Bonjour Shanghai

by Isabelle Laflèche

Today is a great day. I can, and I will …

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  “SLEEP WELL, I PRESUME?” Sandra asks as I walk out onto the balcony. She’s also wearing silk pyjamas, hers covered in large blue and white blooms, and is stretched out along the railing with tea and a newspaper, enjoying the spectacular view. She looks regal and confident, as if the city below is hers for the taking. Based on that article I read about her in Vogue China, it is. I’m so grateful to have met her. But for some reason, she doesn’t look as cheerful as she did last night.

  “These pyjamas are sumptuous. I feel like a queen wearing them.”

  “That is exactly what you are, and frankly, it’s time you started acting like one.”

  Whoa. I take a step back and lean against the door. This is a much more direct side to Sandra. I guess years of working in high finance will teach you to be that way.

  She sees my surprised reaction and her face softens.

  “Sorry,” she says, looking into the distance. “My sister’s illness has taken a turn for the worse, and it’s getting to me. I spoke to her doctor this morning, and it sounds like her disease has progressed.” I can see tears in the corners of her eyes. “She has young children — it’s not easy, you know?”

  “There’s no need to apologize, Sandra. I’m so sorry to hear that.” I place a hand on her shoulder. She pats it tenderly.

  “Thank you. I’m glad you stayed last night. I needed the company just as much as you did. Have you had any ideas about how to handle your WeChat problem yet?”

  She gets up and makes her way to the kitchen. I follow and watch her brew some more jasmine tea.

  “That’s what Jake and Jonathan texted me about this morning, among other things.”

  She gives me a puzzled look, then shakes her head. “Your mind is consumed with men and what they think about things. It should be the other way around, okay?” She points her teaspoon at me. “That shouldn’t be your preoccupation right now, Clementine. Men come and go, but your name — well, that stays with you forever. You need to protect it with your life.”

  “How can I when I don’t even know why this is happening?”

  “You must, and you will!”

  I take a deep breath. “You’re right. I need to do something. I’ll get in touch with the WeChat customer service department, and as soon as I get home, I’ll post more about it on my blog.”

  “Good. That’s what I like to hear.”

  “So are we still seeing this herbalist today? I sure could use something to help me cope with this mess.”

  She smiles. “Absolutely. He’s expecting us at his office at ten thirty. We’ll leave as soon as you’re ready.”

  “Perfect. Thank you, Sandra, for everything. I mean it.”

  We clink our teacups together, just like Maddie and I do.

  Dr. Ho’s office is on a tiny side street in Nanshi, the old Chinese city, near the Old Town Bazaar, Yu Garden, the Old City Wall, and the Confucian Temple. According to Sandra, Dr. Ho is kind, knowledgeable, and big-hearted. I’ll try to remain open-minded, though I’m skeptical. What could a traditional herbalist possibly prescribe to alleviate the sadness caused by a suspended social media account?

  After walking up several flights of stairs, we arrive out of breath in his small, nondescript office space. Piled high on shelves against the white walls are stacks and stacks of dried medicinal herbs in tiny bags and jars.

  Unlike the high-end shops, cafés, and bars I’ve frequented in the city, this office feels like it belongs somewhere back in time. It’s actually a refreshing change from the ultra-modern, sleek metropolis.

  There’s a large black-and-white poster at the front entrance with an inscription in Mandarin: The secrets to vibrant health: Do not smoke, drink, or be pessimistic.

  I smile and tell myself that two out of three isn’t bad. Or is it one out of three? I have been drinking a bit lately, and my mood is in the dumps. I wonder if the doctor will be able to tell.

  Sandra nods for me to take a seat. She’s wearing a colourful silk wrap dress that’s flattering to her figure. My guess is that she’s wearing these bold, happy colours to hide her sadness, something I sometimes do myself.

  Next to Sandra, my outfit looks tired; I’m wearing the same clothes as yesterday. But I doubt Dr. Ho will care. Looking around his office, I’d guess he isn’t the type to be too concerned with such frivolities.

  Before we left her apartment, I did spray on some of Sandra’s Armani Privé Pivoine Suzhou. According to Sandra, the scent was inspired by the traditional gardens of Suzhou, a city considered to be China’s Venice of the East. I hope to have enough free time and peace of mind at some point to visit it.

  After a few minutes, I hear my name called out from a room down the hall. Sandra nods for me to go. “Go ahead, you’ll see that he’s lovely. I know he can help you. My family has been going to him for years.”

  “All right, if you say so.”

  I walk into the tiny room and am surprised to discover that Dr. Ho is nothing like what I was expecting. He’s got a white goatee, and perched on his head is a wool hat like one of those toques worn by rappers. He’s wearing a denim shirt, old khaki pants, and a beige lab coat that looks as old as his practice must be. The look is mad professor meets cool downtown dude, except that this cool dude is at least ninety-three years old.

  “Please, take a seat here,” he instructs me in heavily accented English.

  I sit on his examination table and he asks me to stick out my tongue. No hello, nice to meet you, no pleasantries at all. He gets right down to business. I guess the kindness comes later.

  “Your perfume is no good. Too strong for your skin. No more of that.”

  I guess Dr. Ho is not a fan of Armani.

  “Wear only natural, essential oils. They’re much better for you.”

  “Thanks for the advice,” I say, cringing at the thought of getting rid of all the French perfumes my parents have given me on my birthdays over the years.

  I hold my tongue out while he studies it attentively. I can see that behind his intense gaze are the eyes of a kind soul. He’s dedicated his life to helping people feel better, and it shows. He could light up half the city with his warm glow.

  “You drink coffee?”

  “Um, yes, I do.” I can’t lie about that. It’s written all over my face and tongue, apparently.

  “You drink too much of it. Stop that. It’s bad for your liver,” he says.

  I nod with clenched teeth. How am I going to survive school and everything else in my life without coffee? I guess there could be worse things, like if he asked me to cut back on the pain au chocolat I get from the bakery down the street every morning.

  “And too much sugar. Polluting your system. You need to stop that, too.”

  Ha, there it is. I’m starting to regret coming here. What else is he going to tell me? To stop shopping for clothes?

  He then begins to rub my back vigorously. It feels good at first, but quickly becomes painful. I want to tell him to stop, but imagine it would be futile.

  “Much stress inside of you,” he says while he rubs. It feels as though my skin might peel off.

  “Yes, a whole lot of stress,” I tell him. “Boyfriend trouble, plus my WeChat account was suspended. Can you believe it?”

  He stops what he’s doing and comes back around to the front of the table. “We what?”

  I guess that’s another secret to vibrant health that’s missing from his poster: Don’t spend all your time on social media; it can suck the life out of you.

  I shake my head. “Never mind. It’s not important.”

  He grins. “Just kidding! I know about internet stuff! Young people are too concerned about that! Too much technology and spending all the time looking at your phone. It’s no good for your neck, no good for your shoulders, and no good for your spirit.”

  “You got that right,” I murmur under my breath.

  “And no good for your heart, either,” he s
ays, pressing his hand into the middle of my chest. “You need to release all this sadness here.”

  “How do I do that?”

  “Just close your eyes. Let it go,” he says as he continues to press hard. Within seconds, tears begin to run down my cheeks.

  “Okay, good. Now, just let it out. This is important for your life force and self-esteem.”

  I sit there crying as he presses on my chest.

  “You are a very strong girl. So much stronger than you think.”

  “Thank you,” I say, sniffling. “I’m glad I came here. I was feeling defeated.”

  “No, never give up! Look at me, I’m old! And I don’t use technology!”

  I sigh. “I know.”

  “Internet creates too much temptation. Too many choices. It confuses your head. Makes you want things you don’t need. And all that online shopping, that’s no good for your energy, either. You are leaking energy through your eyes by staring at and wanting all that stuff! You must stop wanting all these things you don’t need!”

  “I know you’re right, but … how can I be successful as a fashion blogger without shopping for clothes or using social media?”

  He shakes his head, not swayed by my argument. “I’m talking about your health, physical and mental. Are you listening? My parents had no money. I had to search for food in the fields just to eat, but that’s why I’m still alive today. Just vegetables. No meat and no technology. Just simple living. That’s why I’m happy.” He grins.

  “Okay, fine. What about my boy trouble? Do you have anything to help me with that?”

  He stops pressing on my chest, stares me in the eye, and just cackles. I don’t see what’s so funny. There’s nothing funny about any of this.

  “I’m sad,” I explain. “I miss my boyfriend back home. I acted poorly and he’s upset with me and I feel terrible. That’s what’s stuck in my chest.”

  “Pfft, boyfriends. Don’t worry about them! What’s important is the health of your spirit and your soul!” He holds each of my eyelids wide open and examines my eyes. “Stop focusing so much on men. That’s just nonsense. True love cannot be chased, and it never dies. It comes to you when you find balance within yourself: the yin and the yang.”

  “Well, I can tell I’m a bit out of balance.”

  “A bit?”

  “Okay, probably a lot. And what about my family?”

  “What about it?”

  “I visited some relatives in Shanghai recently, and I don’t think they approve of my career. They think I should be a lawyer or a doctor. I didn’t think their opinion really mattered at first, but it’s starting to have a negative effect on me.”

  Dr. Ho just stares at me and begins to laugh again.

  “Who cares about what family thinks? Are they all super, super happy?”

  “They look okay, maybe not super, super happy.”

  “Why do you listen to them, then? They’re just projecting their unhappiness and fears on you. Ignore it! Just follow your heart, okay? You will thrive!”

  “All right. If you say so.”

  “I’ll give you some herbs to help with all of this.”

  “That would be much appreciated. Thank you.”

  “And I must tell you something. There’s someone around you that’s no good. Bad energy. Watch out, okay?”

  Oh no. I have enough bad vibes already. Who’s he talking about? “Man or woman?” I ask.

  “I don’t know. I just feel the energy of deception!” His voice is so loud as he says this that I nearly fall off the examination table. He sure has a tough love approach to advice. He could make a fortune on YouTube.

  I get off the table, thank him profusely for his suggestions, and head for the waiting area to find Sandra. After we pay for the consultation and the herbs, I want to get out of here as fast as I can. Assuming the doctor is right, I need to root out whoever’s deceiving me, because the last thing I need in my life right now is more chaos.

  I need to cut it off before it begins.

  Again.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  ACCORDING TO CONFUCIUS, another wise dude, “silence is a true friend who never betrays.”

  That’s what I’m thinking as Sandra and I ride back from Dr. Ho’s office. I haven’t said anything since we left. I’m processing everything that he said to me.

  His words of wisdom resonated powerfully with me, especially the part about technology and social media leaving a gaping hole in my heart. I was bullied on Twitter by Stella, seduced on Instagram by Henry, and now I’ve had my WeChat account suspended. What will happen next? He’s probably right — it’s all a waste of time and energy.

  Other thoughts swim through my mind like the koi in the pond at Yu Garden. Why am I such a magnet for this stuff? What have I ever done to deserve any of this? Why can’t I just find peace and enjoy a carefree, creative life?

  I take a deep breath and try to be calm. According to Dr. Ho, pessimism leads to ill health. I need to watch the negative thinking.

  “Do you want to talk about anything that he said?” Sandra asks. “You don’t have to — it’s up to you.” She pats me softly on the knee.

  “He said a lot of things,” I say, staring out the window. I don’t mention what Dr. Ho said about perfume. I don’t want to hurt her feelings. “He said I drink too much coffee and eat too much sugar.”

  She giggles. “He said that to me, too.”

  “Did he tell you to stop shopping online?” I ask.

  She laughs. “He didn’t have to. I’m not a big shopper. I have to force myself into the stores whenever I have to buy a dress for one of those galas I get invited to. It’s just not my cup of tea.”

  “You can afford clothes from the fanciest stores and talented designers, but you don’t like to shop? You’re something else, Sandra,” I say, amazed. I could learn a lot from her.

  “I prefer to invest in art, rare books, and promising young people like you. But that’s just me. There’s nothing wrong with loving clothes, Clementine. Fashion is your passion, not mine. You have so much fun with it, too. I mean, look at you — you’re like a walking piece of art. You take it to another level.”

  “Thanks, Sandra. That means a lot.”

  “But, while you may be wearing fun clothes, you still look a bit down and out. Did the doctor say anything that was helpful to you?”

  “He said to focus on happiness and balance within, and not worry about men. I think he’s on to something.”

  Our conversation is interrupted by the ringing of her cellphone from inside her handbag. She glances at it, then back at me with a look of barely concealed panic.

  “You can answer, I don’t mind.”

  “It’s okay. I’ll call them back later. It can wait.”

  I can’t help feeling that she’s hiding something. But what?

  I don’t tell her that Dr. Ho hinted at some kind of deception in my life. I have a feeling that whatever it is, the betrayal has already happened. But she probably senses from my silence that I’m worried about something.

  “No matter what happens,” she says, “just remember: you’re much stronger than you think.”

  I smile broadly. That’s exactly what Dr. Ho said. Great minds think alike.

  Now, if I could only convince myself of it, too.

  As soon as I’m back in my apartment, I text Jake.

  Are you there?

  Yup! Calling …

  His face appears on my screen in FaceTime. “At your service, babe, rain or shine, night or day, rich or poor. Mostly the latter at the moment, but that’s beside the point. So, did you appeal?”

  “No, just got back from the doctor.”

  “What? Why? Are you sick?”

  “Sick, no. Heartbroken and confused, yes.”

  “I’m sorry. So what did the doctor say?”

  “You don’t want to know.”

  “Of course I want to know! Come on, Clemy.”

  “He gave me some herbs.”

 
; “To smoke?”

  “No, to drink in a tea.”

  “Oh.”

  “And he said to cut out sugar, coffee, shopping, perfume, and chasing men.”

  “That sucks. Anything else?”

  “He said something weird. I’m not sure what to make of it.”

  “What?”

  “Apparently some kind of deception is hovering around me …”

  “No kidding. Again?”

  “Maybe he was just sensing the Stella incident.”

  “Yeah, probably. Her vibes are so toxic, you could probably sense them from the next galaxy.”

  “Do you think she could be behind what happened to my WeChat?”

  “Could be. The girl is wicked, Clem. I don’t trust her, no matter how many legal documents Parsons made her sign before she left.”

  “We’ll find out. We always do,” I say, though I’m feeling deflated.

  “Come on, Clem, be a warrior. Don’t give up!”

  “I’m trying. Thank god you’re in my life. I’d be lost without you. Is everything okay on your end?”

  “Ellie’s still helping me out, and the first batch of skirts is nearly done. The two of you really are saving my ass. Otherwise, I’d be up shit creek in a body bag.”

  “And the twelve-step program?”

  He sighs. “It has its ups and downs. But I’m committed and I found a sponsor.”

  “That’s great, Jake. I’m so proud of you.”

  “Yeah, yeah. So what are you going to do next? Work on the online situation, I hope?”

  “I’ll get to work on that, on one condition.”

  “Shoot.”

  “That you get back to your sewing machine at the same time. I want to see results! Including some new pieces for that great idea about clothes for people with arthritis.”

  “Done. Love ya.”

  “Me, too. Times a million.”

  “Awwwwww.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  I FURIOUSLY TYPE up an email to WeChat’s customer service asking for guidance on how to retrieve my account. Finally, someone responds to ask for more information, so I write back, explaining that my account was suspended without warning or explanation. I’m hoping for some sympathy here, considering months of hard work are at stake.