Mingmei Yip - The Nine Fold Heaven

I put my arms around the crying girl.

Sniffling, Peiling said, “Big Sister, was my name in the newspapers, did I turn famous because I jumped?”

I didn’t answer her question, but said, “Peiling, you must be tired. Let’s go home.”

I realized after the words came out that I had just decided to take in the blind girl to live with Jinying and myself. Taking Peiling’s hand and heading toward the main street, a famous poem by Xin Qiji flashed across my mind:

Inside the taxi, Peiling grabbed my hand tightly in hers as if I were her long-lost mother. Tears filled my eyes, but I blinked them back. In a whisper I explained that I had discovered that her “Baobao” was actually Jinjin, my lost son, and that she would be seeing him in a few minutes. I also told her that Jinjin’s father was waiting with him for us. She remained silent, either confused or not believing me.

When we stepped into our hotel room, Jinying was sitting on the bed beside a calmly sleeping Jinjin but looked extremely upset—and angry. He stood up to greet—or scold—me.

“I worried until my heart rotted and I can’t tell anyone or call the police. Where have you been?” He pointed to Peiling. “What’s happening here? Who is she?”

“Shhh…” I gave him a kiss on his lips.

Jinjin was sound asleep in the bed, oblivious to all that was going on. I went up to plant a kiss on his rosy cheek too.

Peiling was still tugging at my sleeve, looking tense.

“Jinying, please calm down and let me explain.”

But he refused to lower his voice. “Where have you been? Why did you take so long?”

Peiling’s frightened voice rose up in the room’s stale air. “Big Sister, who is this? What’s happening?”

I lowered my head so I could whisper into her ear. “Everything’s fine, Peiling, I’m just talking to my husband.” Though he was not quite my husband yet. “Why don’t you sit down and rest?”

Jinying kept watching me with bafflement as I led Peiling to sit on a chair, then came back to sit down next to him.

He studied the little girl, then blurted out, “What’s wrong with her?”

“Sorry, sir, but I’m blind,” Peiling responded softly.

Now Jinying looked horrified. “Oh, I’m so sorry, little girl…. Are you…?”

I blinked my eyes to signal him to just shut up.

But he said in a heated whisper, his tone still upset, “Then can you tell me where you’ve been—and who she is?”

I explained to Jinying that Peiling was the little blind girl I had mentioned to him earlier. I reminded him that she had been taking care of Jinjin and that without her care, Jinjin might right now be dying of neglect like so many of the other babies at the orphanage. When I finished, Jinying looked totally stunned.

He leaned close to my ear and lowered his voice. “But, Camilla, why bring her back here?”

Before I could respond, Peiling smiled toward me. “Big Sister, I knew from your voice that you are Miss Camilla, even though you pretended not to be. But I was afraid if the staff knew, they wouldn’t let you visit me anymore.”

This little girl was a lot smarter than I had realized. Her words penetrated deep into me, so, though I opened my mouth, no words came out. Somehow this naive child had made me realize that I had been denying my real self my entire life. Who was the real me anyway? An orphan, a spy, a singer, a heartless assassin, a contortionist, a knife-throwing expert, a mother who wouldn’t give up on her baby—or all of the above?

Overcome, I went to the bed, collapsed next to my baby, and cried. Probably awakened by my weight next to him and my sobbing, Jinjin suddenly woke up and joined me in the tearful cacophony.

Jinying sat down on the bed next to me and put his arm around my shoulder. “Please, Camilla, I can’t bear to see you sad.”

I wiped my tears but remained silent.

Peiling’s frightened voice piped up again. “Miss Camilla, don’t be sad. Did I do something wrong? Do you not want me anymore? Who’s crying?”

“Don’t worry, Peiling, I’m fine. You didn’t do anything wrong.” Then I turned to Jinying. “Have you fed Jinjin while I was away?”

Peiling tilted her head and asked, “Is that really Baobao?”

“Yes, Peiling,” I said, then picked up Jinjin and held him out to her. “Peiling, can you hold him for a while?”

“It really is Baobao!!” Peiling cradled her “reincarnated” Baobao in her thin arms. I knew that it would take time for her to accept him as Jinjin.

I smiled. “Yes, it’s Baobao, but his real name is Jinjin.”

Jinjin had stopped crying and was smiling happily in his little caregiver’s embrace. Peiling lowered her head to kiss her, really my, baby. “Oh, Baobao, it’s really you!”

In response, Jinjin started to cry again.

I turned to his father. “Jinying, have you fed our baby?”

“Of course, but we’re out of milk… I was very worried about you and stayed here in case you were in trouble and might call. I’ll go out right now and get some.”

After Jinying left, Peiling asked, “Big Sister, were you the one who took Baobao—“

“It’s Jinjin, Peiling.”

“Were you the one who took Jinjin from the orphanage during the middle of the night?”

“Yes, I’m his mother.”

“ Wah! Jinjin has a famous singer mother!”

Soon Jinying returned with bottles of fresh milk for the baby and congee with Chinese doughnuts for us. Peiling ate ravenously; then she and Jinjin curled up against each other and were soon fast asleep. In a low voice I explained to Jinying about the little girl. She had won my affection by her musical talent and especially by her gentle nature. I could not allow myself to send her back to the orphanage. It was karma that she was there to care for Jinjin, so now it would be our karma to care for her. Jinying didn’t argue, though he did not look particularly happy either.

But I knew he would come to share my love for Peiling in time.

Now that we had Jinjin and Peiling, we decided to leave Shanghai and its dangers as soon as possible. The next step was to book steamer tickets back to Hong Kong.

But there were some loose ends that needed to be taken care of here, since we might never be able to return to China. Most important was drawing out the money sitting in Master Lung’s bank accounts. I now regarded this as taking an inheritance, rather than as theft. With the old master in the world beyond, the money belonged to the young master, Jinying. No doubt if Jinying applied his legal knowledge to taking this to court, we would eventually get the money—if we were not assassinated first, and after substantial deductions for bribing the judge and other officials involved. I had survived by being practical, so I decided to simply take the money and run.

The next day, I used Wang’s chop to sign the documents necessary to transfer the money to the account I had opened in Hong Kong. Of course, the transaction might not have been so smooth had I not slipped a thick envelope across the bank manager’s desk. There was still much more than enough for Jinying and I. So to gain merit for Wang and Lung to get better treatment in hell—and lessen the chance of their ghosts coming back to harass me—I arranged to give substantial sums to charities, including Compassionate Grace and Sacred Heart.

I assumed that Big Brother Wang had already died—the herbalist who sold the toxic herb powder was well-known for the invariable effectiveness of his concoctions. Yet, I could not find any mention about him in the newspapers. Then, shortly before our ship was about to carry us away from Shanghai, I opened the Leisure News to read: