“I see.” Chung sat back in his chair. “But, what if this is a story that’s determined by your character?”
The waiter returned carrying a silver tray with their tea and a three-tier stand of finger sandwiches and cakes. Across from them came the low hum of voices.
Joan cradled her teacup and leaned forward. “Is that what you think?”
He smiled. “I’m beginning to.”
“My character is a survivor,” Joan said, selecting a cucumber sandwich from the tray. “She has learned how to pretend all her life to get what she wants, yet hates herself because she isn’t strong enough to leave a man she doesn’t love, for one that she does.” Joan bit into her sandwich.
Chung laughed. “How can you make an audience like your character?”
Joan swallowed, leaned back in her chair. “Because I’ll show them that, beyond everything, she’s ultimately honest about who she is.”
Chung smiled. “And what do you expect this movie to do for your career?” He snatched a finger sandwich from the tray and placed it entirely into his mouth.
Joan paused, not certain what she should say. She wished the twenty questions would end. “Perhaps if I’m good enough in this movie, it’ll lead to other opportunities.”
Chung glanced away from her out into the flurry of the room, then back at Joan again. “I’m sure you will be.” He smiled at her.
Now Joan was the one to look away. She drank down her tea too quickly, the hot water singeing her tongue.
After their first tea together, there had been a lunch or two, then several dinners, which led to a string of articles written about them in the Chinese movie magazines. Auntie Go was the first to notice their picture plastered on the cover of the most widely read, Chinese Movie Digest.
“Is there something you want to tell us? I picked these up on my way home from Western Wind.” Auntie Go smiled, placing two copies of the magazine on the dining room table.
Mah-mee immediately reached over and picked a magazine up, studying the photo. “He looks like an intellectual type.”
Joan laughed. “He’s the director of my next movie. We were just discussing film strategy.”
“Look, Go,” Mah-mee said, pointing at the photo. “They call it ‘film strategy’ now.”
Joan tried to laugh it off, but later stared at the photo, somehow taken during their first meeting at the Peninsula Hotel. She had to admit, it did show them in a compromising position. It looked as if they were nestled close, whispering intimately to each other. At the time, nothing could have been further from the truth. Chung had remained a perfect gentleman, soft-spoken and polite. She had always conducted herself in the same manner. But even then, the photo told a different story.
Of course, things had progressed since the photo was taken. What had been a perfectly innocent meeting was growing into something much more complicated. Edward had since loosened up with her, telling her of his childhood growing up in Shanghai. “The most exciting city in the world,” he called it. And how he was going to return there to make movies again once the industry got back on its feet. “Real Shanghai movies,” he said, “that aren’t filmed on phony back lots dressed up to be Shanghai.”
Joan knew it was only in the past few years that many of the Shanghai directors had finally begun setting their films in Hong Kong, with stories tackling the daily problems of the society they’d migrated to. What about Hong Kong? she wanted to ask him, before his dark eyes caught hers, and the thought drifted away.
By their third dinner together, Joan knew she was in trouble. Not since Joseph had she felt this need to be with someone. She began to daydream and wonder what Edward was doing when she wasn’t with him, hoping he thought of her in the same way. Joan found herself going to the studio early, even when she wasn’t needed, hoping for a glimpse of him. A quick wave from across a set would last her the entire day. She knew he had to meet with Chin to discuss the final movie schedule before they began filming in two weeks. Joan paced back and forth in her dressing room, then went to look for Jade Wind.
“What’s wrong with you? It’s like you’re a thousand miles away,” Jade Wind teased as they sat eating lunch.
Joan blushed. “I was just thinking about the movie,” she quickly said, her chopsticks resting between her fingers.
“What’s to think about? You’re going to be a big star. Chung’s films have all done well. He has a big following in Shanghai, and now, in Hong Kong.”
Joan smiled, putting her bowl of noodles down. “There’s always a first time.”
“It won’t happen.” Jade Wind laughed. “After all, Chung won’t allow someone he’s interested in to star in a flop. Just remember, there are a handful of actresses here who would kill to be in your position. You should hear the rumors flying around here. That you seduced the role out of him, that you’re carrying his love child, that you’re to be married once the film is completed!”
Joan laughed. “You know that affairs are notorious on these sets. I told you, there’s nothing to those magazine photos. You’ll be the first to know if anything does happen between us. It’s just a way for them to sell copies.”
Jade Wind slurped up the rest of her noodles. “Then they’ve succeeded,” she said between bites.
When Joan returned home, she was surprised to find Edward Chung waiting for her. He had sat patiently in his car watching for her, calling out her name when Joan stepped out of a taxi. The wind carried it like a whisper to her, grazing the back of her neck just below her ear.
“What are you doing here?” Joan asked, her heart beating faster with every word.
“I needed to see you,” he answered, his characteristic reserve weakened.
“About the movie?”
“About us.”
When Joan got into Chung’s car, she knew she was stepping into something that she no longer had any control over. She felt a great emptiness inside of her finally being accounted for, and the feeling was so warm and astounding, Joan was afraid she might start crying. Familiar streets sped by in a dream, as she rolled down the window and let the warm wind fill the car. Joan turned when she faintly heard him saying something, saw his lips were moving, but couldn’t hear beyond the quick rush of wind as she leaned her head closer to the open window. All the way down the winding roads, Joan prayed that he would finally open that part of her that she had held closed for so long.
Chung drove her to a small apartment he kept on Kowloon side, near the studio. He still had a place in Shanghai that he considered his real home. Ever since he’d migrated to Hong Kong in 1948, he was simply waiting like so many others for the day when he could return to Shanghai. His Kowloon apartment was small and almost bare, except for a table, two chairs, and a sofa. From the living room, she could see his small bedroom, dominated by a large bed. Joan flinched at the sight of the disheveled bed, but Chung quickly apologized, closed his bedroom door, and went into the kitchen to make some tea. When he returned, carrying a teapot and two cups, Joan tried to relax as they sat at the table.
“What did you need to talk about?” Joan gathered her strength to ask.
“I think about you all the time,” he simply answered, looking straight into her eyes.
Joan’s heart was racing faster as each moment of silence passed. “Me too,” she finally said.
When Edward Chung touched her hand for the first time, Joan felt a spark move through her body. Then, he leaned forward and kissed her once…twice…more.
The rest came so smoothly and easily, Joan thought she might be dreaming. He took her hand and led her to his bedroom, opening the door he had just closed, and placing her gently on his bed. He removed his glasses and suddenly appeared to her much younger, softer.
For a moment, it was as if Joan had risen out of her body and were watching everything from above. He was gentle as he removed her clothes, unsnapped each frog of her cheungsam from her neck down, touched her in hidden places and made her shiver, though the warmth of his body covered her
like a blanket. She touched his back, letting her hands feel the softness of his skin, the curves of his shoulders, listening for the soft sighs, the deep intake of breath. She tried to concentrate, relax, felt him enter her with a sharp sting, the slow rocking movements of a dance, followed by a blinding warm release that spread through her.
Joan felt each clay after pass in a haze. She spent all the time she could with Edward. Even when she wasn’t physically with him, her thoughts twisted and turned around him. They had to work hard not to draw undue attention to their relationship. From the studio, she would, either take a taxi to his apartment or meet him at a designated location from which they’d return to his place together. Until the movie was completed, Edward told her it was better for them to keep a low profile. “Chin won’t like it,” he said.
Joan knew he was right. She remembered the speech Mei had given to her when she first came to work at the Tiger Claw Film Company. How Chin disliked any kind of personal interaction to occur when one of his films was being shot. “Leads to nothing but trouble,” he had once warned all of his actors. “Not to mention time and money if the love sours.”
Yet, Joan grew tired of pretending, shying away from Edward at the studio, and keeping her feelings hidden from Jade Wind, Mah-mee, and Auntie Go. What did it matter if they were seeing each other? For all C. K. Chin knew, they might actually be married by the time the movie was completed. Joan had waited so long for the right person to come into her life that now the secret burned through her.
Sometimes, when Joan grew restless, she thought about writing Emma. The distance would provide protection. She began a letter, Dear moi-moi, the words floating from her pen, I’ve met someone. I’m in love, then stopped. Seeing the word love startled her. At first it felt foreign, like a new taste, but she gradually grew used to it. Joan began another letter and then another, finally letting one slip from her fingers into the mailbox.
They were to begin filming in late April. Joan arrived at the studio early in the morning, hoping to talk to Edward before the others arrived. At that moment, she didn’t know what she felt more excited about, seeing Edward or acting in her first major movie role. A warm rush of happiness moved through her in anticipation of both. But these thoughts vanished when she saw a note in her dressing room summoning her to Chin’s office. She glanced at the note again, held it in the sweaty palm of her hand, and felt a tinge of fear.
When Joan knocked lightly on Chin’s door, his response was sharp and immediate. She quickly entered the dark, smoky room, ready to deny any wrongdoing. She wouldn’t be lying. In the photos, they were simply discussing the film project. Neither of them had mentioned anything of a personal nature. Edward had been a perfect gentleman; besides, at the time she wasn’t interested in a relationship. Her career had been foremost in her mind, Joan thought to herself. Chin had nothing on her, except a glossy eight-by-ten photo showing them whispering so close together, you couldn’t fit a piece of paper between them.
Chin was sitting at his desk, looking stern and serious. The first thing Joan noticed was that his hands were resting palms down on top of his desk. A ribbon of smoke rose from the cigarette burning in the ashtray next to him, instead of dangling from his lips.
“You asked to see me?” Joan’s throat felt dry, parched.
“Come in, come in,” Chin urged, smiling too widely.
He pointed to a chair that Joan had seen directors, actors, and producers sitting in, but never her. That morning, she had prepared herself for spring, dressing in a pale green dress, pink scarf wrapped loosely around her neck, dark sunglasses. She sat down in the chair, felt awkward, out of place.
“Is there anything wrong?” she asked, not bothering to hide.
Chin smiled. “It’s been brought to my attention”—he paused and cleared his throat, a raspy, hollow sound. A smoker’s voice—“that you’ve become quite good friends with Mr. Chung.”
Joan let out a quick breath. “All just movie-magazine rubbish,” she heard herself saying, though all her life she’d sworn by them. “We were just discussing the movie. You know how noisy it can be at the Pen. We sat close together in order to hear each other.”
Chin nodded his head, watching her. “It makes me feel much better to hear you tell me this. You know I never listen to rumors without going straight to the persons involved. This company is built on trust and respect. We are like a family, and family members can be honest with each other….”
Joan’s thoughts drifted. She wondered if Chin had talked to Edward yet, then remembered she had been the first one in that morning. If he also denied any wrongdoing, Chin might be satisfied. He was just giving them a warning, not wanting to jeopardize the movie.
“…Marriage being a sacred bond, it doesn’t look good if one of my married directors is, let’s say, keeping time with one of my unmarried actresses….”
Joan’s head jerked up. “Married?” she asked under her breath.
“What did you say?”
The room reeked of smoke, made her feel sick to her stomach. “Nothing,” she said, swallowing. “Just that you’re right. The last thing needed during the filming is a scandal. There’re enough things to worry about.” Joan felt the bitterness on the tip of her tongue.
“I knew you would understand.” Chin picked up another cigarette and lit it. “This movie is going to make you a big star. I would hate to see anything happen after you’ve come so far.”
Joan nodded and stood up. Her legs felt rubbery. “There’s nothing to worry about. There’s nothing between us.” She forced a quick smile.
Chin picked up his cigarette and inhaled. He blew out a cloud of smoke that rose up toward the ceiling. “Good, good. It’s what I thought. These rumors are just a nuisance.”
Joan took a step toward the door, willed herself to walk out of Chin’s office. She’d given him the best performance of her life. Once the door was closed behind her, Joan leaned against a wall for support. She closed her eyes and tried to clear her head of Chin’s words, which swept over her again like a tidal wave. Married! How could she be so stupid? Why hadn’t anyone ever mentioned he was married? Even Jade Wind didn’t know. It was as if Joan’s lungs were slowly filling up with water. Breathe, breathe, she thought to herself, forcing air in and out. In the near distance, she heard a door open…close, then felt a cool breeze rise up and brush the back of her neck, chilling her to the bone.
From that morning on, Joan threw her heart and soul into making A Woman’s Story and herself a success. The fate of Lily Wong loomed heavily in her mind as she sat nervously waiting for Edward at his apartment.
Her once soft, loving words turned quick and hard. “Now that we’ve begun filming, I don’t think we should see each other,” she said, furious, yet unable to accuse him of being married. The word still felt thick and heavy on her tongue.
Edward’s eyes grew wide with surprise as he reached out for her, held her at arm’s length by the shoulders. “What are you talking about? What’s going on?”
Joan lowered her eyes, away from his stare. “I have to go!” she said, knocking his hand from her shoulder, her voice breaking, shattering like glass.
Joan tried to remain as detached and professional as she could, refusing to speak to him unless it was about the movie, anesthetizing herself from every aspect of Edward Chung that had once given her such happiness. It hurt to hear his soft voice even as her director telling her to “move a little to the left” or to “brush your hair away from your face.” It was still too intimate, as if it were just the two of them together again. And like a last dance, Joan gave a perfect performance, allowing her emotions to emerge through her acting. She laughed, cried, and screamed on cue.
“Love you? I’ve never loved you! It’s just been a stupid game I’ve been playing,” she rehearsed her lines over and over.
According to Jade Wind, there were already rumors circulating that Joan was giving the best performance of her career, and that this movie would certainly secure her r
ise to stardom.
On the set during a break from filming, Chung pleaded with her, “Talk to me! If this is about Chin, don’t let him scare you. He knows all the rumors will just generate more publicity for the film.”
Joan glared straight ahead. She noticed Edward had waited until the set had completely cleared. Anger welled up inside her to think that he was still protecting himself.
“There’s nothing to talk about! Let’s just make the best movie we can and forget everything else,” she said coldly. She glanced sideways at him, saw that he was upset, his usually calm face flushed.
“What’s going on?” He grabbed hold of her arm. “Will you talk to me!”
Joan pulled out of his grasp. “Let’s just say I’ve wised up. I trust you can keep our relationship on a professional basis from now on.” She turned away from him. “I have to go. I’m late for my costume change.”
Chung didn’t give up. He followed her from one set to another. “Leave me alone,” she snapped.
“What’s wrong with you?”
Joan swung around unexpectedly. “Save the concern for your wife!” she hissed.
Chung stopped and fell back a step as if he’d been hit. Still, he didn’t miss a beat. “How do you know? We haven’t been together in years.”
“Are you still married?” Joan asked, her eyes straining against tears.
Chung looked away from her. “Yes. But she lives her own life in Shanghai.”
Joan summoned all her courage. She could feel the warmth of his body standing there, hear the soft sigh as he released a breath. Joan didn’t dare look at him as she said in a businesslike voice, “Then it’s settled. From this moment on, completing this movie is our only reason for having to speak to each other. When we’ve finished it, I don’t want to ever see you again!” She spit out the words as hard and final as stone.
Joan turned around and kept walking. This time Chung didn’t follow her. For a brief moment, Joan thought she heard some soft whisper telling her to stop, though it was lost in the wind whistling through the hollow set.
Night of Many Dreams Page 20
