The Princeling of Nanjing (3 page)

“We did chat a bit in the washroom,” Ava said. “She asked about our relationship.”

“And?”

“I told her we’re good friends, but that I have my own business.”

“That was the extent of her curiosity?”

“Yes, but Xu, you do need to be careful, because the last thing Pang said to me was that Tsai is no friend of yours.”

“She doesn’t know a quarter of it,” Xu said, and then leaned down and kissed Ava on the forehead.

The room was lit up when Ava woke. She looked at the clock, saw it was six thirty, and then groaned and burrowed under the duvet. Fifteen minutes later she gave up and got out of bed. Her mind was telling her it was early evening in Toronto, and her body was coursing with energy.

She went directly to the bathroom to brush her teeth and wash her face. Then she went to the front door to pick up the newspapers. She brewed a coffee and took it to the window. Ava had a corner suite that overlooked Suzhou Creek, a public garden that had once been part of the British consulate, and a sliver of the Bund, a mile-long stretch of historic buildings that faced the embankment along the Huangpu River, the last significant tributary of the Yangtze. Dating back to the nineteenth century, the Bund had been part of the International Settlement, and its architecture was a mix of Beaux-Arts, Renaissance Revival, Romanesque Revival, and Art Deco styles, reflecting that time period and European tastes. Fifty-two buildings were officially listed as original. They had initially housed mainly banks and trading houses from Europe, Japan, and the United States. Technically they were on Zhongshan Road, but everyone referred to them by their number on the Bund. The Asia Building was 1 Zhongshan Road and also 1 The Bund. The Shanghai Club was 2, and so on. It amazed Ava that their unique designs and architecture had survived in the heart of China’s largest city.

The Bund and the gardens shimmered under an early morning light that was streaked by rain. There were worse things, she reminded herself, than waking up early in a five-star hotel in Shanghai. During her years with Uncle she had woken up many times in hotels that hardly rated one star; the view from the room was a brick wall or a dirty street, and the wake-up call came from cocks at sunrise.

She stood up and stretched. She wandered to the desk, turned on her computer, and started to read emails. A couple of minutes later her emotions were roiling.

Her mother, Jennie, had written to say she was going to Casino Rama and might be hard to reach. It was bad enough to read “Casino Rama,” but the words “hard to reach” almost sent convulsions through Ava’s body. Jennie’s love of gambling knew no limits. When Ava and her sister, Marian, were young, Jennie had to live within a monthly allowance that her husband, Marcus, sent to Toronto from Hong Kong. There were times when the allowance was gone before the middle of the month — the result of a long game of mah-jong or baccarat — and the girls were told it would be rice and vegetables for the next two weeks.

Ava started to write a reply and then stopped. There was nothing she could say that would make any difference. All she would do was aggravate her mother and frustrate herself.

Even more unsettling was an email from her girlfriend, Maria Gonzalez.

I was just told by the Consul-General that he’s asked Bogotá to extend my appointment here for another two years,
Maria wrote.
He’s expecting a positive response, and he’s expecting it quickly. I hope this makes you as happy as it makes me. Love, Maria.

Maria was an assistant trade commissioner at the Colombian consulate in Toronto. Her current appointment would be completed in less than a year, and this looming end date had been causing her to panic. She and Ava had been a couple for more than a year. It was the longest relationship of Ava’s life, and while she loved Maria, she was starting to feel pressure to make a stronger commitment. Maria had been hinting that they should consider moving in together. Several times the word “marriage” had crept into the conversation. Ava wasn’t ready to take either of those steps. A two-year extension to Maria’s appointment would at least give her some breathing room, but she knew it was unfair to keep Maria dangling, and she would have to make a decision soon.

I’ve just arrived in Shanghai and the trip was uneventful,
Ava wrote.
I think the news about the appointment is fantastic. Now let’s hope it comes to pass. Love, Ava
.

She sent the message, got up, made another coffee, and walked to the window. The rain was coming down harder now, and people were scurrying along the Bund with their umbrellas held at an angle to deflect it. She returned to the desk and picked up the newspapers, then settled into the green leather easy chair and worked her way through the international
New York Times
and the
Shanghai Daily
. She was reading a story in the
Daily
about the ever-increasing Chinese exports and China’s trade surplus when thoughts about Suki Chan intervened.

For someone who looked so ordinary, there was something compelling, almost electric about Suki. Clark might have a more visible and obvious charisma, but Suki made an impact in her own way. Ava began to reconstruct their conversation and then paused. Suki had put all of her proposals in writing — those proposals, along with Amanda’s analysis of them, were in Ava’s bag. She took the documents out, along with a Moleskine notebook in which to record her impressions and questions.

She pushed the green leather chair closer to the window, pulled a small table alongside, and began to read. She took her time, expanding on the notes and adding questions as went. She remembered additional facts and figures that Suki had thrown at her the night before and added them to the proposals. She had no idea how long she spent poring over the numbers, but she had drunk two more coffees before she felt satisfied that she fully understood where Suki wanted to take the business and why she was so excited about the prospects. She was starting to recalculate how much more money would be needed when her room phone rang.

“Hello,” she said.

“I’m downstairs in the restaurant,” May said.

Ava glanced at the bedside clock. It was almost eleven thirty. “I lost all track of time,” she said.

“Are we still on for lunch?”

“I’ll be there shortly,” Ava said, and then shook her head as if she was trying to clear it of Suki’s numbers. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so absorbed.

They ate lunch in the Lobby restaurant. The rain had stopped, and the sun poured through the twenty-foot-high windows that framed the north side of the dining room. May had chosen a table near these windows, set against one of the room’s giant pillars. As the sun lit the room, Ava saw subtle changes in colour and form and shape in the floor-to-ceiling wall murals, which had been created by Hong Kong artist Helen Poon. The murals were almost a living thing in the way they responded to the light.

May had a bottle of sparkling water, a cheese plate, and a tray of finger sandwiches in front of her. “Help yourself,” she said as Ava sat down.

“You’re wearing your PÖ clothes again,” Ava said.

“You too, and I have to say that dress looks even more stunning in this sunlight.”

Ava poured some water and reached for a smoked salmon sandwich. “I’m happy to see the sun,” she said. “When it was raining earlier, I began to worry that it might have a negative impact on the launch.”

“It would take more than a bit of rain to dampen spirits around here. I poked my head into the Rose Ballroom. Clark looked like he was floating on air.”

“How were the girls?”

“They’ve been here for hours with the producer and his staff. The last models are arriving now,” May said, pointing at two willowy brunettes walking through the lobby.

“How many models did we hire?”

“Twenty. Most of them are Chinese, but the producer brought six women from London with him.”

“What a production.”

“You’ve no idea. Chi-Tze took me on a tour yesterday before I went off to meet with Suki. They’ve taken over the back rooms and hallways that lead into the ballroom and have turned it all into a dressing room. They built a stage at the far end of the ballroom and a runway that’s thirty metres long. We’ve got a hundred and fifty seats, and the producer ordered special lighting and a sound system that he brought in from Europe. When Chi-Tze saw the cost, she asked him if it was really necessary. He told her, ‘This is show business. You’ve got one chance to make an impact. The clothes may be great on their own, but the right lighting and sound can make them otherworldly.’”

“So we obviously spent the money.”

“We did, and then we spent more again. The models cost a fortune.”

“How long will the show last?”

“About half an hour.”

“You’re kidding. I thought it would be longer than that.”

“Me too, but the producer was insistent that the length of time is appropriate. He was equally firm that the show start promptly at one and that we parade one model every thirty seconds. Everything has to be done with precision. When I heard this, I thought Clark might bristle. It was the opposite. He told Chi-Tze that it’s a joy to be working with a professional.”

Ava poured more water. “I’m just doing some basic math,” she said. “The show runs about half an hour and we’re showing an outfit every thirty seconds, so that means sixty outfits in all?”

“Closer to fifty. It’s a moving target that depends on Clark’s mood. Two days ago it was fifty-six, and yesterday after the rehearsal I heard we were at fifty-four.”

“That means each model wears only about three outfits.”

“Yes, and don’t try to calculate what it’s costing us every time one of them walks down that runway. I started to but gave up when Amanda told me we can’t look at the numbers that way.”

“Because we’re in show business?”

“Exactly.”

“And you said . . .”

“Absolutely nothing.”

“Wise.”

“I thought so.”

“Are you worried?”

“No, I’m excited.”

“Me too,” Ava said, and then reached across the table to grip May’s hand. “I have to say I’m also very excited about Suki’s ambitions. I listened to her last night and was impressed. This morning I reread her plans. May, I think we have to find a way to finance them.”

May closed her eyes and slowly shook her head. “I can’t go back to Changxing and ask him to give me more money from our business.”

“I know, and I’m not asking you to do that.”

“And I don’t want you to put in more money. We started out as equal partners. I want it to remain that way.”

“I do as well. I was thinking of Xu.”

“Did you discuss it with him last night?”

“No, we didn’t have a moment alone.”

“How was the evening, by the way?”

“Pang Fai wasn’t quite what I expected, and the big shot from Nanjing was a bit of an asshole.”

“Tell me about Pang Fai.”

“Maybe some other time, May,” Ava said. “It was kind of sad, and I don’t want that clouding our day.”

May took two cucumber and watercress sandwiches from the plate. “How much money would you ask Xu for?”

“Suki needs at least another hundred million.”

“And you can get that?”

“I can try.”

“Aren’t you concerned about dilution?”

“No, I think I can maintain the status quo.”

“How?”

“He owes me a favour or two.”

“Then see what you can do.”

“I’ll call him. Maybe we can meet before the show,” Ava said, reaching for her phone, but before she could access her contacts, it rang. She looked at the incoming number. “Speak of the devil.”

“It’s Xu,” he said.

“I know. May and I were just talking about you.”

“Kindly, I hope.”

“Of course.”

“You may not feel that way when I tell you that I can’t make the launch.”

He said it casually, but she felt some tension in his voice. “Is there a problem?”

“There are some minor issues in Nanjing that I couldn’t resolve last night. I have to go there today. I’m on the road already.”

“If they are minor, can’t they wait?”

“If I wait, they won’t be minor for very long.”

“Tsai is still in Shanghai?”

“He left last night.”

“That sounds ominous.”

“It wasn’t that dramatic.”

“Did Pang Fai go with him?”

“No, she was a Shanghai rental.”

“I have to say I was surprised by her, and by that.”

“Acting in Chinese movies doesn’t pay that well, and competition for roles is fierce. She probably has to augment her income, and having rich and powerful friends can’t hurt when it comes to getting parts.”

“She told me that she has a bit of a crush on you,” Ava said.

“The women I attract tend to have complicated lives. They’re usually more than I can handle, and she sure is.”

Ava glanced at May. She was eating a sandwich and appeared uninterested in the conversation. “Enough about that,” Ava said. “Where does this leave us as far as today is concerned?”

“The plant manager, Wu, will be there, and I told him to take his assistant with him. Her name is Fan. She’s young and talented, and I have plans for her. She’s excited but nervous about going to the launch. I’d appreciate it if you could look out for her.”

“Okay, I’ll find her and be sure to make her feel part of the team.”

“Thanks.”

“That isn’t necessary,” Ava said. “Have a safe trip.”

“Did Xu just cancel on us?” May asked when Ava put down the phone.

“He did. He still has problems in Nanjing that need to be resolved.”

“Oh.”

“You sound disappointed,” Ava said, remembering May’s hand resting on Xu’s arm the night before. “You wouldn’t be —”

“Oh, look,” May said, her eyes leaving Ava. “There’s Amanda.”

Amanda walked towards them with a tight smile across her face. She wore wide-leg teal trousers and a white linen blouse with billowing sleeves that were fastened with delicate purple glass buttons. Her mood didn’t reflect the brightness of her PÖ ensemble.

“You look stressed,” Ava said.

“It’s bedlam backstage.”

“Is there anything we can do to help?”

“That’s why I’m here,” Amanda said. “Chi-Tze and Gillian were going to greet people at the ballroom door and make sure they were properly seated. But we need them to help with the models and clothes. One of the dressers is ill, and they’ve sent her home. It’ll take both of them to replace her.”

“How’s Clark holding up?”

“Better than me.”

“When do you need us?” Ava asked.

“Now.”

“Let me look after the bill, and we’ll be there,” May said.

A few moments later Amanda led them across the lobby to the foyer. The doors to the Rose Ballroom were closed. She opened them and stepped inside. Ava followed and then froze.

“This is unbelievable,” she said. “Where did you get all those silk pennants and banners? Did you raid a movie set about a Chinese warlord?”

“They were custom-made. We ordered sixty of the long banners to cover the walls and surround the stage, and forty of the pennants to put on poles. There will be a soft breeze flowing through here when the show starts. They look even more spectacular when they flutter.”

The pennants and banners were a blaze of colours. The backgrounds were solid white, red, or gold, and running down the middle of each one in a contrasting colour was Chinese script that read
A SINGLE SPARK CAN SET THE WORLD ON FIRE
.

“The front rows on each side of the stage are reserved for our VIPs,” Amanda said. “There’s a name on every seat. After you greet people at the door, help them find their spot. Here are seating plans. You and May have assigned seats, but you should probably stay by the door. We don’t want anyone trying to come in once the show starts.”

“Unless it’s Carrie Song from Lane Crawford or Elsa Ngan from
Vogue
,” May said pointedly.

“Of course,” Amanda said.

“I assume people who aren’t on the seating plan can sit where they want?” Ava said.

“Yes.”

“Any other rules we need to be aware of?”

“Such as?”

“Can people use cellphones?”

“Cameras, cellphones, tape recorders, notepads — they’re all permitted. We want people to have something to rely on other than their memories.”

“Is that our camera crew that’s set up now?” Ava asked, pointing inside.

“Yes, we’re filming the show. We’ll send a DVD to everyone who’s here, and we’ll use the footage for all kinds of marketing campaigns over the next few months.”

“You sound like you’ve been doing this for years,” Ava said.

Amanda raised an eyebrow. “I’m just obeying orders, and believe me, neither the producer nor Clark is shy about telling us how things have to be done. I feel like I’m back at Sacred Heart Academy in Hong Kong with the nuns.”

“We’ll try not to disappoint,” Ava said and smiled.

“One last thing,” Amanda said. “We want noise.”

“Really?”

“The factory ladies and a lot of Clark and Gillian’s friends are going to be here. We’ve told them already that we want to hear them clapping and cheering as loudly as possible. It won’t hurt to remind them.”

“How will we know who they are?”

“If they’re not on the seating plan, then assume that’s them,” Amanda said. “I’ll see you both after the show.”

“So much for our front-row seats,” May said as Amanda left.

“I like feeling useful,” Ava said.

“Me too, I guess.”

Ten minutes later a group of about twenty factory ladies arrived. It was still early, and they hung back from the ballroom door. Ava saw no reason why they should have to stand in the lobby, so she urged them to come inside. “You can sit anywhere except the front rows, and be sure to make lots of noise,” she said.

“Don’t worry, you’ll hear us,” one of them said. “We’ve been waiting years for this.”

Soon after, Clark and Gillian’s friends began to arrive. May and Ava took turns issuing instructions.

Around a quarter to one, Xu’s plant manager, Wu, and the assistant, Fan, came to the entrance and asked for Ava. Ava introduced herself. The manager was deferential, while Fan looked painfully shy. She looked like a schoolgirl in a plain black skirt and white cotton blouse and with her hair in a ponytail. Ava walked them to the front row, where she showed them to the seats that would have been hers and May’s. “You can take pictures if you want, and please don’t be afraid to clap,” she told them.

When she got back to the entrance, the rush had started. She and May took as many people to their seats as they could, but were soon simply directing them. Ava recognized Elsa Ngan from the night before, but the others who were seated in the front rows were just names on a piece of paper. May did know many of them and introduced some to Ava. One, a real estate tycoon from Hong Kong, made Ava laugh when he asked May if her new ushering job paid well.

Just before one, Carrie Song arrived with a young woman who Ava assumed was her assistant. As Ava guided them to their seats, a light breeze began to circulate through the ballroom, and the pennants and banners fluttered.

“This is very well done,” Song said, looking up and around the ballroom.

Ava just made it back to the entrance as the lights dimmed. The strains of a traditional Chinese opera song began to play. The rather laborious melody surprised her. But then the room became completely dark, and a few seconds later the song ended.

The silence was almost eerie. It felt as if they were drenched in blackness for much longer than the ten seconds or so it actually was.

Onstage, a single sparkler came alive. When the sparkler went out, the room fell dark again. Ava counted to five, and then there was a crashing
boom
, and all at once the runway and the stage were dramatically lit. Clark stood in the centre of the stage with the dead sparkler held between the palms of his extended hands. He was shirtless, wearing only tight white linen slacks with a red scarf belt. His hair hung long and loose to his shoulders. He bowed, turned, and walked behind the curtain. Jacky Cheung’s voice filled the room with the opening words of the song “Blue Rain,” and the first model started down the runway.

“I just felt a chill run right down my spine,” May said.

Ava glanced sideways. Her friend’s eyes were locked on the stage.

The factory women and Clark and Gillian’s friends were now standing, clapping and cheering. Ava felt their emotion; she thought about how many years of study, work, and struggle Clark had endured to get to this precise moment and her eyes began to water.