The Nine Fold Heaven. Mingmei Yip

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СКАЧАТЬ day when I woke up, it was already three o’clock in the afternoon. I hadn’t realized I was that exhausted. Dressing in my man’s outfit, I slipped out, bought two evening newspapers, and read them while I had an early supper in a noodle stall. I worked my way through the newspapers carefully but was surprised to find no news about me or the gang war that I’d set off.

      With the newspapers under my arm, I set out for a walk in the crisp Shanghai air, hoping to clear my mind. I was still hungry, so I stopped at a street vendor selling fresh-out-of-the-boiling-wok doughnuts. The snack looked fresh and golden. Just what I needed: a fresh start and an golden opportunity! After I paid, the vendor wrapped the doughnut in an old newspaper, then handed it to me. Soon I was savoring golden hotness, both in my hand and my mouth. Then, when I had finished and was about to throw away the paper, I saw the word Camilla—my name.

      Heart beating fast, I unfolded the paper and read the headline:

      Police Chief Li Suspects Shanghai’s “Heavenly Songbird”

      Killed Lung, Chief of the Flying Dragons

      After an intensive investigation, Police Chief Li has announced that the famous nightclub singer is now hiding in Hong Kong. But even if Li is right, the police cannot arrest her because China has no jurisdiction in the British Crown Colony.

      Police believe Lung has been killed because he has not been seen in Shanghai since the shoot-out in his secret villa.

      Master Lung’s Harvard-educated lawyer son, Lung Jinying, refuses to say anything about his father, or his mistress, Camilla. He says he knows nothing about the shooting, except what he’s read in the newspapers. But Chief Li is sure the son knows a lot more than he is saying—

      Damn. The rest of the article was cut off, just at this crucial place. I looked at the dateline: It was more than two months ago, three weeks after my escape. But no more news. It seemed I would have no choice but to see if Jinying was holed up in his apartment.

      It was good that Police Chief Li thought I was still hiding in Hong Kong when I was actually back in Shanghai. As in the saying, “The most dangerous-seeming place may actually be the safest.” But not always. To go to Jinying’s place would really be dangerous, but I knew I would go there anyway. But I waited until midnight before I took a tricycle rickshaw to my lover’s flat.

      My first worry was the police would still be watching, even though it was unlikely after three months. So I kept my disguise as a man, wearing a suit, glasses, a hat to cover up my hair, even a mustache. I was well aware that the chance Jinying would be staying in the same place after all that had happened was close to zero, but I had to see for myself—and even if he was long gone, I might find a clue as to his whereabouts.

      I sighed with relief that there were no police, nor any pedestrians near Jinying’s place. Looking at the building, bittersweet memories rose up in my chest. This was where Jinying and I had first consummated our forbidden love, despite my being his father’s mistress—with little lost Jinjin the result.

      Blinking back tears, I took my time walking up the stairs, savoring my memories. Arriving at his floor, I took a deep breath, smoothed my hair, and knocked, preparing for anything and everything. I could feel the beatings of my heart like that of a lost deer bumping around in the dark. But what if he was there? How would he react to me as a man? I had no chance to find out, for despite more and more knockings not a sound came from inside the apartment.

      Finally, I decided to make use of my spy training. I took out my Open-One-Hundred-Doors key, the same one I’d used to open Shadow’s apartment to steal her magic secrets. This key proved itself so worthy that with just one twist, Jinying’s apartment opened like the sore legs of a desperate prostitute. I pushed the door open just a crack so as to see what was inside, in case someone else was now living here. After making sure that his sofa, redwood dining table, landscape paintings, bookcases, and the upright piano with its decorative objects were in their familiar places, I went inside.

      “Hello, anybody here?”

      Not even a ghostly response.

      “Jinying, are you there?”

      The ghosts, if there were any, remained stubbornly silent. I looked at the bedroom, the restroom, and kitchen; there was no Jinying, not even his pleasant body scent. Disappointed, I sat down on the sofa to think. It was late, why wasn’t he home? Suddenly a chill rose in my heart—perhaps he had forgotten me already and was now in a nightclub admiring another pretty singer. After some disheartening thoughts, I started to search his apartment for clues of his whereabouts.

      I started with his drawers, then methodically went through his writing desk, cabinets, and closets. But there were only piles of bills, receipts, old magazines, and newspaper clippings, mostly about me. Then my wandering eyes landed on his upright piano and I dashed over to open its lid. Yes, a notebook, almost new, was staring at me like an orphan baby begging to be picked up. I snatched it out and opened it to discover that it was a diary filled with Jinying’s irregular, agonized handwriting. There were also some drawings of a naked woman who actually looked like me with phoenix eyes, a watermelon-seed face, and long, curly hair swept to the side. And the woman was pregnant! More surprises came when I saw what was written underneath two of the drawings of the woman’s bulging belly. The first one read:

      Precious Baby formula:

      Medicine to protect the embryo: ginseng, red dates, white fungus, bird’s nest.

      Note: Taking these, both the mother and her baby will have fair, clear skin, thick, dark hair, and strong qi circulation.

      The second read:

      To dear Jinjin,

      Son, even if I never meet you in this world, your baba still loves you wherever you are.

      The next few pages had been torn out, leaving me wondering what more Jinying had written about me and our baby: stillborn, according to my singing teacher Madame Lewinsky, but alive somewhere according to my dream.

      So I flipped back to the beginning of the diary and started to read.

      Whether dead or alive, the people closest to me have eerily vanished. My father, gone. Camilla, gone. Our little Jinjin, gone.

      Even my father’s trusted bodyguard Gao, gone. He’s probably taking care of Father, but actually, I don’t care. He hung around Camilla too much. But I’m afraid to ask Camilla about him, because her answer might crush me.

      The newspapers said that Police Chief Li suspects Camilla was involved in the gang shoot-out at my father’s hideaway. When we thought we would both be killed, Camilla confessed to me that she was working as a spy for my father’s bitter rival Big Brother Wang.

      So she’d been using me to kill my father! Although I hate my father and his evil deeds, heaven would strike me if I’d have him murdered!

      But I miss Camilla terribly, can’t sleep, and have no interest in other women. I’m afraid to talk to reporters, lest I let slip secrets about her.

      I must find Camilla. If she truly loves me, we’ll find a way to start a new life together. If she doesn’t, I’ll go back to America and never return to Shanghai.

      I think Camilla must have left Shanghai. She must be hiding in Hong Kong—that’s what Chief Li thinks too. And, of course, he can’t go after her there. So I’ll go there myself to look for her.

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