Dreams of Joy: A Novel by Lisa See Read Free Book Online Page B

to be so mean, and in front of everyone too?
    The sun drops behind the hills, turning everything golden as we walk back to the villa with Tao and Kumei. At the main gate, Tao says good night. Though everyone in this village has the same clan name, I thought Kumei and Tao might be married, and I feel a tingle of relief to learn they aren’t. As Z.G. follows Kumei through the gate, I linger for a moment to watch Tao stride along the path, cross a stone bridge, and head up the hillside. Then I turn and enter the villa. My suitcase is still in the front courtyard. I pick it up and follow the others deeper into the compound. For the first time, the word villa sinks in. I’ve never been in a place like this. It must have been beautiful and modern a few hundred years ago, but it seems quite primitive to me—a girl from Los Angeles. Narrow stone pathways and corridors link a series of courtyards lined by two-story wooden buildings. It’s all very confusing, and I immediately lose my bearings.
    We follow Kumei into the kitchen, but it isn’t like any kitchen I’ve ever seen. It’s open air with no roof, which is nice on this sticky night. A large brick stove stands against one wall. Another wall rises to waist height. I peek over it and see an empty trough, some dirty hay, and dried mud.
    “We had to give our pigs to the collective,” Kumei explains, when she notices my interest.
    Pigs in the kitchen? In a villa? My mind scrambles to make sense of what I’m seeing. This isn’t at all like China City. Are we going to eat in here? It looks pretty dirty—as in outdoors dirty. We’re practically outside, and I’ve never even been camping.
    Z.G. and I sit on benches that look like sawhorses lined up against a rough-hewn wooden table. Kumei ladles leftover pork and vegetable soup flavored with chilies into our bowls. It tastes delicious. Then we eat some room-temperature rice scooped from a tin container.
    All the while, Kumei chatters. The little boy we saw with her earlier is her son. His name is Ta-ming. An old woman named Yong also lives here. She didn’t come to the art lesson, because her feet were bound in feudal times, and she can’t walk very far.
    After dinner, Kumei guides us back through the maze of outdoor pathways and courtyards. She tells us that the villa has twenty-nine bedrooms.
    “Why don’t more people live here?” I ask, thinking that, if Green Dragon Village is a collective, shouldn’t more people be sharing this big house?
    “No matter. No matter,” Kumei says, waving her hand dismissively. “I take care of it for the people.”
    Which doesn’t answer my question.
    In the third courtyard, Kumei takes us into a building. We enter a kind of sitting room with wood walls the color of maple syrup. At the far end, carved wooden screens cover a pair of window openings. Above these hangs an elaborate wood and gilt carving of squirrels playing in an arbor heavy with clusters of grapes. A table sits in the center of the room. A few chairs rest with their backs against the walls. There are two doors on the right wall and two doors on the left wall.
    “This is where you will sleep,” Kumei says. “You may choose your room.”
    Z.G. hurriedly checks each room before opting for the second one on the left. I select the room next to his. It’s small, but it feels even smaller because most of the space is taken up by an antique marriage bed with a full frame and a carved canopy. I can’t believe I’m going to sleep in something so luxurious. On the other hand, I haven’t seen a bathroom or any electric lights, and the kitchen was certainly backward. Is this a villa or the home of a peasant?
    I set down my suitcase and turn to Kumei. “Where is the bathroom?”
    “Bathroom?”
    Kumei looks confused. I say the word for toilet, but even that seems to baffle her.
    “She wants to know where to wash her face and do her private business,” Z.G. calls from his room. Kumei giggles. “I’ll show