The Flowers of War Read Online Free PDF

shape of her face, it was not square or round or long, it was simply diminutive and she had a pointed chin which gave her a slight air of arrogance. The sort of arrogance that said, ‘If you look down on me, then I’ll look down on you.’ She had big, dark eyes and such a rapt gaze she always made you wonder if she had seen something you had not. Her mouth was her weak point: it was thin and wide, agarrulous, bitter sort of mouth. It was surprising that someone who measured her words so carefully had a mouth like that. It gave her a harsh, even ruthless look. Zhao Yumo’s greatest asset was that she did not behave as if she were a shameless slut. In fact, you could imagine her as a concubine or a young wife in a rich man’s household. Or as the actress in one of the advertisements they showed in movie houses. She looked different now from when she arrived: she had changed into a violet cheongsam of flowered cotton, on top of which she wore a thick white woollen wrap-around coat decorated with a couple of pompoms. She had correctly judged their new situation, and now that she was on the girls’ territory, she made herself neat and tidy. Whether she had done this to save her skin or in an attempt to be treated as an equal, Shujuan had no way of knowing.

Four

    The next morning, the women in the cellar did not stir. George took them some porridge but could not wake them up. Then, after lunch, they appeared outside the refectory complaining that no one had brought them anything to eat and they were weak with hunger.
    Fabio could see that his strictures were having no effect on them. He called Yumo, as their ringleader, into the refectory.
    ‘This is your last warning,’ he said. ‘If you all come out of the cellar again, you won’t be welcome here any more.’
    Yumo was apologetic. ‘I understand that we’re not welcome,’ she said. ‘But the women are really hungry.’
    The prostitutes gathered around the refectory door to see whether their negotiator was doing a proper job or needed reinforcements.
    ‘I’ll come to food in a moment. First, I want to go over the rules once again,’ Fabio said.
    His efforts to turn his thick Yangzhou dialect into acceptable city speech caused some of the women a good deal of merriment.
    ‘Talk about the toilet first, will you?’ said Nani.
    ‘We get nothing to eat and nowhere to crap!’ complained Cardamom.
    ‘There’s a women’s toilet in there,’ said Hongling, pointing towards the workshop building. ‘But the girls have locked it and they’ve got the key. We’ve only got the church to use –’
    ‘You’ve been using the church toilets?’ exclaimed Fabio. ‘They’re for the use of ladies and gentlemen of the congregation and their children during Mass! And the water’s been cut off so they can’t be flushed. They must smell terrible.’
    Yumo fixed Fabio with enormous dark eyes. There was no avoiding her gaze and Fabio’s heart skipped a beat.
    When Fabio opened his mouth again, it was clear he had succumbed to the effects of Yumo’s steady gaze. He pitchedhis voice lower and enumerated the arrangements: Ah Gu and George would dig a pit for them in the backyard and give them two tin buckets and two covers made from cardboard. When the buckets were full, they were to be emptied into the pit in the backyard. But that was to be done, he ordered them, before five o’clock in the morning so that they could avoid meeting the girls or Father Engelmann.
    ‘Five o’clock in the morning?’ exclaimed Hongling. ‘But we don’t usually get up until now.’
    She raised a plump wrist and displayed a tiny watch on which the hour hand pointed to between one and two o’clock in the afternoon.
    ‘From now on, you are to respect church hours, and get up and eat at church times. It’s past breakfast time now, I’m sorry. The girls saved you a few scraps from their plates and you didn’t eat them. They couldn’t let noodles go to waste, could they?’ As Fabio