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Updated: May 27, 2025
Foh-Kyung and the black-robed priest walked past her, down the little aisle, to a shiny brass railing that went like a fence round before the altar. The foreign-born priest laid one hand on the railing as if to kneel down, but Foh-Kyung turned and beckoned with his chin to Dong-Yung to come. She obeyed at once. She was surprisingly unafraid.
"And yet I am fearful " Dong-Yung looked back into the shadows of the guest-hall, where the ancestral tablets glowed upon the wall, and crimson tapers stood ready before them. "Our gods I have touched and handled." "Nay, in the Jesus way there is no fear left." Foh-Kyung's voice dropped lower. Its sound filled Dong-Yung with longing.
And Dong-Yung, very quiet and passive in the pose of her body, gazed up at Foh-Kyung with those strange, secretive, ardent eyes. All around him was China, its very essence and sound and smell. Dong-Yung was a part of it all; nay, she was even the very heart of it, swaying there in the yellow light among the lily-petals. "Precious Jewel!
She looked across at the priest, her husband, a man in black, with thin lips and seeing eyes. The eyes of the foreign woman, looking at the priest, her husband, showed how much she loved him. "She loves him even as a small wife loves," Dong-Yung thought to herself. Dong-Yung watched the two men, the one in imperial yellow, the one in black, sitting beside each other and talking.
In the corner of the kitchen stood a box of white pigskin with beaten brass clasps made like the outspread wings of a butterfly. Underneath the piles of satin she had hidden them, and the key to the butterfly clasps was safe in her belt-jacket. Dong-Yung stood in the kitchen door and watched Foh-Kyung. "Does my lord wish for anything?" Foh-Kyung turned, and saw her standing there in the doorway.
The foreign-born woman made her sit down beside her, and offered her bitter, strong tea in delicate, lidless cups, with handles bent like a twisted flower-branch. "I have been meaning to call for a long time, Mrs. Li," said the foreign-born woman. "The great wife will receive thee with much honour," Dong-Yung answered. "I am so glad you came with your husband."
He stood beside her rickshaw, in his imperial yellow garment hemmed with the rainbow waves of the sea, and smiled down into her eyes. "But the spirit God of love, the foreign-born spirit God?" said Dong-Yung. "Shall we feast to him too?" "Nay, it is not fitting to feast to two gods at once," said Foh-Kyung. "Do as I have said." He left her.
"We are going into the chapel a moment," said the priest. "Will you come, too?" Dong-Yung looked at Foh-Kyung, a swift upward glance, like the sudden sweep of wings. She read his answer in his eyes. He wanted her to come. Not even in the temple of the foreign-born God did he wish to be without her. A coolie called the foreign-born woman away.
Later on, perhaps, we may meet again." The priest spoke hurriedly. "I do not understand your meaning. Is this belief of such light weight that you will toss it away for a sinful woman? Put her away, and come and believe." But Foh-Kyung did not hear his words. As he turned away, Dong-Yung followed close behind her lord and master, only half comprehending, yet filled with a great fear.
In the night it was merely a black hole in the stove filled with formless shadow. She wished "Dong-Yung, Flower in the House, where hast thou hidden the kitchen gods? Put them in their place." Foh-Kyung, still in imperial yellow, stood like a sun in the doorway. Dong-Yung turned. "But " "Put them back, little Jewel in the Hair. It is not permitted to worship the spirit God.
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