The Crazy Rich Asians Trilogy Box Set

by Kevin Kwan

  “No, two daughters. Still no boy yet, much to my mother’s dismay. But my brother Rob has three boys, which keeps her placated for the time being.”

  “And your wife? Is she here tonight?” Astrid asked.

  “No, no, I’m the only one flying the flag for my family. You know, they only invited eight hundred and eighty-eight guests, so I hear that unless you were family, a head of state, or a member of royalty, your spouse didn’t get invited.”

  “Is that so?” Astrid laughed. I treated Charlie horribly. He didn’t deserve to be chucked aside like that, but everyone was putting so much pressure on me about marrying Wu Hao Lian’s son back in those days. There was an awkward silence, but they were thankfully saved by the gasps of astonishment from the crowd. The ferry was fast approaching one of the outlying islands, and coming into view was what looked like a crystal palace glowing in the middle of the dense forest. Charlie and Astrid stared in awe as the full complexity of the structure became apparent.

  The cathedral-like banquet hall consisted of immense trapezoidal canopies of glass that were seemingly integrated into the tropical rain forest. Trees grew out from some of the glass panels, while others were contained within its dramatically angled panes. Intersecting the main structure were cantilevered terraces of varying heights, with a profusion of tropical vines and flowers spilling out over each terrace. The whole place looked like a futuristic Hanging Gardens of Babylon, and standing at the harbor promenade flanked by a row of travertine columns were Colin and Araminta, both dressed in white, waving to the arriving guests.

  Astrid took one look at them and deadpanned in a Latin accent, “Welcome to Fantasy Island!”

  Charlie laughed. He had forgotten her wacky sense of humor.

  “I guess this is how you spend forty million on a wedding,” Astrid remarked drily.

  “Oh, that thing costs way more than forty million,” Charlie said.

  Araminta, in a pleated white chiffon-silk gown with long straps of hammered gold and diamond links that crisscrossed her bodice, greeted her guests. Her hair was piled high into a mound of intricate braids and festooned with diamonds, baroque pearls, and moonstones. As the gown billowed around her in the ocean breeze, she could have been mistaken for an Etruscan goddess. Standing at her side, looking a little worn out from the day’s festivities, was Colin in a white linen tuxedo.

  Looking through the crowd, Araminta asked Colin, “Do you see your cousin Astrid anywhere?”

  “I saw her brothers, but I haven’t spotted her yet,” Colin answered.

  “Let me know the minute you spot her—I need to know what she’s wearing tonight!”

  “I spy Astrid disembarking from the third ferry,” Colin reported.

  “Alamak, she’s wearing a cheongsam! Why didn’t she wear one of her fabulous couture creations?” Araminta sighed.

  “I think she looks lovely, and that cheongsam was probably handmade—”

  “But I was waiting to see what designer she would turn up in! I go to all this trouble, and she doesn’t even bother to make the effort. What’s the whole fucking point of this wedding?” Araminta moaned.

  When the last boatload of guests had disembarked, the illuminated crystalline façade of the banquet hall suddenly morphed into an intense shade of fuschia. Haunting New Age music boomed from the surrounding forest, and the trees were bathed in golden light. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, golden cords descended from the thick foliage. Wrapped cocoon-like in these cords were acrobats with bodies that had been painted gold. “Oh my goodness—I think it’s Cirque du Soleil!” the guests began murmuring excitedly. As the acrobats started to unfurl and spin around the cords as effortlessly as lemurs, the crowd broke into rapturous applause.

  Kitty jumped up and down like a hyperactive child.

  “You seem to be having a good time,” Oliver said, sidling up next to her and noticing that her breasts didn’t seem to jiggle naturally inside that lacey turquoise gown. He also noticed that she had a thin sheen of body glitter on. Bad combo, he thought.

  “I love Cirque du Soleil! I’ve gone to every single one of their performances in Hong Kong. Now, I must have these acrobats at my wedding too.”

  “My goodness, that will be costly,” Oliver said in exaggerated awe.

  “Oh, Alistair can handle it,” Kitty replied breezily.

  “You think so? I didn’t realize Alistair was doing that well in the movie business.”

  “Hiyah, don’t you think his parents will pay for the wedding?” Kitty said as she stared at the gold-painted acrobats while they began to form a human arch.

  “Are you kidding me?” Oliver lowered his voice, continuing, “Do you have any idea how cheap his mother is?”

  “She is?”

  “Haven’t you been to that flat of theirs on Robinson Road?”

  “Er … no. I was never invited.”

  “That’s probably because Alistair was too embarrassed to show it to you. It’s a very basic three-bedroom flat. Alistair had to share a bedroom with his brother until he went to college. I went to visit in 1991, and there were these yellow floral bath mats in the toilet. And when I went again last month, the yellow floral bath mats were still there, except that they are grayish floral now.”

  “Really?” Kitty said in disbelief.

  “Well, look at his mother. You think she wears those old eighties dresses on purpose? She wears them to save money.”

  “But I thought Alistair’s father is a famous heart doctor?” Kitty was confused.

  Oliver paused. Thank God she didn’t seem to know about the Chengs’ massive real estate holdings. “Do you have any idea how much malpractice insurance costs these days? Doctors don’t make as much money as you think. Do you know how much it costs to send three children to study overseas? Eddie went to Cambridge, Cecilia went to UBC,‡ and Alistair—well, you know how long Alistair took to graduate from Sydney University. The Chengs spent most of their savings on their children’s education.”

  “I had no idea.”

  “And you know how Malcolm is. He’s a traditional Cantonese man—what remaining money he has will all go to his eldest son.”

  Kitty went quiet, and Oliver prayed he hadn’t laid it on too thick.

  “But of course, I know none of that is important to you,” he added. “You’re in love, and you don’t really need Cirque du Soleil performing at your wedding, do you? I mean, you’ll get to stare at that cute puppy-dog face of Alistair’s every morning for the rest of your life. That’s worth all the money in the world, isn’t it?”

  * * *

  * The custom at Chinese weddings is for guests to contribute a cash gift meant to help defray the cost of the lavish banquet, and it is usually the task of some unfortunate second cousin to collect and keep track of all these cash-stuffed envelopes.

  † The traditional Singaporean toast, which literally means “finish drinking.”

  ‡ University of British Columbia in Vancouver, commonly referred to by locals as “University of a Billion Chinese.”

  8

  Pulau Samsara

  OFF THE SOUTHERN COAST OF SINGAPORE

  At nine o’clock sharp, the wedding-ball attendees were led into the vast banquet hall set amid the indigenous tropical rain forest. Along the south walls were archways that led to grotto-like alcoves, while the curved north wall consisted of a curtain of glass that overlooked a man-made lagoon and a dramatic waterfall tumbling over moss-covered boulders. All along the edge of the lagoon, a profusion of exotic flowers and plants seemed to glow in iridescent colors.

  “Did they build all this just for the wedding banquet?” Carol Tai asked in astonishment.

  “No, lah! Those Lees always have business on their mind—this building is the centerpiece of a new luxury eco-resort they are developing—Pulau Samsara, they’re calling it,” her husband revealed.

  “What, are they going to try to s
ell us condos after the wedding cake is served?” Lorena Lim sniggered.

  “They can give this resort some fancy new name, but I know for a fact the island used to be called Pulau Hantu—‘Ghost Island.’ It was one of the outlying islands where the Japanese soldiers took all the young able-bodied Chinese men and had them shot during World War II. This island is haunted with ghosts of the war dead,” Daisy Foo whispered.

  “Alamak, Daisy, if you truly have faith in the Lord, you won’t believe in such things as ghosts!” Carol admonished.

  “Well, what about the Holy Ghost, Carol? Isn’t he a ghost too?” Daisy retorted.

  Minutes after Rachel and Nick were seated, the dinner began with military precision as a battalion of waiters marched in with glowing LED-domed trays. The engraved menu card indicated that it was Giant South Sea Scallop Consommé with Washington State Ginseng Vapors and Black Mushrooms,* but Rachel wasn’t quite sure what to do when the white-gloved waiter at her side lifted the shimmering dome off her plate. In front of her was a bowl, but encasing the surface of the bowl was what appeared to be a pinkish, membrane-like bubble that wobbled on its own accord.

  “What are we supposed to do with this?” Rachel asked.

  “Just pop it!” Nick encouraged.

  Rachel looked at it, giggling. “I’m afraid! I feel like some alien creature is going to burst out of it.”

  “Here, stand back, I’ll pop it for you,” Mehmet, who was on her right, offered.

  “No, no, I’ll do it,” Rachel said bravely. She gave it a jab with her fork, and the bubble immediately collapsed on itself, releasing a burst of pungent medicinal steam into the air. As the filmy pink membrane met the surface of the soup, it created a beautiful marbleized pattern across its surface. Rachel could now see an enormous poached scallop in the middle of the bowl and thinly julienned black mushrooms artfully positioned like sun rays around it.

  “Hmm. I gather the bubble was the ginseng,” Mehmet said. “It’s always guesswork when you’re eating molecular cuisine, even more so when it’s Pacific Rim fusion molecular cuisine. What is the name of this culinary genius again?”

  “I can’t remember exactly, but supposedly he trained with Chan Yan-tak before going to do an apprenticeship at El Bulli,” Nick replied. “It’s really quite yummy, but I can see from my mum’s expression that she’s having a fit.”

  Four tables away, Eleanor was turning as red as the coral-beaded bolero jacket she wore over her intricately pleated Fortuny silk gown, but it had nothing to do with the soup. She had been in shock ever since she spotted Rachel on the promenade wearing the Grand Duchess Zoya sapphire necklace. Could her disapproving mother-in-law really have loaned the necklace to Rachel? Or, even more unthinkable, had she given Rachel the necklace? What sort of black magic was Rachel doing at Tyersall Park?

  “Are you going to drink your soup or not?” Philip asked, interrupting her thoughts. “If you’re not going to have it, hand over the bowl before it gets cold.”

  “I’ve lost my appetite tonight. Here, swap seats with me—I need to talk to your sister for a minute.” Eleanor took her husband’s seat and smiled prettily at Victoria, who was huddled in conversation with her cousin Dickie.

  “Wah, Victoria, you should really wear jewelry more often—you look so pretty in these cognac diamonds.”

  Victoria wanted to roll her eyes. Eleanor had never once in three decades given her a compliment, but now, when she had this heap of vulgar stones on her chest, Eleanor was suddenly gushing. She was like all her other Sung sisters, so vain and materialistic. “Yes, isn’t it fun? Mummy gave them to me. She was in a good mood today after the wedding and was doling out heaps of jewels to everyone.”

  “How nice for you,” Eleanor said breezily. “And isn’t that Mummy’s sapphire necklace on Rachel Chu’s neck?”

  “Yes, doesn’t it look marvelous on her? Mummy thought so too,” Victoria said with a smile. She knew perfectly well that Fiona had been given the necklace and had loaned it to Rachel (after that delicious scene on the stairs with Eddie that Ling Cheh had breathlessly reenacted for her), but she chose not to share that detail with Eleanor. Far more amusing to see Eleanor get worked up over nothing.

  “Alamak, aren’t you the least bit concerned about Rachel?” Eleanor queried.

  “Concerned about what?” Victoria asked, knowing full well what Eleanor meant.

  “Well, her dubious family background, for starters.”

  “Oh, come on, Eleanor. You need to stop being so old-fashioned. Nobody cares about that kind of stuff anymore. Rachel is so well educated and down-to-earth. And she speaks perfect Mandarin.” She took care to mention all the things Eleanor was not.

  “I didn’t know she spoke perfect Mandarin,” Eleanor said, getting more worried by the minute.

  “Yes, she’s very accomplished. Why, I had the most fascinating conversation with her this morning about the importance of micro-lending in sub-Saharan Africa. You should feel lucky that Nicky has a girlfriend like her, and not someone like that spendthrift Araminta Lee. Can you imagine what the Khoos must be thinking right now, sitting here in the middle of this mosquito-infested jungle eating this absurd food? I’m so bloody sick of this Chinese fusion trend. I mean, it says on this menu card that this is Caramelized Peking Duck y Chocolat Molé, but it looks like peanut brittle. Where’s the duck, I ask you? Where’s the damn duck?”

  “Will you excuse me a moment?” Eleanor said, getting up from the table abruptly.

  Francesca was just about to take a pensive first bite into her Hawaiian Suckling Pig Truffle Tacos when Eleanor interrupted her. “Will you please come with me at once?”

  Eleanor walked her into one of the cavern-like lounges surrounding the main banquet hall. She sank into a white mohair ottoman and inhaled deeply, as Francesca bent over her in concern, the ruffles on her flame-orange ball gown billowing around her like frothy waves. “Are you okay, Auntie Elle? You look like you’re having a panic attack.”

  “I think I am. I need my Xanax. Can you get me some water? And please blow out all those candles. The smell is giving me a migraine.”

  Francesca quickly returned with a glass of water. Eleanor downed a few pills quickly and sighed. “It’s worse than I thought. Far worse.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Did you see that sapphire necklace on that girl?”

  “How could I miss it? Yesterday she was wearing Ann Taylor Loft and today she’s in an Elie Saab gown from next season and those sapphires.”

  “It’s my mother-in-law’s. It used to belong to the Grand Duchess Zoya of St. Petersburg, and now it’s been given to that girl. What’s more, the whole family seems to have fallen in love with her, even my bitchy sister-in-law,” Eleanor said, almost choking on the words.

  Francesca looked grave. “Don’t worry, Auntie Elle. I promised you I would see to it, and after tonight, Rachel Chu will wish she had never set foot on this island!”

  After the sixth and final course had been served, the lights in the great hall dimmed, and a voice boomed out, “Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome our very special guest!” The live band struck up a tune, and the wall of glass behind the stage began to part. The water in the lagoon started to glow an iridescent aquamarine before draining away completely, and from the middle of the lagoon, the figure of a woman rose up as if by magic. As she walked slowly toward the banquet hall, someone screamed, “Oh my goodness, it’s Tracy Kuan!” The usually grimfaced vice premier of China jumped out of his seat and began clapping like a man possessed, as everyone in the hall cheered and rose to a standing ovation.

  “Who’s that?” Rachel asked, amazed by the huge surge of excitement.

  “It’s Tracy Kuan—she’s like the Barbra Streisand of Asia. Oh my God, I can die now!” Oliver practically swooned, getting all choked up.

  “Tracy Kuan is still alive?” Cassandra Shang turned in astonishment to Jacqueline Li
ng. “The woman must be at least a hundred and three by now, and she doesn’t look a day over forty! What on earth does she do to herself?”

  “Whale vomit from New Zealand. Works miracles on your face,” Jacqueline shot back in dead seriousness.

  Tracy Kuan sang Dolly Parton’s classic “I Will Always Love You,” with alternating verses in English and Mandarin, as the lagoon outside began to shoot elaborate fountain jets of water into the sky, synchronized to the music. Colin led Araminta onto the dance floor, and the crowd oohed and aahed as they danced to the ballad. When the song was over, all of the surfaces along the stage suddenly transformed into giant LED panels, projecting rapid stop-motion video sequences as Tracy Kuan launched into her classic dance hit “People Like Us.” The crowd roared in approval and rushed onto the dance floor.

  Oliver grabbed Cecilia Cheng by the arm and said, “You are under orders from your grandmother to help me. I’m going to cut in on Alistair and Kitty, and you need to keep your baby brother distracted. All I need is one song alone with Kitty.”

  Kitty and Alistair were grinding against each other feverishly when Oliver and Cecilia cut in, Alistair giving up Kitty reluctantly. How was he supposed to dirty dance with his own sister? “You’ve got the best moves on the dance floor!” Oliver yelled into Kitty’s ear, as Cecilia steered Alistair closer to the stage.

  “I danced backup for Aaron Kwok. That’s how I got my start in the industry,” Kitty yelled back to Oliver as she continued to shimmy wildly.

  “I know! I recognized you the minute I saw you the other day. You were wearing a short platinum blond wig in Aaron Kwok’s music video,” Oliver replied, expertly herding her toward a strategic point on the dance floor without her realizing it.

  “Wow! You have a good memory,” Kitty said, feeling flattered.

  “I also remember you from your other video.”