Skeleton Women (12 page)
The yellow-attired boy, now being lifted to sit on his father’s shoulders, turned to me and made a face.
His mother spotted this and scolded him gently. “Baobao, don’t act rude to the nice lady. Can you say sorry?”
To my surprise, the little boy suddenly smiled sunnily and blew me an air kiss just like the one he’d sent to his parents.
Jinying’s tenor voice rose next to my ear. “Camilla, wouldn’t it be lovely if we had a boy like that someday? And that we loved him with all our heart and soul?”
“Sure,” I snapped again, at Jinying and also at my own secret sentimentality.
The little boy and his parents waved to us and walked away toward the ice cream stand.
Seemingly oblivious of, or deliberately ignoring, my rudeness, Jinying took my hand and kissed it. “Camilla, let’s go to my place.”
“Okay,” I said, surprising myself. My reasoning self argued that this might actually be a good thing; maybe I could find out something important about Lung from his son.
I liked Jinying’s apartment immediately. The furniture—a plain sofa, wooden coffee table, redwood dining table and matching chairs—was clean and simple. The walls were lined with bookcases overflowing with books, music scores, and decorative objects. Serene landscape paintings opened unexpected vistas through the white walls. Small busts of musicians and composers graced his upright piano and windowsills.
The young master smiled, then led me to sit on the sofa. After that, he went to put a 78 on his gramophone. What flowed out from the disk was me singing “A Wandering Songstress.” As I was about to say something, he disappeared into the kitchen. Soon he reappeared with two glasses and a bottle of red wine. He sat down by me, filled the two glasses, and handed me one.
“To our meeting!” He tapped my glass with his, emitting a pleasant
clink.
clink.
I took a few meditative sips, then quietly put down the glass. The young master took my hand and lifted it to his lips.
“Camilla ... I’m sure you know that I fell in love with you the first time I saw you at Bright Moon.” He pointed to the stack of 78s next to the gramophone. “I have all your records and listen to them every day.”
“But, Jinying, you know I can’t love you back.”
“It is because of my father?”
I didn’t respond. If only life were that simple. I gulped some more wine.
“Let me deal with him.”
I chuckled. “How? You think anyone can just get away from your father’s grasp, or slip through the cracks of his callous fingers?”
He shook his head like a stubborn child. “He loves me... .”
I said, “You think love solves everything?”
He pulled me to him and kissed me passionately on my mouth. Despite all my training at suppressing emotions, I found myself kissing him back with equal vehemence. His tongue eagerly searched mine. Then his hand reached inside my blouse. After more kissing and caressing, he lifted me up and carried me to his bedroom.
Soon I was lying on his spacious bed, naked and half-drunk, nervous as if it were my first time. His lips and hands, hot and feverish, explored my body like an adventurer seeking buried treasure. I responded by clinging tightly to him like a child fearing being abandoned by his mother. My nipples hardened, and the wet valley between my legs trembled, as I felt
qi
shooting right up my directing meridian, from my golden gate all the way to my mouth. I moaned and squirmed and pleaded for him to stop, but his hands and tongue, seemingly deaf, kept ambushing me from all sides.
qi
shooting right up my directing meridian, from my golden gate all the way to my mouth. I moaned and squirmed and pleaded for him to stop, but his hands and tongue, seemingly deaf, kept ambushing me from all sides.
He stared at me with his sad, penetrating eyes as his other self slipped inside me. His thrusts were deep and fervent, buoyant but hopeless. Our eyes locked with each other’s as we felt our rise to orgasmic heaven, then our plunge to fiery hell. I squirmed and screamed in abandon, venting a lifetime’s bottled-up emotions. My fingernails dug furrows in his back, leaving my marks of unbearable pleasure and insufferable miseries... .
After making love, we cuddled on the bed, feeling the sensuousness of the silky sheets.
I didn’t know if what I felt for this good-looking, refined-acting, Harvard-educated lawyer was love. I did know that I enjoyed the fiery sensations produced by his hands and lips. It was certainly much better than being with his old father and having to force myself to moan and groan while wearing a “becoming an immortal” expression... .
I was afraid of letting myself feel too comfortable, so I turned to Jinying and told him I had to go.
“Please, just stay here with me.”
“I can’t.”
“Camilla ...”
“Yes?”
“Let’s go away together.”
Although I acted calm on the surface, my heart was beating hard against my ribs. “What do you mean?”
“We can elope to Hong Kong, or even the US.”
“Are you out of your mind?”
“That’s our only way out.”
“Your father will kill us.”
“We’re already on a path of no return. Camilla, I don’t want a life without you.”
“Young Master, are you serious?”
“Yes! If not, let me be struck down by lightning or run over by a car the second I step out of this building.”
I put a finger across his lips. “Shh... . please don’t say something unlucky like that, ever.” If I did have a chance to run away with him, I certainly wouldn’t want him killed. “What if your father and his men track us down?”
“They won’t. I can carry you in my suitcase and take the ship back to America. You’re such a good contortionist, you definitely can hide in a suitcase, right?”
I smiled.
What a silly thought.
But right now I could not think of any more realistic way to escape.
What a silly thought.
But right now I could not think of any more realistic way to escape.
“Please come with me, Camilla.”
“I need time to think.”
“Of course.”
Some silence passed before I said, “Jinying, I’m your father’s mistress, so what makes think you can trust me?”
“Your voice.”
“My voice?” I was suddenly alert. “How?”
“No one sings like you. When I first saw you at Bright Moon, it was as if everyone else simply disappeared, and there was only you and me and your heartbreaking voice. Camilla, I love you, and I want to spent the rest of my life with you.”
“The rest of your life?” I smiled. “I’m sure you’d get bored quickly.”
He shook his head, looking very serious. “Never.”
Another pause followed, and then I asked, “If you leave your father, will you have enough money to live on?”
“I can always find a job at a law firm. Although I don’t like being a lawyer, I’m good at it. And you can still perform, or you can teach singing. But I’ll support you if you don’t want to.”
This was his naïveté coming out. The idea of teaching singing had never even once crossed my mind. But if I performed, I would be recognized, and Lung’s men would find me. I was sure he had no idea what we would be up against.
I looked at his innocent expression and wondered how a rough old man like Lung could sire and raise a clean, refined son like Jinying. Still staring, I felt heat shoot from my vagina to my head. I pulled him to me and kissed him fervently on his lips while my hand reached to grab his sex.
“Gentle, Camilla. Please be gentle with me... .”
Back home, I kept thinking of Jinying’s proposal to elope with him and the idea of teaching singing. Somehow my encounter with him seemed to open a window—even if just a crack—in my life. It made me realize that life might offer me more possibilities than I had realized. Wouldn’t it be nice to be a singing teacher like Madame Lewinsky, making a good income, being respected by students with their friendly visits and thoughtful gifts?
Just when I felt the corners of my lips lifting, my maid, Ah Fong, came into the living room. She carefully placed a cup of ginseng honey tea on the coffee table and said respectfully, “Miss Camilla, please drink this—very good for your voice. Big Brother Wang always say that I should cook you nutritious dishes to boost your energy and nurture your voice.”
As she walked away, I felt I was being slapped awake from a dangerous dream—back to an even more dangerous reality.
12
The Castle
T
wo days later, I was still thinking of the afternoon at Big World Amusement Park—and what came after—when Shadow called to invite me to her next show, “The Castle.”
wo days later, I was still thinking of the afternoon at Big World Amusement Park—and what came after—when Shadow called to invite me to her next show, “The Castle.”
I feigned excitement. “Congratulations, Shadow! So this time you’re going to perform magic in a castle?”
“The name ‘castle’ is but a gimmick; it really is just a dilapidated old mansion. You know, Camilla,” she laughed, “for a magician, everything in life is a prop.”
Or an illusion, like a spy’s life.
I smiled into the phone. “That’s an interesting way to look at things.”
I smiled into the phone. “That’s an interesting way to look at things.”
I was probably also a prop in her life. So, how was she going to use, then discard, me? I’d better get rid of her first. As the Chinese say, “He who strikes first gains the upper hand; he who strikes second gets killed.”
During our conversation, she never mentioned my handkerchief, fan, and diamond ring she’d taken during the banquet, nor did she apologize. But I was not going to say anything about it, not now. I’d wait and see.
Two weeks later, on a Friday evening, my driver, Ah Wen, took me a long way to an unfamiliar suburb outside Shanghai. We turned off the main road and continued for another ten minutes until we reached level ground some twenty yards from the “castle” on a hill. A group of about fifty people was milling around, looking excited. A signboard erected on the ground read:
WAIT HERE FOR THE BUS TO TAKE YOU TO THE CASTLE.
I was sure everyone was wondering why we couldn’t just have our cars leave us off right at our destination.
WAIT HERE FOR THE BUS TO TAKE YOU TO THE CASTLE.
I was sure everyone was wondering why we couldn’t just have our cars leave us off right at our destination.
Soon a bus arrived to take us up the hill to the old mansion. Another signboard in front of the building read: PLEASE WAIT HERE FOR THE INVITATION TO ENTER. THANK YOU FOR YOUR PATIENCE.
The mansion, a grandiose, Western-style structure with pillars along the façade, looked old and forlorn under the full moon streaked with wisps of wandering clouds. Was it lamenting its inevitable fate of outliving its owner or, like a beautiful woman, its inevitable decline? In front of the mansion was a small pond covered with moss, withered petals, and debris, giving off a bittersweet smell. Under the moonlight, the architecture reminded me of a sleeping beauty waiting for her prince to wake her with his kiss. Had Shadow picked this mansion to perform her magic with some sort of symbolism in mind? If so, what was it?
Then I turned and was struck by the magnificent view of nighttime Shanghai below. Colorful neon lights blinked incessantly, as if beckoning us to indulge in all sorts of decadence in this Ten Thousand Miles of Red Dust. Calling us to have our fun before it was too late, before the bird of our youth flew away, never to return.
I looked around me at the small group of elegant guests. The men wore long Chinese silk gowns or Western suits, and the women high-collared
cheongsam
or cocktail dresses, with matching accessories like hats, walking sticks, gloves, fans, jewelry. Although it was September and not even chilly, several dignified-looking
tai tai,
society ladies, had donned their thousand-dollar furs. There was an air of excitement and anticipation as the group waited for the event to begin.
cheongsam
or cocktail dresses, with matching accessories like hats, walking sticks, gloves, fans, jewelry. Although it was September and not even chilly, several dignified-looking
tai tai,
society ladies, had donned their thousand-dollar furs. There was an air of excitement and anticipation as the group waited for the event to begin.
While I was looking for Lung, I saw Jinying walk past an old couple toward me.
He planted a kiss on my cheek.
I complained in a heated whisper, “Young Master, are you out of your mind? What if people see us and tell your father?”
“Relax, nobody’s watching. I already looked around.”
“But not again. I’m serious.”
“All right, all right, I’m sorry.” He sighed, looking as forlorn as the abandoned castle.
I asked, “Where’s your father?”
“Camilla,” he scoffed, “you know he’s not interested in magic. He has much more important business to handle.”
“How come you’re here?”
“I knew he’d be away and you’d be here tonight. So I took his invitation.”
“What’s he up to now? He never tells me.”
“He’s buying up rickshaw licenses so that the pullers work for him.”
“Why does he want the pullers?”
“So they can serve as his informants.”
“Really?”
“Sure. Rickshaws are allowed to move freely everywhere, even the foreign concessions, so the pullers hear everything that’s going on in Shanghai. And some of them are strong and fierce enough to act as his hatchet men.”
I remained silent, absorbing the information.
The young master shook his head, obviously disapproving of his old man’s shifty deeds, apparently not conscious that what he was wearing tonight—a perfectly cut bespoke suit, shiny black Italian leather shoes, and gold Rolex watch, even his expensive cologne—had all been paid for from his old man’s perennially bulging pocket, the contents of which derived from his evil-karmic acts.
He went on, lowering his voice. “My father is also trying to buy ammunition.”
I made my voice lower than his. “Someone’s going to start a war soon?”
“My father says that a war is always starting somewhere. He’s just trying to sip the first drop of any nutritious soup, as the saying goes.”
Of course, some of the wars were the black societies themselves fighting one another for ever bigger helpings of the lucrative shark-fin soup that is Shanghai. Loyalties and alliances changed almost daily to the sound of gunfire, making juicy copy for Shanghai’s newspapers.
Jinying cast me a bitter smile. “Camilla, let’s not talk about this anymore. Let’s just enjoy the evening, okay?” He paused, then added, “By the way, you look gorgeous tonight.” He had finally noticed my lacy white dress with matching gloves, shawl, and pearl necklace.
The boss’s son took my elbow and steered me through the crowd. A few people gestured toward me and whispered to one another. I was always careful to smile back at anyone who acknowledged my presence. After all, some of these people were my meal tickets. But, as sometimes happened, a richly attired woman cast me a condescending glance, then turned away. That was fine with me, too. Since childhood, I’d had to learn to ignore snubs. Like a cold, they would sooner or later go away. My goal was to complete my mission. Distractions were to be ignored or eliminated.
Jinying’s voice woke me from my thinking. “What’s on your mind, Camilla?”
“Oh, I’m wondering what the show is about.”
Just then, to everyone’s surprise, a small dog came out from the mansion and barked at us playfully. People burst out laughing. The dog barked more, furiously wagging its tail and tilting its head, seeming to beckon us to enter the building. People threw one another questioning looks, but no one moved. Finally, a fiftyish man in a long coat, fedora hat, and carrying a walking stick took a tentative step across the threshold with his lady friend.
Once someone had broken the spell, the crowd relaxed and started to stream in. Inside, the first thing that caught my attention was that everything was red: the chandelier with its many faceted crystals giving out mysterious sparks on the walls and floor like blood drops, as well as sofas, vases, draperies, and abstract oil paintings.
The guests cast curious glances here and there, their expression a mixture of delight, surprise, and puzzlement. Why hold a magic show inside this strange old crimson castle? And where was the magician?
Then all of a sudden, the lights went out. A mere ten seconds later, they went back on, but something had changed. It took a moment for everyone to realize what it was: All the paintings on the walls were gone!
People exclaimed, asking one another if they had also seen the paintings when they had come in. Maybe this was a collective hallucination. Amid the questions and heated whispers, something stirred at the top of the long flight of steps. All eyes looked up and beheld the magician, who had transformed herself into a stunning goddess. Her face, powdered geisha white, contrasted strikingly with her purplish-pink eye shadow, bright red lipstick, and shiny black hair cascading over one shoulder. A bright light silhouetted her concave-waisted, big-hipped body encased in a tight, sequined, crimson evening gown, reminding me of a paper cutout. Rubies—I was sure they were costume jewelry—winked from her red-gloved wrists and fingers, as if beckoning us to enter her world of mystery and intrigue. I noticed several men studying her like connoisseurs appreciating an exquisite artwork.
I wondered whether Jinying shared the audience’s admiration, so I remarked to him, “Jinying, she’s stunning, isn’t she?”
“Sorry, Camilla, too big for my taste, too threatening and oppressive.”
I felt relieved at hearing this. Could I actually be jealous, fearing that the magician would be trying to lure the son as well as the father?
Shadow began to slowly descend the long staircase. The dog suddenly yapped, dashing up the stairs to greet its master. With an elegant sweep of her hand, the magician scooped up her canine prop. However, Shadow didn’t descend all the way to meet us mortals but halted midstairs, smiling and studying us with the dog nestled happily in her arms, its eager red tongue matching its mistress’s gown.
“Ladies and gentleman, tonight I and my Baobao welcome you all to my special show!”
The dog responded by yelping as if exclaiming, “Yes! Yes!”
Shadow affectionately stroked her prop. “Shh! Be quiet, and let Mommy talk.”
People laughed. She was off to a good start.
“I hope you like what you’ve seen so far, and of course there’s much more coming. Now please let’s all proceed outside, where a reception is waiting for you inside a tent.”
A gentleman in a gray suit and tie said, “I thought the magic was about the castle. Am I not right?”
Shadow smiled teasingly. “Of course it is.”
As if on cue, the dog suddenly jumped from Shadow’s arms and ran outside. We followed the dog like a herd of obedient sheep.
I asked Jinying, feeling his hand steering my elbow, “You like the show so far?”
“Only if you do.”
“It’s not exciting to you?”
“Why would people pay to be fooled?”
“Because they want to believe in the impossible.”
“Me, too. But not fake magic.” He stooped to whisper into my ear. “The magic I want, Camilla, is for you to truly love me and for us somehow to escape from my father’s grasp. Life is mostly illusions—or disillusionment. I don’t like being fooled. I like honesty, like you and your voice.”
Before I had a chance to respond, we arrived at the tent.
As we followed the dog inside, someone hissed, “I swear the tent was not here when we came!”
Another one responded. “Don’t you remember? This is magic.” “But how could she have set it up so fast?”
I said to Jinying, “It’s not ‘fast,’ considering her years of hard work behind all this.”
I remembered that Madame Lewinsky had once told me, “Genius, this word we use so casually, is mostly determination and perseverance.” Then I remembered my favorite proverb: “The sharp blade of a sword is the result of constant polishing. The fragrance of plum blossom comes only from the bitterest cold.”
Jinying said, “You’re right.”
Inside the big tent, rows of chairs faced the entrance and were flanked by tables covered with bottles of Champagne and plates of food. Tall red candles burned brightly, casting shadows on the food and turning the golden liquid into bubbly blood. The dog yapped toward the tables, as if beckoning us to take the food. Soon people were happily munching, sipping, and waiting for their hostess to cast a few magical sparks into their rich, boring lives.
Jinying got us Champagne and a plate of small dishes—mini ham sandwiches, fried shrimp, beef cakes, pate. He tapped his glass against mine and spoke in a near whisper. “Camilla, to our future.”
I smiled prettily, as if I was actually foreseeing one.
We sat down. While Jinying was busy eating, I sipped my drink and looked around. Nothing seemed peculiar about this tent except that it had a high ceiling. Through the open entrance we could see the castle, its lights flickering as if winking to us.
Soon the view of the mansion was blocked by Shadow, who had made her entrance and seated herself on a high-backed chair, really a throne, facing us. “Ladies and gentlemen, please continue to enjoy the food and drink. Now, do you want to learn the history of this castle?”
“Of course!”
“All right, be very quiet, and listen closely.” She gestured in the general direction of the grand architecture outside the tent. “It was built a hundred years ago by a banker as a vacation house. But rumor says it was not for his family but his beautiful mistress, a nightclub singer.”
Shadow seemed to cast a fleeting glimpse at me. I jolted at that as I caught Jinying’s questioning glance.
The magician went on. “The banker gave his mistress everything—expensive jewelry, fancy clothes, and a beautiful mansion on a hill filled with antiques and a slew of maids, drivers, chefs, gardeners, and pedigreed dogs.” She took a conspicuous sip of the Champagne, leaving a moist red lipstick mark on the flute.
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