Jade Moon: If Love Were Like a Song

By Sianna Lah

Su Yuan Yuan blames Jack's drinking problem for their loveless marriage, but she is told being an adult third-culture kid is the culprit of her unhappiness. On the night of the Mid-Autumn Festival, Yuan Yuan dreams about her happy younger self celebrating the Harvest Moon with Biao Ge Charng Hua in his father's classical Chinese garden. When she wakes up, she wants to reach out to him, but it has been almost thirty years since their last contact, and she wonders if he remembers their idyllic childhood. Does this estranged cousin hold the key to her happiness?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sianna Lah
• Release date: Dec 23, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463435946

Book preview

If love were like a song, this is my unsung love story.

Su Yuan Yuan

Chapter 1

A Fish Bone

What’s their secret to stay in love? I asked this same question whenever I saw the empty nesters next door as they held their hands on their evening stroll past our front door. Still, it would be many years before they could catch up with our other next door neighbors who fulfilled their till-death-do-us-part promise three summers earlier. Not everyone on our street was so blessed, though. Just last year, two couples called it quits and went their separate ways. Now we may be next.

Jack and I unknowingly fell out of love at some point during our twenty-two years together. Unlike many other couples, we had no financial or family distress, and yet our relationship was on the rocks. I tried time and again to rekindle our love by asking my husband to revisit the many places we had been from our early years together. These suggestions were nothing crazy or too costly but mainly quick weekend getaways to cities and towns along the Oregon Coast. We could explore tide pools on secluded beaches, hike the trails through old growth rainforests, or lose ourselves in history at some historic sites including famous landmarks of some very beautifully restored lighthouses. But Jack was uncooperative, and he wouldn’t commit either the time or effort.

Numerous times, I reminded my husband of the days we would drop everything we were doing to take advantage of the suddenly nice weather and drive one and a half hours just to watch the sun setting into the Pacific Ocean. Every time Jack would say, Yuan Yuan! We were poor. We had nothing but time then, and he would proceed to make sure that I understood the price one must pay to have a strong financial footing.

It’s true. His hard work put us here among the affluent in a premier residential community with stunning West Hills views; however, Jack overlooked one important detail. We were once a much happier couple whose love for each other seemed all encompassing. It didn’t matter that we were living in a drafty and ramshackle farmhouse with old plumbing that stained everything red, that I had to cut double and triple store coupons to stretch his technician salary to last thirty days, or that our car was a beat-up old clunker with a broken side window. We had love! That’s all that mattered.

While I very much wanted to recapture those feelings of being in love, Jack seemed fine with the way things were going in our life. During the week, he would make a habit of stopping at his regular watering hole after work. He said he needed that extra hour to unwind and home just didn’t have the right ambience. On weekends, he preferred to hang out with his buddies in a sports bar than to spend some out and about time with me. If friends weren’t available, he’d spend an entire day visiting people in his hometown—with or without me. When I complained, Jack proved to me that I had the most of his time, even though we spent a good part of the supposedly our time watching the TV or the back of our own eyelids. Needless to say, my protest of our living parallel lives went unheeded.

What makes us stay together, then? Perhaps it’s the fear of change. Not wanting to face reality, Jack denied that we had marital problems. Telling myself that all relationships have their sticky patches, I hoped to ride out the rough time. But that was easier said than done, especially when I got either silence or harsh words on a daily basis. The same unresolved issues continually resurfaced. I felt powerless.

Then it dawned on me as I retired early one night. Lying in bed by myself, I thought my loveless marriage was nothing but an annoying fishbone that got stuck in my throat. I had waited patiently for the bone to dislodge itself, but to no avail. The constant irritation prompted me to take a swallow all the time even when such an action would inflict a jabbing pain. I knew what I had to do, but I feared that the bone had already lodged deeply in the esophagus wall. I could imagine a great deal of pain if I had tried to push it down with a large ball of cooked rice, which was what my parents made me do when I accidentally swallowed a fishbone when I was little.

Of course, I never really wanted a divorce, even though the anguish of being trapped in a broken relationship was breaking me down gradually. Irresolute, I did nothing and went on to suppress my unhappiness. Over time, I became emotionally repressed and eventually slumped into depression.

Chapter 2

Old Man under the Moon

Luna! I think aloud.

Are you okay, Yuan Yuan? My boss’ voice comes from an adjacent cubicle.

Sorry, I mutter, I’ve been racking my brain all morning, trying to recall this little girl’s name and it’s just come to me.

Hearing no response other than the sound of her pounding on the computer keyboard, I then force myself back to the section of our food safety program I’m modifying. Yet my mind keeps wandering off to my session in the psychiatrist’s office this morning. I hate to admit it, but I’m fighting a losing battle.

* * *

Under a strict order from my primary care physician, I finally sought professional help for depression last week. It wasn’t as bad as I had feared once I got over the anxiety of making my first appointment. I think the academic setting of the university hospital and the fact that Dr. Marten is a resident in his third year made the whole experience less intimidating.

My first session was last Thursday, and it was all about information gathering. The doc now knows that I’m less than two weeks shy of my forty-fourth birthday, that I’ve been with the same company for almost two decades, that no immediate family members have been diagnosed with clinical depression, and that I’m perfectly healthy otherwise.

The young M.D. also learned that I was born in Taipei, Taiwan, but my family moved to Chiang Mai, Thailand, when I was seven and a half. After my dad died of a sudden heart attack, my mother remarried my American teacher, who immediately filed an immigrant visa petition on behalf of me as a stepdaughter before my sixteenth birthday. Once I finished twelfth grade at an international school in Bangkok, I was sent to a college here in Portland, Oregon.

My second session was at eight o’clock this morning. Right off the bat, Dr. Marten asked if I had since had any suicidal thought. After I shook my head no, he asked if I had a particular issue, subject, or concern I would like to discuss. So I asked him to let me go over what I really think my problem is and where it all started now that I had three days to organize my thoughts. But instead of bringing up Jack’s drinking problem as I had planned, I rambled on about how I ruined Jack’s life, how I never quite fit in his world. I guess I was worried that Dr. Marten would judge me if I blamed alcohol for the root cause of my marital conflicts. After all, there are plenty of spouses who love to drink.

And when was this, Ms. Su? Dr. Marten interrupted me while I was recounting an engagement party that my husband and I went to last year. It was at a farm where the teenage Jack used to set irrigation pipes for the bride-to-be’s family.

Last September, um, right around this time, I replied.

Sounds like you enjoyed this type of social event in the past, but not anymore.

I gave his statement some serious thought prior to giving him a firm nod.

Jack comes from a small farming town just outside of Portland, where everyone knows something about everybody else or knows a busybody who does. With a town population of less than a thousand, my husband and his siblings know all of their classmates on a personal level. Because of these close community connections, it’s possible that the whole town came to the engagement party that night. Even after nine o’clock, as some were leaving, others were just arriving. Most brought with them some homemade dishes, but everyone brought booze, and they drank like there was no tomorrow. Every time I spotted Jack in the crowd, he was holding a different drink. It really made me uneasy.

What happened? Small town affairs stopped being interesting after a while?

Shaking my head, I explained, Although I grew up in big cities, the close tie of a small community isn’t that different from my very large extended family on my mother’s side in Taipei.

Dr. Marten lifted one eyebrow as he processed my words before he nodded his head in understanding.

At a family gathering with my in-laws, there would often be someone giving an account of how so-and-so was related to certain families. It would go something like this.

I ran into Joan Meyer at the Schnitzel Haus the other day.

Joan Meyer, the pretty blond in Jack’s class? I haven’t seen her since she married what’s his name, Leo’s cousin—

Larry Long.

—and moved east.

Guess what, she goes by Joan Meyer again!

Since I don’t share their background, I was a silent participant in most conversations. Sometimes I followed their stories; other times not. So that I had something in common to talk about, I learned how to can berry jams, apple sauce, tomatoes, and pickled green beans. I even picked up quilting. I got good at all that, and for many years I actually even convinced myself that I enjoyed being down-home. I was certain that, given time, I would eventually fit in.

Yet, despite all my efforts, there were occasions when I was keenly aware of the fact that I really didn’t fit in. It usually happened when I was with a group of women, all having a good time celebrating a special occasion, such as graduation, birthday, or wedding. There would be a lighthearted conversation, and I might even be enjoying myself at first. But after having spent a few hours in making small talk, I ran out of things to say. So I listened to them talking about their children’s sporting events, their husbands’ hunting trips, and so forth.

The same thing happened at the engagement party, which took place in a shop where huge farm equipment can be brought in for maintenance. Jack and I arrived just before the sun slipped behind the coastal range seen far off in a thin hazy blue band above the horizon. The party had already started. After it got dark, all the roller doors were pulled down to keep the bugs out. As the night wore on and more alcohol was consumed, the boisterous group conversations got louder and louder. Everyone was talking at the same time and interrupting each other. It wasn’t just the noise, the air in there started to get stuffy too. Shortly after ten thirty, I decided to go outside to get some fresh air.

It was a clear night, not a cloud in the sky, so the air was on the cool side but not unpleasant. Soft yellow light glowed in the distance from a small window on the back side of the farmer’s house. I recalled an early conversation when the women were joking about ladies having to go inside the house as opposed to men doing their business right behind the shop. Not in any hurry, I walked to inspect a vegetable garden that was nearly done for the year. Under a bright moon, the orange pumpkins and white gourds shone like lanterns amid other frost-kissed plants.

Standing in the fading garden, I scanned the surroundings and came to a realization: I had robbed Jack of a happy life. As if to concur with me on that thought, waves of thunderous laughter traveled from the shop to lay a guilt trip on me. Though drunk, everybody inside the shop was enjoying life, and the only individual having a miserable time was the sole sober person accompanied by a scarecrow in the field. What’s wrong with this picture? I turned to ask the scarecrow, but he avoided eye contact under a bucket hat that covered half of his face. Since then, I started to question if the troubled one in our relationship was not Jack but me.

Dr. Marten wrapped up our morning session just before I had a chance to tell him about my encounter with Luna that night. The beautiful, doll-like child appeared right before my eyes just when I was feeling immensely sorry for myself. Dragging her worn-out blanket on the floor, she swung open the back door from the inside just as I pulled open the outside screen door. I was glad that our timing was perfect, or else I might have knocked her down if I had pushed open the door a second sooner. Even though it has been almost a year, the image of this little girl—with her small round face shining like the luminous moon in the sky—is still very fresh in my mind.

Thinking back, Luna was expecting me, for she just stood in the dimly lit doorway and smiled up at me, showing her little white teeth.

Where are you going, little girl? I initiated our conversation.

Happy birthday, Ya Ya! Her bell-like voice resonated in the quiet house.

Surprised and bewildered at the same time, I returned her sweet smile with an uncertain one. Thank you, but how do you know that it’s almost my birthday?

"The lady said to whish you a happy birthday."

I chuckled upon hearing her pronunciation of wish. Which lady? I asked as I entered and closed the door, thinking that Luna would utter my mother-in-law’s name.

The lady in the moon, she whispered.

Who? I asked again, not believing my ears.

The lady in the moon! Luna’s voice was a tad louder this time.

The Moon Lady told you it’s my birthday. I reconfirmed.

She nodded her pretty little head, her blond curls bouncing around her face.

Are you sure it wasn’t a dream?

The child bobbed her head a few times and enthusiastically gave me an account of her farfetched tale. "I closed my eyes, but I wasn’t sleepy, then I heard music, and when I opened my eyes, a lady was tickling my face. She asked me to tell you that someone whished you a happy birthday."

Right then I thought of Chang'e, the beautiful deity who was said to live on the moon. But at the time I thought it was odd for a little American girl to know about this popular Chinese legend. Perhaps she was making reference to the Greek’s lunar goddess, Phoebe.

I think you need to go back to bed. I’m sure it’s past your bedtime. I told her as my eyes spotted the lit bathroom tucked behind the dark kitchen. Then I heard her little voice asking, Will you tuck me in?

Delighted by the rare request, I asked offhandedly, Where is your room?

In lieu of a reply, Luna’s little hand reached for mine, and I was led down a hall to a room in another part of the house. The room was good-sized with a large bay window looking out onto the front yard. A double bed fitted with a polished brass headboard was positioned parallel to the window.

Unsure, I questioned, Is this your bedroom?

Aunt Deana’s.

Aunt Deana … ah, the girl who is getting married.

Deana is getting married. Luna repeated it twice through a giggle. She probably recited what she had heard over and over in recent months. One of her parents was likely a close relative of the bride-to-be, and that could be why the little girl felt comfortable being left in a house all by herself while her parents joined the party.

As I covered Luna’s small body under a puffy down comforter, I became aware that the moon, a few days from being full, was shining a spotlight through the window onto her face. This must have been what Luna meant when she said the Moon Lady tickled her face. I made a decision to lower the Venetian blind.

Don’t cover the light, Luna said while I was fighting with the tangled cord.

It’s too bright.

It’s too dark, she countered, panic in her voice.

What about now? I asked after I tilted the slats at an angle so the incoming moonlight was redirected upward to the ceiling.

Luna didn’t object. Thinking that my job was done, I wished her a good night and was about to exit the room.

Will you read me a story, please? she pleaded sweetly.

I made an abrupt turn on the ball of one foot and said, Sure. Where is your story book?

Lying contentedly in her aunt’s cozy bed, Luna gave me an innocent shrug.

Not wanting to wake the little girl from her drowsy state, I stubbornly refused to turn on a lamp and relied on the indirect lighting from the moon. Bending low, I fumbled through books and bridal magazines piled high on the night stand, and my ponytail, tied low at the nape of my neck, slid from my back and fell to my side.

Your ponytail is almost as long as the Moon Lady.

I turned to look at Luna and said, Really? The Moon Lady wore her hair in a long pony tail.

She nodded and stared at me briefly before she responded, Oh, and a bun on top of her head and a shiny dangling pin.

Unsure what to think, I went along with her story. Do you remember what she was wearing?

Yes, she wore a very pretty gown with big long sleeves that almost touched the floor.

I gave up looking for a story book at that point. Plopping myself down next to her pillow, I went silent, trying to wrap my brain around the child’s descriptions of the Moon Lady. Since I’m Chinese, I immediately pictured in my mind a female figure that fit drawings of Chang'e seen typically on boxes of moon cakes. Then again, the little girl must have seen the Chinese heroine from the Disney movie Mulan.

Luna, you’re a lucky girl, I finally said. The Moon Lady has never appeared to me.

I know, Luna spoke softly.

Detecting a sympathetic note in her voice, I let out a soft chuckle and asked, How old are you?

Luna pulled her right arm out from under the cover and showed me her hand with all five fingers spread apart.

Well, I’m going to tell you a story about a boy who was just as imaginative at your age. His name is Charng Hua, and he lived in the fanciest house in the village. Not visible from the street, the house was set deep behind tall, white-plastered walls.

Wait! Luna interrupted me.

What is it, dear?

"You forgot once upon a time. You must start over."

You’re right. I shall start from the beginning again.

Luna smiled her approval upon hearing the standard opener for traditional told tales, but by the time I got to the part about the classic Chinese garden annexed to the house, she had dozed off. I stopped, thinking I would sneak out quietly. Suddenly, Luna jerked awake when her head rolled off the pillow. She then opened her eyes, made one slow blink, and asked, Did the boy meet the Moon Lady?

Not yet. Please close your eyes, I said. Just like you, one night Charng Hua couldn’t sleep because the full moon shone its brilliant light right through the lace-curtained window onto his face. The boy put a blanket over his head, but then he felt suffocated. So he squeezed his eyes shut so tightly that he saw stars, and that was when he heard a voice calling to him from the garden. To make sure he wasn’t hearing things, the boy rolled off his bed, went to the window, and glanced out. Sure enough, standing on the garden side of the moon gate was an old man with a long white beard and silvery hair flowing down freely over his shoulders. Holding a rustic wooden staff, the old man nodded toward the garden as if to ask the boy to join him before he turned around and shuffled off. The little boy no longer hesitated. He jumped out of bed and slipped out of the house quietly without waking up the adults. I paused and glanced down to check on Luna and found her staring up at me, all wide eyed. If you want me to tell you the rest of the story, you’ll need to close your eyes, I said.

Luna let out a childish giggle, yet she quickly obeyed.

Once outside, the boy ran to the garden. As soon as he entered the moon gate, he found himself in a strange landscape. It was nothing like he had ever seen before. Barren and otherworldly, the surface of the entire expanse glistened like silver ores under the brilliant light of a rising moon. So gigantic was the moon it occupied the entire horizon, and so close the boy thought maybe he could walk right over and touch it. So he scampered toward the moon but then stopped when he spotted the same old man standing a short distance ahead, smiling down gently at him. Wearing a plain grayish long robe, the old man was in full camouflage and would have been missed had it not been for the pine tree next to him. The lone evergreen looked odd in the otherwise rugged and lifeless terrain. Yet its twisted trunk, gnarled limbs, and wind-swept crown indicated great age.

The healthy white pines that my father has carefully nourished! The boy gasped in horror.

Who are you? What did you do with my father’s garden? And how did you know my name? the boy asked the questions in one breath.

The old man laughed loud and long before he finally spoke, I see that your lordship has retained some of the princely personality traits from your former life.

Who are you? The boy insisted on an answer.

I have been given many names by people of different cultures throughout time. Although my name doesn’t really matter, I want to say the one the Han Chinese have been calling me since the Tang dynasty does have a whimsical ring to it. I’m sure your lordship is too young to know the folklore created about the Old Man under the Moon.

I’ve never heard of you. And stop calling me your lordship. I’m the only living son of Colonel Jin Qi Ming. My father is a high ranking officer of the Republic of China army, and he has put a lot of thought and effort into designing his garden. He would definitely be very upset and even imprison you if he finds out that you have ruined his garden.

Don’t worry about Colonel Jin. Look around you, use your senses. That’s right. You’re no longer in your father’s garden. You’re in my realm. This is where I spend my time when I’m not wandering on earth at night, tirelessly tying a red silken cord on couples destined to be together. With one long pale finger, the old man pointed to the ground by his feet at a fully stuffed burlap sack with red peeking out of the top. He then continued, For centuries I carried out my job without being seen, but one full moon night I was spotted by a mortal. Since then, young couples have been asking for my blessing in front of some statues made in an image of what they think is me. Little do they know, their mate has been decreed from above and is fixed the moment I tie the red silken cord of fate.

Old man, I’m afraid I don’t understand why you are telling me all of this. I’m only five.

Although I disguise myself as best I can while I go about my business on earth, there have been numerous humans who took notice of me on full-moon nights. But since their inner minds have been dulled by all the baggage of the emotions they carry, they lose the ability to see my true image. I was afraid if I waited any longer, your lordship might no longer be able to sense me, and this meeting might not take place. But more importantly, I came tonight to inform your lordship that Lady Yao Yueh is about to be born. The old man paused deliberately, his sharp eyes under wrinkled lids were fixed on the boy’s face anxiously awaiting a reaction, but the boy’s eyes registered no recognition.

Your lordship doesn’t have the faintest memory of your past? the elder asked, sounding rather disappointed.

The boy shook his head, eyes glazed over as if bored.

There was another silent pause, and then the old man let out a long and heavy sigh. This is exactly what I was afraid of.

You’re not making sense. What were you afraid of?

Please answer this. Has your lordship often experienced this feeling of missing someone special, although you don’t know whom, when you were surrounded by your parents and grandparents and all your relatives?

Yes, I do. But it’s because I’m the only child, so I get lonely sometimes.

Waving the hand that was not holding the walking staff, the old man sat down on the hemp sack so that his eyes were level with the boy’s before he continued to say, And there are days when, out of the blue, your lordship has this strong urge of longing for a place that seems very familiar to you. But every time it happened, you couldn’t quite see it clearly because there was this white mist blocking the eyes of your mind.

How did you know? the boy asked quietly, yet his eyes filled with surprise.

Now listen very carefully to what I’m about to say, and promise me your lordship will keep these words of mine close to your heart.

The boy responded with a nod.

Although your lordship is in your fifth year of Earth time, your inner entity is actually centuries old. All this time I have been watching your lordship closely, and it may not make any sense right now, but your lordship should know that Lady Yao Yueh is your one true love. She is the reason that your lordship chose to come back life after life with the hope of meeting her one more time. Lady Chang'e and I are so touched by your undying love for this one woman we want you to know that your wait is over. Lady Yao Yueh will finally reincarnate.

Lady Chang'e, the boy interjected, the great archer Hou Yi’s wife, who took the elixir and ascended to the moon.

Your lordship, we don’t have time to talk about the Moon Lady. There are newborns waiting for me to tie a red silken cord around their little feet as we speak, and Lady Yao Yueh’s turn is coming.

This lady … Yao Yueh. Is she going to be, uh, my mate? The boy faltered, cheeks flushed.

Unfortunately not, and that is the very reason why I brought you here.

I don’t understand. If this lady for whom, you said, I have waited so long is coming and we will finally be together, then why aren’t you tying our destiny? the boy asked curtly, frustration filled his voice.

Because it’s not up to me, the old man replied as he reached in his outer robe and pulled out a small hand scroll.

What’s that?

This is a book of marriage. It reveals the name of the mate of every man and woman prior to their birth.

May I see it?

Yes, you may. But all you’d see is just a blank scroll, for it will never reveal Heaven’s sacred scripts to humans.

What if I ignore the book?

No one has yet succeeded. Those who went against it all faced unfortunate consequences. Some even brought death to themselves or, worse yet, to their loved ones.

Then you must change the book, the boy said in a demanding tone of voice.

The elder closed his droopy eyelids and moved his head from side to side briefly.

You can’t or you won’t? the boy asked, temper in his voice.

If your lordship must know, I’m only a low ranking deity. I serve the book and not the other way around, the old man explained.

Then take me to the powers that be, the boy begged, an urgent note in his voice.

Unfortunately, fate is something which cannot be changed. But what your lordship can do is spend the time you are given with Lady Yao Yueh and cherish each and every moment of it, however short or insignificant it may seem at the time, and together you two can create a string of unforgettable memories that you could both carry in your hearts for the rest of your separate lives.

Tightening his grip on the walking staff, the old man slowly rose to his feet. He then picked up the hemp sack and slung it over