Chapter 32
The morning after the fire, Master Liu handed Lisan a newspaper, Xinwen Bao, and pointed to the article about the blaze that destroyed Lennox Manor. Lisan scanned the lines.
. . . mansion belonging to Liu Fanzhu, leased by prominent businessman Mason Burnett . . . Mason Burnett’s body found in the
yet found but parts of the house collapsed . . . piles of wood that are still burning . . . fire is now considered contained
and the fire department says it will soon burn itself out.
She read it again, more carefully this time, and looked up at Yao and Master Liu. “But this is wrong,” she said, “I didn’t
die in the fire. Can you correct this mistake? It shouldn’t be difficult since your nephew is editor in chief.”
There was silence from both men. “Lisan,” Master Liu said, “I was the one who told my nephew to report that you’d died in
the fire.”
“I don’t understand,” she said, “why did you do that?” But the moment the question left her lips, she realized she should’ve
known.
“To get you out of danger,” Yao said. “To send you to your father without anyone coming after you or him.”
Because everyone, most importantly Masako Kyo, would believe Lisan had died in the fire.
Shanghai’s other Chinese newspapers had picked up information from the Xinwen Bao article.
Liu Lisan, age 19, working as a secretary.
The foreign language papers mentioned only that a female servant was missing, presumed perished in the fire.
“So now if Masako Kyo talks, it’s her word against that of someone from a wealthy and respected clan,” Master Liu said, “and
her evidence, which is you, will be dead. I can simply repeat what we’ve always said: that I found you on the streets. That
I haven’t seen or heard from Prince Tsai in decades.”
False papers for both Lisan and Yao were ready. They would enter Canada and settle in the city of Victoria, British Columbia,
Lisan traveling as Zheng Lei, daughter of Zheng Fong Hu, her father’s identity all these years.
“He will be waiting for you in Victoria,” Master Liu said. “Only two more days, and your ship leaves.”
Yao was going with her to Canada. She took a deep breath. Yao had been loyal to her father all these years, had stayed behind
in Shanghai to keep an eye on her, and now he would join them. It was because of her father, she told herself, he was going
because of her father, there was no other reason why.
“In the meantime,” Master Liu continued, “both of you must stay indoors and out of sight until it’s time to board your ship.
Fourth Uncle is the only one in the family who knows about you, that you’re not actually dead.”
“But what about Mrs. Stanton?” Lisan said. “We must tell the police about her before she gets out of Shanghai. I can’t prove
she killed Andrew Grey or poisoned her husband, but I know she tried to kill me and Mason Burnett.”
“Lisan, no,” Yao said. “You’re in hiding now. Even the servants don’t know you’re here, that you’re still alive.”
She looked around the dining room and realized how quiet it was, how quiet the house had been the previous night. Chin had brought in the breakfast congee and dishes, not Master Liu’s house servant.
When Yao had asked Chin and Lisan to stay in the garage until he had spoken to Master Liu, they’d assumed it was about Chin
joining the household. Yao had briefed Master Liu quickly on the situation. Master Liu’s modest staff consisted of a cook,
two house servants, and the gatekeeper, none of whom lived at the villa. Master Liu told his servants to eat an early supper
and then take three days off, starting immediately after supper. Thus, the servants were safely out of the way; they’d been
enjoying a meal in the kitchen when Yao brought Lisan and Chin into the house.
“Then you must be the one to tell police what Mrs. Stanton did, Master Liu,” Lisan said. “She’s an impostor and, for the sake
of preserving her identify, set the house on fire. Mason Burnett’s death is on her hands.”
Master Liu shook his head. “Lisan, without your testimony, we have nothing to tell them. And I know nothing about Mrs. Stanton
if you’re supposed to be dead.”
“But she’ll be getting away with murder!” Lisan said.
“Listen to me, Lisan,” Yao said, “the knife, the photographs from her school days, they’ve all gone in the fire. Even if you
made your accusations, where is the evidence?”
“The fire offers an opportunity for your disappearance to be absolute and clean,” Master Liu said, “a better story than a
mere change of identity.”
What else could she do? She nodded agreement.
“One more thing . . . yes, here it is,” Master Liu said, taking a small cloth bag from his coat pocket. “Your father gave
me these to keep in safety for you, Lisan.”
Inside was a string of large wooden beads linked with brass findings, each bead the size of a large chestnut and carved with Buddhist symbols. The beads were as familiar to Lisan as her own face.
“Those are the beads from your ancestral altar,” she said, lifting them from the bag. “They were around the Goddess of Mercy.”
Master Liu took the beads from her. He held one carved wooden bead between his fingers as if to show her a magic trick. He
twisted the wooden sphere and it opened in two halves. The bead was hollow and contained what appeared to be a wad of cotton.
He handed it to her. Its center was hard, smooth. She unwrapped the cotton and found a large pink pearl.
“Fifty-four beads, fifty-four pearls,” Master Liu said, “all perfectly matched. Each extremely valuable on its own. Sold together,
worth a fortune. Your father wanted you to have these, Lisan. In case anything happened to him, this was to have been yours.
It was to have been yours in any case.”
She stared at the pink sphere, its soft glow, the perfect shape. She couldn’t imagine what the entire string might be worth.
Master Liu cleared his throat. “You should also know,” he said, “that I’ve set aside a sum for you. When you’re settled in
Canada, when your father has determined the best way to keep funds for you, I’ll send it over. You know you’re the closest
I have to a daughter.”
“Master Liu, to tell the truth, you’re more father to me than my own father,” she said. “I can’t help but feel anxious about
meeting him. I feel so unprepared.”
“Ah.” He smiled. “But he is equally nervous about meeting you. Think on it for a bit. I find it helpful to write things down.
Perhaps you could do that on the ship, write down the questions you want to ask. About your family, about your future, about
his expectations. About your own expectations.”
That was the hardest part. Lisan didn’t know her father, didn’t know anything about Canada.
How could she have realistic expectations?
But now she was free of Lennox Manor, of Rosalie’s ghost. The feeling of compulsion was gone, the fog that had trapped her mind and bound her will to the mansion had lifted.
Because in the end, Rosalie’s ghost had chosen to warn her, to save her.
And now Lisan had a debt to repay.
“Master Liu, I wish to ask you a favor,” she said. “It’s about Chin and his daughter. Please help him find his daughter’s
unmarked grave and give her a proper funeral.”
Lisan had woken up in the gray hours of the morning and realized she knew exactly where Mason and Charles had buried Rosalie.
Her ghost had been telling her all along. The apparition always drifted over to the willow trees at the edge of the lake.
Before vanishing into mist Rosalie would always pause on the shoreline between two trees that grew a little bit apart from
the others. It was where Mason often stopped during his walks around the garden. Knowing Rosalie’s fate, Lisan now suspected
Mason went to check that the rising waters hadn’t eroded the ground, that the body interred so hastily was not exposed. She
was certain Mason and Charles had buried Rosalie beside the two willows.
She described the spot to Master Liu and to Chin, but she didn’t tell them about Rosalie’s ghost, letting them assume it was
Mason’s nocturnal wanderings that made her so certain of the location.
“We will look for your daughter’s grave as soon as the fire department has finished,” Master Liu assured Chin. “Since my Fourth
Brother owns the property, it won’t be a problem.”
The gates to Master Liu’s villa were closed, his servants away.
Inside the villa, Chin went about cleaning and dusting, as though already part of the household.
Outside, rainfall muffled the sounds of the street beyond the garden walls.
Lisan took an umbrella from the porcelain stand by the front door, and when she stepped outdoors, had to hold it almost sideways to fend off the driving rain.
Yao was in the garden shed. Lisan couldn’t understand why he was content to work as a gardener when he was clearly qualified to do much more.
As she opened the door to the garden shed he looked up with a smile, then continued pressing soil into a shallow pot. Lisan
seated herself on a wooden bench by the charcoal brazier. Almost as soon as she settled, the stray cat that slept in the garden
shed got up from the floor beside the brazier and jumped into her lap, where it purred contentedly, resuming its nap.
“Is Canada really the right place for us, Yao?” Lisan said. “What if we don’t like it there? How can it ever feel like our
home?”
“For now, you’re going so you and your father can be safe,” he said. “A revolution is coming, Lisan, and it will be a long
and confusing time before China is peaceful again. Then we can come back, if we still want to.”
“So many unknowns, Yao,” she said. “I want to see my father but I’m also afraid of what he’s like. Perhaps I’ll disappoint
him.” She stroked the cat, taking consolation from its soft fur. It was an old cat now; it had been in its prime when it first
came to live here, shortly after her first cat died.