Shanghai Girl (33 page)

“What did you think I was? Just a nerdy scientist?”

“No. Not a nerd, but a first-rate scientist who is going to win the Nobel Prize one day.”

He looks at me in all seriousness and says, “That’s right, Sha-fei. Just give me ten years.”

I break out laughing at his formal manner. He comes over to hug me. “I love you,” he says in English. Before he can kiss me, I press my index finger against his mouth and request, “I want to hear you tell me you love me in Chinese.”

He murmurs, “
Wo Ai Ni
,” and starts to kiss me passionately. When we stop, he wipes his forehead with the back of his hand and blushes with embarrassment. He turns to go into another room and says, “There’s something else I want to show you.”

Lu Long brings out copies of two enlarged photos, one of the two of us taken at Columbia recently, the other of my father and me standing against the same background. “Father and me? You doctored the photo of my father and Mr. Lou!” I cry out.

“It’s called cut and paste for quality improvement,” he says, beaming. “How do you like it?”

“I love it. How did you do it?”

“I made photocopies of the original pictures, glued them in place, and blew them up on the xerox machine.”

“This is great. Thank you for being so considerate.”

“You’re welcome. Here’s something else. Open it.” He hands me a small, red envelope.

“You’re amazing. What is it? Money?”

“Open it,” he repeats.

I find a shining key.

“This is the key to this apartment,” he begins. “My place is your place, so I want you to have the key. Right now, no other students have moved in.”

Staring at the key hesitantly, I say, “Thank you for your kindness, but I can’t take your key. The place in Chinatown is fine for me right now … “

Lu Long suddenly goes down on his knees and implores, “Please, Hong Sha-fei, don’t torture me any more. I love you. I want you. Just take it. When I do a little better in a few years, I will ask you to marry me.” He covers his face with his palms and mutters, “I can’t believe I have the courage to finally say this to you, but please.”

Sensing him shivering by my feet, I help him up and embrace him. As a riot of kisses land on me, waves of warmth roll over me.

“I have already asked for your father’s permission. Now I want you to come with me, inside. I’ll ask him again, this time with you joining me.” Lu Long holds my hand and we walk to his bedroom. There’s no bed, only boxes and books and a comforter on the floor. On a shaky tray table rests a framed picture of Father and me, the same one he has just shown me. The seated Goddess of Justice is in the background, an open book of legal codes on her lap, right hand on the scepter, left arm reaching skyward with an open palm, her piercing eyes staring into heaven’s vault.

Lu Long lights the sandalwood incense standing next to the picture. A single ribbon of fine smoke rises. A plate of fresh
Ju
, or oranges has already been placed in front of the photo. In Chinese,
Ju
is a pun on
Ji
, or propitious sign, auspicious omen. The oranges are oblation. Offerings and tribute to Father. Lu Long is so filial, I think. Father would be happy to have him as a son-in-law. My cheeks burn.

Lu Long and I kneel before the makeshift altar, close our palms and lower our heads in respect.

"Honorable Mr. Hong, your daughter Hong Sha-fei and myself, humble Lu Long, kneel before you today to ask for your permission for us to love and nurture each other. I promise in front of your soul that I will try my best to make her happy and to deserve her. Please bestow on us your blessings from Heaven. We kowtow to you three times. One. Two Three. Above, the Heaven, below, the Earth. They bear witness to this occasion."

With tears welling up, I plead, “Bless us, please, Father.”

After standing up, Lu Long and I look into each other’s eyes and hold out our hands like two small children. “Hello, my Mandarin Valentine,” he says.

“Why do you call me that?”

Lu Long smiles and pushes his glasses up a little. “Well, the way it’s going, I think you’re going to be a Mandarin pretty soon working for that politician with an Italian name.”

“I’m not sure yet. Besides, it’s not called a Mandarin in America. I know. We both can be Mandarins. We’re a pair of Mandarin ducks in love. What do you think?”

“You’re always so much smarter, my female Mandarin duck. You want to get into the water with me?”

“What water?” I ask.

“I don’t have a swimming pool for you now, but I finally have a bath tub in this apartment. Let’s check it out.” We both burst out laughing.

He leads me into the spacious bathroom, where a claw-footed full-length tub dominates the room. I think of the tub I bathed in at Shanghai Plaza and smile to myself.

We stand side by side as warm water fills the classic European style tub. “Can you undress for me?” he says.

“It’s unfair if you just stand and watch,” I say.

He wrings his hands together for a second and says, “I’ll do it after you, okay?”

I smile at my Lu Long and begin to take off my clothes one piece at a time, waiting for the steam to permeate the room and shadow my body. He stands still like an obedient boy, fascinated as if gazing at an oil painting of a nude woman in a museum. When I am all naked, he carries me and places me gently into the water. Water splashing, me giggling. “Your turn,” I demand.

Ignoring my protest, he dashes out for a minute. When he re-enters, he’s already naked. The red roses in his hands block his front.

“This is not fair! You’re cheating!” I yell from the tub. One petal after another, he begins to throw the roses into the tub, onto the crystal, petal-fill water, onto my hair, cheeks, shoulders, arms, breasts and lips.

When the tub is as full as it can be and the rose stems as bare as he is, my love joins the petals in embracing me.

Lu Long underneath me, me on top of him. He hugs me bear-style from behind. From below.

We float as the rose petals float, our dreams and aspirations merge.

His chest my pillow, I close my eyes, feeling like a winged creature,
Teng Yun Jia Wu
- mounting the clouds and riding the fog, on top of the stratospheric Ninth Heaven where Father is. I glide in the direction of the horizon where the golden sun, the silver water, and the brown earth meet. The sun gilds my wings, the water cools my head, and the earth embraces my body and soul.

THE SHANGHAI IN THE GIRL