Before I was able to experience happiness, I had to go through sorrow, a lot of sorrow. When I was young, I vowed to spare my children from what I had been through. That I did. I am living a happy life now, living with General Li Shang, my mother-in-law, my sister-in-law and her family. But I know that I must never forget my past because when you throw out a part of your life, you throw out a part of yourself as well. That is like losing your identity, and yourself. And when you lose yourself, you become nothing. Just flesh without meaning in it. Just a face no significance in it. I learned some years ago when my eldest daughter was only three years old. She does not really remember when it happened. She does not remember Amah, who was also my nanny when I was a little girl, because she died of pneumonia. It was going around China at that time and unfortunately, my dear Amah were one of those struck by it. I cried and cried when she died because she was like a second mother to me. Shang comforted me. He held me in his strong arms, stroked my hair, and whispered, "It's all right, Tin-Hau. She's in Heaven now and she's happy." And that consoled me. Though a military general, Shang had a soft side too, especially when it came to me. He always made me feel special.

But now, I will return to what I was about to say, about the difficulties I experiences and the lesson I learned years later....

When I was a little girl, I was living in Hong Kong. I was born there, actually. My mother was pure Chinese and my father was British-Chinese. They had eloped together. My mother's family matched her up with a man she did not like because she did not trust him and he was very self-centered. So when she met my father, they ran away and got married. My father was a sailor and we lived in a sampan, a house boat. I was born on that boat and my parents were so happy to have me that they named me Tin-Hau, after the goddess of the ocean. We were a small but happy family living on that boat: just me, my parents, and my dear Amah who played with me when my parents were busy. We treated her as if she was part of our family. My life was perfect. My father would sometimes take me fishing and what fun we would have! There were so many kinds of fish living in the waters! So many different colors, so many sizes....yes, it was so exciting. He also took me sailing sometimes as well.

When I was seven, my parents gave me a Pekingese for my birthday. My mother told me, "Someone as beautiful as goddess deserves a beautiful dog." I called her Peanut, because her fur was the color of a peanut--light brown. I often feared that Peanut would fall into the water because she was so small but Amah said that she would be okay. Yes, I had a wonderful childhood. But I must have been naive to think it would last forever.

I was ten years old when it happened. I never thought it would happen. We had dinner in a seafood restaurant with my father's sailor friends and their wives. And we went back to our home, thinking it would be like any other ordinary night and that tomorrow would be like any other ordinary day.But I was wrong. I was dreaming about me and Peanut playing in a beautiful garden when all of a sudden, the earth began shaking. I blinked open my eyes and saw Amah shaking me by the shoulder, waking me up. "Tin-Hau, wake up!" I rubbed my eyes and yawned.

"What is it?" I asked sleepily.

"Tin-Hau....Mama has gone to heaven."

"NO!" I cried. I ran from my room to my parents' room. I was surprised to see a lot of people there at this time at night: the doctor, the herbal pharmacist, Baba's best friend, and Mama's best friend. Baba looked up and saw me. His eyes were shiny with tears. "Tin-Hau..." he began. But I did not really hear him because I immeadiately fled to Mama, lying on the bed as still as a statue. I did not want to believe that she had died. "Mama, wake up!" I cried, running to her and and shaking her. Tears flowed rapidly from my eyes as I continued to prod her, as if she would really wake up. "Mama, please wake up!" My voice was choking as I continued.

"Tin-Hau, let me explain," Baba said, kneeling down beside me. I turned to him.

"What happened, Baba?"

"Tin-Hau....Mama ate a fish which had opium in it. A lot of opium. They did not know that it had opium in it and so the restaurant is giving us five million dollars as their apology. But the poison had already broken throughout her body and by the time the doctor arrived...." But I didn't want to hear the rest because I knew what he was going to say. I broke out into wails and sobs. Baba just stood quietly, tears streaming down his face. Someone once told me that I had to swallow my own bitterness, to hide my tears because if I shed them then my tears will be feeding someone else's joy. But I was weak and all the tears poured out, and I was unable to control them. They fell onto Mama, lying there as if she was only asleep. After the visitors gave their condolences and left, my father broke down into sobs, too. The next morning, we all put on white mourning clothes. I think Peanut sensed that we were grieving because she was gliding silently across the floor instead of usually yapping and jumping. We dressed up Mama in fine clothes outlined with gold threads, with silk undergarments to keep her warm and put loads of jewelry on her. We placed two big pearls, one on each foot on the biggest toe, so that they would light her way to Nirvana. And then, there was the funeral. We were all sitting solemnly and gravely, while Mama lay covered with a soft, white, and almost transparent cloth while the Buddhist priests chanted. In death, my mother still looked beautiful, and looked as if she were only sleeping. Our close family friends were there. And then, she was buried afterwards.

I was concerned for Baba because it seemed as if he had grown aged overnight. It was saddening to see my father like that. So one night, about a week after my mother died, I poured him some tea and approached him. He looked awful. "Baba," I whispered. "I have something for you." He made no movements. He sat like a statue, his face buried in his hands. "Baba," I whispered. "Would you like some tea?" Finally, he looked up. And he did something that shocked me. He snatched the cup from my hands and hurled it across the room. It smashed against the wall into a million pieces and the tea was spilled everywhere. I was too shocked and hurt to say anything.

"Leave me alone," he said, after a pause. Not knowing what else to do, I fled out of the room in tears. Why was he acting like this? I thought. I ran to the railing of the house portion of the boat, leaned against the post, and sobbed. And why, oh why had Mama left? Why was the stupid restaurant so careless? All the money in the world cannot make up for losing your own mother. Just then, I felt a lick at my toe. It was my ever faithful Peanut.

"Peanut," I murmured. "Oh Peanut, thank you for remembering me even though I have not been minding you..." And looking at Peanut, I remembered what my mother had said on the day she gave him to me. And I broke down into more sobs, burying my face in Peanut's fur, while she gave a sympathetic whimper.

Baba did not get better as the years passed. The throwing of the cup was only the beginning of his terrible transformation. He had shouted at me to clean up the mess the next morning. I did not dare answer him back even if it was not my mess. And Baba grew harsher and harsher. Once, I accidentally dropped a kettle and he shouted, "You careless fool! You are worse than worms that eat a dead person!" Then he dragged me by the hair towards the storage room, where it was dark and smelly. Amah tried to come to my rescue and she said, "Please sir....she didn't mean anything...it was only an accident...." But Baba shouted, "Silence!" When we arrived at the storage room, he bolted the door open and gave me a push so hard that I hit against the wall and got bruised. "You will stay in her untill you learn to be careful," he said. Then, he shut the door and locked it. Later, when he was sleeping and I was sobbing, Amah secretly unlocked the door and brought me my dinner and cleaned me up and brushed my hair while Peanut gave me comforting licks on my foot. Then, she embraced me and comforted me. "It's OK, Tin-Hau," she said. "I am here for you."

"Thank you, Amah," I said. I needed that. I really needed that. Baba had been very harsh since Mama died. He grew harsher and harsher as the days passed. He did things so terrible that I do not want to talk about them anymore. He would drag me around the room, hit me with his fists, and call me names such as "fool," and even "little slut." So terrible...so unimaginably terrible. He would even humiliate me in public. Once, when we were in the market, I accidentally spilled some juice on his hand. "Oh no...I'm sorry Baba..." I said, but before I could reach for a tissue, he slapped me so hard and everyone stared to look. And he shouted at me. Amah stepped forward and tried to speak for me, her hands on my shoulders, but he shouted at her to stay out of this. Yes, I was very angry. Yes, I would have wanted to answer back and shout at him and become rebellious. Had it not been for Amah's good advice and comforting words, I would probably have done something that would make the situation worse. Amah was like my second mother. She told me to continue life as a good daughter since I had started life as a good daughter, because honor comes to the heart that is true to itself. Truly, she was wise. She would also tell me Chinese folktales and stories as well. My particular favorite was "The Soul of the Great Bell." This touched me so much. When I gave birth years later, I named my daughter Ko-Ngai, after the daughter in the story who sacrificed her life to save her father's. This was not exactly like Mulan's story but it had practically the same plot: a daughter risking her life to save her father's.

It happened one night when I was sixteen. It was raining and I wasn't feeling very well. I felt as if I was going to get a fever. I was lying on my bed and staring out at the window at the boats passing by and wishing that this weird and lethargic feeling would go away soon. Just then, my father walked into the room. "So I have a bum for a daughter, do I?" he shouted so suddenly, that I jumped out of bed, my sickness momentarily forgotten.

"No Baba," I answered, trying to control myself. "I just don't feel very well." He walked up to me and all of a sudden, slapped me.

"Excuses, excuses!" he thundered in my face. "I have been trying to tolerate your clumsiness and stupidity all these years but now, I am FED UP!" I was stunned. How....what....it took all my willpower to control myself from answering back. Hadn't I been tolerating him? Hadn't I been trying to make him feel better after my mother died? Hadn't I tried to be obedient? Was it my fault that accidents happened? This was so unfair! All of a sudden, he said, "Get out of this house. I don't want to see you here anymore." I was too shocked to speak. "Are you deaf?" he roared. "I don't want to see you here! Go away and never come back!" Finally, I said, "OK, I will." Not in a disrespectful tone, just a determined yet submissive tone. "If you're not out in five minutes, I will drag you by the hair and drown you in the water," he growled. Then he turned and left.

Tears flowing from my eyes, I hurrriedly packed all that I had and a very special thing: a small picture of my mother which I had framed a few years back. Looking at that photo, it made me feel as if Mama was still alive, still around. And later, I would be hit with the harsh reality that she was dead. And I would cry. I also packed photos of Peanut, Amah, and a very old family photo when we were all happy together, which was taken when I was about five or six years old. How I missed the old times....

I was finally done packing, put on an old coat, and headed for the door. I was feeling more feverish as the minutes passed but I tried my best to tolerate it. Amah and Peanut saw me. "Tin-Hau, where are you going?" Amah asked.

"Baba is sending me away, Amah," I said. "Don't worry, I'll write you and Peanut--I promise."

Amah's eyes filled with tears. "Oh, my Tin-Hau," she said. Then she embraced me and said something I'll never forget. "You are like the daughter I never had." We both embraced and for a while, my sickness was forgotten. But then, her cheek touched my forehead and she gasped. "Ai-ya, Tin-Hau, you're burning hot! I'll go to your father and..."

"No Amah, don't. I can handle this," I said. I knelt down and gave Peanut a hug while he licked my nose.

"Tin-Hau, don't leave," Amah pleaded. "You might die and it's raining."

"Amah, I can do this," I said. I waved for a passenger boat to come over.

"Tin-Hau...no," Amah begged.

"Good-bye Amah...Peanut," I said, as I boarded the boat. As it sailed towards the land, I waved to Amah and Peanut until they were out of sight. By the time I reached land, my sickness was getting worse. I felt like I was ready to faint. And I had barely gone two miles from the dock when all of a sudden, I couldn't hold it any longer and fainted. And everything turned black.

****

When I regained consciousness, I felt myself lying on something soft. I felt warm, comfortable, and dry. I was covered up to my neck by something woolly. I blinked and opened my eyes and saw blurry colors, slowly coming into focus. When the colors cleared and organized themselves, I saw I was looking into a pair of blue eyes. And a woman's face. I knew I was in a foreigner's place and began to panic.

"Sssshhhh....it's all right my dear, there's no need to cry," she said, in a strange-sounding accent, yet she had a comforting and soothing tone of her voice which reminded me of Amah. I took another look at her. She was one of those missionary ladies from a place far away that was called England. I had heard about them quite a lot. This was my first experience with a foreigner, but she was very nice. She smiled at me warmly and took my hand, as affectionately as Amah did. "We found you lying on the ground and an sweet-looking lady like you shouldn't be in a state like that so we took you in," she explained. I was amazed at how these people had mastered Chinese. She took a towel and dipped it into a bowl of cool water then wrung it out and placed it on my forehead. "After we dressed you, we had the doctor have a look at you. You have the flu so we will take care of you. When you get better, you can stay with us till you get better."

"Thank you," I whispered weakly. I was feeling as weak as ever so I was thankful to be staying in a nice warm bed. I stayed for almost a year in that place. I recovered from the flu after two weeks but I still needed time to recover from the years of misery I had been through. During those months, I turned seventeen and they gave me a surprise party, with strange and wonderful food. I spent my days helping out with the chores and cooking. I also discovered a talent I didn't know I had: singing. And I loved to sing. These ladies treated me the way Amah did, and I was happy. Very soon, I was back on my feet. I bade them farewell and thank you and having discovered my singing talent, I went off to join the Chinese Opera. And I enjoyed it. It was all thrilling to me. My roles grew the longer I stayed and one day, I was finally offered a title role.

One lovely autumn afternoon, I was taking a stroll in the park when I noticed a group of men in one part. They were all standing in a straight line, like soldiers. I noticed the flag of the Imperial Army with the dragon logo and immediately knew that these men were soldiers. Interested and curious, I silently slipped closer for a better look. And that was when I saw him.

Captain Li Shang. He was training these men and right now, he was demonstrating martial arts movements without his shirt. He was so handsome! My oh my, what a body! So strong! So well-built and muscular! I just stood there my gaze fixed on his every move becoming unaware of everything else around me. He was so tough--they way he gave out orders to the men....it thrilled me. Standing there about six feet tall, tough, strong, well-built...he "took" me away from the real world for a while.

In the middle of a pep talk, he suddenly saw me and for a while, paused. Embarrassed that he knew I had been watching him, I turned and ran away--and felt foolish afterwards. What if I got into trouble? What if he thought I was a bumbling fool? But my heart was singing a love song. It was just like a dream. About two days later, we ran into each other in the market place. I was buying some oranges to offer when I saw him. This time, he approached me.

"Hello, miss," he said. "I am Captain Li Shang." He stuck out his hand. His strong hand.

I smiled and shook it. "How do you do?" I asked. "I'm Tin-Hau Pettick."

"I've never really heard that name before," he said. "Pettick...it sounds interesting. Of what origin is it?"

"British. My father was British-Chinese. My mother was pure Chinese."

He smiled. "Wow, that sounds interesting. You're...you...you seem like an interesting person." He suddenly blushed as if he felt like he had said something stupid. But I didn't think so. I loved it! He looked so adorable blushing! "Uh...so..." he stammered (I found it unusual for a commanding officer to be stammering, and quite amusing too). "I saw you in the park a couple of days ago and...."

"Oh, I was just taking a walk. Sorry...I wasn't spying! Just a stroll...wasn't up to anything," I said, all in one breath, apologetically.

"I know that," he smiled. "I trust you." I smiled, my heart going thump, thump, thump. "And," he added. "I knew I had to see you again."

I blushed. "Oh...gee...thanks," I stammered. So we had small talk for a while. he told me that he went to Hong Kong to train the troops there so that the Imperial Army would have soldiers in Hong Kong if ever the place was under attack. I told him about myself....that I was an opera singer and all.

"Opera singer, huh?" he said. "How interesting. Mind if I see you perform sometime? I'd love to see you sing!" Man, I was flattered!

"Uh, sure," I said, blushing. "I have a presentation tonight, at seven. I play a, er, concubine." We both laughed.

"Well, expect me there then," he said. "I...er...have to go now. I'll see you tonight, OK?"

"OK," I said. As I watched him walk away, I felt like dancing all over.

"Miss?" said a little voice behind me. I turned around. Two cute little boys were standing behind me.

"Yes?" I said, giving them a friendly smile.

"I think Captain Li loves you," said the kid, then they turned and ran off giggling. I just smiled to myself and shook my head. It couldn't be true....or could it? Still...I had a smile on my face all the way home.

So went the presentation. True to his word, he was there. He gave me a bunch of roses after the show then took me out to dinner. And as the days passed, we saw each other more and more. He gave me little presents like glass figurines, flower combs, musical boxes, and the likes. And those days turned into weeks, which turned into months. And soon, he had to leave....and he asked me to marry him.

I was sooooooooooo thrilled. My response? "YES, I WILL!" And we hugged and for the first time, kissed passionately. And what a lovely feeling it was! So lovely that I can't find words to describe it. So I wrote to Amah and told her the news and told her to say hi to Peanut for me. Soon, she sent me a card of congratulations. Wasn't that sweet of her?

Sometime after he proposed and completed his training the recruits, we went back together to his house in mainland China. I met his family: his mother, Li Taitai and his sister, Kwan; as well as his friends, Mulan and the Gang of Three: Yao, Ling, and Chien-Po. They were all so nice and warm. The Gang of Three made me laugh a lot. I was startled when I first saw Mulan because she looked so much like me! It was really cool. And some weeks later was our wedding. It was so beautiful. Months later, I gave birth to Ko-Ngai. I was happy, but not truly happy though. I tried to throw out my past but then I felt....more unhappy. Why was this? I wondered. I tried to forget but then I felt...odd. But the answer came to me three years later. I received a letter from Amah one day, and she said that my father was dying of old age. The minute I read it, I felt a mixture of emotions within my heart and then voices in my head. Should I visit him and pay my respects, after the way he had treated me? I pondered over this. Just then, I caught sight of the family photos I had with me and suddenly, I felt my family ties tugging on to me. And that instant,

I knew what I had to do. "B-b-but he was so mean to you," one voice in my head said. "Still," I said out loud. "He's my father."

*****

It was a cold night when I arrived in Hong Kong. As I stepped into the passenger boat to the sampan, all the memories rushed back to me. First there were the good ones. Then the bad ones. But I sat up straight and sure of myself. I finally arrived at my sampan house. The minute Amah and I saw each other, we embraced tightly. Peanut, though quite aged, jumped around and gave me a welcome lick.

"Oh Tin-Hau...." she said. "I missed you. You look so sophisticated!"

I smiled. "I missed you too, Amah," I said. Peanut barked. "And you too, Peanut." I set down my suitcase while Amah took my fur coat and I walked slowly to my father's room. Taking a deep breath, I slowly opened the door. Standing there beside the bed was the doctor, Baba's best friend and his wife. They all stood up and giving me acknowleding nods, they glided silently out of the room to give Baba and I privacy.

There he was, lying so pale and wrinkled on the bed. He was so weak that he could barely move. I am sure that if he had the strength, he would hurl me into the water. But I didn't care. He was dying and he was my father and I was his daughter and I had to see him as he lay on his death bed. His eyes widened and followed as I walked over to his side. I knelt down and stroked his hair.

"Come back," I whispered. "Nuyer is here. Your daughter is back." Then, I rose and got a bowl and filled it with the clam soup that Amah had prepared. I added herbs and spices in it, making soft, worried clucking noises as I worked. Finally, I sat down and reach into my pocket and drew out a dagger. I placed the tip of the knife on the tip of my finger and pressing hard with the knife, I drew a line going downwards my finger. Blood spilled into the soup. You see, this is an old tradition. Only the most dutiful of children would put their own flesh in a soup to save their parents' life. This is how a child honors his/her parent. The pain of the flesh is nothing. The pain you must forget. Tears flowed from my eyes but I ignored them. This is the most important sacrifice a child must make for his/her parent. I did this with my whole heart, even though my father had banned me from the house. And in that moment, I understood why he was harsh. He was just as sad as I was about my mother's death. Only, he felt insecure about it. He expressed it differently. I then knelt down beside him again and gently lifted his head with one hand, and held the bowl to his lips with the other. He drank the soup, too weak to do anything else.

"Baba, don't leave," I whispered, tears rolling down my face. "Baba, don't leave." At that moment, I was filled with love for my father. And his eyes looked at me. He did not have to say the words because I could see the unspoken message: into a deep, warm kiss.

This is what true happiness is: if you haven't cried, then you won't be truly happy.