by Ian Hamilton
“Mrs. Hop, I’ve been here for other funerals and I’ve never seen our people act badly.”
“Have you been to a wake for a man of Mr. Gao’s stature?”
“No.”
“I have, including Mr. Gao’s predecessor. It was chaotic.”
“I’ll keep order.”
She placed her hand on his arm. “I know you’ll do the best you can, but can I make a suggestion?”
“Sure.”
“It might be better if you let only a handful of people, say six to eight, into the Iris Room at one time. That way people can pay their respects in a proper way and not feel rushed or pressured. You can use our anteroom to hold more people, and the rest you can leave in the courtyard until it is their turn.”
“That sounds reasonable enough. Let me see what I can do.”
“I also think we should open the doors a bit earlier than planned.”
“Yes, let’s do that. In fact, let’s open them now.”
Chow left Mrs. Hop and walked into the courtyard. In the time he’d been inside, the crowd had increased by at least a third. He eyed it and spotted Xu in his suit and Fong, wearing black slacks and a white shirt, standing in the throng. “Come over here,” he called.
“I’m recruiting the two of you,” Chow said when they reached him. “We’re going to act as traffic cops today. We’re going to allow only eight people at a time into the Iris Room, where the wake is being held. We have the use of an anteroom next to it, where another twenty can wait their turn. Everyone else will have to wait in the courtyard. I’m going to explain this to the crowd and then I’m going to ask them to get in line.”
“No one’s going to like that idea,” Fong said.
“I don’t care. Besides, it will move quickly enough. People won’t linger; they’ll pay their respects and then leave.”
“What are you going to do when Ma and Ren get here, or the Mountain Masters from other gangs? You can’t make them line up,” Xu said.
“No one will complain if they go directly inside, so I don’t think that’s a worry,” Chow said. “Now come and stand next to me while I tell everyone how things are going to be run.”
He had to shout to get everyone’s attention, but eventually people listened. When Fong and Xu directed them to form lines, there weren’t any problems.
The morning and the early hours of the afternoon flew by as a steady parade of people entered the funeral home. There was a half-hour break at two, and shortly after the wake resumed, the first Mountain Master arrived.
His name was Johnny Kang and he ran Sha Tin. Chow knew he was a cousin of Sammy Wing, which immediately triggered the thought that maybe Wing hadn’t wanted to name Sha Tin as the threat to Fanling because of that relationship. Before he could pursue the thought any further, Kang approached.
“Is Ma here yet?” he asked, his voice sombre.
“No.”
“He told me he’d be coming at two-thirty.”
“He must be running late.”
“How about Jen? Have you seen him?” he said, referring to the boss from Mong Kok.
“No. You are the first Mountain Master to arrive.”
“The plan was for the three of us to go in together. Ma thought it would make a nice impression on Mrs. Gao.”
“I’m sure it will,” Chow said. He looked past Kang to see Ma entering the courtyard with Jen. “And Ma and Jen have just arrived.”
Kang turned to look. The triads in the courtyard moved aside to let Ma and Jen pass, and then stood back as the three Mountain Masters converged. They shook hands and muttered something to each other.
Ma walked to the door, with Kang and Jen just behind him. “How’s it going in there?” he said to Chow.
“It’s been busy but not crazy. We’ve been allowing only a handful of people in at a time. That’s why you see these lines out here.”
“Uncle is always efficient,” Ma said to his two colleagues. “Gao used to say, ‘If you want to be sure a job gets done well, you should give it to Uncle.’”
“I appreciate your efficiency, but we don’t have to get into one of your lines, do we?” Kang said.
“Of course not. Follow me,” Chow said.
Most of the people in line were triads, which wasn’t surprising, since Gao had few friends outside the society. As Chow led the three Mountain Masters past the queue and towards the Iris Room, there were no protests from those who were waiting. Everyone understood the pecking order. Even if they didn’t, Kang and Jen were such fierce-looking men — squat, muscular, and scarred — only a fool would get in their way. Chow thought Ma looked soft and meek by comparison.
Chow led them into the Iris Room. “Mrs. Gao, Mountain Masters Kang, Jen, and Ma are here to pay their respects.”
The men already in line stepped aside to let them pass. The Mountain Masters walked towards the coffin. They lit joss sticks, bowed once to the coffin, three times to Mrs. Gao, and then deposited their envelopes.
“Your husband was a great man and a great friend,” Kang said to her.
“He will be missed by all,” Jen added.
Mrs. Gao lowered her head, and Chow could see that she was more uncomfortable than pleased with the compliments. Chi had told him many times that his mother was embarrassed by her husband’s profession. It was her pressure, along with his own distaste for violence, that had motivated Chi’s decision to leave the triads.
“I will be here tomorrow, and Sha Tin has engaged a funeral band,” Kang said.
“The same is true for Mong Kok,” said Jen.
“Mrs. Gao, I’m told there could be as many as ten bands tomorrow,” Ma said. “No one can remember a funeral where there were so many.”
Mrs. Gao began to sob.
“My mother appreciates that you came to honour my father,” Chi said. “We will certainly welcome you tomorrow.”
The three Mountain Masters turned to leave. Chow walked beside them and escorted them out of the room. Just as they got to the exit, Ren stepped inside. Everyone came to a halt.
“Ma, I’ve been waiting to talk to you all day. Do you have a minute now?” Ren asked.
Ma glanced enquiringly at Kang and Jen. “Go ahead,” Kang said. “We’ll wait outside.”
Chow walked with Kang and Jen into the courtyard. The crowd was beginning to thin but there were still lines. The two Mountain Masters shifted their feet and looked absent-mindedly around. Chow knew they wanted to be gone but were committed to stay until Ma joined them. It was five minutes before the door opened and Ma came out.
“We can go now,” Ma said to his colleagues, and smiled.
Chow watched them leave and waited for Ren. He had a good idea what had caused Ma’s smile, but he needed to hear it.
Ren came out and looked at Chow. “Bad news, Uncle. I’ve told Ma he has my full support,” he said without hesitation. “I told him I’ve heard rumours that I want to become Mountain Master and assured him that isn’t the case. I said I will do whatever he wants to help him get the job.”
“Thanks for being direct,” Chow said. “But I wish you’d told me first. I thought we agreed on that.”
“What difference does it make who I told first? Ma was here. Why not take advantage of it?”
“You seem very relaxed about the decision.”
“It’s a load off my mind. The less I have to worry about, the happier I am.”
“I thought that was Ma’s objective in life.”
“Maybe it is, but he’s caught up in the moment.”
“And when reality bites?”
“Don’t be too harsh in your judgement of him. And don’t forget that we have a good team here in Fanling to support him.”
“Did you tell him I urged you to put your name forward?”
Ren stepped forward and put a hand on Chow’s sho
ulder. “I did not. I’ve appreciated your support and would never do anything to disrespect it,” he said. “Look, Uncle, you’re young; you’ll have your own chance one day. Maybe this was mine and maybe it wasn’t. All I know is that I wasn’t prepared to lose. Now I’ve got to go. I’ll see you tomorrow at the funeral.”
Chow watched him leave, almost more annoyed with the way Ren had handled things than with the decision itself.
“What was that about?” Xu asked, coming to Chow’s side.
“Ren just told Ma that he has no interest in becoming Mountain Master and that Ma has his full support.”
“Was that bullshit?”
“No, he meant it.”
“What the hell?”
“I had a hunch he was leaning that way. The only good thing about his decision is that it was made before we were too far out on a limb.”
“Will there still be an election?”
“Sure, why not? Ma will be officially endorsed, so no one can question his legitimacy, and the men will feel that their opinions have counted. It’s all positive.”
Xu move closer to Chow and said, “I have to tell you, I thought Ma had a great chance of winning anyway.”
“I know. Ren and I talked about that this morning. That’s why he withdrew. He didn’t want to risk losing.”
“You’d better tell Fong,” Xu said, pointing to their friend, who was still playing traffic cop in the courtyard.
“I’ll tell him now,” Chow said, and began to walk over to Fong. He had almost reached him when he heard his name called. Looking towards the back of the line, he saw Tian.
“I tried to reach you at the office earlier,” Tian said.
“I left early. I’ve been here all day.”
“We need to talk.”
“What’s going on?”
“I don’t want to discuss it here.”
“We can move to one side.”
“I would prefer real privacy,” Tian said. “Can you meet me at Dong’s Kitchen?”
“When?”
“What time does the wake end?”
“Five.”
“Can you make it there for six?”
“I don’t see why not, but can you give me some idea of what this is about?”
“I’ll see you at six,” Tian said with a vigorous shake of his head.
( 15 )
Attendance at the wake began to thin by late afternoon, and the people who came to pay their respects seemed to be mainly friends of Mrs. Gao and Chi, so there was less of a need to keep order. Chow knew he could have left Hop Sing at four and not been missed, but a combination of wanting to fulfill his commitment and not knowing what he would do until six o’clock kept him on duty.
A few minutes after five, he re-entered the Iris Room. Chi was standing at the foot of the coffin with his arms wrapped around his mother. Chow hadn’t looked closely at the dead man when he’d been there earlier. Now he did and saw Gao dressed in a black suit, white shirt, and black tie. His face was pale and waxy, except for his lips, which were an unnatural bright red. Chow didn’t understand why morticians thought red lips were necessary. Gao’s body was covered with photos, flowers, money, and a few personal items.
“We’re about to close the coffin,” Chi said.
“Do you want me to leave?”
“No.”
Mrs. Hop was in the room and approached the coffin with an assistant. “Is it time?” she asked.
Chi nodded.
Mrs. Gao pried herself free from her son, went to the coffin, and gripped the side with both hands. She bent over and kissed her husband on the lips, then ran her hand over his forehead and hair. Her body convulsed as she began to sob. Chi put his arms around her again and gently pulled her back. The coffin was closed.
“Thanks for everything you did today,” Chi said to Chow.
“It was my honour.”
“Will you join us for the wake dinner? We’ve been eating nothing but jai, rice, and fruit for the past three days. Tonight we’re having roast pig, chicken, and duck.”
“I appreciate the invitation, but I have a business dinner to attend.”
“But we will see you tomorrow?”
“I’ll be here by eleven,” Chow said, and then turned to go.
Chi stopped him. “You haven’t received your envelope,” he said, pressing it into Chow’s hand.
Chow waited until he had left the room to open it. It contained a white handkerchief to wipe his tears, a piece of candy to remove the bitter taste of death, a Hong Kong ten-dollar note to bring him luck, and a string of red thread that symbolized good fortune. He put the candy in his mouth and the handkerchief and money in his pocket, then tied the string around his wrist. He stood quietly for a moment, taking deep breaths as he tried to gather himself. When he felt under control, he went outside.
Fong and Xu were waiting for him in the courtyard.
“Want to grab some dinner?” Xu asked.
“I’ve love to, but I promised Tian I’d see him at six.”
“What’s going on?”
“I don’t know. All he said was that he needs to talk to me.”
“If you finish early, call me.”
“I will,” Chow said, and then looked at his two friends. “I owe both of you an apology for dragging you into this Ren election business.”
“Forget about it,” Fong said.
“I don’t need an apology either,” Xu said. “I thought the idea made sense. And besides, we hardly spent any time on it. My only regret is that we’re going to be stuck with Ma, and I can’t help thinking that he’s going to be a weak leader.”
“Maybe he is, but Ren didn’t have the guts to take him on, so what does that say about him?” Chow said. “The bottom line is that we’re going to end up with Ma, so we should start getting used to the idea. And I have to say, my last conversation with him wasn’t that bad. It actually gave me some hope that he can be convinced to support some of our proposals.”
“I guess stranger things have happened,” Xu said.
Chow looked at his watch. “I think I need to get going.”
“Where are you meeting Tian?”
“At Dong’s Kitchen.”
“Where else? It is his second home, after all,” Xu said. “How are you getting there? Do you want a ride?”
“No, I’m going to walk. I need to clear my head.”
“Will you need us here tomorrow?” Fong asked.
“Yes. Thanks for reminding me, and thanks for your help today. I know the Gao family appreciated it,” Chow said. “Can you be here by eleven to play the same role?”
“Sure,” Fong said.
“I’ll be here,” Xu said.
“Great. I’ll see you both then,” Chow said, and turned and walked across the courtyard.
Dong’s was a three-kilometre walk from the funeral home, and Chow figured it would take him about forty-five minutes to get there. Hop Sing was halfway up a hill that rose gradually from the town and ended at the cemetery, so the first part of his walk was downhill. The way would be relatively flat when he reached the centre of town, but he knew he’d be slowed down by traffic and stoplights. It would have been easier for him to have accepted a ride with Xu, but he really did need to clear his head and hadn’t wanted any company. He’d been struggling all day to keep painful thoughts of the loved ones he’d lost from overpowering him. He’d done well until he opened the envelope that Chi had given him. As simple as the gifts were, every one of them was more than he’d been able to give when the people he’d loved had left his life.
He had watched his grandmother, father, sister, and mother die, all within ten days. The village doctor, such as he was, had shaken his head in pity when Chow’s mother told him what roots and greens she had been feeding to her starving family. He then sold Chow a
bag of herbs that, when boiled, was supposed to be a liquid antidote. His grandmother died the day after he made her drink some. He threw the rest away. With his entire family bedridden, it fell to Chow to dig his grandmother’s grave, on the edge of the land that his father had farmed until the Communists took it from him. When the hole was dug, he wrapped her body in a sheet and carried her to it. With help from a neighbour, he lowered her into the ground and covered her body with dirt.
His father died next. He was probably the strongest of them all physically, but his spirit was broken and he had little will to live. In some ways, Chow thought, death might have been a relief for him, although certainly not the agony that accompanied it. Another grave was dug, another body lowered into the ground.
His sister and mother both fought to hang on, desperate to outlive the poison that was making them retch and soil themselves so often that keeping them hydrated was almost impossible. His sister went first, silently, in the middle of the night. His mother died the next day, screaming in agony and grief. He buried them next to his grandmother and father. The entire family was resting together, separated by dirt walls only a metre thick.
The only thing that had kept him from disintegrating, from giving in to the pain that threatened to consume him, was Gui-San. She had taken his despair and helplessness and turned them into hope. Then she was gone, and there was no one to ease that pain. Not then, not since, and, he imagined, not ever.
Despite Chow’s experiencing so much death, it hadn’t hardened him. What it had done, slowly but relentlessly, was make him realize how precious life was, and how important it was to live in a way that honoured it. For him, honouring life did not mean preserving it at any cost. Life had to have meaning, and that meaning came with the values he believed in and clung to. There were lines he would not cross. When his values came into conflict with the prospect of death, he never backed down. To do that, in his mind, would have been a betrayal of everyone he’d loved.
As he walked to Dong’s, Chow stopped several times to wipe his eyes with the hankie that had been in the envelope. But by the time he reached the restaurant, the worst was over. For the thirtieth, fiftieth, or hundredth time since he’d been in Fanling, he’d relived the memories of the events that had brought him there and put them back in their mental boxes.