The Nine Fold Heaven

by Mingmei Yip

  In a moment he was lying on top of me, kissing and caressing me, as if fearing this would be our last moment together. In response, I sank my teeth into his shoulder as my nails dug into his back.

  When at last we were spent, I lay next to him, suddenly feeling terrified that we would be separated again. We mortals can never know what heaven has in store for us. But I pushed these worries from my mind and instead just let myself feel his warmth beside me.

  After a long time, Jinying said, “Oh, Camilla, I thought I’d never see you again….”

  “Of course I came back for you.”

  “You saved my life and I love you. Tell me everything.”

  I started to, but he had already drifted into sleep.

  I took a big envelope from my purse, tiptoed out of our room, closed the door softly, and went to knock on Shadow’s door.

  I said in a heated whisper, “Shadow, it’s me, please let me in.”

  The door was opened and the aroma of alcohol meandered to my nostrils. I closed the door behind us and followed her inside. She plopped on the bed, and I pulled a chair to sit across from her.

  “What more do you want after you took me through hell?”

  “I know you’re still angry at me, Shadow, but”—I put the manila envelope next to her on the bed—“you may have been through hell, but you now have a generous reward to enjoy paradise on earth.”

  I pointed to the bulging envelope. “Shadow, this is extra I pay you to compensate for tonight’s trepidation.” I paused, then added, “And don’t forget, in a few days you’ll get more when you’re getting closer to your paradise of early retirement.”

  I didn’t wait for her response but left her behind to enjoy her bonus wealth and her pungent whiskey.

  24

  Together Again

  The next morning, I awakened with Jinying’s arms around me. After another round of lovemaking, we ordered breakfast and sat in bed talking. We were both eager to learn what had happened to the other. If anything, he was even more eager than I, so I went first.

  I told him about my escape to Hong Kong, my unexpected meeting with Shadow, and her terrible accident. Of course, I had to leave out much: how Gao helped me after the shoot out at Master Lung’s secret villa, how I saved him from execution, my meetings with Edward Miller. Most important, I did not mention the likelihood that our son Jinjin was still alive somewhere. Though I knew that Jinying would be elated at this news, I could not bear to raise his hopes until I was certain.

  Then I asked him to tell me about his struggles. He had gone to Hong Kong to find me, just as Rainbow had said in her column. Of course he accomplished nothing there. He realized, as I did, that putting an ad in the paper was a bad idea, so he hired a private detective instead. But weeks had passed with no news about me. Finally, he realized that the “detective” was fake and was doing nothing except take his money.

  Soon Jinying found a more reputable one, but he declined to take on the assignment because there was not enough information for him to go on. Sadly, we’d never even had a picture taken together. Jinying had some cutout photos of me from newspapers and magazines, but they were not sharp enough for me to be clearly recognized.

  Finally, feeling hopeless and running low on money, Jinying became discouraged and returned to Shanghai. He’d gone to see Madame Butterfly to try to relive our time together in Paris, when we had watched the same opera together. But as he was leaving the opera house, Wang’s men abducted him.

  When he finished, I asked, “Jinying, did they torture you?”

  “No, but they starved me. The meals were rotten vegetables over equally rotten rice. Sometimes they didn’t bring me food at all, but what they called soup served with a few drowned cockroaches. And the water I had to drink was what my father called ‘foot-washing’ water.”

  “How horrible. I’m so sorry, Jinying.” Then another question came to my mind. “Why do you think they didn’t torture you?”

  “The only reason I can think of was they feared they might end up killing me and then I’d be no use to them. By starving me, I wouldn’t have any energy left to escape.”

  “Have you heard anything about your father? Do you think he’s still alive?”

  He shook his head. “Unfortunately, nothing. I do fear that he’s dead. But then sometimes I think he may still be alive. For as Rainbow wrote, if he’s dead, then where’s the body?”

  Jinying paused, then spoke again. “Camilla, I did think of suicide once.”

  “Please, Jinying…”

  I didn’t know what more to say. A few months ago I’d attempted suicide myself—jumping into the Seine when Master Lung and his entourage were in Paris. I was still on earth only because Jinying had jumped into the cold water, to save me. We’d been watching Madame Butterfly together—it was her suicide on stage that had triggered my sudden despair. I wondered, what had triggered the same hopeless feeling in Jinying?

  He went on. “I lost my father, you, and our baby. Eventually, Wang would have me killed in the most painful way possible, so I thought I’d get it over with painlessly.”

  I stroked his sunken cheek, not knowing what to say.

  “But I didn’t because I still hoped we would be together again somehow. Or, if we never found each other, I’d go back to the US, hoping to leave behind all my bad luck and sad memories. I would try to sustain myself with my only good memories—those of our times together.”

  I slid a finger across his lips. “Jinying, we’re together now.” “Camilla, you know what I feared the most? That we would one day just rub past each other, but then lose each other in the crowd.”

  We remained silent, imagining this sad possibility.

  Then I suddenly realized Jinying must be ravenously hungry after so many weeks of bad food, so I opened the steamer tray, took out some leftover buns, then poured tea from the hotel thermos.

  “Jinying, you must be starving. Have these now. We’ll soon have a big meal, shark fin soup, roast pig, juicy little buns…

  I felt happy seeing him hungrily swallowing the buns and felt a warm wave of love.

  When he finished, I said, “Jinying…”

  “Yes?”

  “I love you.”

  He sighed, pulling me to him, and kissed me. “We’re really back together, aren’t we?”

  Then a worried look spread over his gaunt face. “Camilla, I think we had better leave for Hong Kong on the next ship. Wang is going to be looking for us.”

  “But, Jinying, there’s something else I haven’t told you yet.”

  “What is it? Something bad?” A look of apprehension spread over his face.

  “No, actually it’s good. I’m pretty sure that our son, Jinjin, is alive.”

  His eyes became as round as two jumbo marbles. “That’s impossible!”

  “No, a miracle.”

  He leaped from the bed and strode around the room. “Our Jinjin is alive and we’ll soon be a happy family! You’re sure we’re not dreaming?”

  I went on to tell Jinying how Madame Lewinsky discovered she had cancer and would die soon. She entered the Sacred Heart Convent to spend her last days atoning for what she had done and let the nuns arrange for our baby to be adopted.

  Jinying came back to sit on the bed beside me, sighing. “But, Camilla, even if Jinjin is alive, how will we ever find him?”

  “That’s what I’ve been worrying about. But I have determined I will not leave Shanghai until I have little Jinjin safely in my arms.”

  Jinying looked alternately happy and sad. “Did they tell you who adopted Jinjin?”

  “No, the abbess Sister Mary Stone said it’s confidential. I can understand that, because there’s no way I can prove I am really Jinjin’s mother.”

  We fell silent for a few moments; then I suddenly thought of something. “Jinying, why did you put up the poster asking for Jinjin on the orphanage’s wall?”

  “You told me that Jinjin was a stillborn, but somehow in my desperation I kep
t thinking that maybe he’s alive somewhere. And if he is, he’d either be adopted or living inside an orphanage. That’s why I went there to look, but, of course, I couldn’t tell if any of the babies were ours. So I posted the flyer as my last hope—and to vent my anger and sadness. Camilla, do you have any idea where our baby might be?”

  “Not now, but somehow we’ll find out.”

  I searched Jinying’s sad face. “Jinying, there’s still… one more thing.”

  His expression told me that he feared that this time it would really be something bad.

  “Besides finding Jinjin, I need to settle a score with Wang.”

  “What score? I think you already did. Besides, we’re lucky we escaped unhurt. Why don’t we just forget about the past and leave Shanghai as soon as we can?”

  “But I can’t.”

  “Please, Camilla, forget about revenge. Yes, he abused and used you, but he also made you the most famous singer in Shanghai.”

  “Jinying, my parents didn’t die in a car crash as Wang told me. He murdered them.”

  Then I told Jinying it was Jinjin who came into my dream to tell me that. When I woke up, the whole image of my parents being murdered by Wang came back clearly into my mind.

  Jinying looked so shocked that I didn’t have the heart to tell him about my plan for revenge. Not tonight.

  Just as I was feeling hope seep back into my life now that I had Jinying back, I noticed a strange ad placed in several newspapers.

  Finding a Person

  Young man, your father is still here with us. Come and claim him. Otherwise, we cannot guarantee his future. Call the number below to arrange a meeting.

  I would not have paid any attention to the Missing Persons ads that ran in the newspapers every day—a husband looking for a runaway wife, a devoted wife for a gone-with-a-mistress husband, siblings separated for decades, parents of abducted children—except for the slight chance that someone would have placed an ad about a baby who might be Jinjin.

  Otherwise, I would never have seen this ad, but when my eyes landed on it, my heart skipped a beat. Although it was signed “Anonymous,” it seemed pretty obvious that this was Big Brother Wang threatening Jinying and me.

  Jinying was busy packing since we needed to be ready to change to a different hotel in case we were discovered here. I called Jinying over and showed him the ad.

  He immediately exclaimed, “They must have my father! We have to rescue him somehow.” Then he thought for a moment and went on. “Camilla, do you think Wang really has him, or is this just a trick to set us up?” Then, even more agitated, he added, “We need to do something.”

  “The problem is, Jinying, we can’t tell if they really have him or not. So I think I should first call to feel things out.”

  “But wait a minute. That’s something odd going on here. Wang said that he kidnapped me to lure my father out from his hiding place. So why would he say this if he already had my father?”

  I thought hard until a light went off in my head. “I know why! It’s me and the money that Wang wants, not just your father!”

  “But didn’t he get everything that night?”

  “Yes, but I’d already taken most of the cash and deposited it in Hong Kong. And I have your father’s seal; without that, Wang won’t be able to get his hands on the money.”

  Jinying thought for a long time. “I have to try to save him, if he’s really alive. I don’t approve of my father, but what kind of man would I be if I abandon him?”

  Of course, after being Lung’s forced mistress, I had little good feeling toward the man and would be quite content leaving him to Wang’s mercy—or lack of it. All that mattered to me was finding Jinjin. But I needed Jinying’s help for this and, since Lung was his father, I could not really expect him to be an unfilial son. So I thought the best way to resume looking for my baby was to deal with the Lung situation as quickly as possible.

  We were getting restless, confined in our hotel room. Jinying wanted to go out, but we were both afraid of being spotted by Wang’s men. Then I thought of the Russian café where I had gone in search of Madame Lewinsky—Chinese hardly ever went there. So we finished dressing and set out, trying to blend in with other pedestrians. Jinying had never been there and seemed to relax for a moment as he looked around at the opulent foreign décor. Tea was brought to us immediately. Neither of us was very hungry, so we ordered a plate of pickled fish and thick, dark Russian bread.

  After a few bites, we plunged into drumming up plans to save Lung, trying to figure out which might succeed without getting us killed.

  Suddenly I remembered Wang’s sixtieth birthday was coming up in two weeks. This would be the excellent chance to meet my boss for the exchange because he would never dare to take on the bad luck of killing someone on his own birthday.

  The Chinese word for “birthday” is shengri. Because this also means to live, thrive, or prosper, no Chinese would risk reversing these auspicious words by even saying a word like mousha, “murder,” on his birthday, let alone committing it. To do so would bring curses not only on him, but also on his wives, children, relatives, and friends during their birthdays.

  For us these superstitions might be very lucky, since Wang would have to restrain his murderous impulses. I never paid much attention to superstitions but could never have imagined that one day the Chinese superstitious nature would provide me a lucky day for revenge. Or so I hoped.

  The next step was the phone call. We took a taxi to Nanking Road, a district that was always so busy and crowded that we could easily merge with the others. When we spotted the first public telephone that was not on a main intersection, we settled with the driver, got off, then went in and paid the attendant for the call.

  As expected, a gruff male voice answered, then seconds after I identified myself, Wang’s menacing voice snaked its evil way through the telephone line to my eardrum.

  “Huh! I knew you’d call right away. You love the son as much as he loves his father, eh?”

  “Sons love their fathers.”

  “Hell, no, you don’t.”

  “Only because I don’t have one.”

  But this was not the time for me to reveal that I knew he had murdered my parents. I had plans for him, when the right time came, but not now.

  “You were a worthless orphan in a worthless orphanage before I found you and made you into the most famous singer in Shanghai, spoiling you with all kinds of luxuries. You already forget about that?”

  “Yes, but only to make me sleep with your enemy so you could kill him.”

  “Camilla, you think you’re smart, but it’s only because of me. Besides, I’ve let you live, and your stupid fucking man, and his motherfucking father too.”

  But only because so far he hadn’t succeeded in killing us.

  He chuckled. “So now you’re in love! Ha, ha, ha! The one thing I told you never to do because it could get you killed. You’re a total loser!”

  I said sarcastically, “Ha, Big Brother Wang, have you never realized that if I am a loser, so are you, because you taught me?”

  Never before could I have dared to disagree with my boss, let alone talk back and throw out insults. I’d forced myself to be like a parrot—repeating his orders.

  He ignored my sarcasm. “Ha, heaven is now on my side, eh? Because you failed to kill Lung, now if you want him back, you have to give me back all the money.”

  Then his anger flared and his voice rose up like a plane taking off. “All right, enough of this nonsense, Camilla. Where is the seal you stole from Lung’s safe?”

  Did he really imagine I would be so stupid as to give him Lung’s seal? That little lump of rock was my lifeline, my pension, my path to turn my impossible dreams into possible ones.

  Obviously, Wang had figured out my deception; I had given him the papers but not the chop to verify he was the account holder. I smiled to myself when I imagined his expression when he had gone to the bank and been refused the money. Of course, what
infuriated him was not so much the loss of the money as the loss of face. He still got a fortune in gold bars, because when I had opened Lung’s safe I had taken mainly what was on paper—money and bank statements. I would have taken the gold, too, but I could only carry a few and so had to leave the rest. Wang just couldn’t bear the fact that he couldn’t have everything he’d been scheming for years to steal.

  I was very tempted to say that I didn’t have the seal just to spite him; but then if he did have Lung, he’d go ahead and kill him.

  So I said, “I have the seal in a safe place.”

  “Damn you, you cunning little cunt! All right, tell Lung’s son if he wants his father back, you give me the seal and I’ll hand over your worthless man’s even more worthless father!”

  I put on a little girl’s voice. “But, Big Brother Wang, how can I trust you again after our previous meeting?”

  “Ha! But you don’t have a choice!”

  Maybe. I could let Lung die without shedding any tears. But then Jinying would never forgive me and I might lose him. I definitely didn’t want my little Jinjin to grow up fatherless. Or to be alone myself.

  So I pretended to agree. “Then we can meet at your upcoming sixtieth birthday party. You must be having a huge celebration with lots of politicians, businessmen, and celebrities. So also invite me and Jinying—”

  “Hmm… Camilla, you still remember my birthday?”

  “Of course, Big Brother Wang, after all you have done for me!”

  This was pretty obvious flattery, but I knew vanity was his greatest weakness.

  I went on. “You’ll have Master Lung sit at your table with his back to the room. Just get him dark glasses and a fake beard. If anyone asks, tell them he’s your uncle from the country or something. The young master and I will come up to your table. If we verify it is Lung, I’ll give you the seal and he comes with us. How’s that?”

  I was sure Wang did not want us at his birthday party, but he wanted the seal more. So he agreed.

  “All right, give me your address so I can send you an invitation.”