Читать книгу Memoirs of a Courtesan - Mingmei Yip - Страница 12

Visiting Lewinsky was an all-too-brief intermission from my tension-filled, murder-oriented existence. But I couldn’t do it often, because being relaxed was dangerous. Tension is like spice on food; without some, the dish would be tasteless, if not inedible.

After having had the right dose of tranquility, now I needed to plan for my next move: to discover Shadow’s intentions and prevent her from stealing Lung from me. And, if there was any chance that she was smarter and more talented than I, plot how to get rid of her.

After some hard thought, I decided to cancel my Thursday night performance and take the risk of inviting Master Lung to see Shadow’s debut magic show with me. In the subtle Chinese art of calligraphy, this is called pianfeng, an unorthodox brush movement for the sake of a startling aesthetic effect. In military strategy it is called bingxing xianzhe – send the soldiers to advance into danger. An illogical move is applied to win an impossible battle.

So now I was using a bingxing xianzhe in asking Lung to Shadow’s show. My real purpose was to prevent them from having any contact with each other without my knowing. In old China, this strategy had been adopted by many first wives. They would rather hand-pick the woman to be their husband’s concubine than let him pick for himself. That way they would have some control over the interloper who was to share their house and their husband’s bed. The shrewd first wife would pick a concubine who, though younger and prettier, was respectful and submissive and, most important, a little stupid.

Know yourself as well as your enemy; then out of one hundred battles you will win one hundred. Sunzi’s advice was as useful now as when he’d written it twenty-five hundred years ago.

Having Lung escort me to Shadow’s show would let her know that the gangster head was my not-to-be-trespassed-upon property. Of course that didn’t mean she wouldn’t try to cross the line. But at least she’d get my message. Best would be if Lung had no interest in her big, muscular physique.

But I had learned never to rely on hope. Anyway, the first step is like a house’s foundation; if it’s not cemented right, the whole house will sooner or later collapse. Actually, each step is critical; as the sage Laozi said, ‘Things are more likely be spoiled at the end than at the beginning.’

But as I contemplated this more, I felt as if I were hanging on a cliff above sharp rocks surrounded by starving tigers. Then I asked myself, if it was easy, where was the thrill?

Shadow’s debut show was held at the Ciro Nightclub, a competing establishment with Bright Moon. The manager greeted Master Lung and his entourage with a smile as gleeful as if his wife had just given birth to his first son, then led us to the table in the middle of the front row.

Lung, his right-hand man, Mr Zhu, and I all sat down at a table already set with bottles of expensive wine and plates of snacks – watermelon seeds, dried plums, olives, sugared lotus root. As usual, Master Lung’s head bodyguard, Gao, and his team took the neighbouring table. Nightclub-goers threw us curious, envious stares. Among them I noticed a flamboyantly dressed, striking young man four tables from ours. Five or six tall, beautiful girls in matching pink dresses surrounded him like stars about a bright moon. The only strange thing about this figure, at least from the distance, was that he had make-up on.

When our eyes met, he smiled, then raised his wine glass and made a toast. I smiled back, then quickly averted his scrutiny as an uneasy feeling rose inside me that Lung might notice. Or even Gao, because the quiet but physically intimidating man was watching me intently. I feared, not that he had any inkling of my secret mission, but that he had a crush on me, which could be dangerous for us both. He might not survive trying to seduce his boss’s woman.

Once in a while I admit I did flirt with him, though indirectly, by twirling my hair as if deep in thought, or wriggling slightly when he was watching. I sensed that he was the kind of man who’d risk death to protect a helpless, beautiful woman in danger.

Even though my present status was above his, I always treated the bodyguard with respect. It’s smart to accumulate good karma by acknowledging, and even doing small favours for, those beneath you. You never know when you might need their help or when they might decide to mess up your life, no matter how small a cog they were in the big machine.

Although tonight Lung was physically present, I could tell his mind was somewhere else.

My patron took a long sip of his whiskey, then asked, ‘Camilla, how come you’re so curious about this magician – what’s her name – Shadow?’ Then he turned to Zhu, scoffing. ‘Why would someone in their right mind name their girl Shadow? What did they call their other children, Ghost, Apparition, Phantom? And the parents, Specter and Silhouette? Eh?’

Lung laughed his full-toothed laugh with his thin lips stretching downwards. The Chinese call this the capsized-boat expression. In physiognomy it is deemed an unlucky trait. But so far Lung’s luck, like his bodyguards, was always there for him.

Except for Gao, who was always serious, everyone else burst into hilarious laughter. Not that the joke was that funny, but because it had come from the mouth of the most relentless man in Shanghai.

‘Maybe her other siblings are called Smoke and Mirror?’ I quipped, a risky move, in case Lung might think I was trying to outsmart him. However, judging from his past mistresses, he could be fascinated by a woman’s brain, not just her breasts.

Now it was Lung’s turn to laugh, followed by even more hilarious laughter from the group. Not because my joke was so funny, but because I was the number one gangster’s number one woman.

This was the satisfaction of being at the top. But as the great sage Laozi said, ‘When things reach their zenith, they have nowhere else to go but down.’ So there is always the dread of the possible downward journey or, especially considering the fate of many gangsters, assassination.

When the laughter subsided, Zhu leaned over to his boss. ‘This Shadow must be an illegitimate child or an orphan to have a name like that.’

Was Zhu subtly deriding my orphan status?

Lung scoffed. ‘Maybe you’re right. Ha-ha! But who cares about a shadow, right?’ Then he said to me, ‘Camilla, this had better be a good show. I don’t want to waste my time being bored. How come you wanted me here tonight?’

I smiled my heart-softening, man-hardening smile. ‘Master Lung, what a question. You want to embarrass me by having me declare my love for you in public?’

He squeezed my narrow waist with the same hand that had inexorably squeezed out many rivals’ last breaths. ‘Besides your singing, your speech is also getting more clever. Whom did you learn this from?’

‘You of course, Master Lung. Who else?’

‘Ha-ha! Ha-ha! I like smart, beautiful women, just like you.’ He pulled my head to him and planted a kiss on my cheek.

I caught a jealous glance from Gao, followed by an ambiguous one from that young person four tables away.

Just then the orchestra struck up an animated tune, a signal that the show was about to begin. I’d already guessed that the first act on the program wouldn’t be Shadow’s. As the star, her act would come last.

The opening act was a songstress, mediocre in looks, talent and dress. Following her was another mediocre singer, better dressed but with a screechy voice.

Master Lung, looking bored, raised his rough voice amid the loud music. ‘I really don’t understand why Ciro Nightclub hired two homeless cats to meow.’

I giggled. ‘Master Lung, you’re so funny! Because these two mediocrities are only here to make us appreciate the following show.’

He hit his fist on the table, causing a small earthquake. ‘You’re damn right, Camilla. What do you eat to get so smart?’

‘All the meals granted by you, Master Lung.’

He laughed, and the earthquake shifted to his belly. ‘Good, Camilla! That’s why you’re my favourite!’

I could only hope that that would last – until my mission was completed.

‘Thank you, Master Lung.’ Though I feared his impatience if he were bored, I silently prayed that Shadow would not be my match in beauty or intelligence.

But Master Lung would be the one to judge. And unfortunately men’s opinion about women is unpredictable and subject to change, like a child’s in a toy store, or a woman wandering the aisles of the expensive department stores on Nanking Road.

Still smiling, Lung playfully pinched my hip. I pretended to fend off his ambush by hitting his arm flirtatiously with my hand.

He cast me a curious look. ‘Where’s the painted fan I gave you?’

That was the fan I’d thrown towards his son the other night. To be courteous, I should have invited the young master tonight. But I hadn’t because I didn’t want him here to further complicate things or to be another distraction to my goal.

I responded. ‘Didn’t you see that I threw it to the audience? I guess someone must have caught it.’

‘Next time, don’t throw my fans away.’

‘Of course not, Master Lung.’

As if on cue to save me from more chiding, a burst of loud drumming rolled out as multicoloured lights criss-crossed the stage. A quiet fell over the hall as people anticipated the long-awaited act. Soon a black-tuxedoed man entered from the right side of the stage.

‘We want Shadow and her magic!’ someone shouted.

I smiled inside. Any performance is a form of seduction. Playing hard to get is always a winning strategy.

With his white-gloved hand, the master of ceremonies tapped lightly on the microphone, then cleared his throat. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Ciro Nightclub!’

A round of applause burst in the packed hall.

‘Are you ready for our mysterious guest tonight?’

Another burst of applause as the audience shouted a collective, ‘Yes!’

‘Are your eyeballs ready to be astounded?’

An even louder ‘Yes!’

‘All right, so now be prepared for Miss Shadow’s impossible show. If you saw her daring stunt last week at the Customs House, I can assure you that tonight’s show will be even more astonishing.’ He paused for a moment.

‘Okay, everybody, let’s hear a loud welcome for the incredible Miss Shadow!’

The MC strode off the stage as another fusillade of drumming burst from the orchestra. All the lights dimmed in the hall except those onstage. An unworldly silence seemed to stretch into infinity. Then, to everyone’s surprise, instead of the much anticipated appearance of Shadow herself, there was only a pair of red shoes floating in the air!

My heart sank. If she could think of this, she might actually be able to outshine me.

I cast Lung a secretive glance and found that his eyes were protruding more than usual. He must have found her intriguing, if not downright attractive.

More gasps and exclamations sprinkled the hall. Now we only saw one bare foot, toenails painted bright red, like drops of blood from a slaughtered chicken.

I could see that, like me, the magician knew how to create a presence. I wondered, was she also well-versed in Sunzi’s The Art of War and the Thirty-Six Stratagems?

Then she materialised on stage, and immediately a collective gasp exploded in the hall. Just as at the Customs House, she had not a stitch on her entire body! The men laughed and cheered, and the women gasped.

My hear sank another notch.

Shadow had a voluptuous figure, her full breasts jiggling like tofu, with a firm, if generous, bottom atop muscular legs. Her face was rounder than mine, with a high forehead and two painted-on, crescent-moon-shaped eyebrows. Her hair was pulled back tightly like a ballerina’s, but slithered down her back. Sizing her up, I had to admit to myself that I could not compete with her athletic physique. But so far I had been able to rely on my narrow waist, long legs, slim, girlish figure and innocent eyes. ‘Like a beautiful maiden walking out from an album of exquisite paintings’ – that was how the entertainment newspapers in Shanghai described me.

A few seconds passed as the audience – at least those who sat close to the stage in the first three rows – realised that the magician was not naked but wearing a tight, flesh-coloured tunic. Some men emitted a disappointed, ‘Huh!’ and a few women, ‘Thank old heaven!’

Shadow began slow dance movements to the dreamy music from the orchestra as the red shoes floated teasingly in front of her. Then she paused, hands on hips.

She made a face, chiding the shoes, ‘Oh, you terrible little twins. Now come back to Mummy!’

The shoes shook but came no closer. Looking annoyed, she reached to snatch them, but they playfully bounced away.

‘Come back, good girls, come back to Mummy …’ Shadow cooed as the shoes kept backing away like playful toddlers, advancing and retreating until Shadow suddenly slapped them down onto the floor.

Then a gasp of shock came from the audience as a pool of blood appeared around them – just as had happened in front of the Customs House. She shook her fist at the shoes, then put them on and exited the stage, leaving a trail of blood in the shape of a zigzagging snake.

There was an explosion of laughter and applause.

My heart was now grovelling on the floor. Damn this Shadow who was trying to steal away my mystery, my show, my life!

When Shadow reappeared, she was wearing a traditional magician’s outfit: black tuxedo, white gloves and tall hat. She did some usual tricks, like pulling rabbits out of her hat, but with great flair. For her finale, a large glass bowl filled with black ink was wheeled onto the stage, and a scroll was hung up next to it. With a graceful movement, Shadow dipped a huge brush into the bowl, then splashed the Chinese character for fish onto the scroll. She took down the scroll, wrapped it around the bowl, then whisked it away, to reveal the bowl now filled with fish swimming in clear water.

Spectacular as this was, I knew she must have even more spectacular illusions yet to come.

She would be the talk of Shanghai, stealing the limelight from my show. I had to put a stop to this.

Get close to yourself; get closer to your enemy. If Lung was going to fall for her, it’d better be under my eyes.

I turned to the gangster head. ‘Master Lung, why don’t we invite Miss Shadow to our table for a drink?’

Lung nodded, looking excited. ‘This Shadow is pretty good, isn’t she?’

Fifteen minutes later, a stunning Shadow floated to our table, trailed by flashing eyes and heated whispers. Her dress was light purple with swaying green willows, making me dizzy. For Chinese, the willow symbolises rootlessness. Was that the impression she intended to give? A mysterious magician whom no one could pin down?

Gao immediately stood up and pulled out a chair for her.

Lung smiled, his eyes traversing her body like wild horses galloping in a meadow.

After Gao went back to his table, Zhu spoke to the magician for his boss. ‘Miss Shadow, what a show!’ Then he introduced us.

‘Thank you so much for coming and inviting me to your table, Master Lung, Mr Zhu and Miss Camilla. Your names have long been thundering in my ears.’

The moment Shadow’s and my eyes met, I knew, and was sure she knew, that we would be rivals to the end.

It was a contest of feminine energies. I, slim and small-framed, was purer yin, and she, tall and robust, had some admixture of yang. I could only hope that the sage Laozi was right when he said, ‘The soft always overcomes the hard, the feminine, the masculine.’

I was also sure that only one of us would emerge victorious.

Lung was about to say something, but the manager came to tell him he had a telephone call.

The gangster head said to his right-hand man, ‘Zhu, you’d better come with me, in case it’s something important.’

After the trio left, Shadow smiled generously. ‘Miss Camilla, what an honour to be invited to your table.’

She was trying to please me, exactly the same strategy I intended to use on her.

I lifted the corners of my lips a little less than hers to show that my status was higher. ‘Thank you, Miss Shadow, but I’m sure you know that all eyes were upon you tonight, as they were the other night, too.’

‘You overpraise, Miss Camilla. I still have a long way to go, especially in Shanghai.’

‘You don’t need to be so modest. Your magic is astonishing.’ I paused to sip my champagne, then asked the question that had been burning in my mind, ‘Where did you learn your magic?’

Just then the evil duo, Lung and Zhu, came back.

I didn’t ask Lung what the phone call had been about, because as a woman and his mistress, I had no business knowing.

The two sat down. My patron looked happy. It must be that the phone call had brought good news, plus he was returning to sit with two dazzling women.

‘All right, I’m hungry. Let’s have something to eat.’

Mr Zhu waved for the manager and ordered dinner. In almost no time our table was covered with fresh drinks and plates of exotic gourmet food like drunken fish, fried quail, stewed rabbits’ legs, spicy deer tails and pigeon hearts with ginger.

While we ate, drank and chatted, I tried to study Shadow without being too obvious.

‘All right, what did you two girls talk about when I was away?’ Lung asked, picking up a fish head and chewing out its eyes. Maybe to look at women better, because fish eyes are supposed to be good for your eyesight.

Hoping to force Shadow to respond, I told him, ‘I asked Miss Shadow where she learned her magic.’

Lung turned to stare at the magician, chewing and waiting for an answer.

She dabbed her lips with a napkin, put it down, then said, ‘I consider myself extremely lucky, because my teacher taught me everything he knew before he passed away.’

Since her answer was not a real answer, Lung pursued the point. ‘What’s his name, then? And his school?’

‘Mine is an esoteric tradition, not to be made public.’

Probably seeing a fleeting shadow cross the gangster’s face, the magician immediately made amends by smiling flirtatiously as she apologised. ‘I’m so sorry, Master Lung. I had to swear a blood-oath to my ancestors—’

Lung waved a bony hand. ‘No need to apologise.’ He turned his attention back to the fish.

Of course I knew full well that no magician would ever reveal his or her secrets but would carry them to the grave.

‘Anyway, I learned it in Shandong, not here,’ Shadow added.

An unexpected revelation – we Shanghainese look down upon anyone from outside our city, because they are never as smart or as scheming or as sophisticated as we are. But perhaps she said she was from Shandong just to put me off guard.

Lung threw her a slanted glance, his cheeks masticating rhythmically to the nightclub’s music. ‘Shandong? I have some business there.’

Shadow’s eyes brightened. ‘That’s wonderful! What kind?’

Lung looked at her condescendingly. ‘I don’t think a woman would be interested in men’s business. You are too pretty to trouble yourself about such things. Anyway, you wouldn’t understand even if I told you.’ He cast his right-hand man a conspiratorial glance. ‘Right?’

Zhu sneered. ‘Completely right, Master Lung. That’s why I never talk to my old lady except to tell her what to cook for dinner.’

We all laughed, except Shadow.

Her smile froze, and her body stiffened, but she was smart enough to immediately try to make amends. ‘Of course you are both right, Master Lung and Mr Zhu.’

Lung nodded, then gave her a once-over. ‘Hmm … Shandong. That’s why you’re so damn big and tall!’

I was not sure if this was supposed to be a compliment or a criticism. But judging from what I knew of Lung’s previous conquests, or captives, he favoured women with small frames and delicate features. Lung was a small man himself, about five feet four, with a narrow face on which sat a few crude features not unlike a monkey’s. But although he was short, the gangster boss never failed to project an intimidating presence. Wherever he went, he splashed the air around him with menacing, don’t-mess-with-me expressions, surrounded by bodyguards with fight-me-if-you-dare expressions.

Chinese opera actors cultivate the same kind of presence. Before going on stage they cross an imaginary line – the ‘tiger crossing gate’ from the anonymity of the actor to the power of a mighty general or king. However short and puny, they miraculously transform themselves into heroes or villains. They meditate, thrust out their chests, relax their shoulders, hold their heads high. Only then do they cross the line into the illusory life of the drama, where they instantly become generals, warriors or emperors, controlling the fate of millions.

‘Build your presence.’ Big Brother Wang had repeated this over and over during my training.

Reflecting on these matters, I poured Lung a full cup of tea, then turned to my rival, hoping to smooth out the growing tension in the air. ‘Miss Shadow, I’m sure you learned from the best. I have never seen anything close to what you do.’

‘I believe my repertory is unique in Shanghai, if not all of China.’

As I was about to ask more, Lung suddenly turned amicable, smiling at us appreciatively. ‘Are you two going to be like sisters, huh? That would be big news, two pretty, talented women joining forces to win over Shanghai. Why don’t you two stop chattering for a while so we can eat more, eh?’

Mr Zhu immediately poured more wine into our glasses and heaped more food onto our plates. Though I didn’t know Zhu well, and he was the only man Lung trusted, I had never liked him. His small eyes were always darting inside the confinement of their two sockets, ready to spot any impending trouble. His nostrils were always enlarged, as if sniffing for anything fishy. Lung almost looked benign next to Zhu, whose face spewed evil and murderous thoughts wherever he went. Perhaps Lung’s face was less warlike because the guns and knives had already been transferred from his hand to Zhu’s.

I glanced back at Shadow, but her gaze was fixed on my patron.

‘Master Lung, if you ever want to hold a party and need a magic show, please don’t hesitate to ask me. It would be my greatest pleasure and honour.’

Zhu answered bluntly for his boss. ‘Miss Shadow, Master Lung is a very busy man.’

‘Yes, of course.’ She split an embarrassed smile, then looked back at her rice bowl.

Just then, we were approached by the striking young man I’d noticed earlier. Before he reached us, Gao, the head bodyguard, sprang up, ready for action.

Zhu leaned towards Gao and spoke softly to him. Gao then waved the intruder on to our table. ‘It’s okay, Master Lung,’ Gao said. ‘This is Miss Rainbow Chang, columnist at the Leisure News.’

So this was the gossip columnist? I’d been reading her column for a while but had never imagined she was of ambiguous gender.

Chang smiled an elegant smile. ‘Master Lung, Mr Zhu, Miss Camilla and Miss Shadow, what an honour to meet you all tonight after I’ve heard so much about you.’

Zhu smiled stiffly. ‘Miss Chang, please take a seat.’

The gossip columnist said, ‘Oh, please don’t let me take up your precious time. I came over to propose a toast to Miss Shadow’s brilliant show.’

Shadow barely acknowledged her compliment with a slight nod. Didn’t she know that this was the heartless reputation-killer Rainbow Chang? Or was she too distracted and eager to butter up Lung? However, her bad manners could only be to my advantage.

Then the columnist turned to the gangster head. ‘Master Lung, you have an excellent eye. Our Heavenly Songbird is beautiful as well as talented.’

Lung patted my back affectionately. ‘I do have a good eye, especially for women. Ha-ha!’

Rainbow Chang smiled. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, enjoy the rest of the evening.’ After that, she went back to her table, where the group of pink-clad ladies awaited her.

I turned to my patron. ‘Master Lung, had you known that Rainbow Chang dresses as a man?’

Lung shook his head, while Zhu cast me a disapproving look and said, ‘Maybe you also don’t know that she’s calling you the skeleton woman, eh?’

Of course I knew. In the less than a year I’d been singing and dancing at Bright Moon, one man had killed himself over me, another had divorced his wife and yet another had gone bankrupt after selling his apartment to buy me a flawless, eight-carat diamond ring.

If a skeleton woman had to destroy a family just for one night’s shelter, she wouldn’t hesitate for a moment. Words like compassion, kindness, love or generosity did not exist in their dictionaries. For them, it was either win or lose, succeed or fail, destroy or be destroyed.

However, I was never sure: was being called a skeleton woman an insult, a curse or a compliment?