The Language of Threads by Gail Tsukiyama Read Free Book Online Page B

laundry. Each time she held one of Chen tai’s silk cheongsams in her hands, Pei could hardly believe that it was woven from the same thin, almost invisible threads of silk she’d once reeled onto spools. In her mind’s eye she could see the cocoons dancing on the surface of the boiling water as they unraveled. As she stroked the sleek, shiny material, the Yung Kee Silk Factory felt like a lifetime ago. She held the red-and-gold cheongsam up against her stark white tunic and baggy black pants. She couldn’t imagine herself wearing something so tight and revealing.
    Pei picked up Chen tai’s beige lace cheongsam and laid it flat on the ironing board. She waited a few moments longer for the iron to heat up, meanwhile examining the intricate lace handwork of Chen tai’s new dress, tailor made like all her dresses for the most auspicious occasions.
    Chen tai had surprised Pei that morning by bringing the dress down to the laundry room herself. Her hair was pulled back in a tight chignon and her strong features looked softer without makeup. She was dressed casually, in a blue silk tunic and pants.
    â€œChen seen-san is being honored by the Hong Kong chamberof commerce at a very special banquet this evening,” she said, handing the dress carefully to Pei.
    Then, instead of leaving, she stood solid and imposing in the narrow doorway. From the kitchen came the sharp, scraping noise of Leen sharpening her knives and cleavers.
    â€œIs there something else I can do for you?” Pei cradled the dress gently in her arms. She wished the tiny room weren’t so messy.
    â€œNo, nothing for now,” Chen tai answered. “Only, I wanted to say that you’ve done a very good job in the past six months.”
    Pei blushed. “Thank you.”
    â€œKeep it up.” Chen tai turned to leave. Then she stopped and turned back, her eyes traveling once around the small room. “Perhaps you’d like to come along when I go down to Central next week.”
    Pei looked up, not believing what she was hearing. That honor was usually given to Ah Woo, who had been a trusted member of the family for so many years. “Yes, I would, thank you,” Pei answered, a quick flush heating her cheeks.
    Chen tai’s gaze softened into a smile. Thin fine lines appeared around her eyes. “I’ll let Ah Woo know that you’ll be coming with me, then.” She turned and left the room before Pei could say anything.
    Pei returned to her work. For the rest of the morning, a faint trace of Chen tai’s sweet rose fragrance mingled with the hot, dry air of her ironing.
    Pei was pleased when Chen tai wore her beige lace cheongsam as planned and left for the banquet on time. Instead of rushing to iron another dress at the last minute, Pei helped Chen tai dress, then extracted a gold evening bag and shoes to match from her smaller closet. Even the usually impassive Chen seen-san was smiling happily when Pei closed the front door behind them.

    The kitchen was warm with the garlicky aroma of dinner cooking. Pei was famished by the time she sat down between Fong and Ah Woo, and gratefully received her bowl of rice. Like Moi, Leen was a wonderful cook who prepared at least three or four dishes each night. Most of the time, only the four of them—Pei, Ah Woo, Leen, and Fong—ate dinner together. Wing and Lu went home to their families, while the night chauffeur was usually on duty.
    â€œI see Chen seen-san and Chen tai are off on time tonight,” Ah Woo said. “It must be a big banquet they’re giving in honor of Chen seen-san.”
    Leen scraped her chair back and sat down. “He must have donated a great deal of money.” She lifted her bowl and pushed some rice into her mouth.
    Ah Woo glanced at Leen, then quickly changed the subject. “Pei is going down to Central with Chen tai at the beginning of the week.”
    Pei looked up at the mention of her name, and saw the