The First Excellence: Fa-Ling's Map

by Donna Carrick

“OK. The bus is ready. Everyone please follow me.”

  “Have fun, folks,” Fa-ling said, waving at the couples.

  “What now?” Yong-qi said, moving closer to her.

  “Now, my friend, you show me the city, or at least the immediate neighbourhood.”

  “I was hoping you would play some music for me,” Yong-qi said.

  “Detective, were you listening outside of my door the other day?”

  “Only for a moment.”

  “At least you’re honest. I missed my exercise this morning. Let’s take a walk. Then, if you’re really in love with punishment, I’ll break out my clarinet.”

  “I promise to be completely enthralled,” he said.

  “First a walk,” she said. “I need gifts for my family before we leave Nanning tomorrow.”

  “Brothers? Sisters? Parents?”

  “Mom, Dad and one sister. She’s eighteen.”

  Yong-qi paused. Fa-ling stopped and turned toward him.

  “What’s wrong?” she said.

  What’s wrong? he thought. Fa-ling had a sister who was only eighteen. How old was she, he wondered. Was she even old enough to know where he was trying to lead her?

  He almost walked away from her. When she met his eyes, though, he knew she was old enough, and she wanted exactly what he wanted.

  “Nothing’s wrong,” he said. “Let’s go get those gifts.

  “Lead on, McDuff.”

  They walked past the apothecaries and pastry shops. He took her hand, and she thrilled at his touch.

  They took their time, having the whole day ahead of them. He led her up and down twisted avenues, in and out of every manner of local retail outlet.

  “Let’s try down this street,” Yong-qi said. They turned onto a dusty little avenue that hardly looked like a hot spot for tourists. The stores were more like garages, with some of the doors closed and others rolled up to expose their wares.

  They entered a handful of stores, finding nothing of interest in the rows of t-shirts and colourful hats. On the far side of the street, Fa-ling saw a ramshackle structure that was noteworthy only because it had been painted a strange and beautiful shade of blue. Its front door was lifted to reveal shelves lined with tatty looking cardboard boxes, and there were ornaments of some kind lined up in rows on top of the boxes.

  “What kind of store is that?” Fa-ling asked.

  “Let’s have a look.”

  They crossed the street. As they approached, Fa-ling’s eyes opened wide. She recognised the traditional hand-painted pottery, teacups and pots, from a collection her parents had brought home on their last visit to Nanning. Of course, the patterns and colours were not the same, but these were in a similar style, their dragons, pagodas and ancient beauties each telling a story of China’s mysterious past.

  “I have to get these,” Fa-ling said, “but how will I carry them home on the plane?”

  “I’m sure they will wrap them for you.”

  Just then the storekeeper entered through a black rubber curtain at the back of the store, followed by a young woman who was probably her daughter.

  “How much are these?” Fa-ling asked in Cantonese. The woman looked at her as though she didn’t understand, perhaps having difficulty with her accent, but the girl answered at once, giving Fa-ling the price of each piece.

  “That’s too much,” Yong-qi said.

  “It’s ok,” Fa-ling insisted. “The price is all right. I need three sets. Please wrap them carefully. They have to survive the flight home.” Mentally she tried to draw an image of herself on the plane with an extra carry-on bag full of breakable items. She had kept her luggage deliberately light. She would be able to manage it — but just.

  She studied the various colours and patterns, trying to remember the meaning of each symbol, dragons for strength, turtles for longevity, one ancient beauty for wisdom, one for loyalty, coins for wealth…

  She finally chose a soft grey-green set with dragon-headed turtles for her best friend, a bright red with golden male and female lions for her parents, and a rich navy blue depicting the Emperor’s Daughter standing in front of a full silver moon for Daphne. The Emperor’s Daughter was one of China’s mythological ‘ancient beauties’, each of whom bore a tale that had been woven into the country’s history.

  Fa-ling decided on the latter partly because, like the beloved but unlucky royal daughter who had been sold to the Khans in matrimony to protect her people, Fa-ling’s sister had a nature that was selfless and loyal. However, that wasn’t the only reason she was drawn to this particular image of the ancient beauty.

  There was something in the tender line of that face she couldn’t quite put her finger on, and there was something so familiar about that moon…

  The young woman pulled great wads of used paper from a box, wrapping each cup, saucer, lid and pot. Fa-ling was impressed by the efficiency of the shop girl, who double-checked each piece for cracks or chips before dusting it and packing it away.

  Their transaction complete, Fa-ling thanked the elder woman and her daughter. She and Yong-qi left the store, wandering into the next shop to look at spices and herbs.

  “I have everything I need,” Fa-ling said, “if you’d like to head back to the hotel now.”

  Yong-qi nodded. He would like that very much.

  As they passed the pottery store one more time, Fa-ling looked again at the stunning pieces. She was about to turn away when the rubber flap at the back of the store opened. Fa-ling stopped in her tracks, her jaw falling in surprise.

  There, in the store they had just left, stood Paula Kader. A young man came through the curtain behind her. She turned to him, communicating in what appeared to be a combination of poor Cantonese and hand gestures. The man was vaguely familiar, but then, Fa-ling thought wryly, they all do look alike. Before she could place where she had seen him, he disappeared once more through the flap.

  Not wanting to get caught up in a conversation with Paula, Fa-ling tugged on Yong-qi’s hand.

  “Come on,” she said. “My clarinet is waiting.”

  FIFTY-SIX

  Cheng put the phone down. He was unable to reach Wang. He’d made travel arrangements to Shanghai for both of them. He would have to hope Wang got the message in time to meet him at the airport. Master Long was in need of help.

  “Ma-ma,” he said, “I will be away until at least tomorrow, maybe longer. You have to promise me… please stay in the apartment until I get back.”

  “So now I am a prisoner?” the old woman said. She pretended to sulk, but Cheng knew she was pleased with his concern. “Very well,” she promised, “I will stay right here until my son comes home to free me.”

  “And please, keep the meditation music on low volume.”

  “When it’s too low I can’t hear it.”

  “I’ve set it to a reasonable level,” Cheng insisted. “Just leave it where I put it.”

  “May I have a bath, or might that disturb the Water Company?”

  They both laughed, and he kissed her on the forehead, near her bandage.

  “I cannot lose you,” he said.

  “Nevertheless, you will lose me one day, Minsheng. Each day I pray you will find a wife, to make your burden more bearable.”

  “So do I, Ma-ma. So do I.”

  **

  Fa-ling kicked off her shoes, preferring to keep time in bare feet. She sat on the chair near the dressing table, her knees less than two feet from Yong-qi’s where he was perched on the end of the bed.

  “It may be loud,” she said, lifting her instrument. “You should probably sit a little further from me.”

  “Probably,” he nodded, staying where he was. Yong-qi was no fool. He had the best seat in the house, and he had no intention of giving it up. He could smell her perfume, could sense the flow of air around her when she moved, and could almost feel the heat rising from her body.

  For these blessings Yong-qi would happily risk an earache.

  She launched immediately into
Fly Me To The Moon, which was not one of his favourite jazz numbers, but true to his word, he was enthralled anyway. By the time she slid into the flowing melody of a Celtic piece she appeared to have forgotten Yong-qi was there. She sat facing him, her back to the sheet music spread open on the table more out of habit than because she needed to read it. Her eyes were closed, her body at one with the instrument. With each rise and fall of the melody, her foot moved gently against the carpet.

  Just when Yong-qi had almost given up hope, thinking he had lost her to the music, the song ended. Fa-ling opened her eyes, laid the clarinet on the table, and reached for his hands.

  He was almost afraid to touch her, so great was the current of energy between them. They stood inches apart, her hands not quite resting on his and making only the slightest contact. Unable to resist, she moved her face against his chest and inhaled, drawing his essence into her body. She was surprised at how good he smelled, clean and masculine, with a hint of cologne.

  He struggled against his urgency, wanting to draw out his desire. After all, this would probably be their first and last time together.

  When she turned her face upward and pressed her mouth against his he lost all resolve. His hands took over, pulling at her clothes and at his own.

  He had an instant of doubt, when his conscience whispered maybe this was wrong, maybe she was too young…

  “Are you sure about this?” he whispered.

  “Uh huh,” she said, kissing him again.

  That’s good enough for me, he thought, almost tearing his t-shirt in his hurry to remove it.

  When he finally had her naked she turned from him. He was afraid she had changed her mind, until he saw she was now facing the dressing table and the mirror…

  He studied her like that for a moment, from both angles at once. Was so much beauty even possible? He knew it wasn’t just physical appearance, although Fa-ling was one of the most attractive women he had ever met. Yong-qi realised what drew him most irresistibly was her mind, an undercurrent of intelligence, a sorrow that never really left her eyes even when she was smiling, the goodness that reached out from her chi…

  Not to mention her other more tangible assets. He moved behind her, watching his hands in the mirror as they found her breasts. She tugged her long hair to one side and he kissed her neck, pressing his body against her backside.

  “Oh,” she said, feeling his length on her skin. That was the last thing she said for awhile.

  Afterwards she lay next to him, thinking how different it was with a man like Yong-qi, how exciting to sense his confidence and his need. He kept one arm around her, not wanting to move, in case they would have to admit the afternoon was over.

  “What time do you leave for Beijing?” he asked.

  “We are supposed to have our luggage ready by 7:30 tomorrow morning.”

  “So this is it.” He didn’t mean to sound peevish. It was childish to complain over what they both knew to be inevitable.

  “We still have a few hours before the others get back.”

  “What if I come to Beijing? We can spend the week together. I’ve got vacation anyway. Would you like that?”

  “I’d love that,” she said, licking the full part of his bottom lip.

  He hardened again almost immediately. Unfortunately, the phone rang. He groaned.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I have to answer it. I’m expecting a call from my sister.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll wait.”

  “Hello,” she said.

  “Fa-ling, why are you in your room?” Daphne said. “I thought you’d be out with the group. I was planning to leave a message.”

  Fa-ling looked at the clock. It was noon, midnight in Toronto.

  “What’s up?”

  “Are you busy?”

  “Just a little,” Fa-ling said, then immediately regretted it. “I can talk now.”

  “Forget it,” Daphne said, withdrawing at the first hint of rejection. “It can wait. When are you arriving in Beijing?”

  “We should get there in time for dinner tomorrow.”

  “Call me when you get settled. Don’t forget.”

  “Really, it’s ok, I can talk now.”

  “This is important. It can wait till you’re not so busy.”

  Before Fa-ling could argue, Daphne had hung up the phone. Fa-ling knew better than to call her back and wake their parents. Daphne had deliberately waited until they were asleep so she could leave a message without being overheard.

  Something was going on with her little sister, but Fa-ling could not guess what it might be.

  “Was it your sister?” Yong-qi said.

  “Yup.”

  “What did she want?”

  “Who knows? Family… sheesh!”

  “I know what you mean,” he agreed. He buried both hands in her hair and gently guided her to the place that needed her most.

  At 3:00 they realised they had not had anything to eat or drink since breakfast.

  “Do you want to go downstairs?” Fa-ling said.

  “No. We can have dinner later with the group. For now I just want to stay here.”

  “There’s some food in the mini-bar. What would you like?”

  “They’ve got noodles.” Yong-qi pulled two cups of dried noodles from the shelf on the door. “How about a beer?”

  “OK.” Fa-ling let him get the provisions. She reached into the closet and pulled on Michael’s shirt, letting it fall open over her naked skin.

  He poured hot water over the noodles and set them on the counter to soak. He reached into his jacket pocket for his cell phone, taking a moment to check his messages.

  There was one from his partner. Cheng’s voice sounded concerned, but he didn’t give any hint of the reason for his call, just asked Wang to call him as soon as possible. Yong-qi had no idea what time he had called. He dialled Cheng’s home number, but no one answered. He reached Cheng on his cell phone.

  “Hang on,” Cheng said, “I’m just going around a corner. There, that’s better.”

  “What’s so urgent?” Yong-qi asked. He flinched at the thought of his partner driving his tin can of a car on Nanning’s busy streets. Cheng was a terrible driver.

  “Why, did I catch you at a bad time?” Cheng teased. “Is Miss Li there?”

  “I’m going to hang up now,” Yong-qi said.

  “Shit, can’t a guy have any fun? Get your ass to the airport. I’ve booked a flight to Shanghai. Our new friend needs our help.”

  “What time is the flight?”

  “An hour from now. I’m almost at the terminal. I’ll pick up your boarding pass.”

  Yong-qi looked at Fa-ling, who was sitting on the dressing chair with the man’s shirt failing to cover her breasts, her hair in a tangle and one hand resting lovingly on her clarinet. Then he looked at the noodles on the counter and the beer in his hand, then back at Fa-ling.

  “I’ll be at the airport in half an hour,” he said.

  FIFTY-SEVEN

  Shopei had been uncomfortable with the plan to send an operator to the hospital. She had seen the three men outside of her family’s apartment, and their faces were fixed in her memory. She’d been too quick to allow another to risk danger in her place.

  She debated whether to leave Master Long a note detailing her plans to go to the hospital, but decided against it, instead writing only “I will be back” and laying the page on his pillow before sneaking through the bedroom window.

  **

  Paula Kader loved everything about money. She loved holding it, acquiring it, counting it. More than anything, she was in love with the rush of adrenalin she experienced every time large amounts of cash moved in or out of her hands.

  It was that passion, that thrill that drove her to become a trader in the first place. Later, when it was discovered she had been using her clients’ money to finance her own losing escapades, she was driven off the floor. She was lucky, she supposed, that no charges had been laid. Bay Street didn’t want
it made public one of their finest had been stealing hundreds of thousands of dollars from their clientele and throwing it away on various gambling ventures.

  She knew Guy would never understand. Every once in awhile when she looked in the mirror and caught a glimpse of herself as he must see her, she would shudder.

  Paula was a beautiful, intelligent shark. She lived for the rush of feeding her addiction. Without that rush she was dead. How could any man understand such a primitive motivation ― especially a man like Guy, who was so good, so honest? All he wanted was her love. She did love him, after a fashion.

  Too late, she understood love would never be enough, not for her, and not for him. The family he dreamed of was a façade. She suspected even he knew it by now. Paula was not fit to raise a child. Her latest fiasco had proven that.

  It took awhile, almost a year after she was drummed off the floor, for the urge to become unmanageable once more. For months she believed she had beaten it. When Guy’s parents bailed them out, paying the bulk of her debts so they would not lose their home or worse, she was sure she had learned her lesson. At the very least, she had lost all access to those massive amounts of money she so loved to handle.

  Even Guy had no idea of the extent of her losses. Their boss, who was a long time friend of Guy’s, had covered it up, moving money from dead accounts to take the edge off her crime. Guy had taken an additional mortgage on the house and used all of his personal savings in an attempt to regain his good name, and his parents had closed out more than fifty percent of their retirement account to pay the balance.

  Paula was devastated at the amount of damage she had caused. She knew she had all but broken Guy’s spirit when he was forced to leave the floor until the long memories of his colleagues could be dulled.

  With every passing month, her sickness grew stronger. She tried to keep busy with legitimate ventures, building a small on-line consulting firm that she ran while Guy was at work. Slowly it began to generate a respectable flow of cash into her pocket.

  One small taste of that irresistible poison was all it took. As soon as money became available to Paula, the old passion was reignited and in no time it consumed her every waking moment.