by Janie Chang
WHEN I MET Leah at her favorite French café, she was thoroughly delighted to learn I had the use of a car and driver.
“I’m going to invite you out every day just to have the use of your car,” she exclaimed. “How generous of your Mr. Liu.”
“It’s not generosity,” I said. My favorite pastries might as well have been balls of boiled dough. It had been several days since my last visit to Dragon Springs Road. How could I get away from Gu? I had to take food and money so that Fox could care for my mother. “The driver is there to watch me, Leah. How can I get away for an hour or two?”
“Are you having an affair?” she exclaimed.
Because of Gu, Leah was convinced Sanmu wanted to keep an eye on me because he still cared for me and was jealous I might find another patron.
I rolled my eyes. “I can’t tell you about it just now, but it’s not some man.”
“Well, we can go to my mah-jongg club tomorrow afternoon,” she said. “That’s worth hours of time. Your driver can doze in his car and you can slip out the back to go meet your man.”
I sighed. “I’ve said, there is no man. But the mah-jongg club is a good idea, thank you. Can I take you home now? Sanmu’s Fourth Uncle is coming to the house this afternoon. You’d think such an important man would have better things to do than ask me why soap costs so much.”
Gu took his time bringing the car around and didn’t bother opening the passenger door for us. Leah’s expression was one of polite disinterest. When we reached her apartment, she insisted I come upstairs to see her newest evening dress.
“It will only take a few minutes,” she said. “I must have your opinion.”
But once we were inside the door, she turned to me with a worried frown. “I was joking before about your affair, but I’m not joking now. Are you stealing from the Lius? What have you done to make Liu Sanmu want you under surveillance?”
“Nothing of the sort,” I said, shocked “How can you even think that of me?”
“Because that driver of yours is a gangster.” She shrugged at my shocked expression. “Peng gets mixed up with all sorts of people. He took me to a party once and pointed out the big bosses to me. I recognize your driver. He was a bodyguard for one of the gang leaders.”
I thought of Gu, his burly arms, his huge hands. Gu, hired by Fourth Uncle.
“Jialing, what have you done to have this man dogging your footsteps?” she asked. “He’s dangerous.”
But not as dangerous as Fourth Uncle’s suspicious mind.
BACK AT YUYANG Lane, I changed into a tunic and trousers of dark gray, the plainest set I owned, and slipped on some cloth shoes. I braided my hair in a simple plait and scrubbed my face clean to present a modest and traditional appearance for Fourth Uncle. The mirror showed a very ordinary young woman. Chinese, but not quite. Jawline too strong, nose too pronounced, complexion too pale. Fourth Uncle would see only a zazhong girl, someone who would never be allowed into the Liu family, not even if I gave them a son.
Fourth Uncle arrived by rickshaw. His stern looks demanded obedience, and for as long as I could collect money from Sanmu, I would not give Fourth Uncle any cause to complain. At least, not more than usual. I smoothed back my hair and opened the door to greet him, this man whose goodwill I had to retain. If I’d ever had it.
He settled down at the dining table and placed an abacus beside the notebook I handed him. Its first page listed my purchases from the past week. Inside the notebook, an envelope of receipts, each one numbered to match an item on the list. Fourth Uncle had set the rules, and I had entered the amounts carefully.
I stood across the table from Fourth Uncle, like a schoolgirl whose homework is being graded. Fourth Uncle said nothing; the only sound in the room was the disapproving click of abacus beads in their wooden frame. Fourth Uncle couldn’t possibly want to be here any more than I enjoyed his company. Perhaps if all my expenses were in order every week, he would get bored and stop coming.
Leah had counseled spending all the money, or at least appearing to spend it all.
“Stores are happy to write you receipts for any amount,” she said. “If that uncle of Sanmu’s thinks you can get by with half the amount, he may only give you half next time.”
“It’s Sanmu’s money and I won’t cheat him,” I said. “I don’t believe Sanmu will go back on his word. He’ll give me exactly what he promised. I can always write to let him know if his uncle becomes unreasonable.”
Fourth Uncle shut the notebook. “You eat out too often.”
I bowed my head and said nothing. There was the sound of coins being placed on the table and the chair being pushed back. I breathed a sigh of relief and willed myself not to look at the stack of silver coins. I would wait until Fourth Uncle had gone. I would not let him see me concerned about Sanmu’s generosity.
Then the front gate buzzer sounded, and a minute later, Shea’s tall figure appeared under the magnolia trees, striding up the path. Behind me, I felt, rather than saw, Fourth Uncle grow very still.
“I will open the door for Mr. Shea,” he said. “You stay here.”
Somehow it wasn’t surprising that he knew Shea on sight. Why would Sanmu be the only person in the Liu family to use Mr. Shea’s services? I sat down and counted the stack of coins. It was the same amount as the week before.
“Girl, Mr. Shea wants to speak with you,” Fourth Uncle’s voice from the drawing room.
Mr. Shea stood on the rug across from Fourth Uncle, who was seated. If Shea was surprised to see Fourth Uncle at the house, he didn’t show it. Gossip must have reached him by now that Sanmu had put me aside.
“I won’t take up much of your time, Miss Zhu,” Mr. Shea said. “I understand that Master Liu here already knows about my investigation into Wan Baoyuan’s death.” There was a question in his voice.
Fourth Uncle disguised his anxiety as impatience. “My nephew and I have no secrets from each other, Shea. Ask the girl your questions now or not at all.”
Shea cleared his throat. “I spoke to a rickshaw driver who claims that he saw a dark-green car with black fenders pull out of Dragon Springs Road that day. This suggests Wan Baoyuan could’ve gone to visit the Yangs.”
“The police questioned Dajuin already,” I said. “He never saw Wan Baoyuan that day.”
“That’s true,” Shea said. “But for now I’m just looking for confirmation that such a car was at Dragon Springs Road. It was raining heavily and the rickshaw driver could’ve been mistaken about the color. When I went to see the Yangs, Miss Yang told me she and her brother were at the market and waited out the rain there, but that you were home. Did you see or perhaps hear a car? A knock at the front gate?”
Fourth Uncle’s silence was a dagger held against my throat.
“No,” I said. “I didn’t. As you say, it was raining heavily. And I was ill in bed that day, for quite a few days actually. I wouldn’t have heard anything.”
Shea cleared his throat again. “Miss Yang also said there was someone living in the Western Residence who might’ve seen an automobile. Or perhaps even seen Wan Baoyuan if he went to Dragon Springs Road. A former servant. A woman called Ping Mei.”
Fourth Uncle’s already upright posture stiffened. His head turned slowly, his cold unblinking eyes observed me, a serpent watching its prey.
“No,” I repeated. “She wasn’t there. She doesn’t live there anymore.”
“Miss Zhu, please,” Mr. Shea said. “This is a murder investigation. All I want is to ask this woman a few questions. Miss Yang said it’s very likely this woman is still there squatting in the Western Residence.”
Again, I shook my head. Fourth Uncle stood up.
“Mr. Shea, are those all the questions you have?” he asked.
WHEN THE GATE shut on Shea, Fourth Uncle picked up his cane and walked to the front door without a word. Then he turned and pointed the cane at me.
“I told Sanmu you couldn’t be trusted. You knew that servant woman was there but didn’t
tell us. Do not attempt to leave this property. I’m telling Old Tan you’re not to go out the gate.”
The door slammed.
How could I get out to Dragon Springs Road? I had to warn Fox. I had to get my mother out of there. Fourth Uncle would show no mercy to a servant woman. And now that Fourth Uncle had found reason to distrust me, not even Sanmu’s goodwill would save me from Gu’s big hands. Accidents happen.
I gathered up the stack of coins from the dining room table and ran upstairs. I put the money in my handbag. On second thought, I pulled my school satchel out of a bottom drawer and emptied the contents of my expensive handbag into its canvas compartments. Then I sat on the bed. How could I manage to get past Old Tan? And Gu?
The front gate buzzer sounded.
I ran to the window. Old Tan had let Shea in again.
“Why did you come back, Mr. Shea?” I cried, nearly sobbing with relief as I opened the door. “How did you get in?”
“I told the gatekeeper I’d left something behind,” he said. “I came back because Master Liu seemed to make you nervous. I thought I’d see whether I could speak to you on your own. My dear child, what’s the matter?”
“I need to go to Dragon Springs Road,” I said “I must see my mother and get her out of there. She’s in danger. From Fourth Uncle.”
“Your mother?” He raised his eyebrows.
“Ping Mei, the woman with the burned face you found in the Old City, she’s my mother,” I said. “She didn’t want me to know at first because she was so ashamed of herself.”
“Why would she be in danger from Master Liu?”
I didn’t care anymore what Shea learned. “Because she was there. She was there the day Wan Baoyuan died, and Fourth Uncle doesn’t want you to talk to her. He’ll kill her before that happens. He’s told Old Tan not to let me out the gate, and even if he did, I’d have to get away from Gu, my driver. Oh, Mr. Shea, can you help me?”
“Is Gu the driver beside the black car? The car is gone.”
Gu’s huge hands, his burly arms. A bodyguard who worked for gangsters. Had Fourth Uncle gone with him to Dragon Springs Road or had Fourth Uncle sent him on his own to find my mother?
Would Fox be able to protect my mother? Fox, who despite all that she said about it being easier not to love, cared for me and my mother. Fox, who was not truly immortal. Fox, who couldn’t starve or fall ill, but who could be killed.
Shea shook me gently by the shoulders. “Bring with you whatever is necessary. We can get past Old Tan. Somehow I don’t think Master Liu has told him what’s at stake.”
OLD TAN’S STATION was a roofed-in niche built against the wall. There, perched on a high stool, he could look through open brickwork onto Yuyang Lane. When he heard the crunch of footsteps on the gravel path, he gave me a reproachful look.
“Miss Zhu, you know Master Liu doesn’t want you to go out. I can’t open that gate for you.”
Shea pulled out a handful of silver. “A man needs to empty his bladder once in a while though, doesn’t he?”
Old Tan’s arm convulsed ever so slightly. Shea dropped silver coins into the outstretched palm. Eight, nine, ten. The gatekeeper shuffled away to the corner of the garden, where panels of ivy-covered trellis hid an outhouse.
I stepped out the gate. I climbed into Shea’s automobile and we left Yuyang Lane. I doubted I’d ever see it again.
CHAPTER 23
It was clear that Shea was accomplished at steering around Shanghai’s traffic, but he wasn’t driving fast enough for me. While he drove, I told him everything. How I had recognized Wan Baoyuan as the same man who had been watching Master Shen’s funeral. How Mr. Shih of Nanyang Shipping, who had remarked on seeing Wan Baoyuan in Shanghai three years ago, had been found murdered.
How Sanmu had put together the pieces and suspected Wan Baoyuan might be one of Mah Juhou’s assassins. How Wan Baoyuan’s attempt to kill me had confirmed that suspicion. How Sanmu had come to my defense. How Wan Baoyuan had nearly killed him.
“Until then, Sanmu only suspected,” I said. “He had no proof, only information about Wan’s political loyalties, his circle. But poor Mr. Shih and I were the only ones who knew Wan Baoyuan had been in Shanghai the day Mah Juhou died. Sanmu said Wan would’ve seen us as loose ends he had to tie up.”
Shea’s eyes flickered at me then turned back to the road. “I remember Shih’s murder,” he said. “Very professional. The Shanghai Police thought he’d gotten on the wrong side of some gangsters.”
“It was my mother who saved us,” I said. “She beat Wan Baoyuan over the head with a chair leg and killed him. Sanmu said we shouldn’t get the police involved because if information leaked out, we would be in danger from Wan Baoyuan’s fellow conspirators. It would bring the Nationalists and General Zhang’s Fengtian clique into open conflict, something the Nationalists don’t need right now. Better to make it seem like a random murder.”
The car swerved and dodged traffic. Rickshaws and handbarrows, automobiles and street vendors loaded down with shoulder poles weaved along the streets. On the sidewalk, a prostitute in a flowered tunic and trousers strolled into a store, followed by her amah. At the corner, a letter writer had set up shop with a stool and portable desk, ready to take dictation. It seemed impossible that such mundane events could continue on as though it were a day like any other.
It seemed as though every car and every rickshaw in Shanghai obstructed our route. I wanted to scream with frustration when the railway crossing ahead of us dropped its barricades, stopping traffic on both sides. The Shanghai to Hangchow train clattered past on its way out of Chapei Station. Finally the barricades lifted. Automobiles, carriages, and rickshaws advanced slowly across the railway tracks. I wanted to leap out and run the rest of the way.
“So Liu Sanmu is certain you won’t tell anyone all this,” Shea said, “but his Fourth Uncle isn’t so trusting?”
“Fourth Uncle is mixed up in something to do with the Nationalists and gangsters,” I said. “Neither of them knows it was my mother who killed Wan Baoyuan. Sanmu thinks I was the one who did it, but he told his uncle that he was Wan Baoyuan’s killer to make sure Fourth Uncle would help get rid of the body.”
Shea frowned. “How could Liu Sanmu not have known your mother was there? Not seen her attack Wan?”
“Sanmu forgot he saw my mother,” I said, “because Fox made him forget.”
“Fox?”
By the time the car swung onto Chung San Road, Shea had been silent for several minutes. His silence had begun with my explanation about Fox and had grown even heavier when I told him about the Door and Anna.
“I can’t believe any of what you just told me, Jialing.” Shea kept his eyes on the busy road. “I fear your mind is unbalanced if you believe a Fox spirit has been your guardian or that my Anna walked through a door into the land of immortals. It makes me wonder if anything else you’ve said is true.”
“You don’t need to believe me, Mr. Shea,” I said. “Just help me save my mother.”
We turned into Dragon Springs Road, the homes on each side now a collection of finished and half-finished houses, some of the construction still open to the street, others already hidden behind high brick walls. Dust and dirt were everywhere, workers carrying building materials on shoulder poles, others pushing handbarrows. At the far end, in front of the Western Residence’s gates, we saw the black car.
Shea had to drive slowly to avoid the workers. I couldn’t wait and jumped out. I ran to the Western Residence and pushed at the gate. It had always slid open for me, but today it stood ajar, the heavy lock smashed.
There was a faint smell of wood smoke, no more than I would expect from a fire in the kitchen stove, but I ran. I ran through the front courtyard and the bamboo garden, the pebbled path grinding under my cloth shoes with every step. I saw a small, still form on the paved courtyard and I ran faster.
There was blood on her muzzle, but Fox was still breathing. A length of wood lay on the ground beside
her, a post salvaged from the ruined erfang, blood smeared on one end. As I stroked her fur, I could see her limbs twitch. Was Gu here with Fourth Uncle or was he on his own?
The smell of smoke was stronger now, and I realized it wasn’t coming from the kitchen but from the main house. I heard a cough and looked up. Gu was coming out of the main house. He stepped over the threshold and stopped when he saw me. He grinned, the same look as when he watched me struggle with heavy bags of shopping.
I heard Shea call my name, but I didn’t turn around. I was staring at the red flickering glow from the windows behind Gu. Suddenly I understood. I tried to run past Gu, but he caught the sleeve of my tunic.
“No, no, Young Mistress. Why did you have to come?” he chided. “Now I have to take you back to Yuyang Lane.”
He struck me and I fell to the ground.
“Leave her alone.” Shea’s voice. The sounds of a struggle.
I didn’t bother looking back at the two men. I got up and ran to the main house.
At the center of the bedroom, flames crackled. The wood Fox had stacked so carefully on the veranda was piled around the charcoal brazier. On the other side of the fire, my mother lay on the bed frame, curled up and facing the wall, her small form neatly arranged, her tiny feet peeping out from the hems of her trousers. I heard her cough. She was unconscious but still alive. The old wood, dry as tinder, burned higher each second that I delayed.
Trying not to breathe, I edged around the fire, holding my clothes against my body and away from the flames, thankful I wasn’t wearing a dress. My mother’s eyes were closed, and there was a slow trickle of blood from one nostril. I couldn’t tell whether she had been hurt anywhere else, but there wasn’t time to be gentle. I managed to drag her to an upright position, then realized I couldn’t carry her safely past the flames. She lolled against me, heavier than I thought she would be in her unwieldy state.