The Goddess of Yantai

by Ian Hamilton

  At Suki’s urging they had already bought one Beijing-based distribution company. Her phone call was to tell them that an even better one would soon be coming onto the open market, and that they’d been given the opportunity to short-circuit the process by making a pre-emptive bid. The problem was that the timeline was exceedingly tight and they had to move fast. Suki had already spent several days in Beijing doing her due diligence. Now she needed someone from Three Sisters to review things with her and, if everything was as it was supposed to be, help her pull together an offer. That was normally Amanda’s job, but she and her husband, Michael, Ava’s half-brother, had planned a Japanese holiday immediately after the Hong Kong meetings. Ava volunteered to go in her place, feeling almost guilty at not mentioning her ulterior motive as Amanda thanked her effusively.

  Ava had left Hong Kong in the afternoon and landed in Beijing with only a few hours to spare before the premiere. She wasn’t overly familiar with the city, which was unusual for her. She had spent considerable time in just about every major city in Asia, the result of ten years as partner in a debt-collection business that had an Asian base.

  Her partner in that business had been a man she called simply Uncle. He had been in his seventies when, at the age of twenty-five, Ava had aligned herself with him. Uncle lived in Hong Kong; prior to getting into debt collection, he had been the Mountain Master of a Triad gang in Fanling and had served multiple terms as chairman of the Triad societies in Asia. Many people thought their partnership odd, and more than once it had been the subject of gossip, which Ava and Uncle ignored. They had adored each other. She was the child he’d never had, and he was like a grandfather to her and the most important man in her life. When he died, her grief had brought out depths of emotion she didn’t know she possessed.

  Uncle’s Asian connections had brought a steady stream of business to their door. Most of their clients had been cheated out of substantial amounts of money and had exhausted all their legal options to recover it; Uncle and Ava were their last resort. As important as getting back the money was in financial terms, Uncle also cared about the human costs: ruined lives and reputations and families put at risk. However, that didn’t prevent Ava and Uncle from charging their standard fee of thirty percent of the funds they recovered. Over the years they were successful at getting the money back more often than not, and Ava had become a wealthy young woman. That wealth more than doubled when Uncle died and left her almost his entire estate.

  The business with Uncle had taken Ava to most of the countries in Asia more times than she could remember. Since China offered particularly fertile ground for thieves, she had visited nearly every one of its numerous provinces and all of its major cities — except for Beijing.

  Suki had made the hotel reservation. Ava hadn’t heard of the Éclat and expected a hotel that reflected Suki’s understated style. The Éclat was the furthest thing from that. It was in the Parkview Green development in the Chaoyang central business district, about ten kilometres from the movie theatre and seven from Tiananmen Square. It was an all-suite luxury boutique hotel, its one hundred suites occupying five floors of a spectacular towering glass pyramid surrounded by a latticed metal framework. It had caught Ava’s eye immediately as she approached the area in her airport taxi, and she was delighted when she discovered that the building was her destination. She had checked in, left a voicemail for Suki saying she’d arrived and would be available for meetings the next morning, and then quickly departed for the premiere.

  Now Ava was making the return trip from the theatre to the hotel. It was dark and some of the landmarks were spectacularly floodlit. None had more impact than Tiananmen Square. Ava looked at it out of the taxi window. At more than one hundred acres it was one of the largest city squares in the world, containing, among other things, the Great Hall of the People, the National Museum of China, and the mausoleum of Mao Zedong. The name Tiananmen meant “Gate of Heavenly Peace”; the gate was at the north end of the square, separating it from the Forbidden City. Originally built in 1415, the gate had undergone various transformations, mostly as a result of damage caused by war rather than just age. But it hadn’t been damaged during the protests of l989, when hundreds, if not thousands, of protestors had been killed in the square. Ava wondered if the Chinese found the name ironic, given the violence it had seen.

  * * *

  Twenty minutes later she reached the Éclat. As Ava walked through the lobby she glimpsed a wall lined with paintings that she hadn’t noticed earlier. She went over to it and stood surprised, then transfixed. Four of the paintings were attri­buted to Salvador Dali, another to Andy Warhol, and one to Zeng Fanzhi. They were all identified as originals, and if that was true, their value ran well into the millions. She stayed in the lobby, marvelling at the artwork, for several minutes before making her way to the elevator and up to her suite.

  Ava had been in a hurry when she checked in and hadn’t unpacked. Now she did, putting her running gear, T-shirts, and underwear into dresser drawers and hanging most of her Brooks Brothers shirts, slacks, and skirts in the closet. Then she took her first good look at the suite. The bedroom and sitting areas had rich brown wooden floors and furnishings that were sleek and modern, in an array of colours from subtly white to tan and other shades of brown. It reminded her of the chic boutique hotels she’d stayed at in Amsterdam and New York. But there was a difference: her Éclat suite had a terrace. Enclosed in glass, it was large enough to accommodate two easy chairs, a coffee table, and side tables, plus a white upholstered couch covered in hot pink, teal, and dark jade-green cushions. She could picture Pang Fai and herself sitting side by side on the couch drinking glasses of Pinot Grigio or Prosecco. Ava paused as she realized that the image wasn’t in tune with the Pang Fai she’d seen less than an hour ago.

  Ava couldn’t begin to imagine what had caused Fai so much distress. Their relationship had started eight months before but their time together had been intermittent. It had no sooner begun when Fai left for a film shoot that was supposed to last ten weeks but was extended to eighteen. They had agreed not to meet while Fai was working, and except for a few wonderful exceptions, they made it work, staying in constant daily touch by phone, Skype, and text. The film shoot was followed by a glorious month in Thailand and then several months of meeting wherever and whenever they could — but, strangely, not at Ava’s Toronto home base or in Beijing, where Fai lived. It had been almost a month since they’d seen each other; Fai had been in China fulfilling some contractual obligations, and Ava was heavily involved in preparing for the launch of the PÖ fashion line in North America. Prior to the month-long separation, they had agreed to make it the last of any extended duration. They were tightly bound, Ava thought, in a relationship that was at once intense and joyful.

  She checked the time and wondered how long Fai would remain at the reception. She was contemplating taking a shower when her phone rang and she saw a familiar name. “Hi, Suki,” she said.

  “Welcome to Beijing, and thanks for coming. I’m downstairs in the Sun Ming Yuen restaurant. Do you want to join me for something to eat or drink?”

  “No, thanks. I think I’ll crash early.”

  “Then I’ll see you in the morning in the lobby. We’re being picked up at nine.”

  “That’s great,” Ava said. Her phone signalled another incoming call, and she switched lines. “Ava Lee.”

  “It’s me,” Fai said.

  “Where are you?”

  “I’ve just left the reception. I couldn’t handle it anymore. I’m in a limo by myself.”

  “Do you know where the hotel is?”

  “Yes, but I’ve been thinking that it might be too public.”

  “What do you suggest?”

  “Come to my house,” Fai pleaded. “It’s only thirty minutes from the Éclat. I’ll pick you up.”

  “That’s fine.”

  “I should have thought of it when we met at
the theatre, but I was too emotional.”

  “Fai, don’t worry about it. I’ll be happy to see your home,” Ava said.

  “Bring your things so you can stay,” Fai said, and then paused. “Assuming you’ll want to stay.”

  “Of course I will.”

  “Thanks,” Fai said. “One more thing. I’d rather not get out of the limo when I get to the hotel.”

  “I’ll wait outside at the entrance,” Ava said.

  “I’m in a black Bentley.”

  Ava ended the call, feeling even more disquieted by Fai’s manner. What the hell is going on, she thought as she started to pack. Fifteen minutes later she left the room and rode the elevator down to the lobby. She thought about checking out but decided to keep the room for at least another day.

  She walked to the entrance and stood outside. A steady stream of Porsches, BMWs, and Mercedes came and went in the fall evening. There was a chill in the air. The only jacket Ava had was in her Shanghai Tang Double Happiness bag; she was thinking about getting it out when a black Bentley stopped in front of her. Its rear window lowered and Fai’s face appeared, smiling tentatively. Before Ava could react, the car’s front door opened and the driver stepped out and reached for her bag. She gave it to him and slid into the back seat.

  Fai leaned towards her. “Sorry to change my mind,” she said.

  “Was the reception okay?”

  “I got through it,” Fai said. “Chen wasn’t happy that I left early, but I fulfilled my obligations.”

  Ava slipped her hand into Fai’s and found it warm and sweaty. “This isn’t how I imagined this evening,” she said.

  “We can talk about that when we get to the house,” Fai whispered. “This is Chen’s car and that’s his driver.”

  Ava nodded. “Where are we headed?”

  “I live in Xicheng.”

  “I don’t know Beijing very well.”

  “It’s near Beihai, the Northern Sea Lake, in the western part of the city,” Fai said.

  “That still doesn’t help me much.”

  “Well, it’s past Tiananmen and the old Forbidden City and north of where the premiere was held,” Fai said. “Just south of us — though it might as well be a million miles away — is Zhongnanhai.”

  “Which is?”

  “A compound where the most senior government officials live. We call it the ‘New Forbidden City,’ as it’s strictly off-limits. My neighbourhood is much more modest. In fact, I live in a hutong. It doesn’t get more modest than that.”

  “That’s funny, we’ve never discussed our actual homes,” Ava said. “I almost took it for granted that you lived in some new high-rise luxury condo.”

  “Lau Lau bought the house after his second film. It didn’t cost very much. Then the neighbourhood was occupied mainly by writers, artists, and academics. Many of them are still there, fighting off the developers. I bought it from him when we divorced.”

  “I’ve heard of hutongs but I’ve never seen one.”

  “When I first came to Beijing, there were a lot of them. Now they’re disappearing,” Fai said, her voice trailing off in sadness.

  Ava suspected that it wasn’t the fate of the hutongs that had triggered the emotional reaction. “I’m sorry to rattle on like this,” she said, squeezing Fai’s hand.

  Fai drew nearer, closed her eyes, and rested her head on Ava’s shoulder. They rode in silence for what seemed to Ava like an eternity. They passed Tiananmen Square, but after that she lost all sense of location. When the driver stopped at what looked like the end of an alley, she thought he might be lost as well. Then he said, “We’ve arrived, Ms. Pang.”

  Fai lifted her head, fumbled in her purse, and tipped him a handful of money. “We have to walk from here,” she said. “The lane is too narrow for the car.”

  The driver retrieved Ava’s bag from the trunk while the two women stood shivering in the cool night air. “I have a jacket in my bag if you’d like it,” Ava said.

  Fai looped her arm through Ava’s. “We don’t have that far to go,” she said.

  The alley’s grey stone walls, two storeys high and no more than ten metres apart, were crowded with stalls in some sections, while others housed recessed shops. Ava noticed doorways that she assumed led into homes. They walked for several minutes, their heels clicking on cobblestones and their path lit by red hanging lanterns. Fai finally guided her to the right and towards a red double door that had good fortune to all who enter here inscribed in gold above the lintel. Fai pushed open the door and led Ava into a courtyard. It was surrounded by a half-circle of houses from which a myriad of lights shone.

  Fai led Ava towards the middle of the stone courtyard, stopped in front of a navy-blue door, inserted a key, and opened the door. She stepped inside the house and flipped a light switch. “It’s small, but it’s mine,” she said.

  Ava entered the house and immediately held out her arms. They hugged. Their embrace wasn’t as intense as it had been in the manager’s office at the theatre, but Ava could still feel tension in Fai’s body. They remained entwined for about a minute, and then Ava gently released herself, stepped back, and looked around at the house. The living room couldn’t have been more than twenty square metres. It had a worn black leather couch and matching chair, a long wooden coffee table, and a set of end tables flanking the couch. A large high-definition television sat against the wall on the right, and next to it was a wooden bookcase that reached almost to the ceiling. It was the only wall not covered in posters from films Fai had made or Lau Lau had directed. On the left side of the room was an open door that led to a small kitchen, and a closed door to what Ava assumed was the bathroom. A narrow stairway was to the left of the couch. Ava remembered Fai’s remark about her home being modest. She hadn’t exaggerated.

  “Not many people have been here,” Fai said. “Lau Lau thought of it as a sanctuary, and I feel the same. Chen came once and was appalled. He said it wasn’t a suitable place for a movie star. I told him I couldn’t afford anything else. Though that was partially true at the time, it wasn’t the real reason I didn’t want to move.”

  “Who are your neighbours?”

  “There’s an artist, a couple of writers, a government official, an ex-policeman, and two elderly couples whose children look after them. They’ve all been here for as long as I have, and that’s approaching nine years. We respect each other’s privacy, but if anyone needs help it’s always there,” Fai said, and then smiled wanly. “But they can’t help me with the problems I have now.”

  “The ones I still don’t know about,” Ava said.

  Fai pointed at the stairway. “My bedroom is upstairs. Why don’t you take your bags up while I prepare some tea. We can talk in the kitchen.”

  Fai’s mood seemed sombre but less panicky. Ava wondered if being back in her home had something to do with that. “Do you want to change clothes?” she asked.

  “No, this dress feels right.”

  For what? Ava thought, but simply said, “Okay.”

  The stairs were narrow and led Ava into a short hallway with two doors. She opened the first and saw a small bathroom that had a toilet, sink, and shower stall squeezed into it. Fai’s bedroom was proportionally not that much larger. It had a double bed with no headboard that was covered with a fluffy snow-white duvet and four pillows. The wall behind the bed was covered in movie posters. Two large wooden dressers stood against the wall at the foot of the bed, and to Ava’s right a large window looked out onto the courtyard. On the left, clothes racks ran from the front wall to the back.

  Ava put her bags on the floor near the racks and was turning to leave when she saw two framed pictures on top of one of the dressers. One was of an elderly couple sitting side by side on a bench in a park while behind them couples danced. The other photo was of Ava. She was seated at a table in a restaurant, leaning forward to talk to May Ling;
she was grinning exuberantly and pointing a finger at May. Ava guessed that it had been taken in London when they were all there for the PÖ launch at Fashion Week. She was surprised by the photo, not because Fai had it but more because Ava had never seen it and couldn’t recall herself looking so happy in one.

  She made her way back down the stairs and went into the kitchen. Fai sat on a wooden stool at a small round table that had a pot and two cups on it. Ava occupied a second stool and glanced around the kitchen. The traditional water Thermos and rice cooker were sitting on the counter, but next to them was a large microwave oven, and across from the counter stood a modern-looking stainless-steel stove and refrigerator.

  Fai poured tea into the cups and then raised hers. “Thank you for being my friend.”

  “I hope I’m more than that,” Ava said.

  Fai turned her head. “I’ve been thinking about us for the past week,” she said softly.

  Ava felt a knot in the pit of her stomach. “What do you mean?”

  “I realized that all the time we’ve spent together has been completely in the present,” Fai said. “We’ve never really talked about the past.”

  “I’ve told you about my family, a bit about Uncle, and some things about my relationships with Xu and May and others.”

  “Yes, but what I’m trying to say is that I’ve never talked about me and you’ve never asked.”

  “I didn’t want to pry.”

  “I thought maybe you didn’t want to dig up memories of me with Lau Lau, Tsai, or other men,” Fai said, her voice catching.

  Ava took a deep breath. The first time she had met Fai was at a dinner in Shanghai. Ava had been invited by Xu. Fai was there with Tsai Men, son of the governor of Jiangsu province and a wealthy, corrupt, married businessman.

  “We’ve all done things that we’d rather not remember,” Ava said. “I have a Triad gang leader as a partner, who I treat like a brother. I’ve done things to people that were terrible, and for which I may never be forgiven.”