Memoirs of a Courtesan

7

Temple Celebration

One evening, in my living room, I was sipping tea and savouring its warmth slowly soothing my Heavenly Songbird throat. I enjoyed the warmth that I never received from human beings, except maybe Madame Lewinsky. My gaze wandered out the window at night-time Shanghai glittering like an enormous multifaceted diamond. People must be enjoying their youth, beauty and wealth out there, I mused. I knew I was getting sentimental, something I could not allow myself. Then, for no reason at all, the face of Jinying, Lung’s son, flashed into my mind. As if on cue, the telephone beside me rang like a barking dog who’d just lost sight of its master.

I picked up the receiver. ‘Hello?’

‘Camilla?’

I immediately recognised the voice that had sung ‘Looking for You’ to me at the Bund. ‘Yes, Young Master?’

‘Please, I beg you, Camilla, call me Jinying. I really don’t like to be addressed as Young Master.’

My voice switched to the teasing mode. ‘Do you have a choice?’

As the father was imprisoned by his own suspicion and superstition, the son was confined by his father’s wealth and power.

‘I … really don’t want to go into this.’

‘Why don’t you like the title of young master?’

‘Because I don’t like to be thought of as superior to you or other people.’

I almost chuckled out loud. Of course. He had been educated in America, a country that supposedly advocated liberty and equality. So his mind was liberated, or poisoned, depending on how you looked at it, by this ridiculously unrealistic concept.

‘But you are,’ I cooed into the receiver.

‘Please, Camilla.’

‘All right, Jinying, what do you want?’ Of course I knew exactly what he wanted, the same thing as his father – me. Did he think his father would share with him?

‘May I come to visit you now?’ The tone was plaintive, like that of an orphan desperate to be adopted.

That was an unexpected and daring request. But of course he was, after all, the indulged, privileged son of the most powerful gangster in Shanghai. At least he was courteous enough to ask before coming.

I inhaled deeply. ‘But why would you want to come here?’

‘Camilla, since I heard you sing at Bright Moon and at the Bund, I just can’t shake you from my mind. You sing like an angel.’

If only I were one. ‘Don’t you know that I am your father’s woman?’

An uncomfortable silence passed before he spoke hesitantly. ‘Yes, of course.’

‘You’re not afraid?’

‘No.’

‘Maybe you’re not, but I am.’

‘My father won’t hurt you.’

This time I laughed out loud. Was he that naive?

‘Please don’t make fun of me.’

‘I’m sorry. But do you know who your father is and what he is capable of?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then what makes you think he won’t harm me – or you?’

‘Because he loves me the most, and he’s superstitious.’

My ear perked up at the word superstitious. Though it was not news to me that the gangster head was a believer in feng shui, Yijing divination, physiognomy, palmistry – the whole gamut of Chinese ways to attain good luck – his son could be a source of other useful information about his father.

So I immediately curtailed my sarcasm and replaced it with a warm, tender tone. ‘Jinying, yes, please do come up to my place so we can chat over a glass of wine.’

In a mere five minutes, Jinying was on my doorstep.

I opened the door and asked, ‘Were you downstairs?’

He nodded, looking anxious.

‘Please take a seat on the sofa, and I’ll ask Ah Fong to fix you tea and snacks.’

He looked around, his expression disappointed. ‘You have someone else living here with you?’

‘She’s my amah.’

Moments later Ah Fong came out with a tray of tea, coffee and sandwiches.

After she had laid it on the table, I smiled. ‘You can leave now, Ah Fong.’ And I took some coins from my purse and pushed them into her hand.

She looked at me appreciatively. ‘Thank you so much, Miss Camilla.’ Then she cast the young master the same look and left.

Delicately sipping my fragrant tea, I asked the fine-featured, intense face across from me, ‘Jinying, what is the purpose of your visit?’

He looked surprised and pained. ‘Camilla, I … wanted to see you. I am hoping you will sing for me again.’

I studied his eager eyes and their two brows. Unlike his father’s, they were smooth and unscarred, like two distant mountains shrouded in the mist. ‘Jinying, you have the money for casinos, nightclubs, anything you want. So why are you so interested in music?’

His smile showed a trace of bitterness. ‘That’s exactly what displeases my father about me. That I would waste my time on something so decadent and worthless.’

This seemed ironic. Wasn’t music the reason the old man came to Bright Moon?

Lung’s son’s face softened under the gentle light of my chandelier. ‘My passion began when I visited New York and a friend took me to see Madame Butterfly at the Metropolitan Opera. Since then I’ve been hooked. I used some of the money Father sent me for singing and piano lessons. At Harvard I even performed a few roles in musicals.’

‘When you were in America, you must have heard the most famous singers of the world.’ My curiosity was piqued.

‘I did, but I like your voice the best. I’ve heard all the famous singers, and of course they’re all first-rate, but in my opinion, they all have one basic flaw …’

‘What’s that?’

‘Too much training and not enough being.’

‘What do you mean?’

Maybe he thought I feigned not understanding, but it was true that I didn’t. For ‘too much training, not enough being’ was exactly what Madame Lewinsky seemed to criticise in my singing. But of course neither she nor the young master had any way to know that I’d been trained not to have feelings.

‘They are so conscious of their fame and status that they gradually lose contact with their heart. In my opinion, they should strip away their mannerisms and let the audience in.’ He picked up his cup and took a long sip as he studied me intensely. ‘Camilla, I’m amazed that you don’t need to use technique or posture to hide your vulnerability. You just let your goodness shine through.’

I suppressed a smile of relief. He was completely fooled by me, or, to be exact, by my training! This showed that he was the one who was naive. Wonderful.

On the surface I stayed calm. ‘But you have only heard me twice. How do you—’

‘I go to hear you sing almost every night. I sit in a corner seat in the back so if my father’s there, he won’t see me.’

He shook his head, then downed more coffee. ‘My father is getting old and wants me to start in his business so I can take over someday. But so far I’ve stayed away. I’m just not interested. Also, well, his business is just … not right. I wish I were someone else’s son.’ He put down his coffee cup with a loud clink.

As I studied his anxious expression, I felt a perverse relief rising inside me. ‘I’m sorry that’s how you feel, Jinying. Can’t you explain to Master Lung how you feel?’

‘That would not matter. He loves me, but I am his only son, and so there is no one else to take over. And he considers me his good-luck son.’

‘Oh, yes? How is that?’

‘Because since the day I was born, his business has boomed, and it has lasted until today. The Red Demons have tried but failed to kill him many times. So he believes my lucky star shines on him to protect him.’

Now I was glad for his interest in me. I was also getting an idea.

The Chinese say, ‘If you want to shoot the person, first shoot his horse; if you want to capture the bandits, first capture their chief.’

What if I seduced Jinying – the boss behind the boss – and set father and son against each other? Of course it might end up that Lung would kill his son, but that sort of possibility was why I had been trained to have no feelings. If it ended up the other way around, then my mission would be successfully completed even without my having to get my hands dirty.

I looked admiringly at the young master’s angelic face. To lie under the owner of this face would be a much better deal than being fucked by his monkey-faced, split-browed old man.

I tried to hide my smirk by downing more tea, but I burned my tongue and choked myself.

The angel dropped from heaven asked, ‘You all right, Camilla?’

‘Couldn’t be better.’ I smiled, still choking.

Two days after Jinying’s visit, I got an invitation from the Eternal Luck Temple to participate in a celebration, but of what, it did not specify. Then Mr Zhu, Master Lung’s right-hand man, called.

‘Miss Camilla, be prepared to accompany Master Lung to the Eternal Luck Temple.’

‘Mr Zhu, may I know what is the purpose of this event?’

‘To celebrate the opening of the temple’s new wing. Gao will pick you up next Saturday at one in the afternoon. Dress your best, and be ready on time. We cannot miss the most auspicious moment meticulously calculated by the temple’s feng shui master. You got it?’

‘Of course, Mr Zhu.’

‘Good,’ he huffed, then hung up.

For the temple event, instead of a cheongsam, this time I picked a white silk Western dress embroidered with pink camellias and light green leaves. The hem was slightly below my knees, revealing just enough of my high-heeled, hundred-dollar-silk-stockinged legs. A red camellia, pinned above my ear, echoed my matching pink high heels and purse.

To bring out the green, I put on a jade necklace and a matching bracelet. To set off the jade, my huge diamond ring was perched regally on my middle finger, demanding attention.

Whenever I was invited to an important occasion, jade and diamonds were always my favourite choices. Jade’s cool nature conveys a reserved, Oriental sophistication, like a woman’s silent declaration: ‘I am beautiful but coy, so please don’t stare.’ On the other hand, a diamond is fiery and Occidental, like a tall, voluptuous woman strutting confidently and exclaiming, ‘Come, see how sexy I am!’

However, today my most exciting feature was neither the jade nor the diamond but my dress’s heart-shaped neckline cut-out, revealing my undulating two half-moons. I knew I succeeded in creating an intriguing presence. But disturbingly, as I felt happy looking at the beautiful face that stared back at me from the mirror, now, for the first time, I wanted to avoid looking deeper at what was within.

Gao arrived to pick me up in a black Cadillac. As we drove to the temple, I caught his eyes wandering off the road to look into the rear-view mirror at me or, to be specific, my bulging half-moons.

Finally he blurted out, ‘Miss Camilla, you look gorgeous today.’

I smiled sweetly. ‘Thank you, Gao. Glad you like my outfit.’

‘I don’t mean only your outfit.’

I could say, ‘Of course I know what you meant,’ but I was not going to chide him by telling him to keep his eyes on the road instead of on me. I didn’t want to completely discourage his interest. One never knew; someday I might find him of use on my path to defeating Lung.

So I said, ‘Thank you, Gao, whatever else you mean.’

I studied the bodyguard’s face in the mirror and found myself liking it. He took his job seriously and was good at it. He was also a martial artist and Thai boxing expert, and I had heard that on a bet he had shot right into the red heart of an ace from forty steps away. I knew him to be alert, careful and, unlike Zhu, gentle and courteous.

But Gao had his weakness: his huge crush on me.

I realised that because I often noticed his gaze travelling downwards from my face to my chest, waist and legs. Didn’t he realise that even a split second of his distraction could cost his and his boss’s lives? But of course he was a man, and he couldn’t help it. That’s why there are skeleton women. We use men’s lust to turn them into skeletons.

With Mr Zhu, the situation was entirely different. He was impatient, ferocious and even more bossy to me than his boss was. However, this was, in fact, a good thing. Because the less attention I received from this ruthless man, the better, lest he see through my pretense and detect my true intentions.

A few minutes later, the car pulled to a stop in front of the Eternal Luck Temple and awoke me from my reveries. Gao opened the car door for me, and my ears were instantly filled with the buzzing conversations of the important-looking guests. He helped me out and led me into the temple’s front yard. I enjoyed the envious glances of the women, beautiful and otherwise, as I was escorted by the handsome, muscular man ready to serve my minutest need.

Monkey Face was waiting for me, surrounded by his usual entourage. As Gao brought me over to the gangster head, he gave me a licentious once-over, looking happy and proud. ‘Camilla, you sure are easy on the eyes. And your fragrance is intoxicating!’

The abbot and his entourage of Daoist monks hurried to greet us. Soon Lung and Zhu were the centre of attention, not only for the monks but also for a circle of obsequious businessmen and politicians.

I got a drink and walked around. Recognising me as the Heavenly Songbird, some guests nodded in my direction; others cupped their mouths and whispered to their partners. My attention was drawn to a tall woman dressed in a man’s white suit, a golden tie and a white fedora. She easily could have been mistaken for a man were it not for her exaggerated make-up. Her stark white powder, bright red rouge and scarlet lipstick formed the background for long, artificial lashes fluttering in front of golden eye shadow. A weird, even haunting combination. Flanking her was a small group of tall, strikingly beautiful girls in matching pink dresses.

Of course this time I recognised this cross-dressed woman as the famous, or notorious, gossip columnist Rainbow Chang, with her enigmatic clique of pink-clad followers. Were they her confidantes? Bodyguards? Lovers? Anybody could be anyone in Shanghai. Watching her poise and the ease with which she worked her way through the crowd, I could only hope that she would not be yet another obstacle on my path. Dealing with a Shadow, a gangster and his son was already more than enough for a nineteen-year-old songstress-spy.

When she was in front of me, the columnist reached out her hand. ‘It’s such a pleasure to meet you here again, Miss Camilla. I am Rainbow Chang, remember? We met at Bright Moon.’

On the surface, I stayed calm. ‘Yes, of course. What a lucky encounter!’ I said, feeling her fleshy palm tightly squeezing mine. ‘I’ve been a fan of your column.’

‘Really? The most famous Heavenly Songbird, my fan? I’m flattered.’

Underneath our polite words, we were scrutinising each other like two unneutered cats under the full moon.

She gave me a meaningful once-over. ‘Wah. Look at you, Camilla. May I call you Camilla?’

‘Of course.’

‘No other singer in Shanghai has your kind of presence.’

Of course she was referring to my expensive clothes and even more expensive jewellery, and on top of that, my much-envied position beside Shanghai’s number one gangster head.

I decided to play modest. ‘I owe it to the help of your column.’

‘Hmm … is that true? You’re not offended by my writing? You know, sometimes I can be pretty straightforward.’

Now I’d play the flatterer. ‘If you had never mentioned me in your column, I would not be so famous today.’

Her expression turned mischievously delightful. ‘Then maybe we should be friends, or at least business partners?’

What did that mean?

‘You know, Camilla, we could build a long-term, mutually beneficial relationship.’

Oh, heavens. This was exactly what I didn’t need: one more complication! I knew I had better tread this path with utmost caution. While Lung could kill with a knife or gun, this Rainbow could do the same with her pen, without even having to waste a bullet!

I asked, feeling a little nervous, ‘But how?’

She looked at me deeply, as if I were her lover. ‘I’ll tell you if you let me take you to dinner. I’m sure we’ll enjoy each other’s company. What about next week?’

I sighed inside. I was sure many people wanted to meet this famous gossip columnist and her pink entourage, but I couldn’t wait to get rid of her.

‘Thank you for the invitation. I would love to have dinner with you. But I hope you will be free some other time?’ I gestured to Lung’s back in the distance. ‘Right now my schedule won’t even afford me the luxury to breathe—’

Before I finished my sentence, I felt a large hand on my shoulder. I turned and saw Gao’s concerned face. He leaned down to whisper into my ear. ‘Miss Camilla, the ceremony is to begin in fifteen minutes. Master Lung’s good friend the police chief has arrived, and Master Lung would like to introduce you.’

I turned to smile at Rainbow Chang. ‘Sorry, Miss Chang, but I have to excuse myself.’

‘No problem.’ She winked. ‘Go ahead. Lairi fangchang.’ Time is aplenty in the future.

I stared at her retreating back and felt a chill. Would she prove yet another rival in my life?

With this new worry, I let Gao steer me back to Lung, who was now standing beside a stout, uniformed man. Gao stepped back to join another bodyguard, both men watching us closely.

Master Lung turned to grab my waist. ‘Please meet my beautiful Camilla.’

Although I’d never met the police chief in person, I’d seen pictures of him in the newspapers. I also heard rumours about his proclivities, most infamous being that once, when he and Lung were drunk, they threw their respective ex-mistresses to Lung’s pet tigers, whom they kept starving for just such occasions.

Chief Li cast me a licentious glance and shook my hand hard, as if he were tormenting a helpless kitten.

‘Miss Camilla, I have heard your name for a long time, but you are much more beautiful in person than in your pictures.’

I returned him a demure smile. ‘Thank you for your praise, Chief Li. Likewise I’ve also heard your name like thunder in my ears.’

Together we walked into the newly built wing. A crimson signboard with four big gold characters, huakai fugui, ‘Flowers bloom and fortune looms,’ hung above the portal. Fortune really meant making money. Many Chinese believe that donating to temples will bring them good fortune, so perhaps the temple wanted to be sure they would not forget that. Monks, of course, have no desire for riches, but donations to their temple in the form of checks, jewellery, gold bars, antiques and land are always welcome.

Inside, the hall decor resembled a Western casino, with red and gold as the main colours, for double luck. Male staff in black tuxedos and female staff in pink and green cheongsams flanked the entrance, nodding and exclaiming, ‘Welcome, our honourable guests!’

We nodded and smiled back. Inside, scrolls of calligraphy adorned the walls, proclaiming auspicious sentiments: ‘Invite money; welcome treasures;’ ‘Gold bars fill the house;’ and ‘Money flows in like rushing water.’

As I was wondering what these phrases were doing in a temple, my eyes spotted men throwing dice and playing mahjong in the distance. In one corner, a uniformed man was shaking a cylindrical tube and exclaiming, ‘Big! Big! Big!’ followed by another man’s louder, ‘Small! Small! Small!’ After that, the first man threw the contents of the tube onto the table as the customer yelled, ‘Big!’

The uniformed man smiled cunningly at the anxious customer. ‘Sorry, sir, but it’s small.’

After that, the pile of money immediately shifted from in front of the client to in front of the uniformed man.

I realised that this was none other than a casino! But inside a temple?

Then my eyes landed on red lanterns hanging low from the ceiling above the gaming tables. Could cameras be hidden inside to catch cheaters?

‘Master Lung, so this is a …’

‘Yes, my new gambling den.’

‘But in a temple?’

He laughed, his belly trembling. ‘Ha-ha-ha! For the gods’ protection and blessings, what else?’

Thinking about that, I realised that a temple was, in fact, a perfect place to operate a gambling den. If a gambler won, part of his winnings would be donated to the temple as a token of gratitude. If he lost, he’d also donate as a bribe to the money gods so that next time they would direct the propitious winds to blow in his direction.

What other kind of business could be win-win like this? I smiled, toying with this ‘win-win’ idea. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if I could also put myself into a win-win situation – successfully completing my mission and escaping from both the Flying Dragons and the Red Demons?

As soon as we finished touring this sacred casino, we were all ushered back outside to the courtyard, ready for the auspicious opening ceremony.

8

The Lion Dancers

It was three minutes to two o’clock. Our mandatory early arrival had been to make sure the ceremony would start exactly at the time calculated by the fortune-tellers, not a minute early or a minute late. Otherwise the auspicious moment would be missed, possibly ruining Lung’s gambling business even before it started.

According to these fortune-telling savants, the first moment of an event determines everything. Unfortunately mothers couldn’t choose the time of their babies’ birth; otherwise they’d all grow up to be kings and queens, dragons and phoenixes. Perhaps my parents hadn’t believed in fate calculation, and that was why I’d ended up having this horrible life. But I hoped someday to undo my inauspicious beginning. After all, as the ancient Yijing tells us, ‘Everything changes.’

Lung, Zhu, Chief Li, me and a few other honourable guests were led to stand at the front of the newly opened temple wing. Two girls placed red ribbons with a wreath at each end into our hands. Photographers and reporters streamed in, snapping pictures and taking notes. I spotted Rainbow Chang furiously scribbling in her notebook. Scattered around were Gao and his team of bodyguards, all dressed in black, eyes continuously scanning the crowd.

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