Second Chinese Daughter

By Shirley Fung

Second Chinese Daughter delves into the evolving status and roles of women in society as depicted through the experiences of three generations of women in a Chinese family in Penang. Feng, the second daughter in a family of seven siblings, grapples with her lowly hierarchical position in her family and society. Set between the 1930s and

• Language: English
• Publisher: Shirley Fung
• Release date: May 14, 2024
• ISBN: 9781763554504

Shirley Fung

Shirley Fung, born Ong Aing Hon, is a Penang-born Australian Chinese. She was awarded a Colombo Plan Scholarship to study at Monash University, Melbourne, in 1967, and graduated with a Bachelor of Science (Hons) and a Diploma of Education. She later graduated with a Bachelor of Arts at Deakin University and she has worked as a science educator and later as the Director of Curriculum at Mount Scopus Memorial College, Melbourne. She has had eight books on biology and environmental science published previously by Longman Cheshire, and also wrote for the "Sun Study" page of the 'Herald Sun' newspaper from 1981 to 1986. This is her first novel.

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1

A woman’s life is not her own.

This one thought preoccupied Ah Soo when she woke early on a Friday morning. So much to worry about, so much to do, but never for herself. Usually, she followed a meticulous regimen as she dressed and coiffed her hair, starting very early to ensure Lee never saw her ungroomed. But on this day she could not get herself organised; she scurried here and there, half combing her hair, dropping the comb to select something to wear, then dropping that to brush her teeth at the porcelain basin on the rosewood washstand. She was agitated and troubled.

Her daughter Li Li was in the Penang Mission Hospital, where she would be delivered of her third child any minute now. Please let it be a boy, Ah Soo prayed to her gods. What life is there for a girl? Ah Soo should know, after all she had been through before she met Lee, her de facto husband. Li Li was Lee’s daughter that he had fathered with another woman—a daughter he had persuaded Ah Soo to adopt as her own. There was not much of a bond between her and Li Li, but, on this day, the child’s imminent arrival strengthened their connection.

Ah Soo felt sorry for the little baby that was about to be. Li Li and Hwang Chong already had a two-year-old boy and a girl who was barely one—children they struggled to clothe and feed. The 1940s were hard times just after the War. They shuddered at the thought of another child to raise—or rather, another mouth they couldn’t feed. Li Li had already terminated two pregnancies with the aid of a backyard operator. When she discovered she was with child for the fifth time she resolved to give this one away straight after birth.

Perhaps if it’s a boy, they might change their minds, thought Ah Soo, although how they would support it escaped her. What is wrong with me today, she thought as she sat at her dressing table and picked up her hand-carved ivory comb again, determined to finish styling her long ebony hair. Coating the comb in coconut oil, she untangled the knots and twisted it into a sleek whip. With one hand, she coiled the whip of hair around the back of her head, and coiffed it into a chignon, held in place with a black hairnet and hairpins. No fancy hair clips today. It would not be proper, now that she was to be a grandmother for a third time. Again, she was reminded of her advancing age and status as ancestor to a third generation.

After a quick glance in the long mirror on the almirah, Ah Soo hurried out to the family car where Ahmad was waiting with the engine running. Although they had a driver, she and Lee were by no means wealthy. After the War, people lined up for jobs that merely offered three daily meals and a small amount of pocket money. Such was the case with Ahmad. Lee’s small business enabled them to afford Ahmad’s services.

As Ah Soo reached the car, her neighbour’s head popped up above the galvanised-iron fence.

Hurry! Hurry! Let’s go! shouted Ah Soo to her driver, but too late.

Ah Soo, where are you going so early in the morning? asked Ah Chan.

To the Mission Hospital. My daughter is having her baby, remember? replied Ah Soo abruptly. She was not in the mood for Ah Chan, who always pried and probed.

Before Ah Chan could ask another question, Ah Soo tapped Ahmad firmly on his shoulder to move on and quickly. Their street was short and narrow, with deep monsoon drains to carry away the tropical rain. Rubbish overflowed from communal bins that dotted the street as stray dogs and cats scavenged for food. It was no easy task for Ahmad to weave the little Austin between the rubbish, the strays and the children playing outside the cheek-by-jowl terrace houses, but eventually they reached the main thoroughfare to the hospital.

Once there, Ah Soo hurried to Li Li’s room.

Oh, just in time. It’s a girl! exclaimed the nurse as she took Li Li’s pulse and blood pressure. Li Li glared at the nurse. It wasn’t her place to break the news. The midwife finished wiping the muck off the little body, then lightly smacked her bottom to make her cry and catch her first breath of air.

What is she like? asked Li Li, as she lay pale and exhausted in her hospital bed.

Ah Soo took the newborn from the nurse. She has many dark patches. There is a big one on her right cheek. She carefully turned the baby over, looking for more birthmarks. And there are more greenish grey patches on her back, she added, her face pinched with sadness for the tiny bundle snuggled in the crook of her elbow.

Just as well we are not keeping her. Li Li was relieved to have a reason to give the scarred baby away. She was relieved also because it was not a boy, for it would be more difficult to part with it. Ah Soo and the old aunts had shared their superstitious stories of birthmarks. They believed that when a baby died at a very young age, the parents smacked its bottom to leave a bruise, so that if the child was reborn, it could be recognised by the markings on its body. Ah Soo was worried when she checked the birthmarks again, and dreaded the notion that the baby could have died and been reborn three times over. This was not a good omen.

Look at the dear little thing, said Ah Soo. She is so helpless in my arms. If it were up to me I would keep her, no matter how hard it is going to be. Do you want to take a look at her? She had never had children of her own. Being the first to cradle the newborn was as close as she could get to feeling like a mother.

No, no, it is better this way. Li Li turned away from the baby. Thank goodness it is not a boy, or else Father would make me keep it. It’s already so hard to support two. Think of the times we have gone without so that we could feed them. Look, I can hardly express milk for this one.

Li Li had been dreading this moment. She could see the little legs poking out of the white swaddling, and her two little hands reaching out to be held. Fighting back tears, she stared instead at the car park through the window. She watched the ramshackle vehicles enter one end of the U-shaped driveway and leave by the other. She counted the cars and tried to remember the number plates—anything to block out her raging emotions.

When Li Li had discovered she was pregnant, the only person she could talk to was Ah Soo. Her husband Hwang Chong was no help. He took little interest in family matters and left them to the women. When she went into labour she told Ah Soo, You know I can’t keep the baby. To look at it will make it harder. Please promise me, even if I ask to see it, you will hold firm and take it away.

Despite her own harsh experiences in life, Ah Soo felt unready for what was about to take place. She knew how it felt to be rejected, firstly by her father, and then by the men in her life who had bought, owned and discarded her.

*

The Penang Mission Hospital, with its whitewashed walls and well-scrubbed cement floors, reminded Li Li of where she lived with her parents—a place she kept spotlessly clean and tidy. Eight beds were squashed together, four against each wall. From where she lay, Li Li could see the fruit orchard behind the hospital. On the opposite side was a view of the car park. Looking at the decrepit vehicles coming and going made her even more miserable.

After a while she gingerly rolled over to return to her original outlook. The outside air seemed cleansed by last night’s rain. Glistening raindrops rolled slowly off leaf tips, one by one. It was just past ten o’clock, and already the sun was in its full glory, filling the room with its scorching bright heat. The slow clack-clacking of the solitary ceiling fan gave little relief.

Li Li flapped the front of her blouse to ease the stubborn dampness clinging to her skin. When is Siew Chin coming? I want them to take the baby now, so I can go home and look after my other two. I cannot afford to pay the hospital if I stay any longer.

They are waiting outside, replied Ah Soo, cooling the baby and herself with her paper fan. It will happen soon enough.

Li Li’s former classmate lived at the end of the same street. Unable to have children of her own, Siew Chin begged to adopt the child when she heard of Li Li’s plight.

It is a good thing the adoptive parents have the same surname of Hwang, said Ah Soo. The baby’s details have already been entered into her birth certificate. Not having to change her surname helps, and saves us an extra fee. It is difficult enough to pay the hospital.

Siew Chin lived with her parents. Her father, a wealthy industrialist, came from an impoverished family, but his shrewd business acumen earned him wealth and prosperity. To remind himself of his humble beginnings, he chose to remain in the street where he was raised, although his residence was much grander than in the past. Siew Chin spent her childhood there, but when she turned sixteen she was given to her new husband. Her parents hoped for a good match with another affluent family, but the husband turned out to be a violent man. He beat her for the slightest thing that displeased him—the physical and mental injuries grew so serious that by the time he left, she was close to a vegetative state.

While recovering, she relearnt to walk and talk. While viewed as taboo, Siew Chin’s family chose to brave community disapproval and pushed for a quick divorce. Years later, her parents married her off to a gentleman. He was also from a wealthy family, but Siew Chin’s father insisted that they should live at home so her parents could ensure she was treated well by her husband.

*

Oh, look at all the marks on her body, Li Li. I hope they will not change their minds, said Ah Soo as she looked down pitifully at the baby’s innocent little face. Look! She has opened her eyes. They are a deep, dark brown. For a moment, Ah Soo had forgotten that Li Li did not want to look.

Let me see if I can cover up her birthmarks. Ah Soo dissolved small pellets of bedak sejuk in a few drops of water and patted it over the baby’s face. Her home-made face powder, scented with the fragrance of pandan leaves, was popular amongst women, believing it would keep their skin soft and silken. When Ah Soo had finished, the baby looked like she had white maps charted all over her face.

There you go, little one. Now I can barely see your birthmarks. Ah Soo was pleased with her good deed. "Not only that, but, mmm, you smell so sweetly of pandan."

Here they are, said Ah Soo as Siew Chin and her husband entered the labour ward. Siew Chin moved in slow hesitant steps. Although many years had passed, there lingered in her behaviour the telltale signs of abuse, like a nervous dog expecting any time to be chastised by its master. When she saw the baby, her tortured look gave way to a radiant happiness, and she held out her arms.

The bluish grey birthmark on the baby’s right cheek came vividly into view—no amount of face powder could have hidden it. Ah Soo was relieved that they did not comment on it. Her husband pressed reassuringly behind Siew Chin as she cuddled their new baby. They gazed lovingly into each other’s eyes, beaming with joy at their impending parenthood, lovingly holding the infant’s outstretched fingers, which closed trustingly over theirs.

Ah Soo watched sadly as the couple with their new baby exited the hospital where their chauffeur waited by a white Plymouth. The polished brass buttons on his white jacket shone as he leapt from the driver’s seat to open the car door for his employers. With one hand protectively cupping the back of the baby’s head, Siew Chin carefully slid into the car.

As the limo disappeared from sight, Ah Soo heaved a sigh and walked back to the ward where Li Li was shifting restlessly in her bed. Nurse, please ask the doctor if I can be discharged today, she heard Li Li say. I have two little ones at home.

The nurse returned quickly with the doctor’s approval to leave. Ah Soo packed the few items of clothing Li Li had brought with her. The single set of cloth nappy, singlet and batik wrap had already left with the baby.

How hollow she felt to see Li Li enter the hospital heavy with child and leave empty-handed. It reminded her of the day she was abandoned by her father. A long time ago, Ah Soo’s father sold her to the Peony Pavilion to feed his opium addiction, but her feeling of abandonment lingered as if it were yesterday.

2

Hurry up, Ah Soo’s father called out as she trailed behind. People are not going to wait all day for us. She was twelve when her father collected her from her aunt’s home.

She was not sure where her father was taking her and hoped it was to a decent job, but perhaps he had something worse in mind. There was an urgency in his voice as they hurried through narrow alleys. Her father tottered, unable to keep to a straight line. He pushed aside his dishevelled hair to reveal bleary eyes, a greasy face and chipped, stained teeth. His clothes reeked of smoke, oils and odd chemicals. Along the way he stumbled over torn rags, old reed mats and empty cartons brimming over the community rubbish bins, but rarely a trace of food. It was a poor neighbourhood. Any scrap of food humans couldn’t eat was rapidly scavenged by stray animals.

Where are we going, Papa? Ah Soo asked.

Never you mind, came the reply. Just hurry up.

Ah Soo’s father stopped in front of a brown wooden two-storey terrace house. Unlike the other terrace houses with their muted green shutters, the window shutters of the Peony Pavilion were painted bright red as a landmark for potential patrons to readily locate. Upstairs, women were hanging over the window sills calling out to male passers-by. They teased the men and beckoned them to enter, causing some to scurry away shyly, while others guffawed with glee. Unlike her aunt or girl cousins, who always wore the traditional samfoo—a blouse and loose pants outfit that modestly covered them from neck to toe in colours so muted the wearer was almost camouflaged, the young women who leaned out of the windows at the Peony Pavilion could not escape notice. Clothed in bright florals, their lips were painted bright pink. Dark bold lines framed their eyes and eyebrows, and they wore vermilion hibiscus flowers in their hair.

Ah Soo’s father bowed humbly to a woman at the entrance. Older than the girls, Madam Soong was dressed and painted just as garishly. The reception hall of the Peony Pavilion was perfumed by flowers and burning incense strategically positioned to welcome the male clients. But Ah Soo felt no such welcome in the woman’s disdainful glare.

This is the daughter I told you about, Madam. Bow to Madam, Ah Soo, urged her father as he pulled her forward. She has lived with my sister’s family all her life. My sister has raised her well. She is good and proper.

Then why are you selling her to the Peony Pavilion? Madam Soong asked. You know what business we run here, don’t you?

I understand, but I am hoping you will restrict her to domestic work. She is very good at washing and cleaning. Maybe she could serve tea to your guests? Ah Soo’s father seemed desperate to get the transaction over and done with. He was fidgety, shifting from foot to foot, and passing the back of his palm over his greasy chin repeatedly. His eyes pleaded to the woman to pay him and let him leave.

Where is her mother?

She died when Ah Soo was born. I could not take care of her myself while still holding on to a job, so I placed her in my sister’s care.

You are working? Where? asked Madam Soong in disbelief, as she looked him up and down. She waited for an answer but all was quiet. The father’s mind was elsewhere, dreaming of the long overdue opium fix he could soon afford if he clinched this deal.

Madam Soong could see that the deal would be very much in her favour. She loudly repeated her question, startling him.

Oh, odd jobs here and there, he mumbled.

How much do you want for her?

Papa, you are not selling me to this place, are you? Please, Papa, Ah Soo whimpered, afraid to protest too vehemently for fear of evoking a beating.

He stepped closer and whispered to the woman, who shook her head and threw down a few silver coins on a nearby table. He rushed over, swept the coins into his hand and backed out of the house bowing low. No sooner was he over the threshold than he bolted down the alley. Ah Soo followed him for a few steps, but stopped as the shadows swallowed up his wretched form. When she turned back into the house, the mistress looked her up and down.

Turn around, the woman said in a booming voice.

Ah Soo timidly turned one full circle, trying hard to stop crying.

Hmm. He was right. You are only good for domestic work. Go to the kitchen and Cook will get you something suitable to wear. You can start by helping her in the kitchen. When you are finished, don’t stand around with nothing to do. Ah Mei will show you where to clean, and there is always lots of washing to do. Now go and make yourself useful. And stop crying. I don’t want you to bring bad luck to my business.

In the kitchen, Ah Mei just pointed to a tall crooked stack of dirty crockery. Ah Soo, now dressed in a white top and loose black pants, started on her chores, stopping only to wipe her watery eyes and nose.

There was much activity at the Peony Pavilion, with male visitors coming and going all day, and workers serving tea and making beds.

Ah Soo was assigned domestic chores that filled her long day. She also had to serve tea to the male clients before they moved to the private rooms with the girls of their choice.

Hurry up! the girls shouted at Ah Soo. We need more teacups! Her fingers were red and swollen from dipping into hot soapy water, and it was only her first day. There was no time to stop for meals.

Cook dumped a small saucer of food in front of her late that afternoon and again at night. You can eat while you wash. No time to stop.

It was after one in the morning before Ah Soo could rest her weary limbs. Holding a little kerosene lamp, Ah Mei led Ah Soo to the spot where she was to sleep. The dingy room was dimly lit by a moon lamp suspended from the middle of the ceiling. Ah Soo could just make out straw mats along the edges of the room, some already occupied.

Ah Mei pointed to a rolled-up mat in the corner. This is where you sleep, she said. You can put your belongings in the same spot, but don’t spread yourself into other people’s space.

I don’t have any belongings, said Ah Soo. All I have are the clothes you gave me today.

Good. Then you won’t be bothering anyone. Ah Mei spoke matter-of-factly. Ah Soo couldn’t tell whether Ah Mei, who reacted robotically to her mistress’s instructions, would be a friend or foe.

3

Ah Soo worked from dawn to dusk, with no time to dwell on her lot at the Peony Pavilion. She lost track of how long she had been there.

Madam wants to see you in her parlour, Ah Mei called to Ah Soo in the kitchen one day.

Ah Soo quickly dried her hands. On the way she straightened her blouse and refastened stray strands of hair with a clip.

When she arrived, Madam Soong asked her, Can you sing?

I used to sing with my cousins, Ah Soo replied.

Well, sing me something.

Ah Soo sang Terang Bulan, a Malay folk song she used to sing with her cousins after an exhausting day harvesting rice in the rice fields. Cooled by sea breezes on the veranda, they sang this song when they sighted a full moon shimmering in the heavens. It was a good time to unwind from the toils of the day, when everything was peaceful and quiet, except for the song of the cicadas and an occasional hoot of an owl. Cheered by this flashback, Ah Soo sang her best.

Madam Soong was impressed. Nevertheless, she cut Ah Soo off mid-song. "All right, all right. But I want you to learn Chinese songs for our clients. I will bring someone in to teach you to play the pipa. You will welcome our guests by singing and making tea for them, but you cannot dress like this. She gestured to a set of clothes she’d chosen before she sent for Ah Soo. Put these on and Ah Mei will do your hair."

The girls watched as she attempted to change her clothes modestly in her corner of the bedroom. She held a sarong under her arms to use as a screen. She was thankful that she was given clothes of a plain maroon colour, unlike the gaudy floral ones worn by the other girls. Ah Mei styled her hair like the other girls: coiled into a chignon and held with a net and pins, and slipped a red hibiscus bud behind her left ear.

In her new job, Ah Soo was allowed to share a dressing room with the girls, complete with a full-length mirror. When she started working in the kitchen, she had sometimes snuck a peek when cleaning the room. All she saw then was a sack-clothed figure crouched on the floor with brush and bucket in hand. Now, just months later, her curves displayed an attractive womanly form. She was pleased with her new image.

She sang like a nightingale when the guests arrived, determined to impress her mistress and keep her new,