Mingmei Yip - Memoirs of a Courtesan

I suppressed a smile of relief. He was completely fooled by me, or, to be exact, by my training! This showed that he was the one who was naive. Wonderful.

On the surface I stayed calm. ‘But you have only heard me twice. How do you—’

‘I go to hear you sing almost every night. I sit in a corner seat in the back so if my father’s there, he won’t see me.’

He shook his head, then downed more coffee. ‘My father is getting old and wants me to start in his business so I can take over someday. But so far I’ve stayed away. I’m just not interested. Also, well, his business is just … not right. I wish I were someone else’s son.’ He put down his coffee cup with a loud clink.

As I studied his anxious expression, I felt a perverse relief rising inside me. ‘I’m sorry that’s how you feel, Jinying. Can’t you explain to Master Lung how you feel?’

‘That would not matter. He loves me, but I am his only son, and so there is no one else to take over. And he considers me his good-luck son.’

‘Oh, yes? How is that?’

‘Because since the day I was born, his business has boomed, and it has lasted until today. The Red Demons have tried but failed to kill him many times. So he believes my lucky star shines on him to protect him.’

Now I was glad for his interest in me. I was also getting an idea.

The Chinese say, ‘If you want to shoot the person, first shoot his horse; if you want to capture the bandits, first capture their chief.’

What if I seduced Jinying – the boss behind the boss – and set father and son against each other? Of course it might end up that Lung would kill his son, but that sort of possibility was why I had been trained to have no feelings. If it ended up the other way around, then my mission would be successfully completed even without my having to get my hands dirty.

I looked admiringly at the young master’s angelic face. To lie under the owner of this face would be a much better deal than being fucked by his monkey-faced, split-browed old man.

I tried to hide my smirk by downing more tea, but I burned my tongue and choked myself.

The angel dropped from heaven asked, ‘You all right, Camilla?’

‘Couldn’t be better.’ I smiled, still choking.

Two days after Jinying’s visit, I got an invitation from the Eternal Luck Temple to participate in a celebration, but of what, it did not specify. Then Mr Zhu, Master Lung’s right-hand man, called.

‘Miss Camilla, be prepared to accompany Master Lung to the Eternal Luck Temple.’

‘Mr Zhu, may I know what is the purpose of this event?’

‘To celebrate the opening of the temple’s new wing. Gao will pick you up next Saturday at one in the afternoon. Dress your best, and be ready on time. We cannot miss the most auspicious moment meticulously calculated by the temple’s feng shui master. You got it?’

‘Of course, Mr Zhu.’

‘Good,’ he huffed, then hung up.

For the temple event, instead of a cheongsam, this time I picked a white silk Western dress embroidered with pink camellias and light green leaves. The hem was slightly below my knees, revealing just enough of my high-heeled, hundred-dollar-silk-stockinged legs. A red camellia, pinned above my ear, echoed my matching pink high heels and purse.

To bring out the green, I put on a jade necklace and a matching bracelet. To set off the jade, my huge diamond ring was perched regally on my middle finger, demanding attention.

Whenever I was invited to an important occasion, jade and diamonds were always my favourite choices. Jade’s cool nature conveys a reserved, Oriental sophistication, like a woman’s silent declaration: ‘I am beautiful but coy, so please don’t stare.’ On the other hand, a diamond is fiery and Occidental, like a tall, voluptuous woman strutting confidently and exclaiming, ‘Come, see how sexy I am!’

However, today my most exciting feature was neither the jade nor the diamond but my dress’s heart-shaped neckline cut-out, revealing my undulating two half-moons. I knew I succeeded in creating an intriguing presence. But disturbingly, as I felt happy looking at the beautiful face that stared back at me from the mirror, now, for the first time, I wanted to avoid looking deeper at what was within.

Gao arrived to pick me up in a black Cadillac. As we drove to the temple, I caught his eyes wandering off the road to look into the rear-view mirror at me or, to be specific, my bulging half-moons.

Finally he blurted out, ‘Miss Camilla, you look gorgeous today.’

I smiled sweetly. ‘Thank you, Gao. Glad you like my outfit.’

‘I don’t mean only your outfit.’

I could say, ‘Of course I know what you meant,’ but I was not going to chide him by telling him to keep his eyes on the road instead of on me. I didn’t want to completely discourage his interest. One never knew; someday I might find him of use on my path to defeating Lung.

So I said, ‘Thank you, Gao, whatever else you mean.’

I studied the bodyguard’s face in the mirror and found myself liking it. He took his job seriously and was good at it. He was also a martial artist and Thai boxing expert, and I had heard that on a bet he had shot right into the red heart of an ace from forty steps away. I knew him to be alert, careful and, unlike Zhu, gentle and courteous.

But Gao had his weakness: his huge crush on me.

I realised that because I often noticed his gaze travelling downwards from my face to my chest, waist and legs. Didn’t he realise that even a split second of his distraction could cost his and his boss’s lives? But of course he was a man, and he couldn’t help it. That’s why there are skeleton women. We use men’s lust to turn them into skeletons.

With Mr Zhu, the situation was entirely different. He was impatient, ferocious and even more bossy to me than his boss was. However, this was, in fact, a good thing. Because the less attention I received from this ruthless man, the better, lest he see through my pretense and detect my true intentions.

A few minutes later, the car pulled to a stop in front of the Eternal Luck Temple and awoke me from my reveries. Gao opened the car door for me, and my ears were instantly filled with the buzzing conversations of the important-looking guests. He helped me out and led me into the temple’s front yard. I enjoyed the envious glances of the women, beautiful and otherwise, as I was escorted by the handsome, muscular man ready to serve my minutest need.

Monkey Face was waiting for me, surrounded by his usual entourage. As Gao brought me over to the gangster head, he gave me a licentious once-over, looking happy and proud. ‘Camilla, you sure are easy on the eyes. And your fragrance is intoxicating!’

The abbot and his entourage of Daoist monks hurried to greet us. Soon Lung and Zhu were the centre of attention, not only for the monks but also for a circle of obsequious businessmen and politicians.

I got a drink and walked around. Recognising me as the Heavenly Songbird, some guests nodded in my direction; others cupped their mouths and whispered to their partners. My attention was drawn to a tall woman dressed in a man’s white suit, a golden tie and a white fedora. She easily could have been mistaken for a man were it not for her exaggerated make-up. Her stark white powder, bright red rouge and scarlet lipstick formed the background for long, artificial lashes fluttering in front of golden eye shadow. A weird, even haunting combination. Flanking her was a small group of tall, strikingly beautiful girls in matching pink dresses.

Of course this time I recognised this cross-dressed woman as the famous, or notorious, gossip columnist Rainbow Chang, with her enigmatic clique of pink-clad followers. Were they her confidantes? Bodyguards? Lovers? Anybody could be anyone in Shanghai. Watching her poise and the ease with which she worked her way through the crowd, I could only hope that she would not be yet another obstacle on my path. Dealing with a Shadow, a gangster and his son was already more than enough for a nineteen-year-old songstress-spy.