Mr Wong Goes West

P
RAISE FOR
N
URY
V
ITTACHI
AND
T
HE
F
ENG
S
HUI
D
ETECTIVE BOOKS

‘A very funny book. Dangerously so at times.’
That’s Beijing

‘Wacky and hilarious whodunit—you just have to dig
in and hold on for the wild ride.’
Asian Review of Books

‘An international bestseller whose unlikely sleuths
appear to be heading for cult status.’
Herald Sun
, Melbourne

‘Totally engrossing and very, very funny.’
Radio 3AK
, Melbourne

‘If Hollywood wakes up…’
The Australian

‘Endearingly wacky.’
The Times
, London

‘Should bear a large red label warning against its being read
while consuming beverages, lest unwary readers wind up
spitting tea through their nose as I did.’
That’s Beijing

‘Irresistible mix of classic whodunit and
Asian philosophy…outlandish humour,
self-deprecating oriental charm, and a biting subtext.’
The Age
, Melbourne

‘The man who made Lee Kuan Yew laugh.’
The New Paper
, Singapore

‘To many, he is Asia’s funniest, most pungent
columnist and author. To others, he is a subversive
threat who must be watched like a hawk.’
Herald Sun
, Melbourne

Author’s note

The feng shui lore and vaastu shastra principles in this book are all genuine. The text is interspersed with extracts from ‘Some Gleanings of Oriental Wisdom’, written by CF Wong and edited by Joyce McQuinnie. The Queen of England really exists but she doesn’t have a sister named Marjorie. This book is dedicated to everyone who works to improve East–West relationships through good-humoured laughter.

First published in 2008

Copyright © Nury Vittachi 2008

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publisher.
The Australian Copyright Act 1968
(the Act) allows a maximum of one chapter or 10% of this book, whichever is the greater, to be photocopied by any educational institution for its educational purposes provided that the educational institution (or body that administers it) has given a remuneration notice to Copyright Agency Limited (CAL) under the Act.

Allen & Unwin
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Australia
Phone: (61 2) 8425 0100
Fax: (61 2) 9906 2218
Email: [email protected]
Web:
www.allenandunwin.com

National Library of Australia

Cataloguing-in-Publication entry:

Vittachi, Nury, 1958–.

Mr Wong goes west: a feng shui detective novel.

ISBN 9781741753851 (pbk.).

I. Title.

823.92

Edited by Joanne Holliman
Text designed by Design by Committee
Typeset by Blue Rinse Setting
Printed in Australia by McPherson’s Printing Group

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In the days of the Yellow Emperor, there was a Minister of Laws who believed that there was nothing perfect in this world, until the day he had a daughter. She was beautiful and intelligent and affectionate. There was not one hair on her head that he would change.

‘For my perfect daughter, I need a perfect man,’ he told the people. So he passed a new law: only a man who could draw a perfect circle could marry his daughter.

Many men tried. And every man failed.

Then came the day when there was only one man left who had not yet tried. He was in the dungeon, being punished for failing to show respect to the many laws of the country.

The man in the prison said: ‘If you let me out, I will draw six perfect circles.’

His daughter was lonely for a husband so the Minister let him out.

‘Take me to the edge of the Lake of Bottomless Calm in West Tianting,’ he said.

The prisoner, the Minister of Laws and his daughter gathered at that place. The man dived from the edge of the cliff into the Lake of Bottomless Calm and disappeared.

At the point he entered the water, they saw six perfect circles radiating outwards.

Blade of Grass, we think of laws as things made by man. But who made the laws of nature?

From ‘Some Gleanings of Oriental Wisdom’
by CF Wong.

Dappled, shifting, twice-reflected sunlight; the tenderest of trade winds lifting one’s forelocks; blue sky and bluer water: the harbour was the most idyllic corner of God’s universe.

Until a ship’s foghorn farted so loudly it caused an entire flock of seabirds to defecate over an open-topped tourist boat. The curious acoustics of dockside water carried lively American curse words the length and breadth of the harbour. The feng shui master watched over the scene, unperturbed. The momentary disturbance would pass, as all temporal things passed. But the life-enhancing combination of elements that made up this energising environment would remain. Perfection on a massive enough scale was not easily tainted.

‘Ark,’ shrieked a seabird.

‘Shoot,’ shrieked a tourist.

As he had aged, CF Wong had become increasingly aware that the most complex mental constructions were rooted in the simplest of truths. The entire art and science of environment optimisation lay in a single word: balance.

It was a simple concept to understand, but not an easy one to realise. He’d learned that the most powerful place was the point at which the most extreme opposites lay in exact, tense counterpoint. A man on a tightrope, if he was holding a long enough, heavy enough pole, was rooted firmly in place, at peace, safe, unshakeable, immoveable.

Wong took a long intake of breath, closing his eyes and lowering his shoulders, seeking out his own balance. He held the air in his lungs for a slow count of six and then gently released it. Then he opened his eyes and blinked happily at the little kingdom he had created, giving the space immediately around him one last look-over to make sure it was as perfect as the view.

The meeting that was about to take place was extraordinarily important for him. So he had arranged for it to happen at an ideal site: a luxuriously appointed floating terrace, the balcony of a first-class apartment-cabin on the sixth floor of the
Princess Starlight Charisma
, a cruise ship docked in Singapore harbour on a gloriously warm and bright winter’s day.

Hanging terraces were the best possible places for achieving balance. A balcony was outdoors and indoors at the same time. Balconies gave you the feeling that you had come out of your protective shell and were part of the wider world, aware of the wind and the weather, in touch with the elements: you were connected to the pulsing, throbbing ecosystem; and yet, at the same time, they were enclosed and felt safe: you were in your own space, and intruders could not reach you; you controlled your environment, and no one could approach without your permission. It was the best place to be: on an open segment of God’s earth, but a separated, lockable segment.

Having chosen a terrace as a place on which to meet, Wong had gone further and balanced the qualities of land and
water by specifying that it should be on a ship. Boats were also marvellously balanced objects. A ship was a solid, strong, stable thing, like a building. Yet ships, however big they were, seemed to sit lightly on top of the water and could easily slide, move, spin and dance. They had a freedom of spirit that a land structure could not match.

On this particular occasion, the sense of balance stretched to the weather itself. This being Singapore, the air was hot. Yet the ship was positioned at such an angle that it picked up a cooling breeze from the open sea. The balcony had no air-conditioner, but did not need one, with a westerly wind providing more than enough air to keep one’s brow completely dry. The sea winds were full of salt, which widened the nostrils, expanded the lungs, and woke the spirit. This particular suite, not by chance, faced south when the ship was docked in its usual berth: the correct direction for a deal that would greatly advantage him on this day, a man born in the year of the tiger. A south–north energy line ran neatly through the terrace.

Happily, there was also balance in the light. The space was a bright suntrap, with glaring sunshine pouring in from the west. In this steaming city, just a few minutes in direct daylight was usually enough to raise a sweat; yet the canopy that covered the balcony meant the central part of it was in comfortable shadow at this time of the day. Wong had tried the different seats and ensured that all of them were in the shade, and would remain so, even if the meeting dragged on for an hour or two—which it shouldn’t. All he really had to do was to get the client to sign off on the deal, and collect the money: a cashier’s cheque, he hoped, that could be turned into fondle-able, hoard-able, gloat-able-over cash straightaway.

Fortunately, the cruise ship’s interior designer had good taste in furniture: the balcony was provided with a table and chairs in
high quality natural wood, and the colour scheme was tastefully muted in pale greens and earth tones. Wong had almost no additional actions to take other than making sure that the area was not cluttered. He’d removed a couple of ornaments and several of the plants. Also, the life-saving ring, which he had furtively thrown overboard. Why leave a little subliminal reminder of danger and mortality in such a peaceful spot?

Then of course there was the sheer spectacle of the scene. Singapore was a striking city and no spot was more beautiful than its harbour. With its angular backdrop of clean-lined, multi-hued skyscrapers glinting in the sun over an expanse of calm, grey-blue water, there was clear visual enchantment. He was hopeful that a non-local would find the view was so enrapturing that she would feel moved to do something momentous—like completing the deal by handing over a large cheque.