by Mingmei Yip
I felt my blood boil inside my arteries, but I was not going to let a mere shadow ruin me. I decided I would upstage her by showing off my combined, ultimate skill of singing and contorting. The tune was already slipping from my mouth.
The clouds disperse, and the moon shines.
Tonight is for reunions.
In the pond, a pair of Mandarin ducks frolic.
The lotus flowers bloom,
Always in pairs …
The world is full of love and tender sentiments …
As the notes continued to spill from my throat, my body and limbs began to twist. Now and then my Chinese dress would slide up to offer a glimpse of my underwear. I was sure the audience, especially Lung, his son, Gao and even Zhu were all turned on by my perverse act. One time my head was resting between the valley of my legs, another time my head was on the floor with my legs above, and yet another time my body was twisted into an S shape like a mischievous snake.
The audience looked shocked by this perplexing, surrealistic spectacle. Their jaws dropped, eyes widened, and mouths gaped, emitting no words, only gasps. As the surprise subsided, the applause began.
I saw that Jinying had his head lowered, only occasionally lifting it to peek. He must be too embarrassed or too titillated to see his innocent dream woman displaying herself like this. But I didn’t care. My fame and presence, which I’d taken years to build, was not going to be eclipsed by a mere shadow.
The evening finally ended, and we were waiting outside the restaurant for our cars.
Lung said to Zhu and his son, ‘Why don’t you two leave first? Gao will drive Camilla and me back to my place.’
This took me a bit by surprise. Lung rarely let me travel in the same car alone with him but perhaps now gave me this honour because my status had been elevated to that of lucky star. Jinying cast me a resentful look, then crawled into a waiting car with Zhu, not saying goodbye to either his father or me.
Inside Lung’s car, as usual, Gao peeked at me from the rearview mirror, but this time his stare, like his boss’s son’s, had an element of sadness and anger.
The moment Lung and I stepped into his house, he dismissed Gao. To my surprise, he even forgot to ask the bodyguard to search me. But it didn’t matter, because I didn’t carry any weapon, nor could I use his phone to call my boss to send assassins. Besides, Gao and his men would be on duty all night as usual.
Once we were inside his bedroom, Lung tore off my clothes, then went to sit on the bed. He poured himself a brandy as he studied me like a teenage boy ogling a prostitute for the first time.
‘Camilla, don’t you know you’re a woman full of surprises? I like that!’ He was already drunk from the banquet, but now he took another big gulp of the liquor. ‘How come you didn’t let me know about your contortionist skill, huh, you little fox spirit?’ He molested my whole body with his fuzzy eyes. ‘All right, now give me a private performance. You know what I want.’
So I began to perform again, adding some new twists. This time the only difference was that there was not a single stitch on my body. Then, when my head was on the floor and the valley between my legs above, Lung approached me, flung off his bathrobe, and came into me as if entering his bathroom to answer nature’s call …
11
The Bund and the Amusement Park
Early the next morning, still feeling stung by Shadow’s tricks and Lung’s perversity, I headed straight to the Bund. Whenever I went there, I never put on make-up. Instead, I wore big sunglasses to hide most of my face and tied my hair into two pigtails so I would look like a student.
Today, as usual, I stood behind the winged-goddess statue facing the river. This daily ritual of meditating on the river had become the only real comfort in my solitary, fearful life. As I watched the waves, Confucius’s saying again emerged in my mind. ‘The river flows on endlessly day and night …’ Though having lived only nineteen years in this world, I understood perfectly what the sage meant: life moves on, no matter what we do. Indifferent to my schemes, my ups and my downs, whether I live or die, the river flows on. One day all of us will be dust scattering in the thin air above its ripples.
Feeling the yin power of the water enveloping me, I imagined I could remember being inside my mother’s womb, the mother I had never known in this dusty world.
A wave captured a ray of sunlight, giving out a hopeful sparkle as I contemplated my big question: who was this woman? She had given me life, but a dreadful one. Did she and my father really die in a car accident as Big Brother Wang had told me? I imagined that he was a rich village chief’s son, and she a poor farmer’s daughter. But then I would think, maybe my father was a gangster like Wang and my mother his mistress? And he’d killed her because she knew too much about his secrets, then left me at the orphanage’s door as a worthless girl …
Or had my mother abandoned me? If yes, was there a poignant story behind? Did she have me because she was really in love with my father, or was I just a moment’s impulse? I sighed. I needed to set aside these meanderings to stay focussed on my mission, not waste time feeling sorry for myself. So I imagined these worries floating away on the flowing river. But one returned: even if I was able to carry out my mission, after that, what would I do next? Would Big Brother Wang take me as his concubine, or kill me?
I had no answer, so I resumed practising my singing, beginning with ‘It’s Rare We Can Be Together.’
Can there be a time we will meet each other?
On the path of love, there will be wind and rain,
Let them keep you company.
There will be laughter and tears,
Let them be part of you …
Absorbed in my singing, I suddenly felt a hand warming my shoulder. I turned and found a tender, heartbreaking face. For no reason, I felt an urge to smooth its knotted brow.
‘Camilla,’ Jinying said, wiping my face with a handkerchief. It was then that I realised my eyes had been raining tears.
But that was not possible. I could not allow myself this.
Just as I was about to say something, my mouth was sealed by his.
When the young master finally released me, he said, stroking my face, ‘Camilla, please tell me why you were crying.’
I tried to put on a false smile, which I hoped would look as genuine as the pain I was really feeling. ‘Don’t worry, Jinying, everything is fine. I’m very happy.’
‘How can you be?’
‘What makes you think I’m not?’
‘Because you’re with my father. Anyone around him is cursed.’
‘How can you say that? You’re his son.’
‘Then I am the most cursed.’
‘But he brings everyone lots of money and …’ I trailed off. My voice now sounded not heavenly but dejected.
‘Camilla.’ The young master looked hard at me with his penetrating eyes. ‘Please don’t say things to me that you don’t mean.’
I hardened my heart. ‘Young Master, what makes you think you know who I am? Please stop following me here!’
He didn’t respond but took my hand and led me towards the street.
A few passers-by cast us curious glances.
‘What are you doing?’
He hailed a tricycle-rickshaw. ‘Relax, Camilla, and let me take you to a place where you can be yourself. This time I won’t take no for an answer.’
‘But your father …’
‘Forget my father for now. Let me bring you a taste of happiness, won’t you?’
Actually, I had no idea what real happiness felt like.
Or did I? Because the little space under the rickshaw cover suddenly seemed like a bit of heaven on earth. I was not looking at Jinying, but my hand was tightly held in his as we idly observed the bustling traffic. Bicycles, tricycles, rickshaws, cars, trams, double-decker buses, people on foot, all rushing to their various destinations. People of all sorts. A young woman held a child by one hand, and in the other hand was a bamboo basket filled with food wrapped
in newspapers and tied with sea reeds. An open-air street stall was filled with workers munching scallion pancakes and gulping down bowls of steaming congee. Inside the park, people relaxed on benches, reading newspapers or staring at the river. Among them, two well-dressed white women were chattering intensely with matching hand gestures. In front of the post office, grey-uniformed letter carriers leaned on their bicycles, ready to set out.
When our rickshaw was passing a big signboard, its English words caught my eye: Where friends meet … But when I looked closer, it was an ad for cigarettes. I sighed.
Finally the rickshaw pulled to a stop in front of a huge walled compound.
I turned to my ‘kidnapper.’ ‘Jinying, where are we?’
He smiled mischievously. ‘I’m sure you’ve never been here before. We’re between Astoria Road and Mintiniyin Road. This is the famous Big World Amusement Park.’
Of course I’d heard about this most popular entertainment centre in Shanghai, but I’d never had the chance to come here. Waiting while Jinying went to the counter to get tickets, I read the huge signboard next to its entrance.
Welcome to Shanghai Big World Amusement Park, the first modern amusement centre in Shanghai, built in 1917. We have more than thirty attractions: restaurants, shops, concert halls, movie theatres, opera houses, bowling alleys, a skating rink and a circus. All day you will be thrilled by our dancers, singers, musicians, gymnasts, figure skaters and magicians. Here, it’s festival and carnival every day!
Just as I finished reading, Jinying came back, grinning and waving two tickets in his hand. ‘Let’s go.’
‘Jinying, this place is for kids!’ I pointed to the many children holding toys or licking candy as they skipped around under their parents’ proud eyes.
He winked. ‘At nineteen, aren’t you still a child yourself?’
I protested, playfully hitting his shoulder. ‘Look at me. Do I look like a child?’
‘But can’t we go back to our childhoods just for a little while?’
I bit my lip hard so I wouldn’t burst into tears. I would not want to go back to my childhood for even one minute. Unlike the children here, I had never had proud parents, nor toys, nor candies! Perversely, sometimes I even wished that Lung were my father, so he would love me the way he loved his son.
Probably sensing my mood, Lung’s son wrapped his arm around my shoulders and said very gently, ‘Please, Camilla, if you’re suffering, let me know, and I will make you happy again.’
‘Young Master, with your privileged life, I don’t think you know what suffering is.’
He sighed, shaking his head. ‘Camilla, don’t you see I’m a prisoner of my father’s power, even his love? That’s why I tried to be a student in America as long as I could.’
‘Then why did you come back?’
‘My father told me he was sick. And I was worried about my mother.’
‘Your mother?’
‘It’s a long, sad story. My mother scolded my father all the time. Then one day she was gone, and he told me that he’d had to send her to a mental institution. Even now I have no idea if this was the only way my father could shut her up permanently or if she was really crazy. Or maybe she just feigned madness so she could get away from him.’ He shook his head, looking very sad. ‘I was never allowed to see her.’
What a coincidence. I’d told Shadow at the Chocolate Shop that my mother was in a mental institution. Maybe in a strange way the young master and I did have something in common.
‘Not even now?’
‘When I got back, my father told me she had died when I was in America.’
‘Oh, how terrible for you!’
‘He said he didn’t tell me because he didn’t want to interrupt my studies. Sometimes I suspect she may be still alive, but I have no way to find out. Or maybe she has been dead for a long time.’
‘Did he ever take you to visit her grave?’
‘No. He said she was cremated and her ashes scattered into the Huangpu River.’
Despite my curiosity, I willed myself to stop asking more questions. I feared I’d feel so sorry for him that I’d end up showing my feelings.
Seeing that I didn’t respond, Jinying said, ‘So let’s forget about all this and have some fun, okay?’
I nodded. He took my hand, and we began to walk. Maybe because it was Monday and most people had to work, the park was far from being packed. Mostly there were young couples and families with children, all looking happy and relaxed under the warm, soothing sun.
What a beautiful life, only it wasn’t really mine.
Jinying led us past the movie theatre, the opera stage, the shooting gallery and the skating rink. Then we stopped in front of the carousel. A dreamy tune spilled from the merry-go-round to envelop the air in bittersweet nostalgia. On the colourful wooden horses sat little brave riders, laughing and waving. Parents were busy smiling, taking pictures and waving back as their little ones swirled by. On other horses, babies and toddlers were held tightly on their parents’ laps, some chuckling, some fussing, yet others looked completely oblivious of their good luck.
As a little girl on a wooden horse swung past us, a young woman, probably her mother, reached to hand her a candy. The girl shrieked with happiness. Surrounded by these elated faces and the cheery tunes, instead of happiness, I felt a tremendous sadness lodge in my heart, unwilling to leave. To my frustration, my tears ignored my training and found their way to freedom. But since I was with Jinying, I decided I might as well indulge my true feelings for once. But just this once. He was not going to hurt me or tell anyone about my loss of control, was he?
The music and the revolving platform came to a stop.
Jinying pulled me close to him as a sigh escaped from his mouth. ‘Camilla, you can trust me.’
I shuddered inside. If he only knew where I was coming from, what I’d been trained to do and what I was really going to do!
I didn’t respond, couldn’t.
‘Come ride the horses with me,’ he said, then dashed away to get tickets.
In no time he rushed back, and before I could say anything, he dragged me onto the round platform and lifted me up onto a pink horse. After that, he hopped on behind me, grabbing my waist. Soon the carousel began to revolve as another dreamy tune spilled out. Around us were mostly children, some riding alone, the smaller ones held by their parents. The one next to us was a small boy of four or five riding by himself.
He was dressed all in yellow, his outfit a perfect match to his yellow horse with its green saddle. He looked so cute and serious, as if he were riding a real horse.
I asked, ‘Little friend, what’s your name?’
To my surprise, not only did he not answer me, but he cast me a suspicious look and turned away. Could I blame him? I’d been trained to be suspicious my whole life! At least he could be honest, instead of having to feign friendliness like I did.
As we sailed past a young couple on the ground, they waved to the little boy, and he shrieked with happiness, yelling, ‘Baba! Mama!’
The man cheerfully waved to his son, yelling, ‘Baobao, hold tight!’
The nostalgic atmosphere, the happy children and their doting parents jolted something in me, as if I had a vague memory of riding a carousel like this when I was very little …
Sometimes I would dream of outings with my parents, but whenever I woke up, no matter how clear their images had been, I couldn’t recall how they actually looked in real life. No matter how hard I tried to fix their images in my mind, they faded just as I awoke. Eventually I gave up. What good would it do me to remember how they looked? I would never see them in this world.
Just then Jinying’s voice startled me. ‘Camilla, I hope you’re enjoying this.’
Damn it. His interruption cut off the faint memory.
I snapped, ‘Yes, until you interrupted!’
‘I’m sorry, Camilla. I just want you to enjoy yourself.’
‘I was happy at least once in the past.’
Despite my outburst, he rested his head on mine. ‘Then can’t you give me a chance to make you happy now?’
Just then the music stopped, and we all began to descend from the horses. Some children were scooped up by their parents; others plunged into their embrace.
The yellow-attired boy, now being lifted to sit on his father’s shoulders, turned to me and made a face.
His mother spotted this and scolded him gently. ‘Baobao, don’t act rude to the nice lady. Can you say sorry?’
To my surprise, the little boy suddenly smiled sunnily and blew me an air kiss just like the one he’d sent to his parents.
Jinying’s tenor voice rose next to my ear. ‘Camilla, wouldn’t it be lovely if we had a boy like that someday? And that we loved him with all our heart and soul?’
‘Sure,’ I snapped again, at Jinying and also at my own secret sentimentality.
The little boy and his parents waved to us and walked away towards the ice cream stand.
Seemingly oblivious of, or deliberately ignoring, my rudeness, Jinying took my hand and kissed it. ‘Camilla, let’s go to my place.’
‘Okay,’ I said, surprising myself. My reasoning self argued that this might actually be a good thing; maybe I could find out something important about Lung from his son.
I liked Jinying’s apartment immediately. The furniture – a plain sofa, wooden coffee table, redwood dining table and matching chairs – was clean and simple. The walls were lined with bookcases overflowing with books, music scores and decorative objects. Serene landscape paintings opened unexpected vistas through the white walls. Small busts of musicians and composers graced his upright piano and windowsills.
The young master smiled, then led me to sit on the sofa. After that, he went to put a 78 on his gramophone. What flowed out from the disk was me singing ‘A Wandering Songstress.’ As I was about to say something, he disappeared into the kitchen. Soon he reappeared with two glasses and a bottle of red wine. He sat down by me, filled the two glasses and handed me one.
‘To our meeting!’ He tapped my glass with his, emitting a pleasant clink.
