The Crazy Rich Asians Trilogy Box Set

by Kevin Kwan

  By the time Eleanor arrived at Carol’s bedroom, the Bible study regulars—Daisy Foo, Lorena Lim, and Nadine Shaw—would be assembled and waiting. Here, sheltered from the harsh equatorial heat, these longtime friends would sprawl languorously about the room, analyzing the Bible verses assigned in their study guides. The place of honor on Carol’s Qing dynasty Huanghuali† bed was always reserved for Eleanor, for even though this was Carol’s house and she was the one married to the billionaire financier, Carol still deferred to her. This was the way things had been since their childhood as neighbors growing up on Serangoon Road, mainly because, coming from a Chinese-speaking family, Carol had always felt inferior to Eleanor, who was brought up speaking English first. (The others also kowtowed to her, because even among these exceedingly well-married ladies, Eleanor had trumped them all by becoming Mrs. Philip Young.)

  Today’s lunch started off with braised quail and abalone over hand-pulled noodles, and Daisy (married to the rubber magnate Q. T. Foo but born a Wong, of the Ipoh Wongs) fought to separate the starchy noodles while trying to find 1 Timothy in her King James Bible. With her bobbed perm and her rimless reading glasses perched at the tip of her nose, she looked like the principal of a girls’ school. At sixty-four, she was the oldest of the ladies, and even though everyone else was on the New American Standard, Daisy always insisted on reading from her version, saying, “I went to convent school and was taught by nuns, you know, so it will always be King James for me.” Tiny droplets of garlicky broth splattered onto the tissue-like page, but she managed to keep the good book open with one hand while deftly maneuvering her ivory chopsticks with the other.

  Nadine, meanwhile, was busily flipping through her Bible—the latest issue of Singapore Tattle. Every month, she couldn’t wait to see how many pictures of her daughter Francesca—the celebrated “Shaw Foods heiress”—were featured in the “Soirées” section of the magazine. Nadine herself was a fixture in the social pages, what with her Kabuki-esque makeup, tropical-fruit-size jewels, and over-teased hair. “Aiyah, Carol, Tattle devoted two full pages to your Christian Helpers fashion gala!” Nadine exclaimed.

  “Already? I didn’t realize it would come out so quickly,” Carol remarked. Unlike Nadine, she was always a bit embarrassed to find herself in magazines, even though editors constantly fawned over her “classic Shanghainese songstress looks.” Carol simply felt obligated to attend a few charity galas every week as any good born-again Christian should, and because her husband kept reminding her that “being Mother Teresa is good for business.”

  Nadine scanned the glossy pages up and down. “That Lena Teck has really put on weight since her Mediterranean cruise, hasn’t she? It must be those all-you-can-eat buffets—you always feel like you have to eat more to get your money’s worth. She better be careful—all those Teck women end up with fat ankles.”

  “I don’t think she cares how fat her ankles get. Do you know how much she inherited when her father died? I heard she and her five brothers got seven hundred million each,” Lorena said from her chaise lounge.

  “Is that all? I thought Lena had at least a billion.” Nadine sniffed. “Hey, so strange Elle, how come there’s no picture of your pretty niece Astrid? I remember all the photographers swarming around her that day.”

  “Those photographers were wasting their time. Astrid’s pictures are never published anywhere. Her mother made a deal with all the magazine editors back when she was a teenager,” Eleanor explained.

  “Why on earth would she do that?”

  “Don’t you know my husband’s family by now? They would rather die than appear in print,” Eleanor said.

  “What, have they become too grand to be seen mingling with other Singaporeans?” Nadine said indignantly.

  “Aiyah, Nadine, there’s a difference between being grand and being discreet,” Daisy commented, knowing full well that families like the Leongs and the Youngs guarded their privacy to the point of obsession.

  “Grand or not, I think Astrid is wonderful,” Carol chimed in. “You know, I’m not supposed to say, but Astrid wrote the biggest check at the fund-raiser. And she insisted that I keep it anonymous. But her donation was what made this year’s gala a record-breaking success.”

  Eleanor eyed the pretty new Mainland Chinese maid entering the room, wondering if this was another one of the girls that the dato’ had handpicked from that “employment agency” he frequented in Suzhou, the city reputed to have the most beautiful women in China. “What do we have today?” she asked Carol, as the maid placed a familiar bulky mother-of-pearl chest beside the bed.

  “Oh, I wanted to show you what I bought on my Burma trip.”

  Eleanor flipped open the lid of the chest eagerly and began methodically taking out the stacked black velvet trays. One of her favorite parts of Thursday Bible study was looking at Carol’s latest acquisitions. Soon the bed was lined with trays containing a blinding array of jewels. “What intricate crosses—I didn’t realize they did such good setting work in Burma!”

  “No, no, those crosses are Harry Winston,” Carol corrected. “The rubies are from Burma.”

  Lorena got up from her lunch and headed straight for the bed, holding up one of the lychee-size rubies to the light. “Aiyah, you have to be careful in Burma because so many of their rubies are synthetically treated to boost the redness.” Being the wife of Lawrence Lim (of the L’Orient Jewelry Lims), Lorena could speak on this topic with authority.

  “I thought rubies from Burma were supposed to be the best,” Eleanor remarked.

  “Ladies, you need to stop calling it Burma. It’s been called Myanmar for more than twenty years now,” Daisy corrected.

  “Alamak! You sound just like Nicky, always correcting me!” Eleanor said.

  “Hey, speaking of Nick, when does he arrive from New York? Isn’t he the best man at Colin Khoo’s wedding?” Daisy asked.

  “Yes, yes. But you know my son—I’m always the last to know anything!” Eleanor complained.

  “Isn’t he staying with you?”

  “Of course. He always stays with us first, before heading to Old Lady’s,” Eleanor said, using her nickname for her mother-in-law.

  “Well,” Daisy continued, lowering her voice a bit, “what do you think Old Lady will do about his guest?”

  “What do you mean? What guest?” Eleanor asked.

  “The one … he’s bringing … to the wedding,” Daisy replied slowly, her eyes darting around at the other ladies mischievously, knowing they all knew to whom she was referring.

  “What are you talking about? Who is he bringing?” Eleanor said, a little confused.

  “His latest girlfriend, lah!” Lorena revealed.

  “No such thing! No way Nicky has a girlfriend,” Eleanor insisted.

  “Why is it so hard for you to believe that your son has a girlfriend?” Lorena asked. She had always found Nick to be the most dashing young man of his generation, and with all that Young money, it was such a pity her good-for-nothing daughter Tiffany never managed to attract him.

  “But surely you’ve heard about this girl? The one from New York,” Daisy said in a whisper, relishing that she was the one breaking the news to Eleanor.

  “An American girl? Nicky wouldn’t dare do such a thing. Daisy, your information is always ta pah kay!”‡

  “What do you mean? My news is not ta pah kay—it comes from the most reliable source! Anyway, I hear she’s Chinese,” Daisy offered.

  “Really? What’s her name, and where is she from? Daisy, if you tell me she’s from Mainland China, I think I’ll have a stroke,” Eleanor warned.

  “I heard she’s from Taiwan,” Daisy said carefully.

  “Oh my goodness, I hope she’s not one of those Taiwanese tornadoes!” Nadine cackled.

  “What do you mean by that?” Eleanor asked.

  “You know how notorious those Taiwanese girls can be. They swoop in unexpectedly, the me
n fall head over heels, and before you know it they are gone, but not before sucking up every last dollar, just like a tornado,” Nadine explained. “I know so many men who have fallen prey—think about Mrs. K. C. Tang’s son Gerald, whose wife cleaned him out and ran off with all the Tang heirlooms. Or poor Annie Sim, who lost her husband to that lounge singer from Taipei.”

  At this moment, Carol’s husband entered the room. “Hello, hello, ladies. How is Jesus time today?” he said, puffing away on his cigar and swirling his goblet of Hennessy, looking every portly inch the caricature of an Asian tycoon.

  “Hello, Dato’!” the ladies said in unison, hurriedly shifting themselves into more decorous positions.

  “Dato’, Daisy here is trying to give me a stroke! She’s telling everyone that Nicky has a new Taiwanese girlfriend!” Eleanor cried.

  “Relax, Lealea. Taiwanese girls are lovely—they really know how to take care of a man, and maybe she’ll be prettier than all those spoiled, inbred girls you try to matchmake him to.” The dato’ grinned. “Anyway,” he continued, suddenly lowering his voice, “if I were you, I would be less worried about young Nicholas, and more worried about Sina Land right now.”

  “Why? What’s happening to Sina Land?” Eleanor asked.

  “Sina Land toh tuew. It’s going to collapse,” the dato’ declared with a satisfied grin.

  “But Sina Land is blue-chip. How can that be? My brother even told me they have all these new projects in western China,” Lorena argued.

  “The Chinese government, my source assures me, has pulled out of that huge new development in Xinjiang. I just unloaded my shares and I’m shorting a hundred thousand shares every hour until market closes.” With that, the dato’ expelled a big puff of smoke from his Cohiba and pressed a button next to the bed. The vast wall of glass facing the sparkling swimming pool began to tilt forty-five degrees like an enormous cantilevered garage door, and the dato’ lumbered out into the garden toward the main house.

  For a few seconds, the room went absolutely still. You could almost hear the wheels in each woman’s head whirling into overdrive. Daisy suddenly jumped up from her chair, spilling the tray of noodles onto the floor. “Quick, quick! Where’s my handbag? I need to call my broker!”

  Eleanor and Lorena both scrambled for their cell phones as well. Nadine had her stockbroker on speed dial and was already screaming into her phone, “Dump all of it! SINA LAND. Yes. Dump it all! I just heard from the horse’s mouth that it’s gone case!”

  Lorena was on the other end of the bed, cupping her phone close to her mouth. “Desmond, I don’t care, please just start shorting it now.”

  Daisy began to hyperventilate. “Sum toong, ah!§ I’m losing millions by the second! Where is my bloody broker? Don’t tell me that moron is still at lunch!”

  Carol calmly reached for the touch-screen panel by her bedside table. “Mei Mei, can you please come in and clean up a spill?” Then she closed her eyes, lifted her arms into the air, and began to pray aloud: “Oh Jesus, our personal lord and savior, blessed be your name. We come to you humbly asking for your forgiveness today, as we have all sinned against you. Thank you for showering your blessings upon us. Thank you Lord Jesus for the fellowship that we shared today, for the nourishing food we enjoyed, for the power of your holy word. Please watch over dear Sister Eleanor, Sister Lorena, Sister Daisy, and Sister Nadine, as they try to sell their Sina Land shares …”

  Carol opened her eyes for a moment, noting with satisfaction that Eleanor at least was praying along with her. But of course, she couldn’t know that behind those serene eyelids, Eleanor was praying for something else entirely. A Taiwanese girl! Please God, let it not be true.

  * * *

  * A highly regarded honorific title in Malaysia (similar to a British knighthood) conferred by a hereditary royal ruler of one of the nine Malay states. The title is often used by Malay royals to reward powerful businessmen, politicians, and philanthropists in Malaysia, Singapore, and Indonesia, and some people spend decades sucking up just to get the title. The wife of a dato’ is called a datin.

  † Literally “yellow flowering pear,” an exceedingly rare type of rosewood now virtually extinct. In recent decades, Huanghuali furniture has become highly sought after by discerning collectors. After all, it goes so well with mid-century modern.

  ‡ Malay for “not accurate.”

  § Cantonese for “my heart aches.”

  3

  Rachel Chu

  NEW YORK

  It would be just after dinnertime in Cupertino, and on the nights she wasn’t at Nick’s, it became Rachel’s habit to call her mother right as she was getting into bed.

  “Guess who just closed the deal on the big house on Laurel Glen Drive?” Kerry Chu boasted excitedly in Mandarin as soon as she picked up the phone.

  “Wow, Mom, congratulations! Isn’t that your third sale this month?” Rachel asked.

  “Yes! I broke last year’s office record! You see, I knew I made the right decision to join Mimi Shen at the Los Altos office,” Kerry said with satisfaction.

  “You’re going to make Realtor of the Year again, I just know it,” Rachel replied, re-fluffing the pillow under her head. “Well, I have some exciting news too … Nick invited me to come with him to Asia this summer.”

  “He did?” Kerry remarked, her voice lowering an octave.

  “Mom, don’t start getting any ideas,” Rachel warned, knowing that tone of her mother’s so well.

  “Hiyah! What ideas? When you brought Nick home last Thanksgiving, everyone who saw you two lovebirds together said you were perfect for each other. Now it’s his turn to introduce you to his family. Do you think he’s going to propose?” Kerry gushed, unable to contain herself.

  “Mom, we’ve never once talked about marriage,” Rachel said, trying to downplay it. As excited as she was about all the possibilities that hung over the trip, she wasn’t going to encourage her mom for the time being. Her mother was already far too invested in her happiness, and she didn’t want to get her hopes up … too much.

  Still, Kerry was brimming with anticipation. “Daughter, I know men like Nick. He can act the bohemian scholar all he wants, but I know deep down he is the marrying kind. He wants to settle down and have many children, so there is no more time to waste.”

  “Mom, just stop!”

  “Besides, how many nights a week do you already spend at his place? I’m shocked you two haven’t moved in together yet.”

  “You’re the only Chinese mom I know who’s actually encouraging her daughter to shack up with a guy.” Rachel laughed.

  “I’m the only Chinese mother with an unmarried daughter who’s almost thirty! Do you know all the inquiries I get almost every day? I’m getting tired of defending you. Why, even yesterday, I ran into Min Chung at Peet’s Coffee. ‘I know you wanted your daughter to get her career established first, but isn’t it time that girl got married?’ she asked. You know her daughter Jessica is engaged to the number-seven guy at Facebook, right?”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know the whole story. Instead of an engagement ring, he endowed a scholarship in her name at Stanford,” Rachel said in a bored tone.

  “And she’s nowhere as pretty as you,” Kerry said indignantly. “All your uncles and aunties gave up on you a long time ago, but I always knew you were waiting for the right one. Of course, you had to choose a professor just like yourself. At least your children will get a discount on tuition—that’s the only way the two of you can afford to put them through college.”

  “Speaking of uncles and aunties, promise me you won’t go telling everyone right away. Please?” Rachel pleaded.

  “Hiyah! Okay, okay. I know you are always so cautious, and you don’t want to be disappointed, but I just know in my heart what’s going to happen,” her mother said merrily.

  “Well, until something happens, there’s no point making a big deal out of it,”
Rachel insisted.

  “So where will you be staying in Singapore?”

  “At his parents’ place, I guess.”

  “Do they live in a house or an apartment?” Kerry asked.

  “I have no idea.”

  “You must find out these things!”

  “Why does it matter? Are you going to try to sell them a house in Singapore?”

  “I’ll tell you why it matters—do you know what the sleeping arrangements will be?”

  “Sleeping arrangements? What are you talking about, Mom?”

  “Hiyah, do you know if you will be in a guest bedroom or sharing a bed with him?”

  “It never occurred to me—”

  “Daughter, that is the most important thing. You mustn’t assume that Nick’s parents are going to be as liberal-minded as I am. You are going to Singapore, and those Chinese Singaporeans are the most uptight of all the Chinese, you know! I don’t want his parents to think I didn’t raise you properly.”

  Rachel sighed. She knew her mother meant well, but as usual she had managed to stress her out about details Rachel never would have imagined.

  “Now, we must plan what you will bring as a present for Nick’s parents,” Kerry continued eagerly. “Find out what Nick’s father likes to drink. Scotch? Vodka? Whiskey? I have so many spare bottles of Johnny Walker Red left over from the office Christmas party, I can send you one.”

  “Mom, I’m not going to cart over a bottle of booze that they can get there. Let me think of the perfect present to bring them from America.”

  “Oh, I know just the thing for Nick’s mother! You should go to Macy’s and buy her one of those pretty gold powder compacts from Esteé Lauder. They are having a special offer right now, and it comes with a free gift—an expensive-looking leather pouch with lipstick and perfume and eye-cream samples. Trust me, every Asian woman loves those free gifts—”