by Nova McBee
The area is full of old factories. It’s a nice change from the skyscrapers downtown. Migrant workers chatter in groups on the corners. It’s reminiscent of a China I read about in books.
Kai steers me around a corner and looks up at a sign, ‘China Generation’.
“Here we are.”
As far as I can tell, a wall surrounds the whole premises of 5000 square feet, with three old cameras, most likely not functioning, on posts. Spikes of broken glass cover the top of the cement wall-gate, a common form of home security a few decades ago.
“The gate controls have no power at the moment. No one has been here in at least a year. We will have to use the back gate.”
As we walk around the block, I notice that each factory on the street has a tall metal gate. Outer gates frightened me when I first arrived in China. I’d felt caged. As I walk past them now, I’m reminded that gates have another purpose – keeping unwanted things out.
Kai leads the way. I hound him with questions about the rooms; the security; what kinds of products were produced here.
“Why are you so curious about this place?” he asks.
“I like old buildings,” I say, which is true. I have come to see their value in hiding the obvious.
We arrive at a small metal door within the large gate frame. It’s locked. Kai steps up on an empty bucket, lifts the top off a prong in the gate, and pulls out a rusted key.
“This is where my father’s first company started,” Kai explains.
We enter an overgrown courtyard behind the factory. The space is completely private and enclosed. The building is dirty, but there’s no visible damage.
I’m not disappointed when I see the inside either. It’s in good condition despite a thick layer of brown dust.
Apparently, Chan has always had good taste. The windows are all intact and double paned, unlike most old Chinese factories. The floor is not cement but hardwood, another nice touch. The front room is vaulted, and there are fans scattered across the ceiling in a star formation.
A waiting room, with a sink and storage cupboards, is in the corner by the entrance—perfect for medical supplies, I think. Kai notices a broken cupboard. “Feel free to look around,” he says. “I’m going to fix this.” I watch for a moment as he tinkers with the hinges before I head upstairs.
The bedrooms are roomy and fit several beds; the bathrooms and kitchens function, and the lounges are spacious enough to create a comfortable living space. It’s exactly what I need.
When I come downstairs Kai is dusting off his pants.
“How’s the cupboard?” I ask.
“Good as new.”
“Your father asked me to tell him if I saw you tinkering again.”
“Please don’t. He might fire me.” He folds his hands as if in prayer, feigning remorse, then throws them down. “On second thought, please tell him.”
A small laugh bubbles out of me, almost a giggle. I’m surprised. I haven’t heard myself laugh since Red. I can’t deny sharing a joke with someone feels nice.
Our tour ends, and Kai leads me out.
Walking down the alley, Kai talks about the factory. “The only drawback is it’s not close to the metro.”
“Not too far,” I say, without thinking. “Just 1126.8 meters from the last metro entrance. Less than a mile.”
He cocks his eyebrow. He’s about to comment when a car tears down the street. Instinctively, Kai grabs my arm and pulls me toward the side. I grab on to him, too.
Judging by the speed, and the potholes in the road, the car will swerve right towards an old garbage can. They will hit it.
“That’ll be a mess,” I comment automatically.
Seconds later the car jolts into the can and trash spills over onto the street.
“How did you…?”
I’ve let my guard down, twice. What’s wrong with me? I only do this with people who are safe.
He’s staring at me—four seconds. My hand is still on his arm. Even under his suit I can feel how solid it is. His hair is as stiff as an accountant’s, but his eyes are so gentle and kind. I don’t answer.
“You’re an intriguing girl, Phoenix.”
“Just jumpy, remember?” Embarrassed, I walk faster.
Almost to his Rover, I ask, “Why hasn’t your father sold the factory?”
“You may not believe this, but he’s sentimental. It reminds him of my mom. They had their last conversation there before she died. After that, he moved locations, but he never had the heart to sell it.” Kai’s gait slows.
I swallow hard, daring to ask a question that is inappropriate in Chinese culture. “How did she die?”
“I don’t know. My dad never told me.” He shrugs it off.
Kai doesn’t know how his own mom died? Then I can rule out a natural or death by illness. She was young to begin with, but Chan not talking about it, hiding it from his son, plus his association with Red indicates something darker. If I could bet money, I’d say her death was not an accident either.
I say nothing of the sort but continue our conversation about the factory. “For the right offer, I bet he’d give it up.”
“With the crash coming, he just may. Why do you care?”
“None of your business.” It comes out snappy, rude even. I don’t like it when people pry. I don’t want Kai asking so many questions.
“Sorry,” he says, “I was just curious.”
After his apology I feel bad. Kai’s been kind to me these past few days, even skipping work to show me the factory, but I don’t trust him or Chan to know my plans, especially now that I’ve found my safe house.
The next week slides by quietly. When I don’t hammer Chan about the soon-to-be burning economy, he can be agreeable. Not pressing me when I advise him, treating me like a real employee, even greeting me when I arrive. Maybe I was too hard on him? Even other employees have been kinder to me. It’s not so bad here.
My proposal for another investment is nearly finished when arguing next door in Chan’s office steals my attention. I creep over and crack my door.
“You would destroy the legacy I built for you? All my work to become dust?” I’ve never heard Chan’s voice so angry.
“No, Father, that’s not it. I just think…” Kai’s voice becomes too quiet to understand.
“Do what you want, Kai!” Chan says, his voice still loud as ever. “But stay away from that girl! She’s trouble. She doesn’t belong here. When this is over, we will send her on her way. Out of our lives forever!”
My stomach knots like I’ve just been punched. That girl could only be one person. There’s no mystery about what Chan really thinks of me. Not surprising I suppose, but I’d hoped Chan would see what Red saw. See who I really am. In the Pratt everyone says they don’t care what other people think, but that’s a lie. A residue of feelings remain. People harden. Walls go up. For me, putting walls up is easy. Breaking them down is another story.
I sneak back into my office and close the door. “I’m not here for Chan, or Kai,” I breathe over my computer in a sharp whisper. I’ve got bigger things to worry about…like my new plan.
Chan, who has the resources to prevent the disaster, won’t do anything—which means securing an unthinkable amount of money is up to me. I review my calculations. They’re daunting, like a giant blocking the way of a child. It’s a long shot given the timing of the impending crash, but this time I won’t feel guilty for not trying to help. First, taking my cut from Chan’s investments, I’ll do what I do best: invest. I’ll generate more money to sustain the currency, banks and stock market, and prepare a super bond.
Second, in my pursuit of the impossible, I’ll need to find some filthy rich donors. Fortunately, filthy people aren’t hard for me to find and it’ll bring me nothing but pleasure to rob them blind.
On Friday, I stand at the bottom of the Shanghai Tower looking up at the 126 floors with high hopes of hearing good news from Chan about the factory since I made him an offer last week. Do
orman Yu Tai stands at attention, watching me.
“Nice day, isn’t it, Yu Shifu?” I say in Chinese.
“Beautiful, like you, Ms. Phoenix.” He opens the door.
“Excuse me, Yu Shifu, do you work anywhere else?” I ask.
“I moonlight as a driver,” he says, whipping out his card. I receive it with two hands, as custom. A private driver? Again, not what I was expecting.
I head towards the elevator, pondering. Yu Tai’s life is none of my business. I don’t need to solve another mystery at the moment. Only I can’t pretend it doesn’t matter. If I could only find out who gave him the job here, then I’d feel better.
I reach floor 79, which bustles with busyness. I put Yu Tai out of mind. For now, I have to work.
Noon rolls around. I’m eager to get Chan’s go-ahead on the factory, but he’s nowhere to be found. I wander over to Kai’s office to ask him about his father’s whereabouts, but Kai is gone too.
I take the elevator up to the executive restaurant.
When I enter, Kai is at a table, laughing. He’s in his stiff business attire as always, but his posture is relaxed, and his dark hair isn’t cemented back with hair gel but hangs loose down to his strong jawline. For a moment, happiness at seeing him stirs in me and I want to talk with him.
Sweet, delicate laughter follows Kai’s. I think it’s mine until I register the young woman sitting across from him. The one from my first day of work. Is this the girl his dad was talking about?
She’s draped in pearls hanging down to her mini skirt. Her hair is pulled up in a cute roll. I finger the hairband around my wrist, wishing I could put my hair up too, then I sneak backwards trying to slip out unnoticed.
“Phoenix?” Kai calls.
Ugh. Not sly enough.
“Don’t want to interrupt,” I say in Chinese, spinning back around. “Talk to you later.”
He stands up, walking towards me. “Xiao Yan and I just finished.” He gestures toward me. “This is Phoenix.”
She extends her hand, her lips pursed together. “How do you do?” Her high-pitched voice matches the strong fragrance of vanilla. Taking her hand is like gripping a porcelain doll, even a gentle squeeze might break her.
“See you tonight, Kai?” she asks, ignoring me. She slides her hand down his arm.
“Not tonight,” he says. “I’m busy.”
She tries not to look disappointed. She makes him promise for a rain check then says goodbye. I try to exit behind her.
“Wait, Phoenix,” Kai says, “I have something for you.” He switches to speaking English the moment she’s gone.
When I turn to face him, Chan’s words replay in my mind, stay away from that girl. I’d hoped Chan wouldn’t tell Kai my business, but I realize now that Kai will always know everything that passes between me and Chan and probably the other way around.
“What?” I ask, as if I don’t already know.
He holds out a set of keys. “The factory. It’s yours.” His eyes are wide with excitement.
“Thanks.” I grab the keys like it’s not a big deal.
“You have done the impossible again,” he says, jokingly. “How?”
Without meaning to, I frown. Too many mixed emotions are firing in me. I don’t want him looking at me like that—like I’m supposed to celebrate with him. Like there’s some camaraderie passing between us. Not after their argument I heard in the hall.
My shell, the one Red worked so hard to break, creeps up on me. I try to push it away because it reminds me of Celia. I don’t want to be hard and cold like her, suspicious of each kind word. I want to be soft-hearted like a child who jumps at good news like it’s a present; or to trust someone like I trusted Red. But Chan’s opposition prevents me. The last person I should get friendly with is his son. I don’t trust people very easily. I trust people with money even less.
“Didn’t he tell you? I went down to thirty-five percent. Like I said, money talks.” I start to leave. “See you later.”
“Listen.” An extension of the muscles in his arms predicts a thirty-percent chance his hand will touch me if I don’t move. Three seconds to choose. His hand covers my shoulder. “Are you busy tonight?”
“No, but…” I draw it out, about to tag on an excuse except I go blank because my shoulder is tingling. Besides, even with all the practice I had at Madame’s, I can’t lie smoothly, nor do I really want more practice. I leave my response at that, curious about why he’s asking.
“Want to get out of the city?” he asks. “You said you like old buildings.”
The invitation surprises me. In China, parents’ demands are to be respected. I explicitly heard Chan command him to stay away from me. But there’s another reason he shouldn’t invite me.
“You just told your friend you’re busy tonight,” I say.
“I am. I want to take you with me,” he says, a boyish grin on his face.
“Where?”
“A place that can change the way you view a few things, I hope.” He smiles.
I hesitate, but Red’s voice is in my mind. Growing requires trust. I wouldn’t mind upsetting Chan again, too.
Kai raises his eyebrows, waiting. Standing in his suit, he looks stern. I don’t want to trust a boy who barks commands into his cell phone one moment and the next is kind, like that night in the pool house.
“Come on. Song Valley isn’t that far away. We’ll be back before bedtime.”
I perk up, startled. Song Valley? If numbers could scream, they are doing just that in my head. The exit sign I’d seen.
Suddenly, Kai’s offer sparks a much deeper interest in me.
“Are you going to wear that suit the whole time?” I joke, lightening the atmosphere.
“If I promise to change, will you come?” He smirks. “Leave after work?”
“All right,” I agree. And why not? Everything should be fine.
Right?
22
Present: Phoenix
SONG VALLEY, CHINA
After work Kai and I head out of town. We follow the river east, straight for the coast. The buildings shrink in size as we drive away from the smog-filled metropolis. It’s nice to see green again and enter a slower pace of life, escaping the buzz of traffic and honking car horns.
After an hour, Kai veers off on an exit leading to Song Valley. I close my eyes, drilling into my mind of numbers, dragging up all I remember about that Song Valley sign but while Kai is talking, I can’t concentrate.
“Phoenix?” Kai says. “Did you hear anything I just said? You kind of tuned out for a while.”
A while. I sigh to myself. He means I ignored him for four minutes, twenty-three seconds. But it doesn’t really matter how long it was, I should be listening. “Sorry. I was just admiring the countryside.” Except my eyes were closed. Oops. Thankfully Kai doesn’t mention anything.
The roads get smaller while details become more vivid—farmers dragging their oxen over rice fields, animals grazing, old tiled roof houses, corn drying on the pavement. Nothing is familiar. Internally, I would have mapped out the roads. But I haven’t been here.
Kai stops at a small wooden house on the roadside. Auntie Ma’s BBQ Duck is written on a plastic banner. “Wait here.”
He returns eight minutes later with a large to-go box. “Two hot buns, brown sauce for dipping, walnut milk tea, and of course, duck. Barbequed to perfection.” He starts the engine and drives down a small gravel road that looks like it’s headed into the bushes. “We’re early,” he says, “so let’s eat up here.”
The smell of barbequed meat is intoxicating. With each breath, I can’t wait to tear into a crispy piece of duck. After another three minutes, we drive out of the brush of trees and shrubs and into a small cove and my heart stops.
In front of us is a roaring body of water.
The ocean.
It’s the East China Sea, but it’s more than that. It’s the Pacific.
My ocean.
It doesn’t look like what I gr
ew up with, but it’s the same ocean. I’m just on the wrong side of the world.
I roll down my window to catch my breath. Any thought of duck vanishes in comparison to what I smell now. Crisp salt air rushes in, assaulting my senses. The roar of crashing waves and the sound of the tide coming in drown my mind in the past. Suddenly I’m at my 13th birthday at our beach house with red trim. The ferry’s horn whistles in the distance, signaling its departure. Fluttering seagulls circle overhead. I’m standing on the path that leads down to the water, to the dock with the swing on it. My dad is sitting there. He’s trying to tell me something.
“Phoenix.” Kai shakes my shoulder. “You okay?”
A hot streak runs down my left cheek. Tears? Get a grip, Phoenix. I scold myself and try to wipe my face without letting Kai notice.
“I just need some fresh air.” I open the door and slide out, walking twenty-five feet from the car. I bend down and let my fingers trace the surface of the cold grains.
Sand used to comfort me. It was my treasure—one of those anomalies my mind didn’t try to calculate. I was no Archimedes. It was just a part of nature, earth, rocks broken down into grains over time. I used to lie on it without a towel. I never cared if I had it all over my hair and clothes when I left. It was a reminder that there are hidden treasures out there for everyone, even me.
I take off my boots to feel the sand between my toes and walk towards the water. Each crashing wave roars a greeting as if it has missed me. Needs me. Will it take me home if I asked it?
This is all that separates me and my old life. This one ocean, the largest body of water in the world. I’m suddenly drunk on its sound and smell. Even after all these years, my ocean still has the same effect on me. It won’t let me force it away like all the other triggers that remind me of home.
The Pacific-scented breeze massages my cheeks and sends chills over my bare arms. For the first time in a long time my heart is quiet when I think of my family. Perhaps seeing the ocean is a gift from God, washing the Pratt off me for good, or cleansing me from Madame’s hatred. Each breath feels like a new beginning. Each crashing wave, like hope. I can have a new beach. A new home. A new life.