The Nine Fold Heaven. Mingmei Yip
but soon everyone was eating and absorbed in their chatter. Edward came up to me, took my arm, and steered me through the crowd, past a grand living room into another spacious room filled with books.
“Jasmine, what can I say? Tonight you conquered everyone’s heart.”
I smiled but said nothing.
“Jasmine . . .” He paused, looking uneasy.
“Yes?”
“I would like to know you more.”
I didn’t respond, and he went on. “I can tell from your singing that you’ve suffered immensely. And I hope you can trust me enough to open up your heart. Of course I don’t mean now since we’ve just gotten to know each other. But I hope we can be friends.”
Again, I smiled but didn’t respond.
He lifted my hand and pressed his lips against it. “I can tell you’re exhausted not by your singing, but by the emotions the songs brought back to you. You don’t need to go back to the orphanage tonight; you’re welcome to spend the night here. There are ten guest rooms and I can ask Abigail to prepare one for you. If not, I can take you home. But then you have to wait for a while till all the guests left.”
But, of course, I was not going to stay. Keeping men in suspense creates mystery and increases desire. This is one of the Thirty-six Stratagems, yuqin guzong, “release in order to capture.” More to the point is the Ming dynasty’s Guide for Whores, which says, “Wives are less tempting than concubines, concubines are less tempting than prostitutes, prostitutes are less tempting than someone else’s wife, but most alluring of all is the woman you failed to seduce.”
The more doses of mystery you feed a man, the harder he’d fall for you. But why was I even thinking about this? The reason I returned here was to find my true love, Jinying, and our son, Jinjin. Maybe that was my training, or even my nature, that I’d try to seduce any man, or woman, who might be useful to me.
Can a woman love more than one man at the same time? Well, why not, considering what men do? Chinese history is filled with famous scholars who deemed themselves fengliu caizi, “followers of the wind,” artistic men who bestowed their love on not just one, but a whole entourage of talented, beautiful ladies.
A good example was the Ming dynasty scholar Qian Qianyi, who, bored with his dull wife, took for his concubine the beautiful and brilliant Liu Rushi, who not only graced his bed but helped him compose his books on Chinese history. Then there was the high official Hong Wenqing, ambassador to four countries, who took the courtesan Sai Jinhua, a politically brilliant woman who once saved the Empress Dowager from an invading army. And many men whose inamorata may not have been particularly talented but brought them happiness anyway. And yet all these men did not entirely lose their affection for their first wives, who, after all, had run their households and borne their children.
Unlike the first wives selected by the man’s parents, these women were spirited and unconventional. They interacted freely with men, enjoyed wine, traveled on horseback, could entertain by singing, dancing, or playing musical instruments—and excelled in the arts of the bedchamber.
If a man can love different women, why can’t a woman have more than one love? Not because she doesn’t want to, or cannot, but because society will denounce her. And worse, her own man-poisoned mind will not let her.
But I was not a proper, decent, or married woman. The rules didn’t apply to a rootless, homeless, relentless skeleton woman like me. So I could follow my heart’s desires wherever they led me.
But on this occasion, following my heart meant stringing Miller along for a while longer. So when the party finished, I politely turned down his offer to stay overnight at the consulate but agreed to let him drive me back. Not all the way to the orphanage, but let off a few blocks away. My reason was the usual—I couldn’t afford to be seen with a foreigner.
After Miller pulled up at the corner, he leaned over to kiss me. Although his lips merely brushed mine, I could feel the heat of his desire as if he imagined it was my nipples that he kissed. One more man had fallen into my trap. But though I was proud that I had not lost my touch, I felt not so much excited as confused, not knowing if seducing yet another man would be good karma or bad.
The sensation of the kiss clung to my lips like an insect that could not be brushed away.
7
River Cruise
The next morning, I was jolted when I read Rainbow Chang’s Leisure News gossip column:
Has the Heavenly Songbird Alighted?
Yesterday, one of my Pink Skeleton girls reported back to me some exciting news!
At the American Consul General’s garden reception, a young Chinese singer surprised the partygoers with her beautiful voice. My source said that this singer looked a lot like our beloved, but disappeared, Heavenly Songbird Camilla. But how could it be her?
If Camilla, the ultimate cunning skeleton woman, flew away from Shanghai, why would she come back?
Curious, isn’t it, that she disappeared right after her patron Master Lung’s Flying Dragons shoot some still-unidentified victims? Can this be the strategy of mantian guohai, “crossing the sea to fool heaven”? Did her departure for places unknown have something to do with the shoot-out that left many of Shanghai’s eminent gangsters in pools of their own blood?
Police speculate that Lung’s safe was opened and some valuables taken. If the police are right, then who took Lung’s valuables? Can it be that someone is now living in newfound luxury somewhere? If yes, then why would this person return to the scene of the crime?
One of my sources says that the singer Jasmine Chen looks very much like Camilla, but another says her hair is too straight and her chin too pointed. We’d all know if the photo of Jasmine Chen taken by my Pink Skeleton girl had not been confiscated by the consulate’s guard.
But I have my sources, so more to follow. . . .
Rainbow Chang
This was most alarming. Why would Rainbow Chang send her girls to spy at the ambassador’s party in the first place? Did she get wind of my return? If so, from whom?
There were no answers for now, so I went on to read the other newspapers. I felt relieved that besides Rainbow’s column, there was no mention of me in the other papers. But, of course, that didn’t mean I could let my guard down. Rainbow was on to me, even if she didn’t quite come out and say it. No secret was safe from her and her girls—they’d even infiltrated the American Consul’s garden party!
But then my attention was caught by a small headline in the Shen News:
Gangster to Be Executed
Hong Bin, a gangster and spy, will be publicly executed outside Shanghai—a mile from the Xu Jiahui Station—this Sunday at noon. After a thorough investigation by the police and a trial, the gangster confessed that he has been spying and gathering information for the Communist party.
I suddenly realized this execution must be the same one brought up by one of Miller’s guests at the garden party. I wondered who this Hong Bin was and what gang he belonged to. There were so many gangsters and spies in Shanghai, including me!
Faced with death, a gangster would likely make a deal to betray his own gang and take refuge with another one. But relationships in Shanghai’s underworld were even more complicated than the fate-determining, crisscrossing lines of our palms. So I wondered what was happening between this Hong Bin and his gang that his boss didn’t just spread some bribes around to set him free.
I decided to go see the execution. I was curious to know who this ill-fated man was and I hoped that, like me so far, he would somehow escape the hopeless situation.
But in the meantime a more pleasant event awaited me. After the garden party, Emily told me that her boss would like me to join him for a day on his yacht down the Huangpu