Chapter 16
Sixteen
Cheers
As soon as we pass through the revolving doors, the Cathay Hotel concierge comes scurrying out from behind his desk.
‘Miss Wang,’ he calls.
Mr Lee pulls me to a stop, gives me a meaningful look. I stare back at him, and he squeezes my arm.
‘Miss Wang,’ Mr Lee says, arching his eyebrows and smiling so the dimple in his left cheek shows.
I almost say who, but Mr Lee’s intent expression makes me pause. I remember I’m Miss Wang. A fit of giggles takes me. The concierge stands patiently as I gather my wits to answer him.
‘Yes?’ I finally say, in my most ladylike voice, though I can hear I’m slurring my words.
‘You have guests waiting for you in the Horse and Hound,’ the concierge says with a curt bow.
I squint at him. ‘Sorry – what? Hound?’
‘The hotel bar – it’s past the lift lobby to the right.’
‘Oh! Of course. Who—’
The floor seems to tilt under me, and I stumble, but Mr Lee holds me tight, keeps me standing upright.
‘A lady and gentleman. I’m so sorry miss, but I did not get a chance to ask their names.’ The man bows, then retreats to his desk.
I give him a sloppy hand fist salute and a slurred, ‘This humble one offers abundant gratitude.’
Mr Lee laughs and pulls me along to the Horse and Hound. The bar is a cosy space tucked into the corner of the building. Tall glass windows give us a clear view of the still crowded Bund. The walls are panelled in dark wood and all the seats are upholstered in green leather.
‘Jing! We’ve been waiting for you for hours. Where have you been?’ A familiar voice calls out from the gloom.
I squint, trying to resolve the double images.
I make out a woman wrapped in peachy gauze waving at me from a table by the window.
With her is a broad-shouldered man, a head and a half taller than the woman.
I sniff the air, trying to make out their scents.
Gigi. What in the rotted turds is she doing here?
I squint again. Slowly her blurry form focusses.
Tian, how can a dress with so much fabric still manage to expose so much cleavage?
I don’t recognise the man’s scent. He has the spicy gingery scent of a yin creature, there’s also mountain pine and a subtle whiff of farm.
Someone from the Celestial realm, I’d wager.
Yaojing from Hell tend to smell less rural.
Mr Lee tugs me gently and leads me to the table. The man with Gigi stands to greet us. He wears loose cotton trousers and a blue tunic tied at the waist with a rough hemp cord. His long hair is tied in a low ponytail. Very farm chic. He raises a fist palm salute.
‘Honourable Lady Jing.’ The man’s voice tumbles from him like tilled earth, rich and deep. ‘I am Ah Lang. Big Wang sent us as your reinforcements.’
‘Wansui!’ I shout, laughing as I flop into the nearest chair.
‘Tian, Jing, how much have you had to drink? You smell like you’ve been bathing in baijiu!’ Gigi crosses her arms, pushing up her already abundant cleavage.
‘Keep doing that and they’ll pop right out,’ I say, pointing at her chest.
‘She’s been having a grand old time, drinking herself stupid, while we’ve been sitting here sipping tea. This will not do.’ Gigi’s tone has that imperious edge to it.
I dismiss her with a lazy wave of my hand. The whole room swims around me. Distantly, I hear Gigi demanding a cocktail menu and rattling off a long list of drinks. I stare at Ah Lang, but my tongue is too drunk to make the words out.
Mr Lee steps in. ‘My humble greetings to the virtuous Lady Gi and Ah Lang.’
Gigi narrows her eyes at Mr Lee in a way that raises my hackles. I plant an elbow on the table.
‘Uh uh,’ I say, wagging a finger at her. ‘None of that nonsense you pulled last time with Mr Lee. Or my fist will have something to say to your nose.’
‘You wouldn’t dare.’ Gigi puts a hand on the table, leans towards me, challenge in her gaze.
I plant my other elbow, interlock my fingers. ‘You really wanna try me? You have such a pretty nose; it would be a shame to ruin it.’
After a moment, she withdraws her hand. ‘Big Wang said we should enjoy Shanghai.’
‘He sent you to spy on me, didn’t he?’ I say.
Gigi doesn’t answer. Instead, she smooths the non-existent creases from the shimmering silk of her sleeves.
I make a disgusted sound. ‘I bet Big Wang said he’d put in a good word with Daddy if you did him this favour.’
Gigi’s face contorts in anger. ‘You’re such a rotted know-it-all,’ she hisses at me.
‘Ah, there you are, Gigi. I missed your ugly face.’ I lean forward and pat her cheek. Her eyes look like they are going to pop out of her head. Hee hee. ‘Hells, you are so easy to wind up. It’s why you always lose at cards.’
Gigi stands abruptly, but Ah Lang gives her a rotted doe-eye look, and she lets him pull her back to her chair. ‘I’m doing this for Lang, not for you.’
‘Fine,’ I say, crossing my arms.
‘Fine,’ she says, crossing hers.
Ah Lang sighs wearily as he glances between the two of us.
‘Big Wang was worried about you. And he heard there were quite a few hulijing still in yang Shanghai. Thought it would be prudent to have a couple extra Celestials on standby.’ Ah Lang addresses Mr Lee and pretends not to notice Gigi and I glaring daggers at each other.
‘He heard I was visiting Hell and asked if I would join you both. In return, he said he’ll do what he can to convince the Jade Emperor to let Gigi return to the Celestial realm. ’
I am perplexed and discomfited by how much debt Big Wang is incurring to keep me safe.
‘We’re planning to visit Hokkien Market first thing tomorrow,’ I say. ‘It’s just inside Zhabei, across Soochow Creek. The woman who sold Mr Lee the fake talisman has a stall there.’
‘No,’ Gigi says. ‘We are not doing any of that. We are having fun here. We’re not traipsing around playing detective.’
‘Yes. Yes, we are,’ I insist. I will not have Gigi thwart my plans.
Ah Lang pats Gigi’s arm. ‘We can go together after breakfast, petal. Big Wang did say we should keep Lady Jing company.’
‘Hells no. We came here to help her enjoy Shanghai. Not be depressed. I know where Zhabei is. We had reams of ghosts pouring into Shanghai after the Japanese bombed it into rubble and smoke.’
Ah Lang looks helplessly at Mr Lee, who returns an equally helpless expression.
‘Well, why don’t we enjoy Shanghai tonight, and decide in the morning. How about that, my petal?’
I gag. Before Gigi can retort, the waiter arrives with a tray full of drinks.
The waiter names each cocktail as he places it on the table ‘Gin Sling, Suffering Bastard, Conte Verde, Madame Meng, Bee’s Knees, Hanky Panky, Grasshopper, Yinyang, Scofflaw.
’ The list goes on until he has two glasses left on his tray.
A tall flute filled with a gently carbonated deep red liquid.
‘Oxblood,’ he says as he nudges the flute into the already overflowing mass of glassware on the table.
My fangs nudge out. ‘That one’s mine,’ I say.
The waiter places the last one on the table with a flourish. It’s a simple martini glass with a bright orange liquid. He flicks a lighter and blue flame races across the drink’s surface. ‘Flaming Bitch,’ he announces with a flourish.
‘That one’s yours.’ I point at Gigi, cackling.
Her eyes flare, but at another rotted doe-eyed look from Ah Lang, she folds her hands in her lap and says with prim congeniality, ‘I ordered one of everything. And the Oxblood especially for you.’
I pull a whatever face, but Mr Lee elbows me. With a snort, I give her a sloppy hand fist salute and mutter from the corner of my mouth, ‘Abundant gratitude blah blah blah.’
‘Charming,’ Gigi says.
I ignore her and pull the flute towards me, excited for the blood.
‘I don’t know how you manage with the crowds – all that yang qi is making even me salivate,’ Gigi says.
Ah Lang’s eyes widen. ‘My petal, you mustn’t indulge in yang qi. It will make it harder for you to return to the Celestial realm.’
I pluck the Suffering Bastard from the table, and offer it to Ah Lang, giggling to myself. ‘This one’s for you.’
Mr Lee picks his own drink before I can choose for him. ‘I’ll take the Stengah.’ He raises the whisky soda. ‘To new friends.’
Gigi and Ah Lang raise their glasses and we clink before downing our drinks.
I’m sorely disappointed to find Oxblood is not really blood at all.
It’s champagne and red wine and something sweet and earthy.
Not quite the liquid dirt of beets, but it makes my tongue feel furry.
I grab another drink – the green and frothy Grasshopper.
‘Rrrousdavyeno,’ I say, raising my glass.
‘Na-zda rro-vya,’ Mr Lee corrects, but the way he says it and the smile he gives me, doesn’t make me feel bad about my mistake. I feel . . . cherished. The feeling buoys my already light spirits.
I laugh. ‘What he said.’ I chase the weird earthy flavour away with mint.
Gigi surveys our empty glasses, then stands and says, ‘More!’ infusing her voice with the multi-layered whispers of Celestial command.
She always uses it when she’s trying to throw me off my game.
While I’m not totally inured to its effects, after all that practice I do a good job pretending the voice doesn’t scrape down my back like a shard of ice.
The waiter she singled out, however, looks like he’s about to dabian his smart black trousers.
‘Don’t pull that Celestial crap,’ I say. ‘It’s one thing on me, but the mortals can’t take it. Look at Mr Lee.’ He’s staring at Gigi, white as a lady ghost. All he needs is a head of long messy hair. ‘And you made our waiter cry.’
Sure enough, the poor man is weeping behind the bar, pouring out measures of whisky.
Gigi looks suitably chastised. ‘Contain this worthless one’s thoughtlessness.’
‘Oh for the love of Tian, none of that claptrap,’ I moan, gearing up to make my play. I am going to get them to come to Zhabei with me whether they want to or not. ‘New rule. If you utter that flowery shit, you drink.’ I consider her. ‘And whenever you push your ta-tas out, you drink.’
Gigi’s fingers fly to her throat, her jaw drops in mock offense. ‘Fine. But if you curse, you drink. And every time you mock me, you drink.’
‘Ha. Fine,’ I say, pretending to rise to her challenge. ‘Let’s make this fun for everyone. If he’ – I point at Ah Lang – ‘calls you petal, or makes those rotted doe eyes at you, you both drink.’
Gigi laughs, waving away Ah Lang’s sputtering objections. ‘Done. And if he’ – she points at Mr Lee – ‘gives you soft gooey eyes, or any time you touch, you both drink.’
‘Whatever,’ I scoff. Mr Lee tries to interrupt but I hold a hand to his face, being mindful not to touch him. ‘This is the wager. If I’m the last one standing, you all come to Zhabei with me tomorrow. If I lose, we’ll go lipstick shopping instead or whatever it is you want to do.’
Gigi tosses her hair. ‘I accept your challenge. May the strongest goddess win.’
I hold my hand out to her.
She looks at it, then up at me, confused. ‘What is that?’
‘It’s how we agree things here in yang Shanghai. Hold my hand.’
She extends her hand.
‘No, the other hand,’ I say.
She does, and I shake her hand, much to Mr Lee’s bemusement and Ah Lang’s fascination.
‘There. Deal done. Now let’s drink.’ I raise my glass and the other three follow.
We demolish two more trays of cocktails. Gigi at some point manages to get her hands on a full bottle of vodka, ‘to catch up’, she says.
Gigi holds herself back from the flowery claptrap, but Ah Lang can’t help giving her those doe eyes.
‘Drink!’ I shout every time I catch him looking at her.
‘Ah Lang, you’re making us lose! Stop with the loving eyes.’
‘Oh petal—’
‘Drink!’ I’m shrieking from laughter. Every time Lang opens his mouth, they both have to drink. He can’t seem to help himself.
It doesn’t take long for Gigi to get her own back, and I have to drink every time Mr Lee turns his shining eyes on me.
He can’t seem to help himself either. Somehow, I find myself holding a bottle of salted caramel vodka.
Mr Lee tries to wrest the bottle from me so I try to drink it dry before he can take it away.
‘Give that back,’ Gigi slurs, pointing at my bottle. ‘It’s miiine. I’m thiiiiirsty!’
I clutch the bottle tight. ‘Get your own.’
‘Okay,’ Gigi says with a happy grin. From the depths of her sleeves, she pulls out another bottle. ‘I am magic!’
‘She got the waiter to bring two bottles,’ Ah Lang explains.
‘Sly old demon,’ I cackle.
‘I am no demon. I am a goddess.’ She throws her shoulders back, pushing out her cleavage so the fabric strains dangerously. At a look from me, she tosses her head. ‘I know. Drink.’
She takes another swig from her bottle. With a goofy grin, she slowly tips towards Ah Lang, like an elegant bamboo falling in the forest, and promptly passes out. Ah Lang nimbly catches both her and the vodka bottle as it slips from her hands.
I throw my arms in the air. ‘Wansui! Zhabei here we come.’