The Nine Fold Heaven (19 page)

Did he really imagine I would be so stupid as to give him Lung’s seal? That little lump of rock was my lifeline, my pension, my path to turn my impossible dreams into possible ones.

Obviously, Wang had figured out my deception; I had given him the papers but not the chop to verify he was the account holder. I smiled to myself when I imagined his expression when he had gone to the bank and been refused the money. Of course, what infuriated him was not so much the loss of the money as the loss of face. He still got a fortune in gold bars, because when I had opened Lung’s safe I had taken mainly what was on paper—money and bank statements. I would have taken the gold, too, but I could only carry a few and so had to leave the rest. Wang just couldn’t bear the fact that he couldn’t have everything he’d been scheming for years to steal.

I was very tempted to say that I didn’t have the seal just to spite him; but then if he did have Lung, he’d go ahead and kill him.

So I said, “I have the seal in a safe place.”

“Damn you, you cunning little cunt! All right, tell Lung’s son if he wants his father back, you give me the seal and I’ll hand over your worthless man’s even more worthless father!”

I put on a little girl’s voice. “But, Big Brother Wang, how can I trust you again after our previous meeting?”

“Ha! But you don’t have a choice!”

Maybe. I could let Lung die without shedding any tears. But then Jinying would never forgive me and I might lose him. I definitely didn’t want my little Jinjin to grow up fatherless. Or to be alone myself.

So I pretended to agree. “Then we can meet at your upcoming sixtieth birthday party. You must be having a huge celebration with lots of politicians, businessmen, and celebrities. So also invite me and Jinying—”

“Hmm . . . Camilla, you still remember my birthday?”

“Of course, Big Brother Wang, after all you have done for me!”

This was pretty obvious flattery, but I knew vanity was his greatest weakness.

I went on. “You’ll have Master Lung sit at your table with his back to the room. Just get him dark glasses and a fake beard. If anyone asks, tell them he’s your uncle from the country or something. The young master and I will come up to your table. If we verify it is Lung, I’ll give you the seal and he comes with us. How’s that?”

I was sure Wang did not want us at his birthday party, but he wanted the seal more. So he agreed.

“All right, give me your address so I can send you an invitation.”

I laughed. “You didn’t train me to be stupid! Just tell me the time and place and we’ll see you there.”

 

A few days before the banquet, I took out a big chunk of my money—or Master Lung’s or Big Brother Wang’s, depending on whom you asked—to buy a Mercedes, a bulletproof one, such being a basic necessity for Shanghai’s wealthy. This would be my present to Wang for his big sixtieth birthday party.

Sixty is the most important birthday for Chinese because we reckon dates in sixty-year cycles. In the old days, few lived that long. That’s why anyone still alive at sixty will have a lavish celebration, if they can afford it. After all, what chance is there of making it through a second sixty-year cycle?

I again called Wang to let him know about the generous gift.

His murderer’s voice assaulted my eardrum. “Why so generous suddenly, eh?!”

Before I could respond, he added, “Huh! Don’t even think about pulling any dirty tricks! I can’t kill anyone during my birthday, but there are many days after that!”

I smiled into the receiver. “Big Brother Wang, this is your sixtieth birthday, a momentous occasion. After all you have done for me, how could I not give you an expensive gift appropriate for your number one status? Since you rebuked me for being ungrateful during our previous phone call, I decided I should show my appreciation with an extravagant gift. I also don’t want to get killed on your birthday, or any other day for that matter.”

Naturally, Wang would suspect that I’d put a bomb or something else deadly inside the vehicle. So I told him that I would drive the car to the restaurant on his birthday, then park right outside so his men could search the vehicle.

Finally, I concluded my talk by saying something I knew would infuriate him. “Big Brother Wang, don’t forget that now I’m flush with money from Lung’s safe. The cost of the car is just like a grain of sand on the desert. Ha! Ha! Ha!”

When he didn’t respond to this I added, “Big Brother Wang, when I go to your birthday party, my name will be Jasmine Chen, not Camilla.” This time, before he had a chance to curse me, I hung up with a loud bang.

25

Birthday Celebration

W
ang’s birthday came on a chilly, rainy Saturday evening. Jinying dressed in a Chinese gown, while I, hoping not to be recognized as Shanghai’s Heavenly Songbird, wore a Western-style evening dress, modest makeup, and a deep brown wig with bangs.

This was as different as I could come up with from my previous trademark look of a lavishly embroidered
cheongsam,
theatrical makeup, and false eyelashes, topped by wavy, long black hair swept to the right. The short sleeves of the
cheongsam
left space for multiple bracelets up past my elbows—translucent jade and gold sprinkled with diamonds. On my right ring finger I placed a huge cat’s eye stone set inside a ferocious gold tiger’s face striped with black enamel.

I hoped that my relatively plain look would keep anyone from recognizing me. I would have disguised as a man except that Jinying and I had to be a couple. Also, if I had to charm my way past a muscle-bound, husky bodyguard, I hoped that, despite my plain getup, I could draw upon my feminine power. I’d already told Wang over the phone that Jinying and I would sit at his table with his relatives: wives, sons, daughters-in-law, nephews, more wives, and so on. Wang had twelve grown children and countless grandchildren, so I hoped we’d just merge in and his guests wouldn’t pay us any notice. I doubted anyone knew all of Wang’s relations, least of all Wang himself.

With Jinying driving, we set out for the fancy new restaurant Wang had chosen for this party, perhaps because of its auspicious name—Good Luck Garden. I hoped that tonight the good luck would be mine instead of his. The restaurant had a curved façade, which seemed to be an imitation of the front of the Bright Moon Nightclub where I’d performed, bringing back memories of when I’d been featured at this most prestigious of Shanghai nightclubs as the glamorous Heavenly Songbird. There that I’d met Jinying and first danced with him on the nightclub’s famous glass floor. It was also there that I’d performed with Shadow the “two shows of the century.” Now, partly disguised in my plain outfit, I could not but feel deep regret that those days would never return.

Hanging from the façade of the Good Luck Garden were signboards decorated with fresh flowers and colorful, blinking light bulbs bearing congratulatory inscriptions:

But when my eyes landed on this one, I almost burst out laughing:

Of course, that was a fine saying by itself. Indeed, it was the most popular birthday wish because on this festive day, one eats gourmet food, consumes the finest wine and rarest tea, opens costly gifts, and basks in celebratory compliments. All the best things happen on this special day.

I had something else in mind for Wang. If they came to pass, he would not have any more years, or even days.

 

As soon as Jinying pulled up in front of the nightclub, a bodyguard came up and tapped on the window.

I rolled it down and bestowed my best flirtatious smile on him.

In a respectful tone, no doubt awed by the expensive Mercedes, he asked us who we were. I kept my smile sweet and seductive.

“We’re Big Brother Wang’s family, I am his sister-in-law’s sister”—I nodded my head toward Jinying—“and this is my husband.” Then I made a sweeping gesture with my hands. “You see this car? It’s our gift for Big Brother Wang.”

“I’m sorry that I have to ask. Can you show me your invitation?”

Of course Wang had never sent me one. I pretended to rummage in my handbag but couldn’t find any.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I forgot to bring it, how can I be so absentminded?”

I asked my “husband.” “Do you have it?”

He pretended annoyance. “Of course not. You were supposed to bring it!”

I thought for a while, then told the guard, “All right, please go inside and tell Big Brother Wang that his sister-in-law’s sister Jasmine Chen and Mr. Chen have arrived with their gift.“

I overheard another guard say, “If she’s only our boss’s sister-in-law’s sister, why would she buy him such an expensive gift?”

I smiled to my guard. “You know, Big Brother Wang saved my whole family from an evil criminal who wanted to take all our money. This gift is just a small token of our gratitude. Please go in and tell him, he’ll know who we are.”

Then into his rough hand—no doubt from roughing up Wang’s victims—I pressed a thick wad of bills.

“Of course.” He returned my sweet smile with a licentious one. “Please stay here.”

Waiting, Jinying and I watched as expensively dressed celebrities and dignitaries arrived and entered the restaurant. But this was more than celebrity gazing on my part. I knew we would not be killed in front of all these famous and powerful guests.

Soon the bodyguard came back. “Big Brother Wang said you can leave the car in front of the restaurant. But I have to check the car before I can let you in.”

So we got off and waited patiently for him and his colleagues to inspect the car quite thoroughly—opening the trunk and the hood, lifting up seat cushions, and crawling underneath. After they finished, they said we could go in.

I pointed to the side entrance. “The car has to be left here. When your boss comes out to see it, he’s not going to want to wait. And keep the other cars away so his expensive birthday present doesn’t get scratched.”

“As you say, madame.”

The guard hopped into the car and, driving slowly and carefully, parked where we had indicated. When he returned, Jinying held his hand out for the key, but the guard said it had to be left in the car in case Wang wanted it moved.

Now that we had taken care of the car, it was time to enter the restaurant. Of course I was not so naive as to think that Wang would just let us inside without being searched, even though the car was clean.

Two new bodyguards came and led us into the restaurant through the side entrance. Once inside, Jinying and I were taken to separate rooms to be thoroughly searched. As usual, I had to strip off all my clothes to prove that I hadn’t hidden a weapon or poison somewhere—inside my bra’s padding, my dress’s buttons, even my gold bangle and long, dangling earrings. The one who searched me showed his passion for his job by eagerly rubbing my breasts, bottom, and between my legs. Obviously I never liked this sort of thing, but it had been part of my daily routine when I was Lung’s mistress, so I’d become resigned to it.

With Gao it had been different. His image flashed in my mind and I suddenly missed him terribly. He was also a bodyguard, but unlike these animals, he had never been disrespectful or rough with me. He’d always made me feel like a lady, not a mistress or a marginal woman. He loved me, but never took advantage of his position. Though he was familiar with my naked body, he even turned around to let me put my clothes back on after he’d searched me. I’d returned his kindnesses by saving his life, as he had saved mine. But I wondered where he was now and reflected that we would probably never see each other again in this life.

Just then the bodyguard shouted, “Done, now put your clothes back on, quick!”

When we emerged from the room, Jinying and the other bodyguard were already waiting for us. The look on my lover’s face showed that he guessed what had happened to me in that room and was not happy about it. But I had no time to worry about his feelings, for we’d soon meet Wang and Lung. I had my own worries: What if Lung didn’t show up at the banquet table—maybe Wang had already killed him and this was just a trap for us? Maybe my former boss only pretended to be superstitious and wouldn’t mind killing people on his birthday?

But I had a perfect plan that would even fool heaven. Or so I hoped.

As we entered the big hall, our noses were greeted by the fragrance of flowers and perfume competing with the odors of food, alcohol, and cigarettes. A band boomed out cheerful and boisterous Chinese folk tunes. There were many tables; at each were seated expensively attired men and their lavishly dressed and bejeweled women. Some of the latter were young and beautiful, others less so—the first wives.

These rich, powerful men could easily rid themselves of these no longer desired first wives—there could always be an accident off a balcony or into the angry-waved Huangpu River. This would end the nagging, but then there would be the fear of a yellow-faced old hag coming back for revenge as a ghost.

There was another reason—these women might be
fengshui
wives, somehow the source of their husbands’ wealth and good fortune over the years. So later there would be concubines to serve their fleshly needs, while the first wives served the necessary function of bringing good luck.

After all, no rich and powerful man would be stupid enough to discontinue his good luck by cutting off from his first wife, who might be good in luck, though not in bed. But if she looks a little worn after all that you have put her through, you don’t need her to warm your bed, because replacements are readily at hand in the form of concubines. And when the concubine gets a little long in the tooth, then there can be concubine number two, number three, number four . . . The number can go on indefinitely in proportion to the thickness of your piles of money.

So no sane man would ever dump his
fengshui
first wife. Because when she leaves, she might take all his good fortune with her.

I suddenly thought that if Master Lung had taken me as his wife, decades later, my fate would have been the same as these rich but miserable women of a certain age. I’d be like a lucky amulet, necessary but kept out of sight. Because these rich and powerful men never take their first wives out for pleasure, but only so they’ll be praised for their virtue.

I sighed inside.

Jinying cast me a worried look. “Are you all right, Camilla?”

I acknowledged his worry with a tense smile.

Wang’s honorable guests were busy socializing between sips of champagne, imported liquor
, mao-tai,
wine, and aromatic tea, and so I was relieved that no one seemed to pay us any attention. As on the outside of the restaurant, red banners covered with auspicious couplets and fresh flowers were everywhere. But I didn’t see the little poem that I intended to change from good luck to bad:

However, I was encouraged by another sign from heaven. Hanging on the wall was a huge character
shou,
“longevity,” made from flowers and flanked by two red candles. Perhaps no one else noticed, but to me the dripping wax looked very much like bloody tears. What a bad omen, I hoped—for Wang. Right beneath the longevity character was a long table piled high with lavish gifts—a jade sculpture of the god of immortality, a gold bat for fortune, a huge marble plaque inscribed with lucky sayings, Chinese scrolls with paintings and calligraphy by famous artists.... Even the gifts seemed to be competing to get Wang’s attention.

Finally, I spotted Wang’s table in the center of the hall, the only one decorated in red—the color of good luck. A man who might be Master Lung sat at his table flanked by two muscular men—bodyguards, obviously. At the same table were three women, their age ranging from twenties to sixties—his old and young wives. His grown children, their wives, and grandchildren were scattered among different tables close to his.

If the old man sitting at the red table was really Master Lung—the once most powerful crime lord—then only his shadow was left. He looked more like a corpse than a living man. I felt a tug at my heart. Because when a man is at the height of his power, Chinese believe he can:

Just a few months ago, Master Lung had almost this much power. Now he looked more like a homeless person than someone who could give orders even to the police chief.

I didn’t tell Jinying that I spotted his father. Because I was not one hundred percent sure. Also I feared that he’d dash to Lung impulsively and spoil our plan.

In the distance, I saw Wang standing next to a plump, wealthy-looking man at a nearby table. The two shook hands, then both held up glasses of champagne and toasted each other. The plump man looked familiar to me and I suddenly realized he was the Mayor of Shanghai. Wang looked around at the assembled guests, then spotted me. He subtly nodded his head toward the red table in the middle.

Just then, a pretty woman in a high-slit
cheongsam
began to perform on the stage. In a high soprano voice, she sang excerpts from Beijing operas. I thought that if things had worked out differently, it might be me singing on that stage. I realized that Wang must arranged for the entertainment to begin at this moment so as to distract the guests from the transaction he was about to carry out with me. Good. This was exactly what I wanted too. So as the girl continued to sing while performing the elegant bodily movements and hand gestures of Beijing opera, I discreetly led Jinying to Wang’s table. When he tried to talk to me, I held my finger before my lips so as not to interfere with my carefully worked out scheme.