The Nine Fold Heaven. Mingmei Yip

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      The governess smiled. “These are all for you, dear. You want to take a hot bath first?”

      Yes, why not? Although I’d already washed before I came here, why not another bath served by a foreigner inside an ambassador’s fancy house? Besides, as a spy, I was used to nosing around, even, or especially, in bathrooms where people like to hide their secret things.

      I nodded. “I’d love to.”

      “Good. I’ll take you.”

      She led me out of the “servant’s” room and took me to another floor.

      “Here is the bathroom. Go ahead in and get ready. I’ll send in the maid, Abigail, to help you.”

      Unlike the plain room, the bathroom was spacious and nicely decorated with clawed bathtub, gold-framed, full-length mirror, a Chinese blue and white vase with fresh flowers. This must be for an honorable guest’s bath.

      The maid, a rather dowdy girl probably fresh from the countryside, entered and took my clothes to hand up as I undressed. Then she took my arm and helped me lower myself into the steaming water.

      She asked, “Miss Chen, is that your perfume? Smells really good.”

      I smiled mysteriously but without responding.

      So she went on in another direction. “Here, we have hot water available for twenty-four hours!”

      I nodded again without replying. I wanted to focus on enjoying an ambassador’s comfortable tub, the steaming water, and the pleasant squishing of the sponge as the maid gently scrubbed my bare back, a comfort I’d missed since I was no longer Master Lung’s mistress.

      When finished, Abigail said, “Oh, I need to bring you some clean towels. Stay here, ma’am, I’ll be right back.”

      After she left, I splashed water on my face, neck, shoulders, and, enjoying being alone for a few moments, raised my arms and legs and bent them into the perverse, titillating poses I’d used in my contortion act. I wanted to feel daring, as if I were really the pampered hostess of this grand mansion.

      Just when I was arching my back with abandon, the door opened and in plunged the Consul General himself!

      I tried to grab something to cover myself up, but there was nothing nearby except my arms.

      The handsome general looked completely stunned. “Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t know that Emily took you here. So sorry.”

      In fact, I’d have been sorrier if he missed the chance to see me naked. Because now that he’d had a glimpse of what I had to offer, I guessed he’d be like a leashed dog, straining to grasp its dream bone. But if it turned out that I did not need his help, our encounter would be but a memory to unsettle his solitary nights.

      Just then Abigail came back with the towels and Miller withdrew awkwardly. With a barely suppressed smirk, the maid held out a towel to dry me. She must have sensed that I was not the least embarrassed. Of course, she could not know that I was the famous skeleton woman who would have sex with a man—or woman—even in the most perverse, contortionist positions. I was sure she could have no idea of the wicked skills that my young body had been forced to learn in order to seduce and captivate Master Lung. After she had finished drying me, Abigail held out a robe and helped me into it. Then she led me back to my room, where Emily was waiting.

      “I hope you had a nice bath, dear,” she said in her motherly voice.

      I thought: Instead of treating me like a child, she should start to worry for her boss!

      Refreshed by the bath, I put on makeup, then slipped into the new dress.

      The governess gave me an admiring look as I inspected myself in the mirror.

      “Miss Chen, the dress looks very nice on you. But what a tiny waist! When you eat, where does all the food go?” She laughed and added, “How can I have a waist like yours?

      I was pleased that I could still inspire appreciation, but I feared this might be unduly risky. What if some of the Consul General’s guests recognized me as the Heavenly Songbird with her famous twenty-one-inch waist? I could only hope that my new hairdo—short, straight, and with bangs covering my forehead—would also cover up my true identity. But they still might recognize my voice. All I could do was omit the high notes that I was famous for.

      As a last touch, on my head Emily placed a large hat with a solitary pink flower. She fussed around until the hat slanted in an artistically balanced and pleasing angle. Good. Because this hat would also shield part of my once-celebrated face.

      But I was still thinking, would it turn out to be a terrible mistake to have come here? However, it was too late to act, or rather, to not act—like the hidden dragon in the beginning of the Book of Changes. So all I could do was go with the flow. Hopefully, like the hidden dragon, when the right time came, I would soar to the nine fold heaven.

      Emily led me down into the main hallway, then out to the garden. Even I could just glimpse the interior, its glittering chandelier, gold and marble pillars, and fresco-like oil paintings proclaimed to all that this was the abode of power.

      The twilight lent the garden a dreamy quality. Flowers nestled in luxuriant vegetation gave out intoxicating fragrances. Colorful lanterns hung in midair like stars descending to Earth for the pleasure of us mortals. A small live orchestra, partly hidden under sprays of pink blossoms, played soothing tunes. Guests, all foreigners, clustered here and there, sipped champagne, nibbled at hors d’oeuvres, and chatted. A few spotted me, politely nodded, then went straight back to their interesting—or obligatory—conversations. Suddenly, I thought, despite all this luxury, how boring this kind of life must be, after the initial thrill.

      Emily excused herself, then Miller materialized beside me and handed me a class of champagne. He scrutinized me from head to toe and then back from toe to head.

      “Jasmine, you look absolutely stunning! And smell intoxicating,” he exclaimed, then cast me a suspicious look. “What kind of perfume did Emily give you?”

      “There’s no perfume, sir. I was born with this natural fragrance.”

      “Is that so?” He studied me with an unbelievable expression. “I never heard of a person with natural fragrance. Is that possible?”

      I smiled, without negating or affirming.

      “You are a unique young lady, you know that, Jasmine?”

      “Thank you, Mr. Ambassador.”

      “Edward, please.”

      “Yes, Edward.”

      Just then a five- or six-year-old, very cute little boy dashed to the ambassador and rubbed his head against the man’s leg.

      “Daddy, when can we eat?”

      Miller caressed the boy lovingly, then turned to me. “Jasmine, meet my son, Henry.” Then he said to the boy, “Henry, say hello to Miss Jasmine, in Chinese.”

      Henry smiled shyly. “Ni Hao, Jasmine, Ah Yi?” (“How are you, Aunty Jasmine?”)

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