Chapter Three
CHAPTER THREE
M y mother is a petite woman who does things like wear a dainty dragonfly pin on her sweater and cook at least three different dishes to accompany the rice at every dinner. In other words, on the surface, Ma seems to be the type of person who’d crumble at the news that her husband of thirty years has had a heart attack. But when Ma arrives at the hospital, she strides in with a puffed chest and a determined glare on her face, like she’s ready to take on the laws of the universe, and win.
I jump to my feet when I spot her. “Ma!” Tears rush into my eyes at the sight.
“Be strong for her,” Mushu mutters under her breath.
Right. Mushu’s right. I need to step up and be strong for my mother. My poor old mo—
“What is the diagnosis?” Ma says briskly. Her words come out clear, with only the slightest hint of a tremor.
“All they told me was that it was a heart attack,” I say. “They’re still working on him.”
Ma closes her eyes and seems to deflate slightly. Then she takes a deep breath and looks at me. “Are you okay?”
“I—” To my horror, huge, body-racking sobs rip out of me. So much for staying strong for Mama. I hide my face under my hands and feel Ma’s arms enveloping me.
“There, there,” Ma says.
“I’m so scared of losing him,” I weep into her shoulder.
“We won’t,” Ma says, and the way she says it is with such certainty that one might believe that she has the ability to manipulate fate and destiny.
“Fate and destiny?” Ma says with a small laugh, and I realize I’ve said it out loud. “Fate and destiny are my bitches, didn’t you know?”
“Ma!” I laugh in between sobs.
Ma cups my face with both hands, wiping away my tears with her thumbs. “Ah, sweetheart. Don’t you worry, everything will be all right.”
As much as I would love to believe Ma, I’m no longer a little kid, and this isn’t just some nightmare Mama can brush off with hugs and tender words. “You don’t know that, Ma.”
“Oh, but I do. I haven’t had a chance to speak to him, you see. He won’t leave until I do. We have unfinished business.”
“Unfinished business?” I sniffle.
“He didn’t unload the dishwasher last night,” she says simply.
Again, I laugh, then more tears come and I hug Mama tightly. She feels so tiny in my arms. When did my parents turn old? When did I outgrow them? I can sense a slight tremor when Mama takes in a breath, and I know that she’s fighting like hell to keep herself together. She’s being strong so that I have the luxury of falling apart, and I wish I could’ve done this for her. But no, I reverted into a little kid as soon as I spotted my mom. Guilt washes over me. A very familiar feeling.
Up until I was eight years of age, I used to beg my parents for a younger sister. They’d smile sadly and tell me that they didn’t want more children, that I was such a perfect child that they couldn’t ask for more. I used to believe them, until Auntie Dongmei and Uncle Bao came to stay with us while visiting from China. One night, I was on my way to the bathroom when I overheard Auntie Dongmei say to Mama, What a shame because of Mulan you had to have that awful operation. And she isn’t even a boy! Later, I found out that after giving birth to me, Ma had contracted an infection in her uterus, and so had to have it removed. But at the age of eight, all I cared about were the words: And she isn’t even a boy!
Guilt and shame became my most familiar friends then. Not only had I taken away Ma’s chances of having another child, but I’m not even a boy. And so I resolved to do the next best thing: Be the son that my parents deserve.
When we release each other, Mushu comes toward us. “Hi, Auntie.” She envelops Ma in a tight hug before handing her a steaming cup of tea. “The tea is nothing like that tea you usually get from your friend Vera, but it’s hot, at least.”
“Thank you, Mushu,” Ma says, patting Mushu on the cheek before settling into a chair. She gestures for Mushu and me to join her. “Tell me everything that happened.”
I try my best to recount how Baba had been trying to touch his toes, and Ma makes a sound that’s somewhere in between a laugh and a groan.
“And before he decided to show off how flexible he still is, what were you two discussing?” she says.
I sigh. “Wutai Gold, you know that whiskey company he’s been after for a while?”
“Ah, yes. He’s told me quite a bit about them.” Although Ma has never worked a day in the finance sector—she is a software engineer—Ba has always maintained that she has some of the best instincts he’s ever come across, and he often discusses matters of the firm with her.
“Yeah, well, I was telling Ba that the numbers aren’t great, and he was telling me that he sees potential in them.” I pause. “What do you think of them?” Just like Baba would’ve been if he were in my shoes, I’m desperate to know what Ma thinks.
Ma purses her lips as she ponders my question. “Well, I can see why your father likes them.”
“Really? Why? They’re a huge mess. He did tell you that it’s completely family run, right?”
“Well, yes, that part isn’t ideal, but he really hit it off with some of the family members. Said they reminded him of himself when he was younger.”
I know it’s stupid, but I can’t help feeling a stab of jealousy at that. Reminded Ba of himself when he was younger? Excuse me, that should be me.
Ma takes my hand and squeezes gently. “Mulan, I know you don’t think much of Wutai Gold, but your father…I haven’t seen him this happy about a potential buyout in a long time. Maybe when the doctors are done with him, you could tell him that you’ll see the deal through.”
“Or maybe he should be taking it easy and not be obsessing over buyouts,” I grumble.
“I agree. It’s time for him to take a step back and let you take the helm.”
“Oh.” I hadn’t been expecting that. Anxiety stabs through my chest at the thought of “taking the helm.” Of course, that’s always been my ambition, but I’ve only ever thought of it in a very vague, blobby way.
“And I think that seeing this buyout through on your own will give him the reassurance that he needs to do just that,” Ma continues.
I grit my teeth. “Or I could just, you know, show him that it’s a terrible idea.”
Ma levels her gaze at me. “There is a reason that your father has managed to build a successful firm from the ground up, despite people like Richard Foreman trying their best to take him down at every turn, and you’d do well to remember that, Mulan. You don’t know everything. Do your due diligence, and do it with an open mind. Do not let Baba down.”
I lower my head, feeling chastened.
“I’m sorry,” Ma says, tucking a finger under my chin. “I didn’t mean to be so harsh on you. The thought of something happening to your father…”
Just then, the doors to the operating theater swing open and the surgeon walks out. We stand, clinging to each other.
“Mrs. Hua?” she says, slipping her mask down.
Ma nods. “How is he?”
“Stabilized,” the surgeon says.
It feels as though my limbs have turned to water. “Thank god.”
“But he did have a heart attack and we did have to perform an emergency angioplasty, so his recovery will take a while. And he really needs to take things easy from now on. No stress, seriously.” Though the surgeon can’t be older than forty, she looks so stern that we all nod like children being told off. “He’ll be taken to the ward in a bit. You’ll be able to see him then, but only for a short while. He needs to rest.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” I say, and turn to give Ma and Mushu a big hug.
Baba looks so painfully small and pale that I have to pinch the back of my thigh to keep from sobbing when I finally get to talk to him. “Ba.”
He looks up from Ma, and though his smile is tired, his eyes are as bright and twinkly as ever as he takes me in. “Hi, Baby Cheeks.” Baby Cheeks is a nickname he gave me when I was a toddler, and it stuck the moment I screamed, I’m not a baby and that’s a stupid name!
“Hi, old man.” I stand next to him and stroke his arm. “How’re you doing?”
“Oh, you know, pretty uneventful day. Had a bagel, followed by a heart attack, but I understand I’m about to be given some Jell-O, so all in all I’d say the day’s looking up.”
“Ba,” I groan.
“I have to say, Uncle,” Mushu pipes up, “for someone who’s just had heart surgery, you’re looking very perky.”
“And handsome, I hope?”
“Oh yeah, totally banging.”
I spot the look that Ma is giving me, and clear my throat. I need to reassure him quick, before the nurse throws us out of the room. “Hey, so, Ba, we need you to take things easy while you recover. So please don’t worry about work.”
He grimaces. “The meeting with Wutai Gold tomorrow—”
“I’ll handle it,” I say quickly. “Don’t worry about it.”
Ma gives me a small nod and raises her eyebrows, a clear indication for me to keep going.
“I’ll do the due diligence with them, and don’t worry, Ba, I will do it with an open mind. I know how much this buyout means to you. I promise you I won’t let my own bias get in the way.”
“No, don’t—”
Whatever Ba is about to say is interrupted by the arrival of the nurse, who says, “Hellooo! Time for you to rest, Mr. Hua. We’re under very strict doctor’s orders to minimize stress, so everyone out, please, thank you.” Though her tone is friendly, it’s also clear that there will be no discussion about staying another few minutes.
In the rush, it’s all I can do to plant a quick kiss on Ba’s forehead before I am ushered out of the room. We all stand in the hallway for a second, slightly stunned at how fast we’ve been thrown out.
“I was really hoping I’d be able to get a bit more info about Wutai Gold out of him before we were asked to leave,” I moan. At the expression on Ma’s face, I add, “I know, I know, no shoptalk.”
“Just go through his emails or something,” Mushu says.
Ma shrugs. “Not a bad idea. I don’t think your father would mind, especially since the meeting is tomorrow. The password is our wedding anniversary plus my birth date.”
“Aww, Auntie Li, that is the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard,” Mushu says. “But also the least secure email password. Anniversary and birth dates are the first things a hacker would try to break into your account. You guys really need a lesson on cybersecurity.”
Mama smirks. “Ah, but it’s not the actual dates, it’s the date plus the other date.”
Mushu stares at her in confusion, until I say, “You literally have to add the two dates together, so it ends up looking like a random string of numbers.”
“Damn, Auntie Li, that is some next-level nerd shit. I love it,” Mushu says.
“The family that does mathematics together stays together,” Ma says.
“No, Ma, still doesn’t work. Stop trying to make that saying work.”
“Never say never.” Ma pauses, then adds, “If a saying as silly as ‘never say never’ can work, mine definitely can work, too. Anyway, I best go home and pack some things for the hospital.”
“Are you staying overnight, Ma?”
“Your father and I have not had a single night away from each other since we got married thirty years ago, and I’m not about to start now.” With that, she gives me a kiss and hugs Mushu before walking away.
“Aww,” Mushu says. “Your parents are so cute. Have they really never spent one single night away from each other since they got married? What about, like, business trips and such?”
“When either one has to go on a business trip, they call each other before bed so they can fall asleep to the sound of each other’s breath. Used to rack up some serious phone bills before WhatsApp and FaceTime and all that came about. So technically they have spent some nights physically apart, but they’ve always fallen asleep with each other.”
“Oh my god,” Mushu says, clasping her hands to her chest. “That is the most romantic thing I have ever heard of. Well, romantic and also weirdly codependent, but codependent in a cute way.”
I smile wistfully. My parents are probably two of the most in love people I’ve ever known. I love it for them, but it’s also kind of set an impossible bar for my romantic interests. Even back in college, whenever I went out with a date, I couldn’t help but compare our interactions with my parents’. Is our banter as witty as Ma and Ba’s? Is the way he looks at me as soulful as the way my ba looks at my ma? A million and one little tests that I don’t even realize I’m giving the poor guy up until the moment my subconscious says: Nope, he fails. It’s probably one of the many reasons why I haven’t been in a serious relationship for ages. That, and the fact that one of my exes once told me, You’re so strong and independent, there’s no space for me in your life . Which isn’t completely untrue.
“All right,” I say, taking a deep inhale to try and bring myself back to the present. “We have to focus. Tomorrow’s the big meeting with Wutai Gold, and I promised my dad that I’m going to see this buyout through.”
“What about all that stuff you said about the…” Mushu waves her hands in a vague gesture. “You know, the finance-y stuff?”
“‘Finance-y stuff?’” I cock an eyebrow at her. “Mushu, how long have you been working at the firm?”
“Long enough to know that most finance terms are fancy-sounding crap you guys made up to sound like you know what you’re talking about.”
“Okay, you have a point.”
“It’s funny, I started at the company right out of college because I simply had no other offers or prospects and I didn’t know what the hell I was doing—”
“Did you say all that during the interview?”
“I did, yes,” Mushu says without hesitation. “And your dad said, ‘Well, you are my favorite niece, so there’s always a place for you here.’”
“Did he really say that?”
“Okay, it was more like…” Mushu assumes a stern expression and pinches the bridge of her nose. “‘Mushu, don’t ever say that at a real interview. And you know you can always work here if you need a job, but promise me you’ll use this time to figure out what you really want to do with your life.’ Your dad is a sweetheart.”
I try to ignore the painful way my heart squeezes at that. “He is. Okay, back to Wutai Gold. Yes, I still think the projections are on the optimistic side—”
“Because you’re a raging pessimist?” Mushu says helpfully.
I narrow my eyes at her. “Because I go by the numbers. But I owe it to Ba to—”
“Not be so pessimistic?”
“To give it a fair shot,” I snap. “So I’m going to that meeting tomorrow, and you’re going to help me prep for it.”
“Only one problem,” Mushu says.
“I don’t care what hoops I need to jump through to get this done, Mushu, I’m doing it.”
“Fine by me, it’s just that, well, I’ve been helping your dad out with the correspondence and stuff, and…”
“What?”
Mushu shrugs. “I don’t think these people are going to want to do the deal with you.”
It takes a moment for Mushu’s words to sink in. “I don’t understand. Why not?”
“Um, they sound kind of, sort of, really—hmm, what’s the word I’m looking for?— traditional .”
“‘Traditional,’” I echo.
“You know, sort of more on the conservative side…”
“So you’re saying they won’t want to deal with me because I’m a woman?”
“Well, not quite, but—well, yes.”
I grin. “Oh, Mushu. Mushu, Mushu.”
Mushu looks at me like I’ve finally lost it.
“Mushu, I am a VP at a private equity firm.”
“I am aware of that,” Mushu says warily.
“Every day for the past five years, I have had to deal with finance bros in all their human, and barely human, form. Analysts who think they are certified geniuses—and some of them are genuine geniuses, mind you. Partners who think they are destined to become billionaires, if they’re only given the right opportunity. Manspreaders who are used to bullying and not taking no for an answer to get to where they want to be in life. And every single one of these men thinks they are god’s gift to women.”
“Yep, sounds about right,” Mushu says.
“And yet not only have I remained in this male-dominated industry, I have excelled.” I say this with a little bow.
“Yeah you have, sis!” Mushu cheers.
“So the fact that the Wutai Gold family is sexist? Doesn’t faze me. In fact, I would’ve been surprised if you’d told me they weren’t sexist.”
“Right. Except they also said they can’t possibly trust anyone aside from, uh—your dad.”
Anxiety claws up my chest, threatening to wrap its hands around my throat and squeeze, but I fight it back. No, I can’t afford to fall apart right now. Not when I’ve just promised my father to bring this one home. The memory of my mother’s sad, lined face floats to the surface, and I ball my hands into fists in determination. “I’m not going to back down. I can’t afford to cancel tomorrow’s meeting. Foreman and Byrde will cut in and sweep them away if we don’t go fast. They’re already competing for this deal. The stress of that would destroy Ba.”
“Ugh, those creeps,” Mushu mutters.
“Come on, we’re going back to the office.”
“To hack into your dad’s email?”
“Does it even count as hacking if I know his password?”
Hours later, the sun has dipped well below the San Francisco hills, and I’m wondering if this is where I give up after all. Alone in my dad’s office, I rub my tired eyes and scroll back through his emails with Wutai Gold. Most of his correspondence has been with Shang, who is the acting CEO of the company, and the messages are very…I struggle to describe them without being rude to Baba. No other word for it, the messages are so bro-y. Take this one, for example.
From: Hua Zhou
To: Li Shang
Subject: Re: Wutai Gold & Facai Capital
Dear Shang,
I think it’s wonderful that your whiskey distillery is located at your family’s ranch. Back home in Yunnan, my family has a large farm that sounds very much like your family’s ranch here. We owned all sorts of animals and grew most of our crops. My fondest memories are of chopping wood and herding cattle. I could ride a horse before I learned how to walk, and the pigs and goats were my friends growing up. One day soon, I hope to visit your family ranch. Perhaps we could even have a bit of a race on horseback?
Best,
Zhou
From: Li Shang
To: Hua Zhou
Subject: Re: Wutai Gold & Facai Capital
Dear Zhou,
Hey I never back down from a challenge. Horseback race it is.
My family is very much looking forward to meeting you on Wednesday. Between you and me, they’re very traditional, as you can probably guess. They feel strongly that whomever we end up selling the company to needs to understand what our brand stands for—strength, courage, and perseverance. I’ve really enjoyed our correspondence and hope that our meeting will go well.
I’ll see you then,
Shang
“Strength, courage, and perseverance,” I say. My forehead thunks onto the table and I lie there quietly for a while, savoring the silence in the office.
The sound of footsteps enters the room. “Uh-oh. Are we done for the night?” Mushu says, setting bags of takeout down on the table.
I peer up at her without lifting my head. “The patriarchy is so tiresome.”
“That’s one word for it.” Mushu starts unpacking the bags, filling the room with the delicious, greasy smells of black pepper beef and Yangchow fried rice. She pushes the containers to me. “Eat. Your brain needs food.”
“I’ve lost my appetite.” On top of Baba being in the hospital right now, the images of him being raised on a farm hurt for some strange reason. For the life of me, I can’t imagine Baba herding cattle or milking cows or whatever else they do on farms. And here he is, telling a complete stranger that he learned to ride horses before he could walk? What? Who is this man, and what happened to him? The Baba I grew up with carries a microfiber cloth to clean his glasses every thirty minutes and takes two different antihistamines for his pollen allergy. He watches Love Is Blind and says “Oh my” when the contestants inevitably get hurt on camera. He is a math nerd who plays the Xbox and cries at games like The Last of Us . I feel betrayed somehow, finding out that there’s a whole side to him I didn’t know about.
And not to mention the fact that this Shang has basically spelled out that his family will only deal with a man. What I said to Mushu earlier in the day about being experienced when it comes to dealing with finance bros is true. It’s just that I never expected that my father would connect to a finance bro on such a personal level. Maybe Baba lied to me all these years when he told me that he was glad to have a daughter instead of a son? The thought stabs straight into the roots of my heart, making my eyes water. Historically, Chinese families have been known to favor boys over girls. Didn’t my own aunt say as much to my mother? I’ve always considered myself lucky that my parents are so untraditional, but maybe that was all a lie. Could Baba have secretly wished for a son all along?
The thought of this makes something click. Haven’t I been playing different roles my entire life? This whole time, I’ve tried to fulfill the role of a son and daughter for my parents to make up for me being a girl. At the office, I’ve played yet another role. My life is nothing more than a series of roles. What’s one more?
“I take it you’ve read all their emails?” Mushu says. Her mouth is full of fried rice, so it takes me a second to figure out what she just said.
“Yep.”
“You read the emails that basically say they don’t want to deal with anyone but your father?”
“I read the emails that say they don’t want to deal with anyone but Hua Zhou,” I say.
Mushu frowns, chewing slowly before swallowing. In the thick silence of the room, her swallowing is painfully audible. “I’m not sure what you’re getting at.”
“My dad never referred to himself as a ‘he.’”
“Um…”
“He never mentioned his age, never mentioned his daughter or his wife or any other identifying details aside from his name. Zhou could be a girl’s name.”
“Mulan…” Mushu says with a warning tone.
“Mushu,” I reply with a sweet smile.
“No,” Mushu says.
“Yes.”
“No.”
“And you’re going to help me.”
“No!” Mushu groans.
I pick up my chopsticks, and grin. “You love the idea and you know it. We’re going to save this deal, you and I.” And, though I don’t say it out loud to Mushu, I know that deep down inside me, there’s a tiny kernel that burns with anger and frustration and a fierce longing to prove for once and for all that I, Hua Mulan, am a better, more filial offspring than any son could be.