by Ming Cher
A stronger gust of wind brought some cempaka flowers down from the tall trees. When this very sweet-smelling flower fell, it released its best aroma. Sachee sniffed the air delightedly. “Nice smell,” he said. “Maybe Big Mole will like it?” He scrambled towards one of the flowers that had fallen on a patch of water lilies and reached out for it.
All of a sudden, Ah Seow sensed that something was terribly wrong. Was there a lost soul nearby looking for a replacement body? He felt spooked and started to panic. “Sachee!” he screamed. “There is a water ghost in the pond! Don’t go in! Don’t go in!”
Sachee thought Ah Seow was trying to play a trick on him, so he plucked up his courage and grabbed at the flower. He turned around triumphantly, sticking out his tongue at Ah Seow and waving his flower.
“Ooohoo...! Ooohoo...! Ooohoo...!” Sachee howled with mischief, approaching Ah Seow step by step.
At once, everything became darker around Ah Seow. The shadows loomed more menacingly. Time stood still. Sounds that were related to fear were the loudest, and it seemed to Ah Seow that every sound, however soft, became magnified. The moonlit pond was no longer beautiful or serene, but awful and alive. The rustling breeze was not cool anymore, it seemed cold. The long grass rustled more sharply in the shadows, and the occasional jambu fruit falling to the ground seemed to land with exceptionally loud thuds.
Sachee must have turned into a water ghost! His heart beating faster and his legs feeling watery weak, Ah Seow could only think of the phrase ‘as safe as a house’. “Run! Run! Run!” he said repeatedly to himself as he began to scrabble blindly in the direction of the hut.
Sachee caught up with him and grabbed one of his legs. “Stop playing a fool! Look! Look at the jambu tree in front of the house!”
Ah Seow cried for mercy and buried his face in the ground. “Not me! Not me!”
Sachee pulled Ah Seow up by his back collar. “Look!” he pointed ahead. “Look! Somebody hanging on the jambu tree!”
Ah Seow felt slightly better when their faces met and it brought him back to reality. He stared at the tree. One quick look was enough to tell him that Chai’s grandmother, Ah Paw, was hanging from the tree, her eyes bulging out, her tongue lolling against her black samfoo blouse.
The past—Ah Paw trying to rape him—came wheeling back. Ah Seow blacked out into a blinding darkness illuminated by multiplying star bursts. The star bursts disappeared into total darkness, the darkness evaporated into nothingness, the nothingness became a vacuum and voided into an inexhaustible whirlpool that sucked his consciousness into an unfathomable space. It was as if the essence of his soul were draining away forever and vanishing into eternity. Haunted by the spectre of eternal torture over which he would have no control, Ah Seow in his unconsciousness yearned to stop, yearned to be touched by something—anything! Vegetable, mineral, anything to return his sensation; even a dust particle was desirable.... But he was on a mystery trip to a ghost world controlled by demons. There, the ghosts had nothing to do and could not do anything. All they did was watch television. Earth looked to them like a jewel of the universe. Every time they saw friends and relatives on Earth, they felt the warmth of a familiar sensation. This only made them sadder. And the demons laughed as they watched the ghosts.
• • •
Sachee raced home to seek help, but everybody was out, even Ah Seow’s solitary father, Ah Hock. Sachee gasped for breath and started running again. He went to the opera show but he could not find his friends there either. The place was packed with people watching the opera of Lord Bao Gong, the legendary clairvoyant judge, who was preparing to sentence the prime minister’s son to death, as the latter had murdered his wife in order to marry the emperor’s sister.
Meanwhile, Ah Seow’s astral consciousness was attracted to the action on stage. He had no idea that his own body was at the moment lying inert before the dangling corpse of Ah Paw at the jambu tree. When the opera ended, the crowd dispersed and headed for the great variety of food served by the travelling hawkers who followed the operatic troupe, but Ah Seow’s soul took the opportunity to watch the actresses changing their clothes backstage.
• • •
Finally, Sachee found Big Mole, Kim, Kwang and Kwang’s little brothers walking home with a bunch of spider boys.
“Looked for you all everywhere!” Sachee yelled, frustrated. “We must go and save Ah Seow!” He told the story quickly.
“You all go home first.” Kwang waved the girls and his brothers away and said to the spider boys, “Dare to come with me?”
More than a dozen boys followed their leader uphill. One look at Ah Paw was enough to make everybody vomit, no matter how brave he thought he was. Nobody dared to touch the body.
“Look at Ah Seow first!” Sachee said. “Ah Seow is dead! Ah Seow! Ah Seow!” He shook Ah Seow, whose body was still warm. He remained unconscious.
“Don’t say such things!” Kwang shouted angrily. “We lift him up, don’t be scared! Give us a hand!” He yelled at his boys for help and they rushed to carry Ah Seow to the edge of the pond. Putting his ear against Ah Seow’s chest, Kwang detected heartbeat and said hastily, “Still breathing! Quick, get some water first!”
The boys splashed water from the pond on Ah Seow’s face with water lily leaves. Still, they could not revive him. “Ah Seow dead already!” Sachee sobbed. His crying made everyone crowding around Ah Seow’s body weep as well.
• • •
It was past midnight. The village had gone to sleep and there was nothing more for Ah Seow’s spirit to look at. He decided to go ‘home’ to sleep with Big Mole and his sister. He could hear his father snoring; he’d had an extra bottle of Guinness. Everything seemed normal.
Then the sobbing grief of Sachee, Kwang and the spider boys interrupted his senses. At the speed of light, the astral consciousness followed the sound back to the site of the incident. He wondered why they were there. Why was everybody weeping over a body?
“Carry him up!” Kwang finally ordered. “Take him home first!”
Ah Seow’s soul took a closer look at the body and recognised himself. He panicked and tried to jump back into his own body, but he couldn’t hold on. He slipped out of it.
Sachee continued to cry, but grief then turned to anger. Braver than the rest, he said, “Not Ah Seow. That old woman is a devil! So many of us here! Why scared!” Stumbling through the lallang, Sachee yanked at Ah Paw’s dangling leg. The pull released a gas. It was a terrible smell, a smell that was locked up in a body that had strangled to death, a smell that belonged to all hanged corpses.
As if it were a magic spell, the stench projected the watching spirit back into his own body, which became freezing cold. It sizzled like dry ice, and mist steamed up around it. The mist turned into water and Ah Seow saw two big carp swimming with their mouths open, singing, “Human flesh is divine, divine...!” Ah Seow screamed and kicked himself back to life.
He stood up and started walking like a drunk, his face with a dazed expression. Everybody tried to talk to him at the same time but there was no reply. Sachee held his hand, and he did not resist. Hand in hand they walked downhill, the rest following closely behind.
• • •
Before the morning was over, the death of Ah Paw had caused a hush to descend over the whole village. She had been a living legend, the oldest among them. Gossip went around the village. Somebody was heard whispering, “Do you believe it? On the same night, her pair of big carp fish jumped out of the tank to suicide!” Other voices affirmed, “It is real! A lot of regulars in their gambling house saw it. You can ask Gentleman Pak’s wife, she was there. She won’t tell lies!”
Some people said, “She poisoned the fish to die with her.” Others disagreed, “It can’t be. How come the three goldfish are still alive in the same tank?”
The mystery remained, and Ah Seow returned to normal. He became good friends with Sachee, who had accompanied him all that night.
13
The First Ti
me
THE WEATHER HAD changed. The monsoon season brought rain, and the spider boys turned from spider hunting to spider training. Like other top spider boys in Singapore, Kwang stayed home on rainy days to train his spiders for the Spider Olympic Games, making them fight for food or for female partners. His brothers played in the muddy pools that formed when it rained and Sachee taught them to swim. Ah Seow went to school in the afternoons, as usual.
One rainy afternoon, Big Mole prepared sweet potato soup boiled with rock sugar, and she scooped some of it into three bowls. She had begun to run out of money, and she asked Kim, “I feel very disturbed inside, do you think anything bad happened to Yeow?”
“Waiting is hard,” Kim replied, tasting the soup, her mind on Yeow. It was something she couldn’t control since that evening, when she fell overboard at Clifford Pier. Something had made her less carefree and more introspective.
Big Mole stared at her soup and said, “No mood to eat.” She felt unclean from relying on Yeow’s small change in return for spying on Kwang and Kim, and also on Wong, but she still did not know where he got his opium supply. She looked over at Kwang, who would be fifteen in a few months, scruffy like her.
Kwang shut his big spider in its box and joined the table. “You eat first,” he assured Big Mole. “Don’t worry, Yeow is very alert.” He was looking forward to the spider games, and he also was feeling supremely confident of becoming the champion of champions. Kim was, on the other hand, becoming increasingly irritated with his obsession.
Over at Katong, life for Yeow was also changing. Following his narrow escape from death, the lone wolf had lived by himself quietly for more than two months. He felt on top of the world. Even his secret desire for Kim, or his worry over his auntie’s bones, did not bother him anymore. Every day he went fishing and swimming. His health was good, his mind was clear, his heart was firm. He resolved to postpone his other plans until Kwang won the spider crown.
Yeow was an incredibly patient young man who thought like a much older man, a man who had a vision. He understood that fish must grow undisturbed before he could net them. This picture was very clear to him as he continued plotting his dominion beyond Chinatown by way of the serious spider boys. To reach his eventual goal, he had to use stepping stones.
Already, spider boys in every corner of Singapore roamed like members of secret societies within their own territories. They all listened to the one leader.
“Good thinking,” said Cheong Pak, when Yeow consulted him. “He is their hero. You got him, you get the rest. How many of them are there all together? Roughly?”
“Thousands of them, scattered everywhere.” Yeow replied, relaxing on the old man’s luxurious leather couch. “Only the best go to the match. Chai said hundreds there last year.”
“What are Kwang’s chances? I mean, winning the crown.”
“Very good, according to Chai.”
“Good horse not easy to catch, be flexible with him...!”
“I know, I will bend backward if he win, to trap him.”
“Right,” Cheong Pak nodded. “Bend like bamboo against the wind.” He walked away to make coffee in his big, expensive kitchen.
Beside Chai, who had only recently learnt of his whereabouts, Cheong Pak and his wife were Yeow’s only visitors. They served their protégé like willing slaves, teaching him everything they knew that would help in building a new Hon Moon. Their discussions ranged from ancient military techniques used by the military general Sun Zi—“Know yourself, know your enemy; a thousand battles fought, a thousand battles won”—to more modern strategies of building a business empire.
Coming back with the coffee in a pot, Cheong Pak said, “Don’t get me wrong. I know you are trying to put your feet into the chap jee kee network through those spider boys, but you have to admit we are far from ready. Chap jee kee is bigger than the bank! Climb the hill before you climb the mountain. We should make other investments first.” He was right. Almost every Chinese family in Singapore had someone who gambled regularly in the illegal lottery, and poor people were especially addicted to it. Bets would be placed at night, and winning results were displayed the following day.
Yeow was willing to listen. “Such as?” he said.
“Like buy this place.”
“How much are you talking?” Yeow poured the coffee in the cups.
“Close to fifty thousand dollars.”
“I can’t see how we make profit from that. The rent here is only one hundred fifty.”
“Cash must go into assets.” Cheong Pak sipped his coffee. “We are overflowing with unaccounted cash on our hands. The owner is willing to take half in cash, the rest through proper channel... Property prices here are rising fast. Up to you.”
“Go ahead, buy,” Yeow said, yawning. “More coffee?”
After Cheong Pak left, Yeow went for a swim. When he was done, he made a phone call.
“Hello?” A Eurasian-Chinese girl answered in English. “Ng Koo’s villa. Can I help?”
“I don’t speak English.” Yeow wriggled his toes, his feet propped up on the stolen antique table with fine mother-of-pearl inlay. “Do me a favour, get Ng Koo for me, okay?”
“Ng Koo is busy at the moment. May I know who is calling?”
“Just tell her it’s from Chinatown Yeow, okay?” He hung up and checked his fishing gear.
• • •
Ng Koo was the widow of a rich Englishman. She organised social functions at a secret top-class brothel in Pasir Panjang and used young housewives, office girls and secretaries who needed the money. When Yeow called, she was entertaining some British and Chinese millionaires. When the Eurasian girl whispered into her ears, Ng Koo excused herself immediately and telephoned him.
Yeow pushed his hooks and lines aside to take the call. “Hello, Number Twenty-one.” He used the street address and not his name.
“Yeow,” Ng Koo said, heaving herself onto the sofa. “I’m trying to catch up with you.”
Yeow moved his toes again. “So what is new?”
“A few nice girls just arrived.”
“So?”
“I prefer you to be the first to know.”
“What else?”
“Hey, you don’t sound your usual self! How are you?”
“Not shining very bright.” Yeow tried to think of something to say. “A bit stretched out from swimming...”
“You need a massage,” Ng Koo answered quickly. “Come over, I polish you up myself!”
“I can smell your perfume from here.”
“And I can read your mind from where I am. Come over tonight, all right?”
Ng Koo had been introduced to Yeow weeks earlier by a chauffeur friend. The friend worked for rich businessmen who frequented her place. Yeow was fascinated by the charming widow, who had travelled the world, especially by the way she knew her way around in the top circles. Yeow had been thinking about getting closer to her so that he could use her in all ways possible, but he did not know how he would do that yet. That evening he went to her house in a well-to-do area of Pasir Panjang. Perched on the cliff above a long beach, the prewar Spanish mansion had high walls and wrought-iron gates, which he could peer through and see that the compound was packed full with flashy cars.
The lone wolf, dressed in his best, pressed the bell three times. A hunchbacked gatekeeper let him in. He gave the old fellow a dollar and was led into a candlelit hall where tables were spread with fine food and drinks, and soft music was playing. The room had a party atmosphere and there were more young girls than men—European and Chinese—enjoying themselves while casually talking business.
When Ng Koo spotted Yeow sitting quietly on the sofa by the French doors, she handed her drink to one of the girls and said to her, “Ah, Lily, the prince is here! Come with me.”
“You don’t have to be shy with him,” Ng Koo touched Yeow’s handsome chin with her long red fingernails. She was wearing high heels and a brocade cheongsam. “Mr. Yeow is much more shy than
you, make him a drink!” She whispered into his ear, “I catch up with you later.” She moved away, her hands playing with a pearl necklace against her breasts, which had been scented by pure musk perfume from Tibet.
The spunky part-time secretary said, interrupting his thoughts, “Mr. Yeow, can I get you a drink?”
He turned around. “What?” He was already drunk on Ng Koo’s classy spell.
“Can I get you something to drink?” Lily asked again.
Yeow requested a whiskey sour and continued watching Ng Koo pour drinks for her clients, making sure everyone was happy. Sometimes she would say, “Don’t get drunk, George!” Or Jimmy, or Lee, or Mr. Chan. Or, “Hmmm, naughty naughty!”—her finger playfully tapped the nose of an old client who tried to touch her. Her body was trim from playing endless tennis. Shrewd like a vixen, she charged each client a lot of money for the party alone. The girls, who were her bait, paid only room fees if they used one of her five bedrooms.
Lily noticed his interest and tried to start a conversation.
“Don’t you think Ng Koo is amazing? I really admire her.”
“I’m not sure what you mean.” Yeow looked at his Rolex.
“Are you staying long tonight?” Lily sipped her orange juice.
“I am not sure, depends.” He knocked back the whiskey sour.
“You are very quiet.”
“Am I?”
“Yes, and distant.”
“Distant? No.” Yeow went straight to the point, “I’m not used to the place. Everybody is talking in English, I can’t understand. Only my third time here. I’d rather have fun with you.”
Lily got a key from Ng Koo and took him to a sea-view room upstairs, with specially built beanbag chairs for sex. Although she was beautiful, sex which money could buy was to Yeow just like another piece of meat to eat when hungry. When it was over, he asked what the fee was. It was fifty dollars. He gave her sixty and said, “I feel like lying down here for a while by myself, all right? Let Ng Koo know if it is okay.” He was sending an indirect message to the widow.