by Mingmei Yip
A dagger wrapped in a smile – Unfortunately, even though I smiled a lot and was an expert in knife-throwing, I never had a chance to use this skill because I was always thoroughly searched before being allowed into Lung’s bedroom.
Close the door to catch the thief – Even if I was able to lure Lung behind a closed door, how I could I later make my escape?
Feign madness, but keep your calm – This is a good one, but not something I could use now, maybe only if an opportunity arose.
Change your role of guest to that of host – My boss, Big Brother Wang, had been trying to do this for years but without success; that was why he’d sent me to do the job. Though now I was Lung’s favourite woman, I was still a guest, far from being a host.
Injure yourself to get your enemy’s trust – This was the inspiration for the fake robbery I had set up for Shadow. I wished I could set up something like this with Lung, to gain his trust so he wouldn’t have me searched any more.
Shed your skin like a cicada – This one means to disguise yourself or change your identity so you can sneak away from a dangerous situation. But, alas, I couldn’t even do that, for my identity was already a disguise!
The last one is simply Run away!
To me, this was the best idea. When you run out of options, what would be better than to run for your life?
Should I escape with Jinying or by myself? What if we got caught? Unfortunately, there are consequences to any action; Buddhism calls this karma. I sighed. I must have been a whore, traitor, murderer, child molester, drug addict in my past lives to have attracted all this bad karma in my present incarnation!
As I was thus musing, the doorbell rang. I opened the door and saw neither Lung, his son, nor the head bodyguard, but instead a waiter with a cart holding a big plate covered with a silver lid.
He smiled and said in accented English, ‘Good Morning. Room service breakfast.’
‘But I didn’t order—’
Ignoring me, he began to set the table. When he finished, I paid him a big tip for setting up the table elegantly, including a solitary pink rose inside a crystal vase.
Once he left, I lifted the lid and found four strips of bacons nestled by a scrambled egg and, to my surprise, a note next to the egg. I picked it up and read.
Dearest Camilla,
As you understand, I can’t come to see you early
in the morning because there are two
bodyguards pacing in front of my father’s room.
So I tipped the waiter to bring you this note with
your breakfast and to report back to me how you
are doing.
Don’t forget that I’ll see you, my father and
the others when they have breakfast soon.
The rose is to show my love for you, in hope
that your cheeks will always be as pink as the
flower and your life beautiful and blooming.
So Lung was still alive. Since I’d been busy trying to kill myself last night, I’d completely forgotten about my suggestion for the ‘widower’ and his nurse to kill Lung. Obviously the mission had failed again. So either they’d lost Lung on the way, or there was just no chance for them to play their poisonous hand. Next I took out the rose, inhaled its fragrance to feel its sender’s love, then gently put it down. Heaven had kept me alive, so I needed to discard my melancholy and plow on with my life.
It was now six-thirty in the morning. Lung and his men were probably still sleeping. I quickly put on a simple dress and took the lift down to the hotel cafe – to deliver a message to the old widower.
La Terrasse Montaigne was a small haven of greenery facing a street with shops displaying elegant French fashions. Only two tables were occupied, one by a young Caucasian couple, the other by the old man and his nurse, who were absorbed in their newspapers.
When the waiter came to place my order, I said in English, ‘Small black coffee with no sugar, please.’
Before he left, I added. ‘Oh, please add some milk.’
I had no idea if the French staff here understood English, or my English, to be precise, but that was not my concern. I didn’t care if I got my coffee right, only that I got my message through, not to the waiter but to the widower and his nurse.
‘With no sugar’ was a code meaning that there was not yet any other chance to kill Lung, and ‘add some milk’ meant wait for more information. After I got my coffee, I took a few sips, meditated on the shops bathing in the early-morning Parisian light, then left to go back to my room. Just in case I was seen by Lung or his men, my excuse for being up and about would be that I couldn’t sleep, since I was too excited by being in Paris.
At eight-thirty, Master Lung, Zhu, Jinying, Gao, the three other bodyguards and I were having breakfast together at the same Terrasse Montaigne. Lung, Zhu, Jinying and I sat at one table, while Gao and his underlings were at an adjacent one. Not too far from us, the widower with his nurse was still eating, sipping coffee, reading his morning paper and waiting for more news from me.
Lung took a big bite of his croissant covered with a thick pat of melting butter. He gulped it down as fast as if he were getting rid of a rival. After that, he noisily sipped his coffee, sighed with satisfaction, then cast me a curious look.
‘Camilla, you don’t look very happy today. Something wrong?’
I tried my best to fake a genuine smile. ‘I’m fine, Master Lung. Nothing will go wrong as long as I am with you, am I not right?’
I dared not look in Jinying’s direction to see how he was reacting. Even though I now owed him my life, I really should stop having any communication, even intangible, between us. Otherwise he would have saved me from drowning only for me to end up as bloody mincemeat on Lung’s chopping board. I also avoided looking at Gao at the neighbouring table. Since his loss of control inside the ocean liner’s bathroom, he had looked even more distressed and had become even more taciturn. There was no possible opportunity for me to reassure him that my lips were sealed, or that I really did have feelings for him.
‘You don’t look fine.’ Lung’s coarse voice woke me from my reverie, and his eyes scrutinised me like a hawk’s as his slashed eyebrow wriggled like two fidgeting lizards. ‘Maybe you’re not used to the heavy French food or the chilly weather here.’ He dabbed his mouth and thought for a while. ‘You said you want to shop along the Champs-Élysées, so why don’t we do that today so you’ll cheer up, eh?’
Though after yesterday’s events I was in no mood for shopping or anything else, even at the most luxurious stores in the most expensive area in Paris, I feigned enthusiasm.
I raised my voice so the widower-and-nurse duo could hear clearly my every word. ‘Oh, shopping at the Champs Élysées – I’d love that! Thank you, Master Lung!’
In my peripheral vision, I noticed that Jinying cast me a puzzled look, then took a meditative sip of his coffee.
Lung asked me and his son, ‘How was the opera last night?’
We both uttered, ‘It was wonderful.’
‘Good, because I spent a small fortune for those seats.’ He patted his son’s shoulder. ‘Glad you came to Paris with us, Jinying. Otherwise, who would keep my little beauty company when I am busy?’
We both thanked Lung profusely before we immersed ourselves in eating and cautiously sipping the coffee, which was darker than my mood and as bitter as my life.
Moments passed, and I said, raising my voice again, ‘Master Lung, I’m so excited to go shopping at the Champs-Élysées! Can we go to the Hermès shop first? It’s been my dream to own a red Hermès bag!’
Lung laughed at my childish enthusiasm. ‘Of course, any shop and anything you want, my little pretty.’
Even the ominous Zhu looked up from his omelet and emitted a chuckle, shook his head, then resumed eating. So my acting was convincing.
I leaned to peck Lung’s cheek. ‘I love Hermès. Thank you so much, Master Lung!’ I hoped the widower and his nurse had heard everything I’d loudly announc
ed and that they would find an opportunity to strike.
I tried to act calm, but inside my whole body was on fire. If the mission failed, I might be again sinking in the Seine, and this time not by my own choice.
The name of the Avenue des Champs-Élysées has not travelled all over the world for nothing. The huge boulevard was flanked with towering, geometrically trimmed trees like rows of green-uniformed soldiers standing guard for the rich and powerful. We started at the glorious Arc de Triomphe and set out towards the Louvre at the other end, ready to taste all the splendid wonder in between.
It was a very pleasant, sunny day, and the four of us, Lung, Zhu, Jinying and I strolled along the tree-lined boulevard, inhaling the Parisian air as we studied the city’s people and buildings. Gao and the three other bodyguards kept their distance a few steps behind us. Though they were normally undistractable, I imagined their attention would still be diverted by the beautiful French women smiling haughtily as they cast seductive glances at the tall, muscular Chinese men.
I noticed that both Jinying and Gao were watching me like a man his beloved new bride. Tears moistened my eyes as I felt a searing pain stabbing at my heart. I had done so much evil during my short life; why should I now deserve these two men’s love? However, most of the evil was not by my choice, since my life belonged to others. So perhaps someday I would receive forgiveness. Thus hoping, I felt a little better.
We continued to window-shop at the many luxury stores like Ferragamo, Céline, Louis Vuitton, Chanel, until we finally approached my destination, the Hermès store. My heart began to knock hard against my chest like an inmate shaking the prison bars. It was one thing to plot a murder but quite another to actually do it or witness it being done.
The plan was that after I took Lung inside the store, I’d suggest to him that, since all men are bored by women’s shopping, he could wait at the front of the store and watch the street while I looked around. Once the widower spotted him through the window, he would come in, pretend to look at the merchandise, shoot Lung, then quickly escape in the resulting confusion. However, the previous plot had failed, so what if this one failed also? Would Lung suspect me? If he was killed, would Gao and his gang suspect I’d set it up and kill me? They wouldn’t worry about proof, because, without Lung alive, killing me would not be a big deal. Maybe Gao wouldn’t have the heart to squeeze the trigger or plunge the knife, but his underlings would experience no such hesitation.
Of course, it was also possible that the widower, instead of killing Lung, would be spotted and killed himself. But the worst scenario would be that Lung’s men would capture and torture him until he confessed. That would definitely be the end of me.
Feeling a headache coming on, I focussed myself, feigning excitement now that we had arrived at Hermès. ‘Master Lung, here it is!’
Gao opened the door for us, while his three underlings remained outside to guard the entrance. To my relief, the store was not crowded, making for a cleaner shot for the assassin. In one corner a uniformed salesgirl was helping an elderly, elegant lady choose an evening purse. A wealthy-looking, grey-haired couple impatiently moved clothes on a rack, making unpleasant scratching sounds.
I stayed at the front, looking through piles of accessories like gloves, belts and scarves but in fact glancing around to see if the assassin had arrived. From the corner of my eye I spotted him lurking right across the street. To me it seemed that he was being too obvious. But, fortunately, since he was disguised as an old man and acting feeble, no one seemed to be paying him any attention.
As planned, I told my patron, ‘Master Lung, I know this is boring for you. Why don’t you smoke your cigarette by the window and look at the pretty French girls while I look around?’
Jinying moved his head as he walked away, signalling me to join him at a far corner of the store so we could talk.
But his father was already speaking. ‘That’s what I’m about to do. Camilla, how come you always know what’s on my mind?’
Lung smiled happily, gave my bottom a squeeze, then sat down on a bench against the window.
Zhu immediately sat down next to his boss. ‘I’ll smoke with you, Master Lung.’
So far, so good.
The evil duo lit their cigarettes and began to puff and gaze at the passers-by outside. Just then I noticed that the widower was already in front of the store, studying some wallets in the shop window.
My heart almost jumped out of my throat. To distract Lung, I picked up a scarf and thrust it under his eyes. ‘Master Lung, what do you think of this?’
‘Camilla, don’t make me look at all this stuff. Just get whatever you want, and I’ll pay for it. Make it simple for me, won’t you? Men don’t care what women put on, only what they take off! Ha-ha!’ He burst out laughing, then turned to Zhu. ‘Right?’
His right-hand man responded emphatically. ‘Exactly, Master Lung. That’s women’s heavenly duty, to please men and bear them children!’
The old French couple lifted their heads and looked at us with disgust, probably horrified by the duo’s loud voices and vulgar manner. Zhu returned them a murderous look, but to my utter trepidation, the widower was now entering the store. As I watched, the assassin reached into his pocket. Just then I felt my whole being enveloped by total darkness as my legs gave out. I had no idea what happened next, but when I recovered my senses, I was being fussed over by Lung’s entourage. Around us, shoppers and staff were gesticulating wildly as they shouted at one another in French.
Lung was unhurt, and the widower was nowhere to be seen.
It was obvious that because of my fainting, Wang’s assassin hadn’t done his job. But why hadn’t he just shot Lung dead on the spot? The only reason I could think of was that he might have misinterpreted my fainting as a sign to tell him to abandon the mission.
I was helped to sit in a chair. Then I heard Lung bark to his men, ‘What happened to Camilla? Someone better tell me!’
The French staff and customers all stood around, gesturing wildly and jabbering intensely in a language none of us understood.
Lung shouted in his broken English, ‘Go away! Things good! No problem!’
Although the French might not understand Lung’s English, they did get the message from his angry tone and backed away to let his men tend to me. Both the young master and Gao studied me with great concern, but only Jinying had some idea of my recent mental state, though nothing about its cause.
He said to his old man, ‘Father, I think it’s time for us to go back to Shanghai. Camilla must be homesick.’
Homesick? Go home? I wished I had a real home I could feel sick to go back to!
I overheard Lung’s whisper to his son, ‘Poor girl. Maybe I should have her live with me so my people can take better care of her.’
Then Jinying’s voice, in a tone of suppressed anger, snaked into my ears. ‘Father, let’s take her home first. Camilla must need rest.’
Gao piped up out of the blue. ‘Master Lung, should I carry Miss Camilla back to the hotel?’
Lung’s answer was ‘Of course, that’s what I hired you for!’
Gao scooped me up like a sick kitten as Zhu opened the door for us. Amid the boisterous commotion among the shocked customers and sales assistants, Gao lowered his head and asked, his voice almost inaudible, ‘You all right, Camilla? If you need help, I’m all yours. I beg you, please let me know what’s been bothering you.’
From the corner of my eye I saw Jinying’s jealous but helpless expression. But of course he couldn’t possibly offer to carry me, could he?
22
Magic and Flying Knives
The rest of our Paris stay passed uneventfully. I finally did do some shopping but felt restless because Lung’s men were on full alert, and the ‘widower’ was nowhere to be found. Lung decided to cut short our ‘vacation,’ and so after more weeks at sea I found myself back in Shanghai. Given the failure of the elaborately planned assassination, I braced myself for a severe reprimand from Big
Brother Wang.
As usual, I had to speak with him on the phone, as he always feared Lung’s men would spot us together and spoil his many years of planning.
‘If there’s another mishap, your pretty little neck will be snapped with a loud crack – you got that?’
‘Yes, Big Brother Wang.’
Even through the telephone wires I could feel my boss’s anger as strongly as if his voice was pressing a sharp knife against my chest. Though I tried to keep my answers as terse as possible, lest I provoke more anger, the knife kept digging and twisting in all of the four inauspicious directions.
‘Fainted? Was your training flushed down the toilet? How many times we warn you not to lose your calm under any circumstances? Even if your mother is shot right next to you and her brain splashes all over your face, you must act like you’re watching a movie. You’d say, “Isn’t that wonderful?” You got that, eh?’
‘Yes.’
‘You almost got two of my people killed. You are aware of the consequences?’
‘I’m so sorry, Big Brother Wang.’
‘Hmm …’ His anger seemed to abate. ‘I’ll forgive you this time. At least you didn’t lie to me.’
I couldn’t lie to him, of course; the assassin, having witnessed my fainting, would certainly report back to Wang. Besides, having blacked out, I didn’t know what had actually happened.
But in a few seconds my boss’s anger flared anew. ‘What’s wrong with you, Camilla? You don’t like living?’
‘I’m sorry, it won’t happen again. I swear on my parents’ graves.’ But my parents had no graves that I knew of, so I guessed the swearing didn’t count.
‘It better not. Otherwise I can’t guarantee if your pretty head will continue to rest on your shoulders. I’m not kidding!’
‘Certainly it won’t happen again, Big Brother Wang.’
He was silent for a while, then said, ‘Since we’ve failed to kill Lung so many times, his lucky star must be shining really strong now. So I think we should wait for a while until his star shifts and leaves him unprotected.’