bunks.
The old man sits erect on the bunk, strokes his beard and raises his voice like a master of ceremonies, âFirst kowtow, second kowtow, third kowtow.â
Refugee Student stands up, bends and bows with uplifted hands, then kneels back down. âFourth kowtow, fifth kowtow, sixth kowtow!â He gets up again and bows and kneels back down. âSeventh kowtow, eighth kowtow, ninth kowtow. Ceremony finished.â
Refugee Student scrambles to his feet and points at me. âI beat you by one point. Itâs time to settle with you.â
âThatâs easy. You won, take the jade griffin.â I pick it up and give it to him.
He doesnât take it and just looks at me. âWhat would I do with that? Iâm a wanderer. All I want is a pair of grass sandals, a bag of dried food, and a flute. This jade griffin is nothing but a burden. Anyway,â his voice becomes oddly tender, âI owe you something. Iâll repay you by giving back your jade griffin.â
âYou donât owe me anything. You said yourself, âtwo negatives make a positive.â I donât owe you anything either.â As Iâm talking, I try to put the jade griffin in his hand. Iâm sure Iâm holding it securely, but when I raise my hand, it slips through my fingers and falls. I let out a cry.
The griffin breaks in two on the floor.
The old man picks up the two halves and fits them together. It looks as if theyâre still one piece.
âAll right, weâll do it this way. You take one half, Iâll take the other,â Refugee Student says and stuffs one half into my hand.
âOK, problem solved,â Lao-shih rubs her palms together and noisily grinds her teeth. âNow, I get to settle with the dealer. Iâm the real winner; I beat the dealer by two points. I only wanted the satisfaction of beating you. I wonât cut you in two or chop you up. I wonât chew on you. I only want you to dress up like a girl and sing the Flower Drum Song.â
âGood idea.â I also want to get even with him. I toss my half of the jade griffin into the opposite bunk.
The three of us, Lao-shih, Peach-flower Woman and myself, strip off his clothes, leaving only his underpants. I remember when he lay naked on the deck, his weight on my body, head hanging over my shoulder, my thighs wet and sticky. Iâm still a little sore there. I couldnât stop caressing his body, like a rock in the sun, so smooth, warm, hard. So a manâs body was that nice. I wished I could stroke him forever, but when he used all his strength to push into my body, it hurt. How could Peach-flower Woman sleep with her man every night? And even have a baby? I donât see how she could bear the pain.
We dress him in Peach-flower Womanâs clothes. He wears the peach flower blouse, blue print pants, a turban of a blue-flowered print wound around his head, two red spots painted on his cheeks, his masculine eyebrows thick and black.
He daintily folds his muscular hands and curtsies. He picks up Peach-flower Womanâs red handkerchief and dances with it like a woman, twisting, turning and singing.
You say life is hard
My life is hard
Looking for a good husband all my life
Other girls marry rich men
My husband can only play the flower drum.
The old man, sitting on the bunk, laughs until he has a coughing fit. Lao-shih, Peach-flower Woman and I roll with laughter on the bunk.
Suddenly Refugee Student leaps on the bunk and jumps on Lao-shih. âIf you ignore me, I wonât let you go! Iâm your girl. You have to give me a kiss!â He presses his mouth to hers and strokes all over her body. Lao-shih begins choking and canât speak.
I tackle him to save Lao-shih. âGood, Iâve got you both!â He turns over and grabs us both, one on each side, arms locked around our necks, holding us down. âYou come here, too,â he says to Peach-flower Woman. âI can put you