"It is all about arousing the mind," the Mistress commented as she served tea. "When girls first come to my house, I teach them a skill called the fan dance. "The Mistress opened a chest and pulled out a set of props: a small round pillow, a stack of paper money, and a dozen eggs on a bamboo tray.

"I lay these objects on top of one another, with the money on the bottom, the pillow in the middle and the eggs on top. The girl sits on the arrangement. She is given one minute to turn the stack of money into the shape of a fan. The rule is that the eggs cannot be broken."

How was this possible?

The Mistress snapped her fingers.

Two girls entered from a side door. They were in their late teens and were dressed in thin brocaded robes. Although they had pleasant features, they showed no hospitality. They spit out sunflower seeds, kicked off their slippers and climbed onto the bed. Opening their legs, they squatted over the eggs like two hens.

The Mistress snapped her fingers again, and the girls started to rock their bottoms.

The view was unbearably comic and I failed to suppress a giggle.

Big Sister Fann jabbed me with her elbow.

I apologized but could hardly control myself.

"You won't be laughing when you start practicing yourself, believe me," the Mistress said. "It takes a great deal of effort to master the trick."

I asked what this movement was for.

"It is to help you gain power and control of your body," the Mistress replied. "It is to add sensitivity to your bottom lips."

Bottom lips?

"Follow my advice and practice, and you will understand what it is for. When the skill is mastered, you will drown the man beneath you in pleasure and he will remember your name."

The words got me. Yes, I would like to have Emperor Hsien Feng re-member my name. I would like His Majesty to remember the pleasure along with its deliverer.

I looked at the ivory-colored rocking behinds and tried to picture the girls in bed with men. My cheeks started to burn. It was not out of shame but from the knowledge that I was going to try this myself.

"We have been in business a long time," the Mistress said, trying to brush away my doubts. "Men come at all costs. We bring life back to them. We release the beast out of younger men and make older men know their youth once again."

My eyes were on the girls, who were now balanced on their limbs.

"This is a time-tested position." The Mistress gave a mysterious smile. "You see, the girls from good families are taught to despise my house. Such girls don't know that it is because of them I am in business. The good girls never know what my girls know; therefore they end up keeping their house, and my girls their husbands and their money!"

"How long does it take to master the ... dance?" I asked, wanting to get out of here as soon as I could.

"Three months." The Mistress pulled over a chair and sat down.

I had only ten days!

"Every day you squat on top of the eggs and rock your behind." The Mistress lit her pipe and inhaled. "After three months, your bottom lips will grow a little thicker and fatter than a normal woman's. When a man wears those lips, you will drive him wild. He will want to die for you, and you will be able to empty his pockets."

I tried to forget where I was, but it was hard.

Big Sister Fann gave me an I-didn't-hear-it look.

An-te-hai stared boldly. He was spellbound by what he was watching.

The girls lifted themselves off the eggs. Their bodies glistened with sweat.

"Take a look at what they have done." The Mistress waved at me.

I went over to see.

The Mistress removed the egg tray and the pillow. A perfect fan presented itself-the stack of paper money had been moved into the intended shape.

"Now try it yourself," the Mistress said, putting down the tray and the pillow.

I couldn't move.

"You might as well face it," the Mistress said. "It is a man's world."

The girls offered to help take off my clothes.

I felt foolish. My body became tense.

"Your future depends on your performance." The Mistress's voice was flat, without emotion. "You must make the man think of you as magical or he will not call you back."

"Yes," I replied in a weak voice.

"Then quit fighting and let go. A good life doesn't come free." The Mistress led me to the bed and motioned for me to squat. "The fact is, life comes easy to n.o.body."

Embarra.s.sed, I told An-te-hai and Big Sister Fann to leave the room.

The two exited without a word.

I got down and squatted like a hen. The position was so awkward that my limbs became sore almost instantly. I moved my behind in circles. The touch of the eggs brought with it an odd sensation. I struggled with my knees and ankles to stay in position.

"Keep going." The Mistress reached out and stabilized the egg tray underneath me. "Perfection needs time."

"I don't have time." I rocked my behind and began to gasp. "Ten days is all I have."

"You've got to be crazy to think you can master the trick in ten days."

"I wouldn't be here if I was not crazy."

"Only a fool would expect herself to drink hot porridge in one gulp."

"I understand, but I must get it done before ..." Before my sentence ended, a cracking sound came from my bottom.

It was the eggs. I had crushed them.

The Mistress grabbed a towel to keep the yolks from spilling. Quickly, she replaced the broken eggs with new ones.

Getting back into position, I balanced myself on both hands. My body felt like a strange object. I rocked, bearing my developing muscle pain.

"Ten days is definitely a torture." The Mistress now was admiring my strength. "You need to take breaks. You don't want to crush the eggs again."

"No, I don't. However, I can't afford not to keep going."

"There is another way to attract men." The Mistress got off her chair. She took the pipe out of her mouth and knocked it on her sole to empty the ash. "Care to hear it?"

I nodded.

The girls came and handed me a hot towel.

I crawled off the bed and wiped my behind.

"I can't teach you to beat your fate." The Mistress refilled the pipe with dry leaves and lit it. She made a sucking sound as she inhaled the smoke. "Because you can't. But it helps a great deal if you have an understanding of men as creatures. You must come to see why 'Roses in one's own backyard don't smell as good as roses in the wild.'"

"Go on, madam, please," I said.

"You are a pretty girl, all right, but when the lamp is out, a beautiful girl or a beast of a girl-it makes no difference to a man. Over the years I have seen so many men abandon their good-looking wives for ugly concubines, and then abandon the concubines for uglier prost.i.tutes."

"How can a woman make a difference?"

"I told you, it is the mind's game. The truth is that men need encouragement no matter how strong they appear to be," the Mistress said.

Looking at an erotic painting in which a man gazed intently at a woman's b.r.e.a.s.t.s, the Mistress continued. "Be blind about his looks and habits. Try to ignore his manners as well. Be prepared: he may have the features of a panda, the smell of a barn, his sun instrument may be small like a walnut, or too large like a daikon instead of a carrot. He might demand hours of service before reaching satisfaction. You must concentrate on the music inside of his head. You must keep the pot boiling. You must remember the paintings in my house. They will help to create the magic. Look at this gentleman, holding his lady's b.r.e.a.s.t.s like they are sweet peaches. Praise him with your noises. No actual words. Just the sounds. Wipe it on him like honey. Make flavors. Turn uhn uhn into into woo woo and back. Let him know he's fantastic." and back. Let him know he's fantastic."

"Doesn't he already know? Doesn't my willingness tell him so? I would have told him a thousand times by the time I am in bed with him, wouldn't I?"

"You will be surprised, young lady."

"How is that?"

"You haven't spoken with your bottom lips, have you?"

"Oh, that's right."

"Put your skill to use!"

"Yes, of course." My embarra.s.sment turned into amus.e.m.e.nt.

"You might end up pleasing yourself too." The Mistress smiled.

"What if ..." I paused, because I didn't know if I could make my question comprehensible. I decided to ask anyway. "What if he doesn't like what I do?"

"There is no such thing. Men like it," the Mistress said confidently. "But timing counts a great deal, and of course the condition of his health too."

"What if I don't like him?"

"Didn't I already tell you? Pay attention to just the business. You are not after him, but his pockets."

"What if he insults me and tells me to leave his bed? What if I fail to hide my feelings of disgust?"

"Listen, this business is not about how one feels. It never was, is or will be. Such is the fate of a woman. You've got to make a dish with whatever you've got in the kitchen. You can't dream only about the fresh vegetables in the market!"

"How can I pretend to be excited when I am not?"

"Fake it! It is a son-of-a-dog act! The worst part is, by the time you reach perfection, you are too old. Youth evaporates like dew, born in the morning and dead in the afternoon."

The Mistress threw herself into a chair. Her chest pumped as if she had just been revived after nearly drowning.

The two girls sat by themselves and remained stone-faced.

I put my clothes back on and got ready to leave.

"One last thing," the Mistress uttered from the chair. "Don't ever voice your disappointment, no matter how hurt or angry you are. Don't try to argue with him."

"I don't even know if there will be a conversation."

"Some men like to chat afterwards."

"Well, as long as he is interested, I intend to continue my act."

"Good."

"I also would like to-I mean, if the situation permits-ask him questions. Can I?"

"Be sure to ask dumb questions."

"Dumb questions? Why?"

"Without exception, a woman who tries to show that she's got a brain gets abandoned."

"Why?"

"Why? Men hate to be challenged. It's simply demeaning to them."

"So I should act dumb?"

"You'll be doing yourself a favor."

"But ..." I couldn't imagine myself acting dumb on purpose. "It is not part of my nature."

"Make it yours!" The Mistress stared at me with wide eyes. Her skin was bleached out by the light and became pale, almost bluish.

"Thank you, madam," I said.

Taking out the hairpin from her inner pocket, she wiped it with her sleeve. "We are talking about survival. Like I said, I want to be worthy of your hairpin."

"It was a good lesson." I bowed lightly. "Goodbye and thanks."

The Mistress licked the hairpin with her tongue. "What kind of man are you seeing, if you don't mind my asking?"