Кевин Кван - China Rich Girlfriend

Colette was about to argue back when it hit her — her mother’s very name, Lai Di , meant “hoping for a son.” Her mother couldn’t escape her mind-set — it had literally been branded on her since the day she was born. Colette looked at her parents squarely and said, “The two of you might have grown up like peasants, but I am not a peasant, and you did not raise me to be one. It is 2013, and I am not going to get married and pump out babies just because you want a barrel full of grandsons.”

“Ungrateful child! After all we’ve given you in life!” Mrs. Bing blurted out.

“Yes, thank you, you’ve given me a great life, and I intend to live it!” Colette declared, storming out of the room.

Jack gave a sharp little laugh. “Let’s see how she intends to live her life once I put a freeze on her accounts.”

* Mandarin for “Oh my God!”

5PULAU CLUB

SINGAPORE

Michael was huddled in his office preparing for a big presentation with his head venture partner and his chief technology adviser when his phone buzzed with a text message from Astrid:

WIFEY: Mum called — she’s having a meltdown about the magazine article.

MT: Big shocker.

WIFEY: My dad’s requested that you meet him at Pulau club at 10:30 a.m.

MT: Sorry, I’ll be in a meeting then.

WIFEY: You’re going to have to face him sooner or later.

MT: I know, but I’m busy right now. Some of us HAVE TO WORK FOR A LIVING.

WIFEY: I’m just passing along the message.

MT: Tell him I have a very important meeting with the Monetary Authority of Singapore this AM. My assistant will call his assistant to set up another time to meet.

WIFEY: Okay. Good luck at your meeting.

Several minutes later, Michael’s executive assistant, Krystal, buzzed on the intercom. “Michael, ah? I just receive call from your father-in-law’s seck-ree-teh-ry Miss Chua. He wants you to meet him at Pulau Club in half an hour.”

Michael rolled his eyes in frustration. “I already know about this, Krystal. It’s been dealt with. Now, no more interruptions, please. We only have an hour left before our big pitch.”

He turned back to his partners. “Sorry, guys. Now, where were we? Yes, we can reinforce that our new finance-data app is a quarter of a second faster than Bloomberg’s terminals—”

The intercom buzzed again. “Michael — I know you said not to kachiao *1you, but—”

“So why the hell did you?” Michael raised his voice angrily.

“I just got an-nah-der call…the meeting with gahmen *2people postpone, lah .”

“The Monetary Authority meeting?” Michael tried to clarify.

“Yah lah .”

“Until what time?”

“Postpone, postpone, lor! They never say.”

“What the fuck?”

“And your father-in-law’s office call again with an-nah-der message. Miss Chua said to read it aloud to you. Wait, ah! I get message. Okay, here it is: Please meet Mr. Leong at Pulau Club at 10:30 a.m. No more excuses .”

“ Kan ni nah! ” Michael swore, kicking his desk.

• • •

Anyone standing at the third hole of the Island Course at Pulau Club — quaintly referred to as the “old course”—would feel as if they were transported back to an earlier time. Carved out of natural virgin jungle in 1930, the undulating green hills gave way to tropical groves of casuarinas and tembusus on one side and the oasis-like Peirce Reservoir on the other. Not a hint of the densely packed skyscrapers that were modern Singapore could be seen from this vantage point. Harry Leong, dressed in his usual golfing outfit of short-sleeved white cotton shirt, khaki pants, and a faded blue Royal Air Force cap *3to protect his thinning silvery hair, was watching his golf buddy adjust a swing when his son-in-law came storming up the fairway.

“Oh — here he comes, looking blacker than the devil. Let’s have some fun with him, shall we?” Harry said to his friend. “Lovely day, isn’t it?” he called out.

“It might have been, had you not…” Michael began in a surly tone, before catching sight of the man standing next to his father-in-law. It was Hu Lee Shan, the minister of commerce, nattily dressed in a brightly striped Sligo golf shirt.

“Good morning, Mr. Teo,” the minister said jovially.

Forcing a smile, Michael said, “Good morning, sir.” Bloody hell! No wonder he was able to sabotage my meeting so quickly. He’s golfing with the friggin’ boss of the boss of the Monetary Authority!

“Thank you for meeting me on such short notice,” Harry continued politely. “Now, I’ll get right to the point: this matter over the silly magazine story.”

“I’m sorry, Dad. It was never my intention for your name to get mentioned,” Michael began.

“Oh I don’t care about my name. I mean, who am I in the grand scheme of things, right? I’m a public servant — people can print any sort of nonsense they want about me. It’s all much ado about nothing in my opinion, but, you see, other names were mentioned in that article. Other people who are touchy about such things. Like my wife and my mother-in-law. That side of the family. You know how we mustn’t ever upset Astrid’s grandmother, or Uncle Alfred.”

“Heh heh heh — no one should ever upset Alfred Shang,” chuckled the minister.

Michael wanted to roll his eyes. What was the big deal about Alfred Shang that made every man so bo lam pa *4in his presence? “I really had no idea that reporter was going to go digging. It was only supposed to be a flattering stor—”

Harry cut him off mid-word. “The Tattle people know never to write about us. So you went to the other magazine, Pompous or whatever it’s called. Tell me, what did you hope to achieve?”

“I thought the article would allow me to increase my company’s profile while respecting Astrid’s — and your family’s — need for privacy.”

“And do you think it does? I’m assuming you’ve read the article by now.”

Michael swallowed hard. “It doesn’t quite do what I had hoped.”

“Makes you out to be a pretentious buffoon, doesn’t it?” Harry said, as he reached for another putter. “Try this Honma, Lee Shan.”

Michael’s jaw tightened. If the minister wasn’t right there, he would give this old man a piece of his mind!

The minister executed a precise chipping swing and the golf ball rolled smoothly into the hole.

“Nice shot, sir,” Michael said.

“Do you play, Mr. Teo?”

“I do when I can.”

The minister glanced at Harry as he stepped up to the tee box and said, “You’re a lucky man — you have a son-in-law who golfs. My kids are far too preoccupied with their important lives to ever play with me.”

“We should all play at my club at Sentosa sometime. The ocean views are spectacular,” Michael offered.

Harry paused in the middle of his golf swing. “You know, I’ve never set foot in that club and I plan to die never having set foot there. If I’m not at St. Andrews or Pebble Beach, the only place I play is the old course right here.”

“I feel the same way, Harry,” the minister said. “Didn’t you use to catch Concorde to London on Fridays after work and then hop over to Edinburgh just to play a round at St. Andrews?”

“Those were the old days when I only had the weekends to spare. Now that I’m semiretired, I can go a whole week at Pebble Beach.”

Michael fumed in silence, wondering when this audience was ever going to end. As if reading his mind, his father-in-law looked him in the eye and said, “I need you to do something for me. I need you to go in person and apologize to your mother-in-law.”