Mingmei Yip - The Nine Fold Heaven

”Peiling, you love this baby, don’t you?”

She nodded. “Yes, because I lost my little brother in the car crash with my family. That’s when the broken glasses got into my eyes.”

“I’m so sorry for you…”

I could see tears behind her thick glasses. “My father died with my little brother in the crash. My mother was paralyzed, so I took care of her, but she died and now I’m here.”

Peiling wiped away the tears with the back of her hand, then added proudly, “I’m very good at taking care of people.”

Just then the baby woke up from his nap. His large eyes stared at me with curiosity. Peiling turned his head to the light to show me the small red birthmark behind his right ear. I really did think it looked like pink lips smiling.

“So, Big Sister, what do you think?”

“No question, it’s smiling lips.”

Peiling smiled. “That’s what I think, even though I can’t see it.”

I asked, “So when will the couple come to adopt Baobao?”

“Soon.”

“You know anything about them?”

She shook her head. I was thinking if I couldn’t find my Jinjin, maybe I should just take this baby as my own, just as Lewinsky had taken mine.

But I did not want to pursue this line of thought. So I told Peiling, “All right, I have to leave, take good care of Baobao for me.”

She stared at me with her nearly sightless eyes, looking completely stunned.

“Why are you leaving so soon? Aren’t you going to teach me singing?”

I didn’t reply.

She went on sharply. “Big Sister, are you afraid of something?”

My heart skipped a beat. “What makes you think that?”

“I can tell you’re afraid of being seen. Why?”

I bit my lip. How did this little girl, though blind, have such sharp perception?

“Sorry, Peiling, I wish I could stay with you longer, but I’ve really got to go now.”

She looked crushed, then to my utter surprise, thrust the baby into my arms. “No, you stay and play with me and Baobao!”

It was the first time I’d held him in my arms. I had to admit that it felt good. But why, I couldn’t explain. Maybe it was the promise of a brighter future or of innocence surviving in this foul world. I planted a kiss on the baby’s forehead and gave him back to Peiling.

“I must go,” I repeated, suppressing my sadness at leaving this precocious but forlorn girl—and the obliviously happy baby. “And good-bye.”

I hurried away. Knowing that she could not see the gesture, I put my hands over my ears so I couldn’t hear any crying, either from Peiling or her little treasure.

Back in my hotel room, I could not keep myself from worrying about Peiling—and Baobao. What about the couple who were adopting him? Would they treat him well, or would he be used as a little beggar on a bridge? Then I began to fear that this might be my Jinjin’s fate.

Thoughts of babies being mistreated ran through my mind, keeping me from sleeping, my exhausted body flipping and flopping on the bed next to Jinying, who slept soundly through the night.

When I finally fell asleep, I had a dream of Jinjin.

But at first he did not acknowledge or speak to me. Instead, he was with Lewinsky as a mother and son duo, making my heart ache that he looked quite content with his doting Russian mother.

Then my son said to me, his eyes challenging, “Mama Camilla, you think you can be as good a mother to me as my Russian mama?”

I tried to suppress my tears. “Of course, Jinjin, but you have to give me the chance to love you.”

“If you truly love me, then look harder for me! Otherwise, I have to follow Russian Mommy to where she’s going. Bye!”

“Oh, no, no, please don’t go there, she’s in Hell!”

Jinying was awakened by my scream. At first he looked groggily startled; then he put his arm gently around me.

“What’s the matter, Camilla? Something upset you?”

“I’m okay. Just a bad dream.”

“Tell me what you dreamt.”

I blurted out, “Our son, Jinjin. He’s with Madame Lewinsky. He said she’s a better mother than I am. He urged me to try harder to find him. If not, he’ll leave with his Russian mommy.”

I looked at Jinying through my teary eyes. “Jinying, how could I be a bad mother if I was never given the chance to even see my baby, let alone care for him?”

Jinying spoke in a soothing voice. “It’s just a dream, Camilla.” He stroked my cheek, then spoke again. “Hmm… it must be a sign that we shouldn’t leave Shanghai but continue to look for Jinjin.”

“But how, since he’s already been adopted? We have no idea who that couple is or anything about them. For all we know, they are American and have already left for home with our baby.”

“Maybe, but probably he’s still here. Your dream is to tell us there’s still hope.” He sat up, paused to think, then exclaimed, “I know! We’ll hire a detective to find our baby!”

“Jinying, what a good idea!”

“It’s never too late as long as Jinjin is still alive. Let’s go back to sleep. In the morning I’ll go look for a detective. We’ll find our son.”

“How are you so sure?”

But he’d already fallen back asleep.

The following morning over breakfast, Jinying and I looked through all the newspapers for advertisements posted by detectives. We circled five as possibilities.

“Camilla, you need to rest today. I’ll go talk to them so we can decide which one.”

“I’ll go with you.”

“No, Camilla. Let me do this. You don’t want to take another chance by showing your face around Shanghai. You know what they say, ‘When you keep going up the mountain, one day you’ll run into a tiger.’ Get some rest and I’ll come back as soon as I can.”

After he left I spent most of my time staring out the window, trying to push my fears about Jinjin—and Baobao—out of my mind. When Jinying finally returned early that afternoon, he told me he’d been much impressed with a detective named Tang. He was the only one with letters of reference from families whose lost children he had located.

It seemed a long shot, but even the thought that we might find Jinjin seemed to brighten up the gloomy hotel room.

Days passed during which Jinying and I waited anxiously for news. Finally, Detective Tang called and suggested we meet.

We arrived at his office inside a modernized building in the Bund area. In the cramped space, several workers occupied themselves reading, writing, and typing, their desks covered with all sorts of documents, as well as files and newspaper clippings. A big thermos stood on a table by the wall, and tea mugs were everywhere. A young man led us into Tang’s office. Looking at the detective’s scanty hair and horse face, I didn’t feel much hope.

He started out pompously. “Mr. and Mrs. Fang, congratulations! You’re about to hear some very good news!”

Mr. and Mrs. Fang were our latest incarnations, our cover-up identities. Jinying and I looked at each other.

Perhaps realizing our impatience, the detective exclaimed, “I’ve tracked down your son Anton Lewinsky.”

My “husband Mr. Fang” asked excitedly, “So where is he?”

“Ha! This is called yuanzai tianbian jinzai yanqian. ” (“At the far edge of heaven, yet right in front of your eyes.”)

Jinying blurted out, “So he’s here in Shanghai, not in America?”

“He’s in the Compassionate Grace Orphanage.”

Jinying and I exclaimed simultaneously, “What?!”

I asked, “How did you find that out, and how are you sure it’s our baby?”

“All right.” The detective shifted some papers on his big, wooden desk, adjusted his glasses, then spoke. “You told me that when Julie Lewinsky passed away, her baby Anton Lewinsky was left at the Sacred Heart Convent. Then the convent let an American missionary couple adopt the baby. After that, you lost track, right?”