I must get back or Yong will scold me. The worms should be in their fourth hatch today, but they are slow. That always makes Yong cross.”

  “What do you mean, fourth hatch, and why does that make her cross?”

  Song Su opened a door into a long hut built of wood and roofed with metal. It was so hot inside, I could scarcely breathe.

  “You’ll soon learn,” she said. “The worms eat until they are too fat for their skin. They break out of the skin and start eating again. We starve, while the worms get so fat their skin can’t hold them. Four times the worms molt, and then they spin the cocoon that makes the silk. This is the dormitory. The shower is in that room. Take any bed that does not have some belongings on the chest that sits next to it. No makeup. The worms don’t like the smell.” She ran off.

  I was happy for the shower’s cold water. I scrubbed myself well for the worms and ran back to the building as fast as I could.

  “The fish smell is gone,” Yong said, “but you could not scrub away the stupid look of a country girl.”

  She thrust a mask and smock at me. I struggled into the smock and clumsily tied the mask about my face. Yong pulled me over to a table and handed me a feather.

  In a whisper she said, “These sweethearts are yours. They are a little slow in hatching. You must tickle them with the feather like so.” She brushed the feather over one of the worms and then another. Seeing her gentleness with the worms, I found it hard to believe she was the same woman who had given me such a push. “Mind you don’t miss a single worm or you will not hear the end of it, and no talking. Noise distracts the worms.”

  I looked quickly around me. There were five other girls with feathers. All afternoon I tickled the fat white worms as they lay on a bed of chopped mulberry leaves chewing away. Baskets of the leaves were brought in to replace the ones that were eaten. Once I thought I saw the girl who had awakened me come with leaves. I tried to catch her eye, but she hurried off.

  It was late in the afternoon when one of the girls raised her hand to signal Yong, who ran quickly over to the girl’s tray. Another hand was raised.

  I saw one of my worms break out of its skin and raised my hand as well. Yong examined the worm and nodded her head. One by one the worms wriggled out of their skins. Once freed, the worms began to wave their heads from side to side, spinning a thin thread and wrapping it about their bodies. I had hated the ugly worms, but now I was fascinated. Here was the silk! By the end of the day all but a few of the worms were spinning their cocoons. The feathers were put away, and we busied ourselves with cleaning the trays, for what went into the worms also came out of them.

  It had rained all afternoon, so returning to the dormitory was like swimming through warm water. Little puffs of steam rose from the ground. We hurried through our supper of rice, bean paste, and cabbage, for the dormitory building was so hot no one could bear to stay inside. Outdoors we sat fanning ourselves with leaves from a dying banana tree. Beyond the dormitory and the worm farm, the rows of mulberry trees were silent in the still air. I sat with Song Su and with Jing, the girl who had awakened me. Also with us was Ling Li. As soon as we had come back to the dormitory, Ling Li had put on lipstick and eye shadow. Her jeans were low on her slim hips and allowed her navel to show. What would my ba ba say to that!

  The women in the spinning room were older than we were and kept to themselves. I whispered to Jing, who sat beside me, “Look how red those women’s hands are.”

  “They put the cocoons into hot water to loosen the thread, and then they pull the thread,” Jing said. “The water is so hot, I don’t see how the women stand it, but they say they are used to it.”

  “Now that the worms are spinning their cocoons, will Yong be less cross?” I asked.

  “Oh, no,”
Song Su said. “This is the worst time of all, for in three days the cocoons will be spun and all but a few of the worms must die. Yong will be very upset. We hate the spinning of the cocoons.”

  “Why must the worms die?”

  “If they live, they will crawl out of their cocoon, making a hole in it. After that no long thread can be drawn.”

  Ling Li said, “The killing of the miserable worms is my favorite time. I must live with the worms all day long, and at night I dream of them. They cannot die quickly enough for me. Last week I had to carry baskets of the worms into the town to sell. The owner of the restaurant said, ‘Oh, here comes the worm girl.’ That is all we are, worm girls.”

  “But why would you take the worms to a restaurant?” I asked.

  “They are a delicacy, fried crisp on the outside and soft as custard on the inside. Yong hates it that we sell her worms. The manager of the silk farm makes her do it because they bring good money.”

  “Did you come from the same orphanage Jing came from?” I asked Ling Li.

  “Yes, most of us did. The orphanage is not far from here, and the manager of the silk farm and the manager of the orphanage have an agreement. As soon as we are sixteen, we are sent to some job. I was sent at fifteen, for the orphanage is so crowded they are anxious to get rid of us.”

  “Is there no place else for you?” I asked.

  “A few of the girls, when they are very young, are taken away by waiguoren who come across the ocean to adopt them,” Song Su said, “but those are few.”

  I told them my story of Hua and why I had run away.

  Jing sighed. “I only wish someone had run away for me so I could have stayed with my family, but what difference does it make whether it was Hua or you who ended up here?”

  “The orphanage manager put you here,” I said. “An orphanage would have put Hua in such a place as well. No one put me here. I came by myself and I can go.”

  “Where can you go?” Song Su asked. “It’s dangerous for a girl traveling alone. Only last month we heard how a girl who ran away was kidnaped. Girls are sold to men who are in need of wives. So many girl babies have been lost, there are more men than women.”

  I could not say where I would go, for I had no idea. I only knew that I would not be a worm girl all my life.

  What Song Su had said was true. The next morning Yong was in a terrible temper. Once the worms had spun their cocoons, the cocoons were carried away to a room where they were heated so the worms inside them died. Only a few worms were allowed to hatch and lay eggs so there would be more worms. Yong watched as the trays of cocoons were carried off.

  “Ah, my beauties,” she moaned.

  She ordered us to scrub the floors and the tables so that they would be ready for the next shipment of worms. No matter how hard we scrubbed, we could not please her.

  There were no worms now, so Yong had no need to hiss and whisper her words. “Song Su,” she shrieked. “You have left your dirty footprints on the freshly scrubbed floor. Do it over. Chu Ju, none of your filthy country ways. The undersides of the tables must be as clean as the tops.”

  The windows and walls were scrubbed as well, for there was always the chance that some worm disease would infect the new worms and they would perish.

  Ling Li whispered, “I wish I knew of such a disease. I would spread it everywhere.”

  When at last the new worms arrived, Yong seemed almost cheerful. “Ah, look at the poor babies. They need fattening. Come, move quickly,” she ordered us, “see that the leaves are thickly spread.” Once more we heard the chewing.

  My days were chewed away as well in the long hours of caring for the worms. Ling Li, Song Su, Jing, and I became friends. After our workday was over, we would sit outside for the breezes. Chewing on sunflower seeds or sucking on pieces of sugarcane for the sweetness, we would tell one another our worries and hopes.

  When Yong shouted and scolded one of us, we could be sure the others would sympathize, making faces behind Yong’s back. We called Yong Mouth of a Thousand Serpents. We also had a name for Ji Rong: Biting Dog. Ling Li let us try her makeup and Song Su let me try on her jeans. There was no talk of families, for the orphanage girls had no memories of a ma ma or ba ba. I never mentioned my own family, for I did not want to speak of what they did not have, but often I thought of my own ma ma and ba ba and of Hua. She would be taking her first steps. I wondered if I would still recognize her. The dormitory sheltered me, but it was not the home I dreamed of.

  Though Yong still scolded me each day, after a few months she saw that I was given a few yuan when the other girls received theirs. “You are as worthless as they are, so why should you not have what they have,” she said. After that I did not mind her scoldings as much.

  In February we celebrated the New Year, the year of the Golden Dragon. Night after night fireworks were set off, the sky exploding into fiery flowers of color. Day after day we heard the sound of the drums that accompanied the lion dances. People in their red clothes crowded into the shops to buy mandarin cakes and dumplings with little coins hidden inside. Yong, reminding us that in preparation for the New Year it is traditional to sweep and scrub, set us to cleaning the dormitory, then scolded us for making a poor job of it. Yet on the night when families gathered for the custom of eating a whole fish together, Yong remembered we were orphans, and instead of our usual cabbage and rice, she provided us with a huge carp in a fragrant sauce. We spent money on lanterns, which we hung in the dormitory. As we tied on red ribbons and scarves and sat down to our feast as a family, I couldn’t help thinking of Ma Ma and Ba Ba and wondering if they were celebrating the New Year. I wondered if they thought of me and if I had a brother.

  All my problems came about from a good deed. It was the fourth moon, and I had been with the worms for nearly a year. Though it was not the time of the rains, one afternoon a great storm came. There was lightning and thunder. Yong paced up and down the aisles peering into the trays, crooning to the worms, “Don’t worry, my little ones. It is only a small storm, and it will pass away.”

  The door opened and I saw Jing hurry in. I thought she had come with leaves for the worms, but her baskets were nearly empty. She crouched in one corner of the room, a frightened look on her face. Before Yong could say anything, the door opened and Biting Dog burst into the room, grabbed Jing, and pulled her outside into the storm.

  At dinnertime Jing sat by herself with her head down. She would not look at us. In the evening I heard her crying softly in the cot next to mine. When I asked what was wrong, she only shook her head and cried harder. I sat beside her and waited. Finally the crying stopped and Jing sat up. On her cheek was an evil-looking black-and-blue mark.

  “When the lightning and thunder came,” she said, “I was afraid to be under so many trees, but Biting Dog said the worms must eat and the leaves must be collected. I ran away, and he came after me and beat me with a stick.”

  “Jing, do you think the orphanage knows that Biting Dog beats the girls?”

  She shook her head. “No. When the people from the orphanage come to inspect the worm farm, everyone here is very nice to us. That is all the orphanage sees.”

  “The next time they come, you should tell the orphanage people the truth.”

  “We are never allowed to talk with anyone from the orphanage. We are watched every minute.”

  “Then you must write a letter to the orphanage,” I said.

  “How am I to do that?” Jing looked sadder than ever. “We were never taught to write at the orphanage. They said we would be workers and would have no need.”

  “I’ll write the letter for you,” I promised. “Yong and Biting Dog will never know who sent it.” But when I said that, I stupidly forgot that it would be no secret to them that no one from the orphanage could write.

  The writing of the letter was a great thing. Only the four of us knew of it, and together we made our plans. After dinner we hurried along the Path of the Squawking Crows to the nearby village. The villa
ge was a small affair of dirt streets and stalls. There was a teahouse where old men sat playing checkers. Many of the men had brought their birdcages, and the birds fluttered about beating their wings against the wire caging. A melon peddler cried his wares, and there was a noodle shop and a stall where bicycles were repaired. We headed for the small store where Ling Li got her makeup. After much consultation we bought paper, an envelope, and a stamp.

  That night we huddled together in a corner of the dormitory. The girls watched as I brought out my pencil and notebook. I waited to hear what I should say.

  “Tell them about the poor food,” Ling Li said.

  “Tell them about the heat of the dormitory,” Song Su said.

  “And the beatings,” from Jing.

  When the letter was written, it was passed from hand to hand and held for a few minutes as if each of the girls wished to have some part in the writing of the letter. They made me read it to them again and again.

  Honored Orphanage Manager:

  All is not well here at the silk farm. We have no meat or fish to eat, only rice and cabbage and sometimes bean paste and pickles. The dormitory has no breeze that comes into it, only heat. Worst of all, Yong scolds us all day and Ji Rong beats us. Please come and let us show you the black-and-blue marks.

  The Orphans

  The letter was sealed carefully in an envelope, each one of us licking a bit of the flap. The next evening we returned to the town, and after looking all about to be sure no one from the silk farm was watching, we mailed the letter.

  All week we waited, hardly daring to look at one another. With each angry look from Yong we were sure she had discovered what we had done. At the end of the week an orphanage worker came. She was as big as a man, so she towered over Yong and even Biting Dog, but her voice was kind. When she looked at us, she did not smile with her mouth but she smiled with her eyes, and none of us were afraid of her. Though Yong and Biting Dog complained loudly and said the girls were sure to be untruthful, one by one the woman called all the girls from the orphanage to talk with her. Yong and Biting Dog were not allowed to hear what was said. After the orphanage worker left, Ling Li whispered, “I told her of the bugs in the cabbage.”