Miller seemed to be enjoying himself so much that he was oblivious to my sadness. As we ate and drank, he rambled on about the city and the sights we were passing. I mostly listened, fearing the more I talked, the more chance I would reveal more of myself than was prudent. I didn’t want to spoil this seemingly pure, innocent encounter. Or was it? Maybe he had more in mind than simply rescuing a poor orphan girl from her horrible fate.
But I put this out of my mind for the moment as the rocking of the boat, soothing in its monotonous rhythm, gave me a sense of peace and security. It was a little cooler now, and the setting sun was casting golden highlights on the waves. Feeling mesmerized and nostalgic, a song involuntarily slipped from my mouth.
Everyone has parents, but I don’t.
Where are you hiding, dear mama and baba?
When, if ever, will we meet?
Would we recognize each other,
Or merely rub shoulders as we pass?
To my surprise, after I finished, my host was blinking back tears.
I asked. “Edward, are you all right?”
He took a small meditative sip of his wine, then softly put down the glass. “It’s your singing. It makes me sad, for you—and also for myself.”
“How’s that?”
He spoke slowly, his tone sad. “I also consider myself an orphan.”
I was surprised to hear this and quickly put on a sympathetic expression. “What do you mean?”
“My parents were missionaries in Shanghai years ago. When I was fifteen, our house burned down and they were killed.”
“What a horrible accident!”
“It wasn’t an accident; it was murder.”
“Murder! But who would want to murder harmless missionaries?”
I was not at all sure that missionaries are absolutely harmless, and didn’t feel much about his parents, since I would never meet them. But I knew I should sound sympathetic.
He shook his head, his blond hair glistening under the yacht’s yellowish light, rendering him still handsome but now sad, and vulnerable.
“It was gangsters.”
My heart skipped a beat. “They were killed by gangsters?”
What I really wanted to know was whether they’d been killed by the Flying Dragons or the Red Demons.
He split a bitter smile. “My parents did nothing but preach God’s good deeds. I think this offended the gangsters because they believe only in their own gods, who don’t mind illegal deeds.”
To my surprise, my hand had already reached to touch his. “Edward, I’m so sorry for what you’ve been through.” I paused, then, “At least now you have a good life.”
I suddenly realized why this privileged American ambassador took an interest in me. Because he and I shared the same fate, though he’d known his parents, but I hadn’t.
I was starting to worry. Although I constantly reminded myself to stay emotionless, was I starting to feel more for this man than was safe for me?
Edward gently lifted my hand and put it to his lips. Not knowing how to react, I left it there for seconds before I tactfully withdrew it.
He went on. “When I was at school, someone burned down the house.”
“Then what happened?”
“I was fifteen when they died. The church brought me back to live with relatives.” He sipped more wine. “It must be more than coincidence that fate brought us together.” He studied me with his penetrating eyes. “Jasmine, let’s heal together.”
I feigned a smile. “Thank you for your concern, Edward, but I’m fine, really.”
“You can trust me with the truth. I can tell you’re hiding things from the world, and also from yourself.”
I might or might not be hiding things from myself, but I was certainly hiding a lot from the world.
“Edward, not now please, maybe later.”
“All right, if that’s what you want.”
Finally realizing that he would not get anything more from me about this, he changed the subject with another startling announcement. “Henry is adopted.”
I didn’t know what to say, so I decided not to comment on his son’s adopted status, but instead offered, “Henry is so adorable.”
This time I really meant what I said. Of course the little boy was adorable, but so are many other little boys. I knew well that the main reason I liked Henry was because except in dreams, I could not express my love for my own Jinjin. I longed for someone to give my motherly love.
Now Edward took a sip of his bitter coffee, then, “Yes, I love him very much. But he is a reason that my wife and I divorced.”
“How’s that?”
“Miranda never wanted to adopt. She thinks it’s because of me that we could not have children of our own. I was the one who insisted on the adoption, and she always resented Henry.
“Henry was in an orphanage. A couple almost adopted him but at the last minute they changed their mind, so I was lucky.“
I was very tempted to ask why Henry’s parents gave him up, but suppressed the urge. I didn’t want the ambassador to ask me the same question.
But he asked another equally unwelcome one. “What is your orphanage?”
“Edward, it’s Compassionate Light. But please, you cannot come there asking for me.”
I knew the easiest way to take his mind off this subject. I placed my hand on his arm and stroked it gently.
“Edward, I am sure you have more important things to think about than a poor girl’s troubles.”
Anyway, my best strategy for now was to keep him interested in me so that someday, if it became necessary, he’d turn my savior.
He cast me a piercing look. “You know, Jasmine, you’re a talented, beautiful, mysterious woman. And your fragrance…”
So he had noticed that. But what man wouldn’t? Women pay a lot for perfume, but I had no need for it, because I was endowed with this natural fragrance. Actually, it was not “natural” because I hadn’t been born with it. Big Brother Wang had made me drink an expensive concoction from an imperial recipe. The esoteric formula consisted of honey mixed with morning dew to which were added chrysanthemum, lily, and ground pearl powder, plus some secret roots from a famous herbalist.
Once in a while there was a little white arsenic in the mixture. Although white arsenic is used as a poison, a small dose keeps one’s skin tight and wrinkle free. It also gets rid of excess liquid so you don’t look fat, and it warms your blood.
I’d been forced to drink the concoction by Big Brother Wang so I could bewitch and kill his rival Master Lung. Since I’d escaped to Hong Kong, I’d stopped taking it, because the rumor goes that a woman’s life will be shortened if she drinks this concoction for too long. However, I knew that the “natural” fragrance would still linger.
Of course, I was not going to divulge the secret of my irresistible body fragrance. Let him think that I was like the famous Emperor Qianlong’s concubine Xiang Xiang, or Fragrance, who bathed only in milk, flowers, and herbs.
Miller’s cheeks glowed with a pinkish flush, matching the twilight visible through the porthole. Was it the wine, or did he feel suddenly shy in front of a woman he was so strongly attracted to?
He moved next to me, gently pulled me to him, and pressed his lips against mine.
I found this man likable and attractive, but not irresistible. He seemed too reserved and decent. How many men, or women, made names for themselves for being decent? History tells us that it is the bad who get the fame and the women, and the good usually get killed for their efforts.
Then I realized my top had slipped down, and the ambassador was kissing my bare shoulder, then my breasts, so that my nipples swelled like the rising tide. Now my pants, as if having a plan of their own, kept slipping lower to reveal my narrow waist and my navel, below which lay the dense vegetation surrounding my mysterious fertility.
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