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I didn’t ask Lung what the phone call had been about, because as a woman and his mistress, I had no business knowing.
The two sat down. My patron looked happy. It must be that the phone call had brought good news, plus he was returning to sit with two dazzling women.
‘All right, I’m hungry. Let’s have something to eat.’
Mr Zhu waved for the manager and ordered dinner. In almost no time our table was covered with fresh drinks and plates of exotic gourmet food like drunken fish, fried quail, stewed rabbits’ legs, spicy deer tails and pigeon hearts with ginger.
While we ate, drank and chatted, I tried to study Shadow without being too obvious.
‘All right, what did you two girls talk about when I was away?’ Lung asked, picking up a fish head and chewing out its eyes. Maybe to look at women better, because fish eyes are supposed to be good for your eyesight.
Hoping to force Shadow to respond, I told him, ‘I asked Miss Shadow where she learned her magic.’
Lung turned to stare at the magician, chewing and waiting for an answer.
She dabbed her lips with a napkin, put it down, then said, ‘I consider myself extremely lucky, because my teacher taught me everything he knew before he passed away.’
Since her answer was not a real answer, Lung pursued the point. ‘What’s his name, then? And his school?’
‘Mine is an esoteric tradition, not to be made public.’
Probably seeing a fleeting shadow cross the gangster’s face, the magician immediately made amends by smiling flirtatiously as she apologised. ‘I’m so sorry, Master Lung. I had to swear a blood-oath to my ancestors—’
Lung waved a bony hand. ‘No need to apologise.’ He turned his attention back to the fish.
Of course I knew full well that no magician would ever reveal his or her secrets but would carry them to the grave.
‘Anyway, I learned it in Shandong, not here,’ Shadow added.
An unexpected revelation – we Shanghainese look down upon anyone from outside our city, because they are never as smart or as scheming or as sophisticated as we are. But perhaps she said she was from Shandong just to put me off guard.
Lung threw her a slanted glance, his cheeks masticating rhythmically to the nightclub’s music. ‘Shandong? I have some business there.’
Shadow’s eyes brightened. ‘That’s wonderful! What kind?’
Lung looked at her condescendingly. ‘I don’t think a woman would be interested in men’s business. You are too pretty to trouble yourself about such things. Anyway, you wouldn’t understand even if I told you.’ He cast his right-hand man a conspiratorial glance. ‘Right?’
Zhu sneered. ‘Completely right, Master Lung. That’s why I never talk to my old lady except to tell her what to cook for dinner.’
We all laughed, except Shadow.
Her smile froze, and her body stiffened, but she was smart enough to immediately try to make amends. ‘Of course you are both right, Master Lung and Mr Zhu.’
Lung nodded, then gave her a once-over. ‘Hmm … Shandong. That’s why you’re so damn big and tall!’
I was not sure if this was supposed to be a compliment or a criticism. But judging from what I knew of Lung’s previous conquests, or captives, he favoured women with small frames and delicate features. Lung was a small man himself, about five feet four, with a narrow face on which sat a few crude features not unlike a monkey’s. But although he was short, the gangster boss never failed to project an intimidating presence. Wherever he went, he splashed the air around him with menacing, don’t-mess-with-me expressions, surrounded by bodyguards with fight-me-if-you-dare expressions.
Chinese opera actors cultivate the same kind of presence. Before going on stage they cross an imaginary line – the ‘tiger crossing gate’ from the anonymity of the actor to the power of a mighty general or king. However short and puny, they miraculously transform themselves into heroes or villains. They meditate, thrust out their chests, relax their shoulders, hold their heads high. Only then do they cross the line into the illusory life of the drama, where they instantly become generals, warriors or emperors, controlling the fate of millions.
‘Build your presence.’ Big Brother Wang had repeated this over and over during my training.
Reflecting on these matters, I poured Lung a full cup of tea, then turned to my rival, hoping to smooth out the growing tension in the air. ‘Miss Shadow, I’m sure you learned from the best. I have never seen anything close to what you do.’
‘I believe my repertory is unique in Shanghai, if not all of China.’
As I was about to ask more, Lung suddenly turned amicable, smiling at us appreciatively. ‘Are you two going to be like sisters, huh? That would be big news, two pretty, talented women joining forces to win over Shanghai. Why don’t you two stop chattering for a while so we can eat more, eh?’
Mr Zhu immediately poured more wine into our glasses and heaped more food onto our plates. Though I didn’t know Zhu well, and he was the only man Lung trusted, I had never liked him. His small eyes were always darting inside the confinement of their two sockets, ready to spot any impending trouble. His nostrils were always enlarged, as if sniffing for anything fishy. Lung almost looked benign next to Zhu, whose face spewed evil and murderous thoughts wherever he went. Perhaps Lung’s face was less warlike because the guns and knives had already been transferred from his hand to Zhu’s.
I glanced back at Shadow, but her gaze was fixed on my patron.
‘Master Lung, if you ever want to hold a party and need a magic show, please don’t hesitate to ask me. It would be my greatest pleasure and honour.’
Zhu answered bluntly for his boss. ‘Miss Shadow, Master Lung is a very busy man.’
‘Yes, of course.’ She split an embarrassed smile, then looked back at her rice bowl.
Just then, we were approached by the striking young man I’d noticed earlier. Before he reached us, Gao, the head bodyguard, sprang up, ready for action.
Zhu leaned towards Gao and spoke softly to him. Gao then waved the intruder on to our table. ‘It’s okay, Master Lung,’ Gao said. ‘This is Miss Rainbow Chang, columnist at the Leisure News.’
So this was the gossip columnist? I’d been reading her column for a while but had never imagined she was of ambiguous gender.
Chang smiled an elegant smile. ‘Master Lung, Mr Zhu, Miss Camilla and Miss Shadow, what an honour to meet you all tonight after I’ve heard so much about you.’
Zhu smiled stiffly. ‘Miss Chang, please take a seat.’
The gossip columnist said, ‘Oh, please don’t let me take up your precious time. I came over to propose a toast to Miss Shadow’s brilliant show.’
Shadow barely acknowledged her compliment with a slight nod. Didn’t she know that this was the heartless reputation-killer Rainbow Chang? Or was she too distracted and eager to butter up Lung? However, her bad manners could only be to my advantage.
Then the columnist turned to the gangster head. ‘Master Lung, you have an excellent eye. Our Heavenly Songbird is beautiful as well as talented.’
Lung patted my back affectionately. ‘I do have a good eye, especially for women. Ha-ha!’
Rainbow Chang smiled. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, enjoy the rest of the evening.’ After that, she went back to her table, where the group of pink-clad ladies awaited her.
I turned to my patron. ‘Master Lung, had you known that Rainbow Chang dresses as a man?’
Lung shook his head, while Zhu cast me a disapproving look and said, ‘Maybe you also don’t know that she’s calling you the skeleton woman, eh?’
Of course I knew. In the less than a year I’d been singing and dancing at Bright Moon, one man had killed himself over me, another had divorced his wife and yet another had gone bankrupt after selling his apartment to buy me a flawless, eight-carat diamond ring.
If a skeleton woman had to destroy a family just for one night’s shelter, she wouldn’t hesitate for a moment. Words like compassion, kindness, love or generosity did not exist in their dictionaries. For them, it was either win or lose, succeed or fail, destroy or be destroyed.
However, I was never sure: was being called a skeleton woman an insult, a curse or a compliment?
5 (#ulink_03c40baa-0111-5140-afee-0c82f4274379)
The Young Master (#ulink_03c40baa-0111-5140-afee-0c82f4274379)
As I’d feared, Shadow was dangerous, and something needed to be done about her. And soon. As the Chinese say, suzhan sujue, ‘Quick battle, quick victory.’
So as soon as I arrived home, I took out all the books of strategy I’d collected over the years and flipped through them for possible solutions. Judging from how Shadow had orchestrated her debut on the Shanghai scene, she was talented and imaginative. Though she said she was not from Shanghai, she was as scheming as the best of us. However, her bold interaction with Lung and her casual negligence of Rainbow Chang showed she still had a lot to learn. So now was the best time to crush this poisonous weed, before it grew out of control.
But I needed to figure out what she was plotting: to usurp my fame, to steal Lung from me or to supplant me as the ultimate skeleton woman.
Most likely, it was all of the above.
Most important, I had to look for her weaknesses. To achieve that, I would become her close friend, to control my space and invade hers. To become master of her fate.
So I invited the magician for a chat at the famous Chocolate Shop located on Jingan Ci Road, in the International Concession. She accepted without hesitation.
I preferred the quieter, upper floor of the cafe and arrived fifteen minutes before we were to meet. The ambiance was elegant but relaxed, with young Russian waitresses in white and green striped uniforms silently serving the customers. A white-gloved waitress led me to sit at a round table next to a floor-length window framed by grass-green curtains. Here I watched life pass by outside on the busy Tranquil Peace Temple Road. From the street below, the tune of ‘I’m Always Chasing Rainbows,’ wafted up.
I’m always chasing rainbows,
Watching clouds drifting by.
Some people look and find the sunshine.
I’ll always look and find the rain …
Soon I spotted Shadow getting off a rickshaw and hurrying inside. A moment later, she made her magical appearance on the upper floor.
Precision, a trait necessary for both magician and spy. We smiled at each other as she was seated by the same Russian waitress. After our orders were taken, we politely complimented each other on our good taste in clothes – she was clad in a black-dotted pink dress with a rather plain gold pendant, and I in a beige, lacy cheongsam with matching pearl earrings and necklace. We chatted until the waitress arrived with a layered silver tray with our drinks – cafe crème for me and vodka for her – together with Russian bread accompanied by butter and jam. Sipping my coffee, more bitter than sweet, I studied her smooth, lightly made-up face, and smiled, hoping she would break the silence.
She smiled back, her face as inscrutable as her magic. ‘What an honour to be seen with Shanghai’s Heavenly Songbird.’
‘Overpraise.’
Her eyes penetrated mine. ‘Don’t be modest, Camilla. You know you’re way ahead of me.’
And you’re desperate to take my place.
She sipped her much stronger and more expensive vodka. Then she tilted her head, her waves of shoulder-length black hair glowing in the early-afternoon sunlight. ‘May I know the purpose of this invitation?’
What a blunt question! I’d better get used to her brusque style. In replying, I was careful not to sound too eager or too cold, in order to maintain just the right distance. ‘Shadow, I am most impressed by your talent, and I still would like to know: how did you do it?’
Of course I didn’t expect an honest answer, or any answer at all. My goal was to evoke a response, to get a sense of how she handled things.
This time she let out a soft laugh, revealing rows of smooth, pearly teeth. ‘This will be my secret, unless someday I encounter a worthy student to pass on my teacher’s heritage. Or if I have a child.’
‘Do you have a father in mind?’
‘Camilla, do you think women like us can find someone suitable?’
The idea of having a husband and a family was as alien to me as going to America someday in the future, but I asked, ‘Why not?’ just to hear what she would say.
‘How long do you think people like us will stay in our prime?’
‘We’re both still young.’
‘You know, time never waits for anyone, especially not for glamour-girls like us.’
‘You’re right,’ I said, suddenly feeling older. ‘Just like the Huangpu River flowing on forever and, with it, our youth and beauty.’
Would this be her weakness – fear of losing her beauty, her possible fame and fortune, her magic? But why was she so fearful when she was yet in her prime?
She cast me a curious glance. ‘Camilla, I’m sure you’ve been carefully planning out your whole life, and that’s how you’ve got to where you are now.’
She was wrong, of course. But how could she have guessed that my life was not my own and that it had been strategically mapped out by others?
‘Shadow, I’m not as much in control as you think.’
‘I doubt that.’
After a pause she blurted out, ‘Camilla, do beauty and talent give you the happiness you’re looking for?’
Again, what a question. She must know that a pretty young girl like me would not really be in love with the old, puny, monkey-faced Lung.
But she’d never learn the truth from me. I threw her question back. ‘Shadow, how about you? Does your beauty and talent give you happiness – or trouble?’
We both laughed.
She raised her glass to tap my cup.
‘Let’s just hope that fate has a worthy purpose in granting us our beauty.’
I had my agenda, but what was hers?
As we resumed sipping our drinks and munching the delicacies, she asked, ‘Camilla, what made you want to be a singer?’
Of course my training had well prepared me to cover up such matters. I never told anything but lies about myself. The Art of War says, ‘To guard yourself, hide your secrets below nine layers of earth.’ In other words, others should know as little about you as possible.
‘It was my mother’s dream to be a singer; that’s why she sent me to take singing lessons.’
‘And your father?’
‘Oh, he died when I was a baby. My mother never talked about him. I guess it was too painful.’
‘Are you living with your mother?’
‘No, she’s in an asylum.’
‘Oh, how terrible! What happened?’
‘She became insane and can’t take care of herself. She’s much better now, being cared for by professionals. That’s why I have to work hard, to pay for her care.’
