Flowers in the Blood

by Gay Courter

  “I had not realized that.” My concern must have shown on my face, for he came over to me, took my hand in his, and patted it. “Your saving grace is that Indian opium is considered the finest by the wealthiest users. There will always be those who prefer to pay a steep price because it makes them think they are getting a superior product. The common people might be swayed to accept the cheapest version.”

  Gulliver, seeing the strange man holding my hand, edged forward. Godfrey acknowledged his concern with a nod of his head, but did not let go. Because I did not feel in the least bit attracted to or threatened by the man, I did not withdraw. “You have been most helpful. I do hope we shall meet again.”

  “Tomorrow, then,” he said without any query in his manner. He bent forward and kissed my hand, then left before Gulliver could open the door for him.

  That evening, after I had told Jonah about my encounter, he seemed uninterested. I suppose I had expected him to be disapproving, and when he was not, I decided it was more satisfactory having a brother as a companion than a father, a mother, or even a husband. Not that Godfrey was the slightest rival for Edwin. The man's pallor, darting eyes, and exotic mannerisms were intriguing, but held no romantic charms.

  “What did the compradore have to say today?” I asked next.

  “I approached the matter of prices—without mentioning specifics, as you desired—and he was resistant to anything but last season's figures.”

  “I expected he would be. After all, when we are gone, he will have to live with the wrath of the merchants.”

  “That brings another matter to mind,” Jonah slipped in silkily. “I have been thinking that a Sassoon should remain in Hong Kong year-round. Perhaps our father might have found the Chinese less confounding if he had become a resident.”

  I stared at him with a fresh regard. His point was well taken, but who would want to live on this rugged ridge of lofty granite? “Are you volunteering?” I teased.

  “Perhaps I am.” His expression was unflinching.

  “You cannot possibly decide that now. What if your wife would not want to leave Calcutta? It is harder for a woman to adjust to a new society. I know, I was miserable in Cochin.”

  He opened his mouth, then closed it. Every time marriage or women were mentioned, he shut himself off from me. Since he had not provoked me about Godfrey, I extended him the same courtesy and changed the subject.

  The next afternoon Godfrey began our conversation with a discussion about the upcoming festivities. “This week the Chinese will begin the Year of the Dog and the twenty-fourth year of the reign of the Emperor Kwang Hsu.”

  “Why is it called the Year of the Dog?”

  “Chinese astrologers base their calculations on a cycle of twelve lunar years. The signs follow each other in the same order. Each year is represented by an animal, which influences the lives, destiny, and character of the people born that year. For instance, the rooster has to scratch about to find food, the rat is destined to be trapped, the cat always lands on his feet.” He went on to explain that the actual choice had been made by Buddha, who had summoned the beasts in creation to visit him, and only twelve turned up. “To each he offered a year to bear its name. The animals accepted and now the years run in the order of their arrival at the party.”

  “Will the Year of the Dog be a productive one?”

  “Actually, it's an unsettled period in which we'll be pessimistic, anxious, and worrying about our future. How this affects the individual depends on the year of the person. When were you born?”

  “In 1872.”

  “A monkey. I might have guessed! This year the monkeys will wait patiently for the end of their difficulties, particularly in the arena of finance and romance. May I ask when your husband was born?”

  “The same year.”

  “How splendid for you both! Monkeys produce extraordinary people. They are intellectuals with a thirst for knowledge. Also, they are great readers, cultured, with fantastic memories. Some can recall the tiniest details of everything they have seen, read, or heard.”

  “My husband can do that.”

  “Monkeys are also excellent problem solvers.”

  “Are there any negatives?”

  “Well. . .”—Godfrey grinned mischievously— “since you asked. They can be independent and selfish, determined that nobody will put anything over on them. A monkey must be in charge, even if it means bending his scruples to get his way. Despite this, people always seek out monkeys for their intelligence and wit.”

  “How do we fare in romantic matters?”

  “Monkeys fall in love too rapidly, but later may become critical of their partners.”

  My heart began to hammer in my chest. I did not want to hear any more about myself—or Edwin. “You seem to know a great deal about this.”

  “One of my specialties. The wisdom of the signs continues to confound me.”

  “What animal are you?”

  “I am a cat. Refined, reserved, ambitious. Nobody ignores cats because we are good company.”

  “How true.”

  “Now, even though you were too polite to ask, here are the unpleasant aspects. Cats are social yet superficial. The indiscreet cat is sometimes a gossip to the point of scandal mongering. He is conservative, abhorring anything that disturbs his quiet life. In speculations, he is fortunate and he has the gift for nosing out bargains. To others, the placid cat is a formidable entrepreneur, which is to his advantage. Fortunately, the cat is an astute businessman and anybody who signs a contract with one need not worry.”

  Lady Robinson's warning came to mind. “Is that something you would agree with?”

  “Certainly.”

  “Where would you speculate these days?”

  “In Hong Kong real, estate. The, crown is about to sign a ninety-nine-year lease with the Chinese for the rest of the peninsula of Kowloon together with seventy-five islands. Once the documents are sealed, real-estate prices will soar.”

  I was intrigued by this, especially in light of Jonah's interest in remaining in Hong Kong. “What if the lease is not enough to attract buyers who don't want to lose their investment in a hundred years?”

  “In my experience, most people think more about what they will eat tomorrow than their grandchildren's future.”

  “I suppose that may be true, however some may not trust a cat,” I dared.

  His sharp eyes steadied on me. “I agree. Some believe witches and wizards change themselves into cats. Our mysterious nature puzzles others. What you must remember is the cat's weaknesses can be mutated into its strengths.”

  Suddenly uncomfortable with the man's defensive posture, I turned to Jonah. “My brother is four years younger. What does that make him?”

  “A rat.”

  “Poor Jonah.”

  “No, it is a rather good sign, except this year he should pay more attention to his business affairs rather than his love affairs. The rat seems to be calm and well-balanced, but beware! Beneath that placid exterior there is a restlessness that can get him into trouble. Interestingly, the monkey casts a spell over the rat, although the rat will never admit it.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “The rat will come into his own once the monkey leaves his side. If possible, he should couple with a dragon or a buffalo.”

  “Neither sounds very romantic. Tell me, should two monkeys be married to each other?” I asked gently, even though the spike twisted anew in my heart.

  “Total complicity links monkeys. Together they should go far, unless they compete, playing 'I'm-smarter-than-you.' “

  I gulped at the last, but managed to reply steadily, “How intriguing this is. How could I learn more about it?”

  “Tomorrow I will bring you a chart I have translated into English,” he said, standing and stretching.

  “Are you leaving already?”

  “Not if you would like me to stay.”

  “I did have a few more questions.”

  “I expect
ed you would. A monkey is not satisfied until she is versed in what is happening in the world.”

  “My interests here extend only to the small yet hidden world of the opium trade.”

  “There is some problem you are trying to solve and you think I can help you. Why not get to the point directly?”

  “Do I hear the cat speaking to the monkey?”

  “Exactly.” He grinned, revealing stained yellow teeth and gray gums.

  What did I have to lose? I told him—without mentioning that my own uncle was the culprit—of the problem at the Calcutta auction and the need to raise prices by almost twenty percent. “The compradore is balking at presenting new prices.”

  Godfrey paced in front of the windows, which dripped with moisture, blanking out the view. “Mr. Ming did not gain his position by trampling on his customers.”

  “He works for us.”

  “Now, Madam Monkey, you must be shrewd enough to see the Co-Hong merchants are the ones who really work for you. Without them you would have no sales. Or, looking at it from a cat's perspective, you work for the merchants.”

  Squirming, I replied, “I hadn't thought of it that way.” There was something about the man that made me feel as though I was tied in knots. Then, after a few moments' quiet, my brain began to unravel the twisted skein, until I found the end. “There is another point that shifts the balance back in our favor. According to everything we have been able to learn, there is more demand than supply. Therefore we should be able to set the prices.”

  “Yes, you have a point. However, while opium eaters may not be able to stop, they can cut back on consumption, dilute their pipes, buy more locally grown flowers, make deals on the side with some of the other Indian merchants . . .”

  “I see.” This was something I had to work out for myself. What was the worst that might happen? Prices could not be moved more than, say, five percent, and I would have lost a considerable portion of the currency from the Luddy inheritance. Even so, I would not have to touch the land and other assets I had promised to keep intact; and no matter what, the Lanyados still would have been routed.

  Godfrey interrupted my contemplations. “Cats and monkeys can go around and around forever. I will not string you along when I have an answer to your problem.”

  I sat up straighter. “Yes?”

  “There is a man who works outside the system of Indian trading companies and Co-Hong merchants.” He drew Chinese characters on the window while he spoke. “Sometimes he buys whole shipments and keeps them back until he senses a shortage, then brings his on the market at a higher price. As you might imagine, he is not well-liked, since he squeezes his share from each side of the deal. But he is influential.” My mentor turned to face me. “If anyone can help you, he can”—he gave a lopsided grin—”as long as he would profit in the end.”

  “Who is he?”

  “Song Kung Ni is the name he goes by. He's not Chinese, or at least not full-blooded. His past is somewhat mysterious. Some say he was born in Macao from parents of mixed backgrounds—some combination of Portuguese, Chinese, Indian . . . who knows? Others suggest he came from India, since he knows Hindustani.” He gestured for Chen Ah Bun to bring his coat. “If you are willing, I could arrange an introduction.”

  “Does the monkey need to tell the cat what she would like to do?”

  “No,” he replied as he dressed to leave. “Consider it done.”

  On Friday we were expected at the compradore's dinner party. Mr. Ming had not visited Mount Gough since our arrival because I preferred for Jonah to deal with him at a distance until, armed with a deeper knowledge, I was ready to discuss our pricing structure. In preparation, I was using the time to pump Godfrey further and study the data Jonah supplied. After the New Year was over, I would commence discussions in earnest. For the present, I thought it best to keep our evening at the Ming home purely social.

  “I wonder what year Mr. Ming was born?” I asked my brother as we made our way down the mountain.

  “Why?”

  “Remember what I told you about Chinese astrology?”

  “That nonsense!”

  “I thought the same at first, but the coincidences I found in Godfrey's chart were uncanny.”

  “In what way?”

  “It said you are a rat and so was our father, which means you should be able to follow in his footsteps with ease.”

  “I'm flattered, I suppose.”

  “And Amar is a charming goat with a weak will who makes noises like a leader but fools nobody.”

  “That sounds like the man you described.”

  “Also, poor Silas was a typical dragon: idealistic, a perfectionist, demanding, but generous. The chart suggested that dragon men should choose artistic professions instead of business, said they usually marry late or not at all. Even odder, dragons are often the cause of some drama of despair. How can the system be so uncannily accurate?”

  “Perhaps because you interpret generalities too closely.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “What did it say about Uncle Samuel?”

  “I believe he is a dog. They're always on the defensive, alert, watching for an opportunity. That fits.”

  “Aren't dogs supposed to be loyal?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “You can read anything into those descriptions you want, picking and choosing what applies, discarding what does not.”

  “I suppose you are right, Mr. Rat, but I find it amusing nevertheless.” Piqued that he had found holes in my new interest, I changed the subject. “Have you ever been to the compradore's house before?”

  “Once with Father, but not for dinner. This is quite an honor, especially for a woman.” He gave me an apologetic smile. “I am certain you will like his family. He has four sons.”

  “Any daughters?”

  “No, but he has a niece who was sent to live with him as a child.” Jonah's placid face became animated. “Her name is Wu Bing. 'Bing' means 'ice,' which doesn't suit her, for she has a round, gentle face . . . and the prettiest hands you ever saw, even if she does act as the Mings' unpaid servant.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She's their mui tsai, literally a younger sister, who was given to the family because they were better able to feed and clothe her. To the Chinese, a daughter is a financial drain. Only sons carry on the family name and inherit its wealth.”

  “Do they treat her well?”

  “Yes, by their standards. She waits on the wife and does other household chores.”

  “What does she get in return?”

  “Her parents received a packet of 'lucky money' to help pay off their debts, and the Mings have assumed responsibility for her future.”

  “Does she ever get to leave?”

  “If she contracts a suitable marriage.”

  “When did you meet this girl?” I asked slowly.

  “I told you, when we visited the Mings last year.”

  “You said you were there only once. She must have made quite an impression.”

  He looked away. “She did.”

  I would have pursued, the matter if the carriage had not stopped in front of a moon gate. The house, built up on several terraces, had many layers of tiled roofs curved like prows at the corners. It was as opulent as many on the Peak.

  “Why has the compradore chosen to live close to the harbor, when the government officials and wealthier families prefer the Peak?”

  “Only the members of the British and European community are permitted to live on the Peak.”

  “That seems unfair, when it was Chinese originally.”

  Jonah seemed distracted as he took my arm. “Come, there is someone I want you to meet.”

  Mr. Ming Hien Chang, who was wearing his Victoria Jubilee medal, greeted us cordially. He introduced us to the compradores of Melchers and Co., Siemssen and Co., the Chartered Bank, the Davidson Company, and of course Jardine, Matheson. Each had three names, with the last name first, generational name
second, and first name last. In a few moments I was hopelessly confused. As soon as possible, Jonah bowed to the men and whisked me away to a humid conservatory.

  “This is Wu Bing,” he said, his voice echoing off the glass panels.

  I looked around. From the leafy shadows came a trembling movement. A hesitant girl kowtowed to me. “An honor to meet the venerable sister of Mr. Jonah.”

  Startled by her lilting accent and sweet upturned face, I looked at my brother for an explanation. He was watching me intently. Turning back to the child, I found her not as young as I had first thought. Her wide, luminous eyes studied my reaction. Something in her hopeful expression touched me.

  “Who is this?”

  “The youngest daughter of Mr. Ming's second brother.”

  “That is not what I meant.” I saw his gaze lock with hers. As though she bathed in the light of a dozen candles, Wu Bing glowed in my brother's presence. Phrasing my words carefully so as not to hurt the girl's feelings, I continued, “Who is she to you?”

  “I care for her,” he said simply.

  “No wonder the compradore has been suspicious of us,” I said too harshly, then lowered my voice. “Has he seen you with her?”

  “I have never spent more than a few minutes with her.”

  “Then how could you ever consider his niece if you hardly know her?”

  “Who are you to criticize me?” he asked, grinning mischievously. “I seem to remember you fell in love with Edwin after one glimpse from a balcony—and he with you.”

  “That's not what happened.”

  “Oh, no? That first, evening when you thought he might accept Ruby, you became hysterical. We wondered whether you had lost your mind. Have you forgotten?”

  “I suppose I did become entranced rather quickly with him,” I said, feeling a bit dizzy in the fragrant closeness of the hothouse, “but our friendship deepened when we became better acquainted.”