The Crazy Rich Asians Trilogy Box Set

by Kevin Kwan

  Rather than attempt a decor overhaul, which would take far too long anyway, I think you should instead be on the hunt for a new property. Living in a penthouse at Optus Towers sends the wrong message at this stage in your life—you are neither the second son of a tycoon nor the managing director of some third-tier Swiss bank. It may have been designed by that famous American architect (overrated, in my opinion), but it is not considered one of the “good family” buildings. I would like to see you relocate to a house in one of the neighborhoods on the south side of the island—Repulse Bay, Deep Water Bay, or even Stanley. This will send the message that you are a seriously committed wife and mother (never mind all the French expats in Stanley that ought to be committed).

  Art Collection

  I was expecting to see The Palace of Eighteen Perfections in the pride of place at your apartment. Where is it? I would suggest integrating a few important works of art into your collection. The contemporary Chinese artists are completely overbought at the moment, and don’t even get me started on the Americans. But German photography might be an interesting option for you—I think it would give your collection some sorely needed gravitas and gain you notice in serious collector circles if you were to possess one of Thomas Struth’s epic images of pharmaceutical plants, Candida Höfer’s riveting studies of municipal libraries in Lower Saxony, or a delightful grouping of rusting water towers by Bernd und Hilla Becher.

  Household

  I am very pleased to observe that your domestic help are well treated and have actual bedrooms. (You wouldn’t believe how many people I personally know who force their helpers*2 to sleep in spaces no larger than closets or pantry rooms, and yet have spare bedrooms filled with clothes, shoes, or Lladro figurines.) Instead of making them wear those French maid uniforms, might I suggest a smart modern uniform of navy blouses and white cotton slacks from J. Crew? Remember—your domestic helpers will talk with other domestic helpers on their days off, and having a reputation as a benevolent mistress will only further your cause.

  TRANSPORT

  Automobiles

  You should no longer be chauffeured around in that Rolls-Royce. I have always felt that unless one is either over sixty years of age or in possession of a silver helmet of hair that resembles Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II’s, being seen in a Rolls is completely ridiculous. Instead, please purchase a Mercedes S-Class, Audi A8, or BMW 7 Series like everyone else. (Or if you are feeling particularly brave, a Volkswagen Phaeton.) We can discuss the possibility of a Jaguar after one year, depending on your social standing then.

  Aircraft

  Your Gulfstream V is perfectly acceptable. (Please do not upgrade to the GVI yet, at least until Yolanda Kwok takes delivery of hers. She will be furious if you get one before she does and will block your Chinese Athletic Association membership application.)

  DINING

  The restaurants that you customarily patronize are deplorable. They are filled with nothing but expats, soap opera stars, social climbers, and—most disagreeable of all—foodies. As part of my new campaign to associate you only with establishment circles, you can no longer risk being seen at any trendy “culinary destinations.” If a restaurant is less than two years old or has been featured in Hong Kong Tattle or Pinnacle Magazine in the past eighteen months, I consider it trendy. Please see APPENDIX B for a list of approved dining clubs and restaurants with private dining rooms. Six months from now, if I feel that you have reached a certain threshold of social acceptability, I will arrange for you to be snapped by paparazzi eating a bowl of wonton noodles at a dai pai dong.*3 This will do wonders for your image, and I can already picture the headline: “Social Goddess Unafraid to Dine with the Masses.”

  SOCIAL LIFE

  Your social resurrection will first begin with social death. For the next three months, you will completely disappear from the scene. (Take a trip, spend time with your child, or why not both?) You will therefore refrain from attending social functions held at any retail establishment or designer boutique—until the right people begin inviting you. (An invitation from the PR firm is not acceptable; a handwritten note from Mr. Dries Van Noten requesting the honor of your presence is.) You will also refrain from all random receptions, gala dinners, annual balls, fund-raising benefits, charity auctions, “cocktail parties in aid of” anything, polo matches, tastings, or any other events that you would instinctually feel compelled to attend. After your three-month purgatory, we will slowly reintroduce you to the world in a series of carefully choreographed appearances. Depending on how well you perform, I may orchestrate further invitations to select events in London, Paris, Jakarta, and Singapore. Dipping your toes in the international scene will further enhance your reputation as “one to watch.” (Note: Ada Poon didn’t begin to receive invitations to Lady Ladoorie’s annual garden party until she was seen attending Colin Khoo and Araminta Lee’s wedding in Singapore.)

  TRAVEL

  I know you’ve been going to Dubai, Paris, and London for your holidays, but that’s what every common jet-setter in Hong Kong does these days. To stand out from the crowd, you need to begin traveling to new locales to demonstrate that you are someone of originality and interest. This year, I suggest that you plan a tour of famous religious pilgrimage sites such as the Shrine of Our Lady of Fatima in Portugal, the Sanctuary of Lourdes in France, and Santiago de Compostela in Spain. Be sure to post pictures of these places on your Facebook. In this way, even if you are photographed biting into a Galician ham croquette, people will still associate you with the Blessed Virgin Mother. If this trip goes well, we can organize a visit to Oprah’s schools in South Africa next year.

  PHILANTHROPIC AFFILIATIONS

  In order to truly ascend to a higher social stratosphere, it is important for you to become affiliated with one charitable cause. My mother of course has long been associated with the Hong Kong Horticultural Society, Connie Ming has a lock on all the art museums, Ada Poon owns cancer, and in a brilliant maneuver, Jordana Chiu was able to wrestle control of irritable bowel syndrome from Unity Ho last year at the Serenity Colon Ball. We can discuss some of your personal interests and decide if there is anything suitable that dovetails with our goals. Otherwise, I will select a cause from whatever available options remain so that we can send a unified message about what you stand for.

  SPIRITUAL LIFE

  When I feel you are ready, I will introduce you to Hong Kong’s most exclusive church, which you are to begin attending on a regular basis. Before you protest, please note that this is one of the cornerstones to my methodology of social rehabilitation. Your true spiritual affiliations do not concern me—it does not matter to me if you are Taoist, Daoist, Buddhist, or worship Meryl Streep—but it is absolutely essential that you become a regular praying, tithing, communion-taking, hands-in-the–air-waving, Bible-study-fellowship-attending member of this church. (This has the added bonus of ensuring that you will be qualified for burial at the most coveted Christian cemetery on Hong Kong Island, rather than having to suffer the eternal humiliation of being interred at one of those lesser cemeteries on the Kowloon side.)

  CULTURE AND CONVERSATION

  Your chief handicap to social success will always be the fact that you did not attend the right kindergarten with any of the right crowd. This eliminates you from participating in seventy percent of the conversations that occur during dinner parties at the best houses. You do not know the gossip that goes back to these people’s childhoods. And this is the secret: They are all still completely obsessed with what happened when they were five. Who was fat or thin? Who wet her pants during choir practice? Who’s father shut down Ocean Park for the day so that he could have a huge birthday party? Who spilled red bean soup all over whose party dress when they were six years old and still has not been forgiven? Twenty percent of the other conversations at parties consist of complaining about Mainlanders, so by default you will not be able to join in that dis
cussion. Another five percent is earmarked for complaining about the Chief Executive, so in order to distinguish yourself in the remaining meager five percent conversational window, you must either have one hell of a good stock tip or learn to become a scintillating conversationalist. Beauty fades, but wit will keep you on the invitation lists to all the most exclusive parties. To that end, you will embark on a reading program that I have designed specifically for you. You will also attend one cultural event per week. This can include but is not restricted to plays, opera, classical music concerts, ballet, modern dance, performance art, literary festivals, poetry readings, museum exhibitions, foreign-language or independent films, and art openings. (Hollywood movies, Cirque du Soleil, and Cantopop concerts do not count as culture.)

  READING LIST

  I noticed many magazines but not a single book in your entire house, with the exception of a Chinese-language translation of Sheryl Sandberg’s Lean In found in one of the maid’s bedrooms. You will therefore complete one book per fortnight, with the exception of Trollope, where you will be allowed three weeks per book. As you read these books, you will hopefully come to understand and appreciate why I am making you read them. The books are to be read in the following order:

  Snobs by Julian Fellowes

  The Piano Teacher by Janice Y. K. Lee

  People Like Us by Dominick Dunne

  The Power of Style by Annette Tapert and Diana Edkins (this is out of print; I will lend you my copy)

  Pride and Avarice by Nicholas Coleridge

  The Soong Dynasty by Sterling Seagrave

  Freedom by Jonathan Franzen

  D. V. by Diana Vreeland

  A Princess Remembers: The Memoirs of the Maharani of Jaipur by Gayatri Devi

  Jane Austen—complete works beginning with Pride and Prejudice

  Edith Wharton—The Custom of the Country, The Age of Innocence, The Buccaneers, The House of Mirth (must be read in strict order—you will understand why when you finish the last one)

  Vanity Fair by William Makepeace Thackeray

  Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy

  Brideshead Revisited by Evelyn Waugh

  Anthony Trollope—all the books in the Palliser series, beginning with Can You Forgive Her?

  I shall do an assessment when you have completed these books to see whether you are ready to attempt some light Proust.

  FINAL NOTE

  There’s no easy way to put this: We need to talk about Bernard. None of our goals will be effective if people are under the impression that your husband is somehow incapacitated, in a coma, or has become your sex slave in a dungeon. (That is the latest rumor going around.) We need to orchestrate a very public appearance with your husband and daughter very soon. Let’s discuss the options tomorrow at the Mandarin over tea and scones.

  * * *

  *1 A direct descendant of Confucius who was also rather fabulously known as the “Holy Duke of Yen.”

  *2 In Asia, the new generation of ruling class are using the term “helper” to refer to the people their parents call “maids” and their grandparents call “servants.”

  *3 An open-air roadside food stall. The dai pai dong where Corinna stages all her paparazzi shots is a particularly picturesque one located on St. Francis Yard, opposite the Club Monaco men’s concept shop.

  2

  RACHEL AND NICK

  SHANGHAI, JUNE 2013

  “And this,” the general manager said with a flourish, “is your living room.” Rachel and Nick walked through the foyer and into a room with double-height ceilings and a grand art deco–style fireplace. One of the associates in the general manager’s entourage pushed a button, and the sheer curtains in front of the tall picture window parted silently to reveal a breathtaking view of the Shanghai skyline.

  “No wonder you call this the Majestic suite,” Nick said. Another associate popped open a bottle of Deutz champagne and began pouring the bubbly into a pair of tall flutes. To Rachel, the sprawling hotel suite felt like a decadent box of chocolates—from the black marble bathroom with its oval soaking tub to the ridiculously plush pillows on the bed, every corner was just waiting to be savored.

  “Our yacht is at your disposal, and I would highly recommend a late-afternoon cruise so that you can see the city transition from day to night.”

  “We’ll definitely keep that in mind,” Nick said, eyeing the plush sofa longingly. Could these lovely people please just leave so I can kick off my shoes and crash for a bit?

  “Please let us know if there is anything else we can do to make your stay more enjoyable,” the manager said, placing his hand on his chest and making an almost imperceptible bow before discreetly exiting the room.

  Nick plopped down on the sofa lengthwise, grateful to be able to stretch out after their fifteen-hour flight from New York. “Well this is a surprise.”

  “I know! Can you believe this place? I’m pretty sure the bathroom alone is larger than our whole apartment! I thought our hotel in Paris was something else, but this is on a whole other level,” Rachel gushed as she returned to the living room.

  They were supposed to be staying with her father for the first couple of weeks of their vacation in China, but upon landing at Pudong International Airport, they were greeted at the gate by a man in a gray three-piece suit who had a note from Bao Gaoliang. Rachel took the piece of paper out of her purse and read it again. Written in Mandarin script in bold black ink, the note translated to:

  Dear Rachel and Nick,

  I trust you had a good flight. My apologies that I am unable to greet you at the airport myself, but I had to be in Hong Kong at the last minute and will only be returning later today. Since you are now officially on your honeymoon, I felt it would be much more fitting for you to spend your first days at the Peninsula Hotel as my guest. It will certainly be far more romantic than my house. Mr. Tin will speed your way through passport control and the Peninsula has sent a car to take you to the hotel. Have a relaxing afternoon, and I look forward to introducing you to your family at a celebratory dinner tonight. I will contact you with more details before the evening, but let’s plan on meeting at 7:00 p.m.

  Yours truly,

  Bao Gaoliang

  Nick noticed Rachel’s face light up as she reread the letter, her eyes skimming over the words “your family” for the umpteenth time. Taking another sip of the champagne, he said, “It was so cool of your father to arrange all this for us. Very thoughtful.”

  “Wasn’t it? It’s all a bit over the top—from this ginormous suite to the Rolls that picked us up at the airport. I felt a little embarrassed to be riding in it, didn’t you?”

  “Nah, the new Phantoms are perfectly discreet. Colin’s grandmother had a vintage Silver Cloud from the 1950s that looked like it came straight from Buckingham Palace. Now that was embarrassing to ride in.”

  “Well, I’m still not used to all this, but I guess this is how the Baos live.”

  As if reading her mind, Nick asked, “How are you feeling about tonight?”

  “I’m excited to meet everyone.”

  Nick remembered the hints his mother had made about the Baos back in Santa Barbara, and he had shared all the details of that conversation with Rachel a few days after their wedding. At that time, Rachel had said, “I’m happy that my father and his family have done well, but it really makes no difference to me whether they are rich or poor.”

  “I just wanted you to know what I know. It’s part of my new ‘full disclosure policy,’ ” Nick had said with a smile.

  “Ha—thanks! Well, I’m a lot more comfortable navigating around the Richie Rich crowd, thanks to you. I’ve already gone through a baptism of fire with your family. Don’t you think I’m ready for anything now?”

  “You survived my mother—I think everything else from here on out is a piece of cake,” Nick h
ad laughed. “I just want you to be fully aware of what you’re getting yourself into this time.”

  Rachel had given him a thoughtful look. “You know, I’m really going to try to approach this with no illusions—I know it’ll take a while to get to know my new family. I imagine it’s just as much of a shock for my brother and my stepmother as it is for me. They probably have issues out the wazoo about all this, and I’m not expecting to bond with them overnight. It’s enough for me to know they exist and to meet them.”

  Now that they were actually on Chinese soil, Nick could sense that Rachel wasn’t feeling as laid-back as she had been in Santa Barbara. He could feel her nervous energy even as she lay nestled against him on the sofa, both of them trying to battle through their jet lag. Even though she tried to play it cool, Nick knew how much she longed to be accepted by this newfound family of hers. He had grown up rooted in a long-established lineage: The hallways of Tyersall Park had always been hung with ancestral portraits in ancient rosewood frames, and in the library, Nick had spent many a rainy afternoon paging through volumes of hand-bound books containing intricate family trees. The Youngs had documented their ancestors going all the way back to AD 432, and it was all there in the brittle, brown pages of these ancient tomes. He wondered what it was like for Rachel to grow up not knowing a thing about her father, about the other half of her family. A soft buzz interrupted his thoughts.

  “I think someone’s at the door,” Rachel said with a yawn, as Nick got up reluctantly to open it.

  “Delivery for Ms. Chu,” the green-uniformed bellman said cheerily. He entered the suite pulling a luggage cart groaning with stacks of immaculately wrapped boxes. Behind him was another bellboy with a second luggage cart packed full of cartons.