The Crazy Rich Asians Trilogy Box Set

by Kevin Kwan

  “Cannot be! Two or three acres I might believe, but fifty? No such thing, lah.”

  “It was fifty acres at least, probably more. I thought I was dreaming. I thought I was in another country.”

  “Lu leem ziew, ah?”† Neena looked at her daughter in concern. Peik Lin ignored her.

  “Show me,” Wye Mun said, his interest piqued. “Let’s see it on Google Earth.” They walked over to the computer desk in the corner, pulled up the program, and Peik Lin began searching for the place. As they zoomed in on the topographical screen, she immediately noticed something amiss in the satellite image.

  “Look, Papa—this whole patch is empty! You think it’s part of the Botanic Gardens, but it’s not. This is where the house is. But why are there no images? It doesn’t appear on Google Earth at all! And my GPS couldn’t find the address either.”

  Wye Mun stared at the screen. The place his daughter claimed to have seen was literally a black hole on the map. It did not officially exist. How very strange.

  “Who is this fellow’s family?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. But there were a lot of VIP cars in the driveway. I saw quite a few diplomatic license plates. Old Rolls-Royces, vintage Daimlers, that type of car. These people must be loaded beyond belief. Who do you think they are?”

  “I can’t think of anyone specifically who lives in this area.” Wye Mun ran the cursor over the perimeter of the blacked-out area. His family had been in the property development and construction business in Singapore for more than forty years, but he had never come across anything like this. “Wah, this is prime, prime land—right in the middle of the island. The value would be incalculable. Cannot be one property, lah!”

  “Yes it is, Papa. I saw it with my own eyes. And supposedly Nick’s grandmother grew up there. It’s her house.”

  “Make Rachel find out the grandma’s name. And the grandpa. We need to know who these people are. How can one person own this much private land in one of the most crowded cities in the world?”

  “Wah, it looks like Rachel Chu has hit jackpot. I hope she marries this guy!” Neena chimed in from her recliner.

  “Aiyah, who cares about Rachel Chu? Peik Lin, you go after him!” Wye Mun declared.

  Peik Lin grinned at her father, and began texting Rachel.

  Wye Mun patted his wife on her shoulder. “Come, call the driver. Let’s take a drive down Tyersall Road. I want to see this place for myself.”

  They decided to take the Audi SUV in an effort to be as inconspicuous as possible. “See, I think this is where the property actually begins,” Peik Lin noted as they turned onto the curving, densely wooded road. “I think all this on the left side is the southern boundary of the land.” When they reached the gray iron gates, Wye Mun made the driver stop the car for a minute. The place looked completely deserted. “See, you wouldn’t think there’s anything here. It looks like some old section of the Botanic Gardens. There’s another guard house farther down this road, a high-tech one manned by Gurkha guards,” Peik Lin explained. Wye Mun stared down the unlit, overgrown road, completely fascinated. He was one of Singapore’s leading property developers, and he knew every square inch of land on the island. Or at least he thought he did.

  * * *

  * Hokkien for “big house.”

  † Hokkien for “Have you been drinking?”

  4

  Rachel and Nick

  TYERSALL PARK

  “The tan huas are coming into bloom!” Ling Cheh announced excitedly to everyone on the terrace. As the guests began to head back in through the conservatory, Nick pulled Rachel aside. “Here, let’s take a shortcut,” he said. Rachel followed him through a side door, and they wandered down a long hallway, past many darkened rooms that she longed to peek into. When Nick led her through an arch at the end of the passage, Rachel’s jaw dropped in disbelief.

  They were no longer in Singapore. It was as if they had stumbled onto a secret cloister deep within a Moorish palace. The vast courtyard was enclosed on all sides but completely open to the sky. Elaborately carved columns lined the arcades around its perimeter, and an Andalusian fountain protruded from the stone wall, spouting a stream of water from a lotus blossom sculpted out of rose quartz. Overhead, hundreds of copper lanterns had been meticulously strung across the courtyard from the second-floor walkway, each flickering with candlelight.

  “I wanted to show you this place while it was still empty,” Nick said in a hushed voice, pulling Rachel into an embrace.

  “Pinch me, please. Is any of this real?” Rachel whispered as she looked into Nick’s eyes.

  “This place is very real. You’re the dream,” Nick answered as he kissed her deeply.

  A few guests began to trickle in, disrupting the spell they had momentarily been under. “Come, it’s dessert time!” Nick said, rubbing his hands together in anticipation.

  Along one of the arcades stretched long banquet tables that displayed a wondrous selection of desserts. There were elaborate cakes, soufflés, and sweet puddings, there was goreng pisang* drizzled with Lyle’s Golden Syrup, nyonya kuehs in every color of the rainbow, and tall polished samovars filled with different steaming-hot elixirs. Servers wearing white toques stood behind each table, ready to dish out the delicacies.

  “Tell me this isn’t how your family eats every day,” Rachel said in amazement.

  “Well, tonight was leftovers night,” Nick deadpanned.

  Rachel elbowed him in the ribs playfully.

  “Ow! And I was about to offer you a slice of the best chocolate chiffon cake in the world.”

  “I just stuffed my face with eighteen different types of noodles! I couldn’t possibly eat dessert,” Rachel groaned, pressing her palm against her stomach momentarily. She walked to the center of the courtyard, where chairs were arranged around a reflecting pool. In the middle of the pool were huge terra-cotta urns that held the painstakingly cultivated tan huas. Rachel had never seen a species of flora quite so exotic. The tangled forest of plants grew together into a tall profusion of large floppy leaves the color of dark jade. Long stems sprouted from the edges of the leaves, curving until they formed huge bulbs. The pale reddish petals curled tightly like delicate fingers grasping a silken white peach. Oliver stood by the flowers, scrutinizing one of the bulbs closely.

  “How can you tell they are about to bloom?” Rachel asked him.

  “See how swollen they’ve become, and how the whiteness of the bulbs are peeking through these red tentacles? Within the hour, you will see them open fully. You know, it’s considered to be very auspicious to witness tan huas blooming in the night.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, indeed. They bloom so rarely and so unpredictably, and it all happens so fast. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime event for most people, so I’d say you’re very lucky to be here tonight.”

  As Rachel strolled around the reflecting pool, she noticed Nick under an arcade chatting intently with the striking lady who had been sitting next to Nick’s grandmother. “Who is that woman talking to Nick? You were with her earlier,” Rachel asked.

  “Oh, that’s Jacqueline Ling. An old family friend.”

  “She looks like a movie star,” Rachel commented.

  “Yes, doesn’t she? I’ve always thought that Jacqueline looks like a Chinese Catherine Deneuve, only more beautiful.”

  “She does look like Catherine Deneuve!”

  “And aging better too.”

  “Well, she’s not that old. What is she, in her early forties?”

  “Try adding twenty years to that.”

  “You’re kidding!” Rachel said, staring in awe at Jacqueline’s ballerina-like figure, shown to great advantage by the pale yellow halter top and palazzo pants that she wore with a pair of silver stilettos.

  “I’ve always thought it a bit of a pity that she hasn’t done more with herself than disarm men with her looks,” Oliver obse
rved.

  “Is that what she’s done?”

  “Widowed once, almost married a British marquess, and since then she’s been the companion of a Norwegian tycoon. There’s a story I heard as a child: Jacqueline’s beauty was so legendary that when she visited Hong Kong for the first time in the sixties, her arrival attracted a throng of spectators, as if she were Elizabeth Taylor. All the men were clamoring to propose to her, and fights broke out at the terminal. It made the newspapers, apparently.”

  “All because of her beauty.”

  “Yes, and her bloodline. She’s the granddaughter of Ling Yin Chao.”

  “Who’s that?”

  “He was one of Asia’s most revered philanthropists. Built schools all over China. Not that Jacqueline is following in his footsteps, unless you consider her donations in aid of Manolo Blahnik.”

  Rachel laughed, as both of them noticed that Jacqueline had one hand on Nick’s upper arm, stroking it gently.

  “Don’t worry—she flirts with everyone,” Oliver quipped. “Do you want another piece of juicy gossip?”

  “Please.”

  “I’m told Nick’s grandmother very much wanted Jacqueline for Nick’s father. But she didn’t succeed.”

  “He wasn’t swayed by her looks?”

  “Well, he already had another beauty on his hands—Nick’s mother. You haven’t met Auntie Elle yet, have you?”

  “No, she went away for the weekend.”

  “Hmm, how interesting. She never goes away when Nicholas is in town,” Oliver said, turning around to make sure no one was within earshot before leaning closer in. “I’d tread extra carefully around Eleanor Young if I were you. She maintains a rival court,” he said mysteriously before walking off toward the cocktails table.

  Nick stood at one end of the desserts, wondering what to have first: the goreng pisang with ice cream, the blancmange with mango sauce, or the chocolate chiffon cake.

  “Oh, your cook’s chocolate chiffon! Now this is the reason I came tonight!” Jacqueline ran her fingers through her shoulder-length curls and then brushed her hand softly against his arm. “So tell me, why haven’t you been calling Amanda? You’ve only seen her a handful of times since she moved to New York.”

  “We tried getting together a couple of times this spring, but she’s always overbooked. Isn’t she dating some high-flying hedge-fund guy?”

  “It’s not serious; that man is twice her age.”

  “Well, I see her pictures in the newspapers all the time.”

  “That’s just the problem. That has to stop. It’s so unseemly. I want my daughter to mix with quality people, not the so-called Asian jet set in New York. All those pretenders are riding Amanda’s coattails—she’s just too naïve to see that.”

  “Oh, I don’t think Mandy’s that naïve.”

  “She needs proper company, Nicky. Gar gee nang.† I want you to look out for her. Will you promise to do that for me?”

  “Of course. I spoke to her last month and she told me that she was too busy to come back for Colin’s wedding.”

  “Yes, it’s too bad, isn’t it?”

  “I’ll call her when I’m back in New York. But I do think I’m far too boring for Amanda these days.”

  “No, no, she would benefit from spending more time with you—you were so close once upon a time. Now tell me about this charming girl you’ve brought home to meet your grandmother. I see she’s already won over Oliver. You better tell her to be careful with him—he’s such a vicious gossip, that one.”

  Astrid and Rachel sat by the lotus fountain, watching a lady dressed in flowing apricot silk robes play a guqin, the traditional Chinese zither. Rachel was entranced by the mesmerizing speed of the lady’s long red fingernails plucking gracefully at the strings, while Astrid desperately tried to stop obsessing over what Oliver had said earlier. Could he have really seen Michael walking with some little boy in Hong Kong? Nick sank into the chair next to her, dexterously balancing two steaming cups of tea with one hand and holding a plate of half-eaten chocolate chiffon cake with the other. He handed the cup with smoked lychee tea to Astrid, knowing it was her favorite, and offered some cake to Rachel. “You’ve got to try this—it’s one of our cook Ah Ching’s greatest hits.”

  “Alamak, Nicky, get her a proper piece of her own,” Astrid scolded, temporarily snapping out of her funk.

  “It’s okay, Astrid. I’ll just eat most of his, like always,” Rachel explained with a laugh. She tasted the cake, her eyes widening instantly. It was the perfect combination of chocolate and cream, with an airy melt-in-your-mouth lightness. “Hmmm. I like that it isn’t too sweet.”

  “That’s why I can never eat other chocolate cakes. They’re always too sweet, too dense, or have too much frosting,” Nick said.

  Rachel reached over for another bite. “Just get the recipe and I’ll try making it at home.”

  Astrid arched her eyebrows. “You can try, Rachel, but trust me, my cook has tried, and it never comes out quite this good. I suspect Ah Ching’s withholding some secret ingredient.”

  As they sat in the courtyard, the tightly rolled red petals of the tan huas unfurled like a slow-motion movie to reveal a profusion of feathery white petals that kept expanding into an explosive sunburst pattern. “I can’t believe how big these flowers are getting!” Rachel observed excitedly.

  “It always reminds me of a swan ruffling its wings, about to take flight,” Astrid remarked.

  “Or maybe about to go into attack mode,” Nick added. “Swans can get really aggressive.”

  “My swans were never aggressive,” Great-aunt Rosemary said as she walked up, overhearing Nick’s comment. “Don’t you remember feeding the swans in my pond when you were a little boy?”

  “I remember being rather afraid of them actually,” Nick replied. “I would break off little bits of bread, throw them into the water, and then run for cover.”

  “Nicky was a little wimp,” Astrid teased.

  “Was he?” Rachel asked in surprise.

  “Well, he was so tiny. For the longest time everyone was afraid that he would never grow—I was so much taller than him. And then suddenly he shot up,” Astrid said.

  “Hey, Astrid, stop discussing my secret shame,” Nick said with a mock frown.

  “Nicky, you have nothing to be embarrassed about. After all, you’ve grown up to be quite the strapping specimen, as I’m sure Rachel would agree,” Great-aunt Rosemary said saucily. The women all laughed.

  As the flowers continued to transform before her eyes, Rachel sat sipping lychee tea from a red porcelain cup, entranced by everything around her. She watched the sultan taking pictures of his two wives in front of the blossoms, their jewel-embroidered kebayas reflecting shards of light every time the camera flash went off. She observed the cluster of men sitting in a circle with Astrid’s father, who was engrossed in a heated political debate, and she looked at Nick, now crouched beside his grandmother. She was touched to see how caring Nick seemed to be with his grandmother, holding the old lady’s hands as he whispered into her ear.

  “Is your friend having a nice time tonight?” Su Yi asked her grandson in Cantonese.

  “Yes, Ah Ma. She’s having a lovely time. Thank you for inviting her.”

  “She seems to be quite the talk of the town. Everyone is either trying delicately to ask me about her or trying delicately to tell me things about her.”

  “Really? What have they been saying?”

  “Some are wondering what her intentions are. Your cousin Cassandra even called me from England, all flustered up.”

  Nick was surprised. “How does Cassandra even know about Rachel?”

  “Aiyah, only the ghosts know where she gets her information! But she is very concerned for you. She thinks you are going to get trapped.”

  “Trapped? I’m just on holiday with Rachel, Ah Ma. There is nothing to be concerned about,” Nick
said defensively, annoyed that Cassandra had been gossiping about him.

  “That’s exactly what I told her. I told her that you are a good boy, and that you would never do anything without my blessing. Cassandra must be bored out of her mind in the English countryside. She’s letting her imagination run as wild as her silly horses.”

  “Would you like me to bring Rachel over, Ah Ma, so that you can get to know her better?” Nick ventured.

  “You know I won’t be able to stand all the craning necks if that happens. Why don’t you both just come to stay next week? It’s so silly to be staying at a hotel when your bedroom is waiting right here.”

  Nick was thrilled to hear these words from his grandmother. He had her seal of approval now. “That would be wonderful, Ah Ma.”

  In a corner of the darkened billiard room, Jacqueline was in the midst of a heated phone conversation with her daughter, Amanda, in New York. “Stop making excuses! I don’t give a damn what you told the press. Do what you have to do, but just make sure you’re back next week,” she fumed.

  Jacqueline ended her call, looking out the window at the moonlit terrace. “I know you’re there, Oliver,” she said sharply, not turning around. Oliver emerged from the shadowy doorway and approached slowly.

  “I can smell you from a mile away. You need to lay off the Blenheim Bouquet—you’re not the Prince of Wales.”

  Oliver arched his eyebrows. “Aren’t we getting testy! Anyway, it’s quite clear to me that Nicholas is completely smitten. Don’t you think it’s a little too late for Amanda?”

  “Not at all,” Jacqueline replied, carefully rearranging her hair. “As you yourself have often said, timing is everything.”

  “I was talking about investing in art.”

  “My daughter is an exquisite piece of art, is she not? She belongs only in the finest collection.”

  “A collection you failed to become part of.”

  “Fuck you, Oliver.”