The King of Shanghai

by Ian Hamilton

  She said goodbye to the other women at the fifth floor and walked to her room. Her intention was to grab a quick shower, change her clothes, and then check her email. She went into the bathroom, undressed, and was just about to step into the shower when the phone rang. “Hello?” she said.

  “Did you get flowers as well?” May asked.

  “What?”

  “There was huge a bouquet of roses on my bed, with a note.”

  “I haven’t been in my bedroom.”

  “Go now.”

  Ava carried the cordless phone with her. “What did the note say?”

  “I’ll tell you after you check your room.”

  Ava opened the door and gasped. “I don’t have roses,” she said. “I have red and purple orchids. The entire bed is blanketed with them.”

  “Is there a note?”

  She approached the bed and saw an envelope resting on top of her pillow. She ripped it open. “It says Apologies for last night. Call me if you have a chance. Xu.”

  “I just got an apology.”

  Ava stared at the bed, counting the orchids. She stopped at forty. In Canada it would have cost almost a thousand dollars for that many. “I’ll phone him and get back to you,” she said to May.

  She didn’t recognize the number on the card and she assumed it was his mobile. He answered at once with a firm “Wei” — an Uncle trait.

  “It’s Ava.”

  “Welcome to Shanghai.”

  “The flowers weren’t necessary,” Ava said. “Even as a kind gesture you went overboard.”

  “Buying flowers is something I have not done often in my life. I asked one of my men to look after it. From your remark, I assume he went too far.”

  “He most certainly did.”

  “Well, I hope the rest of your day was more pleasing.”

  “Xu, the flowers aren’t unpleasant. It’s just that receiving flowers is also not something that’s happened often in my life. I’m sorry if I sounded ungrateful.”

  “Not at all. I understand,” he said smoothly. “How was your day?”

  “We had a business meeting.”

  “I trust it went well.”

  “Well enough. How about your crisis?”

  “It has been managed.”

  “Excellent. So we can have dinner with clear minds all around.”

  “The reason I asked you to call is that I have made a change in the restaurant reservation and I want to make sure it is acceptable to you and May Ling. Instead of the French restaurant, I have reserved one of the private dining rooms at the Whampoa Club for the entire evening. It has a tremendous view of the Bund and the Huangpu River, and the food is superb. The club is also on the Bund, no more than fifteen minutes from your hotel. Whampoa was my initial instinct, but the room did not become available until earlier today.”

  “I’m sure we’ll be satisfied with whatever restaurant you choose.”

  “Then it’s confirmed.”

  “Will you be alone?”

  “Of course. It will be just me, you, and May Ling.”

  “And do you want to give me some idea of what we’ll be discussing?”

  “Does it have to be something in particular?”

  “No, but from our earlier phone conversations it seems you have something in mind, and I don’t want it to be awkward for either May Ling or me.”

  “If anyone should feel uncomfortable it is me, around two such beautiful and accomplished women.”

  “Oh god, what a load of shit that is,” Ava said, heading for the bathroom.

  “Yes and no.” He laughed. “I am rarely uncomfortable.”

  Ava heard real humour in his voice and found herself smiling. “Let me tell May about the change in plans. We’ll see you at the restaurant.”

  May answered her phone on the first ring.

  “I just spoke to our man the florist,” Ava said. “He’s changed the dinner reservation to the Whampoa Club.”

  “That’s great. They have fabulous food at Whampoa. Still the same time?”

  “Yes, seven.”

  “It’s exactly the same distance down the Bund from here, so why don’t we meet in the lobby as planned.”

  “See you then.”

  ( 9 )

  The Whampoa Club was at No. 3, The Bund, just less than a kilometre from the hotel. Under normal circumstances it would be no more than a fifteen-minute walk away, but at that hour of the warm, balmy evening it seemed as if everyone in Shanghai had decided to go for a walk along the river. It took them almost half an hour to walk the distance.

  May wore a pale green Chanel suit trimmed in gold. The skirt came to an inch above her knees, and she wore three-inch heels. She drew stares from men and women alike. In black slacks, a white shirt, and black pumps, Ava felt like the hired help.

  They walked nearly to the end of the promenade before crossing the street. “The place is actually called ‘Three on the Bund,’” May said.

  “You’ve been there before?”

  “Giorgio Armani and MCM have stores on the ground floor.”

  “Ah.”

  “And I’ve eaten at the French restaurant Jean Georges, which is a floor below Whampoa. That’s where Xu was going to take us originally.”

  They stopped in front of Number Three. Ava looked up at the brown stone building and felt a jolt of déjà vu. Its V-shaped façade looked like a ship’s prow, six storeys tall and topped with a cupola. “I feel like I’m in Paris,” she said.

  “I don’t know anything about architecture, but I do remember someone mentioning the Renaissance,” May said, and then paused. “Is that our man at the front door?”

  The sidewalk wasn’t as crowded as the promenade, and Ava had a direct view of the door. It was Xu. He was close to six feet and lean, with tightly cropped black hair. He was wearing a black suit, a white shirt, and a black silk tie. He took a long drag on a cigarette, his eyes glancing right and left. Like Uncle, his age was hard to determine; Ava guessed he could be anywhere from his late thirties to late forties. Also like Uncle, he was fine-featured, with a long, thin nose, high, pronounced cheekbones, and a pointed chin.

  When he caught sight of the two women, he smiled, threw his cigarette to the ground, and took several steps forward. He reached for Ava, lightly grasped her upper arms, and leaned forward to kiss her on both cheeks. “I am so glad you came,” he said. He turned towards May and extended a hand. “And you too, Madam Wong. We met at Uncle’s funeral but we had no chance to speak.”

  “That’s the second time today I’ve been called Madam Wong. Please don’t do that again, and don’t call me Auntie either. My name is May.”

  As May and Xu shook hands, the remnants of the day’s sun crept from behind a cloud and lit up the front of the building, drenching them in light. Ava saw that Xu’s black tie shimmered with subtle hints of red woven into the silk.

  “Shall we go in?” he said. “The entrance is around the corner, on the side street. Let me lead the way.”

  They rode the elevator to the fifth floor. No one spoke, but Ava and May took turns looking at Xu. Every time they did, he looked directly into their eyes and smiled. His teeth are unusually white for a smoker, Ava thought, and then remembered that Uncle’s had been the same. The direct gaze was another Uncle attribute that Xu seemed to share. Uncle’s internal world was filtered through his eyes, and over the years she had learned to read the emotional nuances in them. All she saw in Xu’s was frankness.

  When the elevator doors opened, they took a few steps forward before Ava stopped. “My god, this is beautiful,” she said.

  The entrance hall was massive, its hardwood floor leading past a wall made entirely of beige and tan glass panels overlaid with gold. The other wall was painted a sand colour and lined with narrow vertical light fixtures that glowed like green jade. Bu
t it was the gigantic crystal chandelier at the far end of the room that captured her attention. The enormous V-shaped light fixture, tapering to a point close to the floor, looked as if it were made from thousands of diamond drop earrings. Ava was so absorbed in its brilliance that she barely noticed the restaurant host on their left.

  “It is wonderful to have you back with us, Mr. Xu,” he said. “Your room is ready.”

  “Then we will go right to it.”

  The host led them through a full restaurant. Ava took in the art deco decor, the red and gold lacquer wall panels, more gilded glass, matching red leather club chairs, and carved hardwood tables with scroll legs that gleamed even in the dim light.

  Their room was furnished with a single round table that could have seated ten but had only three chairs — all of them positioned so their occupants had a view of the Bund and the Huangpu River through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The sun was just about to set, its last flickering rays dancing on the river, and just beyond was the purple and green Pearl Tower in Pudong.

  Xu took the seat on the far left, leaving May and Ava to sit next to each other. Ava found that strange until she realized that it allowed him to look at both of them while he was speaking.

  “I’ll send the waiters through immediately,” the host said.

  “Why don’t you order,” Ava said to Xu. “You seem to know this restaurant well enough.”

  “If you will order the wine . . . assuming that you do not want something else.”

  “Wine?” Ava said to May.

  “Yes, and I’ll drink white, since I know you like it.”

  “White is fine with me too,” Xu said.

  The door to the room opened and two waiters appeared. They both bowed to Xu. “I will take the menu and Ms. Lee will choose the wine,” he said, and then turned to the women. “Any food allergies or particular likes or dislikes?”

  “We eat everything,” Ava said.

  He ordered as if he knew the menu by heart. Ava switched her attention to the extensive wine list. When the waiter turned to her, she asked for a French white burgundy.

  “Thank you for joining me tonight,” Xu said when the waiters had left the room.

  “What could be better than a Shanghai meal with a true Shanghainese?” May said.

  “I am hardly that. My father was from Wuhan, like you and Uncle. He came here from Hong Kong after I was born.”

  “I’m told that he also shared Uncle’s old business interests — the ones he was involved in before he met Ava.”

  “I don’t think we have to get into that,” Ava said.

  Xu glanced at May and then stared directly at Ava. “I do not mind. I have no need to make apologies for my father and what he did, or for what I do or have done. Uncle felt exactly the same.”

  “I wasn’t suggesting otherwise.”

  “No, but there are times when you seem reluctant to acknowledge the life Uncle led before he met you.”

  “That didn’t seem to matter to him, and I don’t understand why it should mean so much to you,” Ava answered.

  “It matters because that life is not what it appears to people outside it.”

  “And why should we care?”

  “Because I have money I want to put to work in your investment company, and I know you will not permit me to do so unless the money is beyond reproach.”

  She felt Xu’s eyes boring into her. So much for polite, innocuous dinner conversation, Ava thought.

  Before another word could be spoken, the door swung open and a waiter appeared with a bottle of wine. A heavy silence loomed over the table as he went through the uncorking ritual. He made a move to pour wine into Xu’s glass but was cut off. “Ms. Lee will be the judge of the wine,” Xu said.

  It was the last thing she cared about at the moment, but she sniffed, took a sip, and then rolled it over her tongue. “Wonderful,” she said.

  As the glasses were being filled, the other waiter emerged with a tray with two platters on it.

  “Bird’s nest with minced chicken and deep-fried prawns with a wasabi dressing,” Xu said.

  The waiters apportioned both dishes and then backed out of the room.

  “The food smells fantastic,” Ava said. “Unfortunately, I can’t get my attention past what you just said about wanting to put money into our company.”

  “I apologize for bringing it up so abruptly,” Xu said. “Let us eat, and then we can resume our discussion.”

  He reached for a prawn with his chopsticks. He severed the head from the body and split the shell. Then he put the prawn into his mouth, separating the meat and spitting out the shell. He chewed slowly.

  Ava’s eyes never left him. “I don’t want to wait. How can your money be beyond reproach?” she said.

  “Thank you for asking. I hope you are actually interested in my answer,” he said, plucking a prawn from the platter and putting it in May’s bowl, then repeating the process for Ava.

  “We had, I believe, the beginning of this conversation over the phone while I was still in Toronto,” Ava said, ignoring the food.

  “We did, and I handled it very badly.”

  “Given the subject matter, I don’t know how else it could have gone.”

  “There is a history that needs to be understood — the evolution of what my father began many years ago.”

  “Evolution?”

  “That may be a poor word choice. What I am trying to say is that he began to guide the Heaven and Earth Society along the road back to what it had been and was meant to be. It is a challenge I have taken upon myself, using his experience and the wisdom of men such as Uncle.”

  “Heaven and Earth Society?”

  “People refer to us as Triads, but we are not Triad in the common sense. Triad is a term invented by the Hong Kong government. They took our symbol, a triangle with the word hung in it — a symbol that represents the union of heaven, earth, and man — and affixed that name to it. We think of ourselves as the Hung Society or the Heaven and Earth Society, and it is to the concepts of those societies I am trying to return.”

  “Ava may know what you’re talking about, but I don’t,” May Ling said.

  Xu smiled and then reached for the bottle of wine, which was nestled in an ice bucket. He refilled their glasses and his own. “We should get another bottle, you think?”

  “Yes. I may need it,” Ava said.

  “And we should eat before the food gets cold,” he urged.

  The door opened and the waiters reappeared, each carrying a tray. On one Ava saw a plate with a steamed fish, and on the other, sliced beef and noodles.

  “Steamed garoupa with soy sauce, beef tenderloin, and ba bao, a traditional Shanghai noodle dish,” Xu said. He looked up at the waiter. “Another bottle of wine, and keep a third one on ice in case we decide to have more.”

  May took a spoon and fork and began to dissect the fish. Steam rose from it, carrying hints of ginger and soy.

  The thinly sliced beef sizzled on a metal plate. Ava could smell garlic, but the paste on top of the meat was green. “What is that coating on the beef?” she asked.

  “Pistachios,” Xu said.

  As May served each of them a generous portion of fish, Ava’s interest in Xu and his money offer was finally overtaken by hunger. They ate quietly, working their way through the dishes. When they had put down their chopsticks, Xu pressed a buzzer on the wall. The waiters appeared so quickly that Ava guessed they had been standing right by the door.

  “You can remove our plates,” Xu said.

  “More wine, sir?” one asked.

  Xu looked at Ava and May. They both shook their heads. “If we want anything else, I will call for you,” he said.

  The door closed, and Ava emptied her glass. “Jet lag and wine are not a good combination,” she said.

  “I
am sorry. I forgot about that,” he said.

  “I’ll survive.” Ava shrugged. “Now tell me — before we started to eat you said you weren’t Triad.”

  “Not in the strictest sense, not in the Hong Kong fashion. We call ourselves Yan Yee Tong.”

  “The people’s justice group?”

  “Yes, that is a reasonably accurate translation.”

  “But you have to have an affiliation with 14K or Wo or Sun Yee On.”

  “We are completely independent.”

  “How is that possible?”

  “The gangs you mention are all Hong Kong–based. My father kept our interests tied to Shanghai. Once in a while the others have tried to stick their noses into our business, but we have more than four thousand loyal, active members, and interlopers were quickly discouraged.”

  “So you have nothing to do with other Triads?”

  “Of course we do. We are part of the international infrastructure, and we work with them when businesses intersect and mutual interests can be served. But those are loose and flexible arrangements. In fact, our relationships with the Shanghai government and the government in Beijing are far more structured.”

  May shot a nervous glance at Ava. “That would worry me as much as the Triads,” she said to Xu.

  “What would?”

  “The kind of government ties you’re hinting at.”

  “It is not what you think.”

  “And what do I think?”

  “That our government relationships are greased by bribes, that we corrupt officials.”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, in my opinion that would be a stupid, almost suicidal thing to do. There may be some short-term benefits, but that is all they would be — short-term. And whatever good that might accrue would be wiped out, and us along with it, if and when the government decided to act. And in this country, as you know better than just about anyone, they always find out, and eventually they act.”

  “So how do you maintain these relations of yours?”

  “We build factories, we own shopping complexes, we employ tens of thousands of people, and we pay our taxes in full. We contribute to the economic well-being of Shanghai and the country as a whole. And we try never to embarrass or bring grief to any level of government or the officials who work there.”