by Mingmei Yip
A year from now, would anyone still be awed at the mention of Lung’s name? Almost certainly not. The surviving gangsters would be too busy fighting for the number one gangster position. And the politicians who shared their spoils would find other sources of illicit income.
We buried Lung in the secret garden of his country villa. Jinying seemed to feel somewhat consoled once his father received his proper burial, and he had paid a small Daoist temple to say prayers for him. After that, we agreed that it was time for us to resume the search for our baby, Jinjin.
Shadow had carried out her role perfectly, so I kept my promise and paid her handsomely—enough for her to live on for a long time. Sitting together in her hotel room, we had a long chat. Even though no one could hear, we lowered our voices to near whispers, as if we were sharing each other’s deepest secrets.
She told me, “Camilla, I intend to leave Shanghai as soon as I can get a ticket. Do you mind?”
“Of course not. You’re a free woman now.”
“Thank you. I hate to leave you two behind, but I also have to plan for my own future.”
“Shadow, now that you have some money you can do whatever you want. What do you want to do?”
“If I can, find a man who will love me, get married, have a few babies, maybe two boys and two girls.”
I cast her a curious look. “So this will be your ultimate trick? Getting married and settling down?”
She chuckled. “Don’t you want the same for yourself?”
“I guess,” I said, but was not at all sure it was what I really wanted. But perhaps it was, since I was struggling so hard to reunite with Jinying and my baby.
She took a bottle of red wine from the side table, filled two glasses, then handed one to me. We hit our glasses and took generous sips.
She went on. “You’re a lucky woman. I see how men look at you—the young master, and Gao too. You can have whomever you want. As Yu Xuanji, the famous courtesan wrote, ‘It’s easier to find a priceless treasure, than a loving man.’ That’s why I envy you, Camilla; you have Jinying—and he’s rich too.”
“Shadow, tell me, do you have someone?”
“No… but I hope someday…”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’ll be fine. We’re strong women, remember? That’s why we’re each other’s most worthy rivals, right?”
I remained silent, savoring her words.
She spoke again. “We are talking like two old ladies reminiscing about our younger days.”
We both laughed.
Then I said, “At least we’ve experienced what most girls our age could never even imagine.”
“Is this a good thing or bad?”
“I don’t know, that’s for heaven to decide.”
We laughed again, this time our laughter was tinged with sadness.
Shadow and I toasted each other again, draining our glasses.
I recited the famous farewell poem Song of the Wei City by the Tang dynasty poet Wang Wei, “Please drink one more cup of wine. Once you travel beyond the Yang Pass, there will be no friends to keep you company…”
I felt a special kind of affection for my magician friend. Since we were both tongshi tianya lunluo ren, two forlorn people meeting at the far corners of the earth.
After Shadow went back to her room, I kept thinking of our strange karmic connection—from enemies competing to seduce Master Lung, to partners in our shows, and sort of friends. Perhaps because of the hardships we shared as women, we understood each other in a way different from what I shared with my lovers. Jinying loved me dearly, but he didn’t understand me, not completely. Gao understood my body and loved me with his whole heart, but what sort of future would we have? Every day I would worry if he would live to come home to me.
The following morning after I had dressed to go out, I saw that a piece of paper had been slid underneath my door. I picked it up and recognized Shadow’s handwriting:
My dear friend Camilla,
I stayed up all night to write you this. My letter is not long but has been difficult for me to write. Because you’ll probably never see me again in this life. You needn’t worry about me, I’m not going to kill myself—not after what I’ve struggled through. But now that our friendship has blossomed, it must also end. This way we part from each other with happy memories.
Don’t worry about me. Just like you, I always land on my feet, still breathing in this Ten Thousand Miles of Red Dust. Though I have choked on it many times.
I will always be grateful to you for paying me so much to perform such a simple magic trick at Wang’s birthday. You’ve given me a brightly embroidered future that I’d never dreamt possible.
I used to hate you because you’re more beautiful and talented than me and charmed Lung, the man I most wanted for myself. If you were not in the picture, I might have become the number one woman in the Shanghai underworld. But if this had happened, I’d now be a widow fought over as a prize by rival gangsters.
I envy you. How come no matter how hard I try, you’ve always stayed one step ahead of me? Maybe it’s pointless to ask questions like these. Since heaven will never let us know its grand scheme. Even if we find out, what good will that bring us mortals? All we can do is enjoy our journey, even without knowing its outcome.
Are we what the Chinese call qi nuzi, unusual women? Maybe… but also leftover people from the far ends of society.
I am glad that I had the chance to know you, understand you, admire you, hate you, and now, like you. We were truly each other’s worthiest rivals.
Fate has not been so bad to us, after all. Look at you, not only you get the fame and money, you’ve also gotten the loving man. In this life, how many people can taste both the fish and the bear’s paw?
Farewell my friend, and don’t try to look for me. Please don’t disappoint me or yourself by doing so. So, let’s enjoy our youth and beauty before our faces wrinkle, our hair turns snow white, and our loved ones are no longer by our sides.
Karmically,
Your best friend and
worthiest rival, Shadow
After I finished reading, I became lost in thought with Shadow’s letter squeezed tightly in my hand. Then I ran to her room and knocked urgently on the door.
“Shadow, open the door!”
No response. I kept knocking until another door popped open to show an angry face. “Miss, what’s wrong with you? Stop making noise so early in the morning!”
Ignoring his outburst, I dashed down the stairs to the reception area.
I blurted out to the middle-aged, bespectacled man who was immersed in a newspaper, “Mister, has the lady in Room 103 already checked out?”
He put down his magazine and studied me with narrowed eyes above his black-rimmed glasses. “Why, something wrong?”
I made up a reason. “I’m worried about her….”
“Oh, she looks pretty good to me, very tall and pretty.”
Annoyed, I raised my voice. “Can you just tell me if she has checked out?”
“I’m afraid I can’t.”
I took out a few bills and slapped them down on the counter. “All right, stop acting like a reluctant virgin when you’re but a whore. Let me repeat my question: Has. She. Left?!”
He immediately grabbed the money and broke into a slutty, whorelike smile. “Yes, she checked out about an hour ago.”
Damn. “Did she leave a note or say anything?”
“Hmm… now you reminded me. Yes, in fact, she did.”
“What?”
He looked deep in thought, probably just faking it. So I had to take out another bill and slap it down, this time louder.
Again, he grabbed it like a beggar a bun and handed me the note. It said:
If you look for me, I’ll jump to my disappearance, this time for real.
Not bothering to thank him, I immediately turned and dashed back upstairs to my room. I understood Shadow was telling me not to look for her because she did not wan
t to be found. Sighing, I shuffled back but realized that in my haste I had not taken my key.
So I knocked until Jinying opened the door, looking as if he were sleep walking.
“Something wrong, Camilla?”
Right after he closed the door behind us, I pulled him to me and kissed him passionately on his lips. Then I pushed him down on the bed and began my skeleton woman’s preying game.
“Camilla, slow down, I’m not awake yet.”
“Well, then wake up. You know that as a skeleton woman, I’m not going to take no for an answer,” I said matter-of-factly, beginning to pull down his pajama pants.
“Camilla, you don’t want to wake up our neighbors!”
“Don’t you realize, time is always running out, for you, for me, for everyone?”
My lover’s eyelids kept drooping as he said groggily, “Of course…”
It was surprisingly urgent, despite our exhaustion. Afterward, Jinying and I cuddled with each other, savoring the lingering warmth—and love.
He planted a kiss on my forehead. “Camilla, I’m worried about you, you look a bit—”
“A bit what?”
“Hmm… out of sorts. Please tell me what’s on your mind?”
I really didn’t think he’d understand my relationship with Shadow, so I simply said, “Shadow checked out early this morning. She left me a letter but refuses to say where she is going. She doesn’t want us to see each other ever again.”
Jinying’s reply surprised me. “Good.”
“Why good?” I was annoyed, for Shadow was no longer an enemy or just a partner, but a friend.
“I never liked the woman, so I’m glad she’s finally out of our way.”
“But she did us a big favor and I miss her.”
“You do, why? She’s never been nice to you.”
I sighed. “Hai, Jinying, I don’t think you’ll understand. Ever.”
“Then explain to me.”
“You shouldn’t hate her. Understand that she’s just like I was, struggling all alone to survive in the boiling cauldron of Shanghai.”
He didn’t respond, so I went on, my tone definite. “I’ll find her.”
Jinying looked horrified. “No, Camilla!”
“Why not?”
“You should respect her wish to be left alone. Let go! I’m sure you two can do very well without each other.”
I didn’t respond to this. I was thinking how ironic that once I lamented that heaven had thrust Shadow onto my path to compete with me, yet now wished she’d stay and be my friend!
I sighed inside. No matter how I missed my friend and would like to look for her, maybe I should listen to Jinying.
Yes, I’d let go of Shadow, but there was another person even harder to let go of. I wanted to see Gao one last time before we vanished from each other’s lives forever. But, of course, this was not something to discuss with Jinying. Anyway, with Wang on his way out, we could at last focus completely on what was most important—finding our baby, Jinjin.
PART SEVEN
28
Sacred Heart
Every day, Jinying and I eagerly opened the newspapers to see if there was anything about Lung or Wang. It seemed that no one knew Lung was dead, as his burial was secret. Or perhaps it was simply that no one cared, as he’d already been missing from the Shanghai scene for months. While there were brief mentions of Wang every day, they gave no specific details. No reporter wanted to be caught seeming to back the wrong side.
Wang’s hospitalization must have created great excitement among the other warlords, who had long been vying to replace him. However, they were stepping cautiously as, unlike me, they could not be certain his condition was fatal. Should he come back from near death, he would not be kindly disposed to anyone who had tried to usurp his place. But I knew that it would be only a few more days until he would set out upon the immortal’s journey. Indeed, he was already as dead as the pig chosen for his birthday banquet.
It was now inevitable that the Shanghai underworld would undergo a huge transformation. As the Chinese saying goes, all the gangsters were “rubbing their fists and flexing their arms,” ready for the fight of the century to slash throat and grab the throne. Master Lung of the Flying Dragons, of course, was not in the running, and I suspected that his men were nervously trying to decide which of the competing gangsters to seek employment with, their former boss already as forgotten as the last emperor. But not Gao. Not only did he not seek employment elsewhere, he’d even risked his life trying to revenge Master Lung. Was he still alive somewhere?
As men of the underworld were preoccupied with seeking gold, Jinying and I were busy planning how to find our son. Jinying and I had taken to going to a dingy eatery nearby for breakfast of soy milk and long, straight Chinese doughnuts. In this crowded, modest place I could feel secure that no one was paying any attention to us. After seeking notice as an entertainer for so long, I felt strange now having to struggle to avoid it.
We endlessly discussed what to do next.
I suggested, “I can go back to the Sacred Heart Convent and beg the nuns to tell me who has adopted Jinjin. I’ll start by telling them we want to be sure he is raised as Catholic.”
Jinying took a meditative sip of his tea, then looked around and lowered his voice. “What about if they won’t tell you? Besides, you have no proof.”
I took a big gulp of my own tea, burned my lips, and blurted out, “All right, then I’ll go to the abbess’s office at night to steal the file. I have the special Open-One-Hundred-Doors key that Big Brother Wang gave me.”
Jinying thought for a while, then said, “Camilla, our son’s name is Jinjin. But you don’t know what Lewinsky named him?”
“I believe she named him Anton Lewinsky—it was on Madame Lewinsky’s gravestone.”
I went on. “But I still need to get ahold of Lewinsky’s file to see who adopted Jinjin.”
“All right, let’s give it a try. We’ll go together.”
Alarmed by his statement, I quickly said, “No, Jinying, they are very suspicious of men. I’ll go by myself. I’ve been a spy, so I know how to navigate such things, but you don’t.”
He didn’t like this suggestion. So I added, “Jinying, if you come along and something happens, it’s much harder for two people to get away than one. If we get caught, I don’t want to imagine the consequences.”
He looked at me anxiously. “All right, Camilla. But remember, Jinjin is our son.”
Thus decided, on the next Wednesday, which I assumed would be a quiet time in the convent, I set out in the deep womb of the night, expecting everyone to be sound asleep. When I arrived at the Sacred Heart Convent, the sky was inky black and there were no other pedestrians, nor any sounds other than the distant rumble of traffic. I wore dark peasant’s clothes to be as close to invisible as possible.
I’d come yesterday to survey the yard and the building, and so was able to find my way easily to the back entrance. With a few twists and turns of my master key, the wooden door emitted a soft, celebratory click and swung open to reveal a long, dark staircase. Entry had been surprisingly easy, perhaps the nuns counted on God to protect them, or just assumed that no one would dare to intrude upon their sacred space—let alone steal from it.
I sneaked inside and, wearing my cloth slippers, walked noiselessly. Under my torch’s dancing light, I carefully made my way to the abbess Sister Mary Stone’s office on the ground floor. Once again, I took out my master key and slipped it into the keyhole. This one, like a virgin, showed some reluctance to yield, even to my special key.
Perhaps this lock had been specially made to safeguard what was inside. Or maybe it was just like its boss, the sixtyish Sister Mary Stone, who also yielded her secrets with great reluctance. But my training had taught me determination and patience. So after seemingly endless gentle twisting in all the auspicious and inauspicious directions and angles, with the application of just a little strength, the lock finally surrendered with a long-
awaited sigh of release. I couldn’t help but feel satisfaction at the culmination of my courtship of the lock.
But I didn’t swing open the door and strut in like a regular customer into his favorite prostitute’s gate. Instead, I softly pushed the door inch by inch until the crack was large enough for me to peek. After making sure there was no one inside, I slipped in.
I relied on the narrow beam of my flashlight, aided by my memory, to make my way to the metal cabinet that I knew held all the documents. I opened the drawers with my key and took a quick look. I noticed there were several drawers with labels such as “Sisters,” “Staff,” “Guests…”
As I flipped through the folders in this nearly dark room, the rustling of papers sounded eerily like ghosts whispering, perhaps trying to tell me secrets forgotten for decades, or even for centuries. I was saddened to read of the misfortunes that brought people here—consolation for loss, refuge from creditors, destitution, even care of terminal illness for those with no living families.
There seemed to be two main reasons that women came here. Some wanted to marry Jesus and live with him happily ever after. But in his gloomy, lifeless, grand building? I wondered could those who were so eager to share Jesus with his many wives under the same roof be happy with only a prayer in their “marital” bed? Or were they simply too wounded by a failed romance to continue to live in the world. Did they find peace, or only quiet desperation?
Others hoped that by confessing a few sins and doing some easy penances, they could spend the rest of their lives in this sacred place—for free.
I let out a soft sigh. If I had known about Sacred Heart, could I have come here to escape the gangster world? But this would be an unlikely fate for me. Few escape the underworld completely. Rather than seek God’s protection, they would offer expensive gifts to induce another gangster head to take them in.