Chapter 20
Twenty
Ruffled Feathers
All marcelled, painted, and coiffed, Gigi and I head downstairs to meet the men.
She is resplendent in a glimmering gold dress which is cut straight across her collarbones.
When she first donned the dress, I was shocked to see she chose one that covered her bosom, but then she winked and turned.
Swathes of silk fell from each shoulder, exposing the whole of her back, from nape to the dimples just above her butt.
Ah Lang and Mr Lee are waiting for us in the lobby.
They wear black Western-style suits, but these are tailored more closely.
Tuxedos, they tell us. The silhouette is sharp.
The jackets have long tails at the back like a swallow and their white shirts are paired with black bow ties.
I’m rather taken with this new look. I dare say, Mr Lee is even dashing.
Ah Lang’s gaze lights up when he sees us. He cautiously approaches Gigi, who stiffens beside me.
‘This unworthy one glories in your fragrant beauty which illuminates the very heavens, my darling petal.’ He bows low.
Gigi gives him a snooty sniff. I’m concerned that she still isn’t falling for that flowery piss-fart she loves so much. I nudge her, and give her an encouraging smile, but she only moves to the other side of me, away from Ah Lang.
Mr Lee bows. ‘We are the luckiest men in Shanghai.’ He offers me his arm. It feels natural for me to take it, so I do.
Ah Lang looks quizzically at Mr Lee for a moment, then mimics the action.
Gigi turns her nose up and shifts away from him again.
Just then, two ladies pass by in beaded gowns that pitter like falling rain as they pass.
Their hair is bobbed short and marcelled like the most fashionable women here.
Long silver earrings sweep their shoulders, drawing the eye to their elegant necks.
Their gazes linger appreciatively on Ah Lang, and they offer him inviting smiles, until Gigi inserts herself in their line of vision and claims Ah Lang’s arm.
Willie arranged a car and driver for us, so we pull up to the Paramount in style.
The dance palace reminds me of the fancy car we arrive in – all silver, chrome, and mirrors, and a lot of black shiny surfaces.
We ascend a circular white marble staircase to the main dance floor.
The place reeks of Celestials. There are so many overlapping scents and perfumes it’s as pungent as a Mahjong Council.
The whole space is a concentric set of circles dotted with towering muscular bouncers, also wearing tuxedos which look like they might burst at the shoulders.
At the centre is the dance floor. Around that are a number of small tables – women in qipao sit in groups by the tables closest to the dance floor.
At the very outer edge are raised circular booths which give their occupants a sense of privacy, as well as the best views in the house.
At the far end of the room is a stage with an orchestra.
We head towards the stage, when a squat but solid young man in a pin-striped suit crosses our path.
‘Brother Zhu!’
‘Ah Lang! Good to see you, old boy. Didn’t expect to see you again so soon.’ His short hair frames a face of boyish charm. A half-unbuttoned white shirt reveals a smooth muscled chest – he exposes nearly as much skin as Gigi normally does.
Gigi narrows her eyes and Ah Lang visibly tenses.
‘This is Lady Gi, my beloved petal,’ Ah Lang says.
Brother Zhu bows to Gigi. ‘This unworthy one basks in your heavenly beauty, most venerable Lady Gi. Ah Lang did not exaggerate your loveliness. Your beauty rivals even that of the great goddess Queen Mother of the West herself!’ He winks at Ah Lang. ‘You lucky dog.’
Gigi blushes, because of course she does, lapping up that aristocratic drivel.
Ah Lang claps him on the back. ‘And this is Lady Jing, and Mr Lee, our mutual friend.’
Brother Zhu bows, his dark gaze tracking me. His eyes dance and I just know he’s going to be full of that piss-fart.
Before he can utter a word, I put my hand up. ‘No courtly speech.’ I can’t help the growl that comes with it.
His eyes widen, and his impish grin gleams even brighter. ‘When a plum blossom vision as lovely as yourself makes such a request, how could I ever say no?’
He takes my hand and tries to press his lips against my skin, but I grip his hand and yank him forward. ‘Try it and I’ll carve out your rotted tongue,’ I whisper into his ear.
Brother Zhu gazes up at me through ridiculously long and lush lashes. He doesn’t look at all repentant, if anything it’s like I’ve offered him a challenge he can’t refuse. He gives me a fist palm salute instead, then playfully growls back, ‘Feisty Celestials are my favourite.’
Before I can respond, he turns to Mr Lee and grasps his hand, shaking it with enthusiasm. Mr Lee wears an expression I haven’t seen before. He reminds me again of a panther, still and dangerous. I stifle a laugh because dangerous is not a word I associate with Mr Lee.
‘Welcome, welcome,’ Brother Zhu says, completely oblivious to the way Mr Lee’s gaze has gone flat and predatory. ‘Come, you must sit at my table tonight.’
We follow Brother Zhu across the room. Our progress is halting as he pauses for one yaojing or another as they greet him.
Lord Cai, the God of Money, in poppy red silks with gold chains dangling from his box hat, claps Brother Zhu on the shoulder as we pass.
A few steps later, Ji Gong the God of Healing greets Brother Zhu with an energetic fist palm salute that ripples his plain cotton water sleeves, and right on his heels is Zhu Rong, the God of Fire, sporting a bright turquoise tuxedo, his hair slicked back like Brother Zhu’s.
He nods at us, his gaze lingering appreciatively on Gigi.
I glance around. Most of the deities here are high-ranking ministers.
‘Shouldn’t they be at the Mahjong Council?’ I mutter to Gigi as yet another senior minister claps Brother Zhu on the back.
‘They like to sneak out between rounds,’ Gigi says. ‘You’ll probably see all of them here at some point tonight.’
I had no idea. Ma Zhu, Goddess of the Sea, floats towards us, her sheer azure dress rippling around her bare feet. She slips an arm through Brother Zhu’s and whispers something in his ear. Whatever he says in return makes her blush and giggle.
Mr Lee walks stiffly beside me, his face like thunder. I wonder what has gotten into him. Brother Zhu leads us to the last table on the far side of the dance floor – a circular booth with a great view of the band.
‘Please, make yourself at home. Order anything you like.’ He thumps himself on the chest. ‘Brother Zhu takes care of his own.’
Gigi slides onto the white leather seats, followed by Ah Lang.
There’s an awkward moment when Mr Lee tries to slip in beside me, but Brother Zhu is quicker.
Mr Lee has no choice but to sit on the other side, next to Ah Lang.
He looks as angry as he did when Gigi almost strangled him.
I glance quickly at Gigi in case she might have threatened Mr Lee like last time, but all her attention is on Brother Zhu.
I dismiss Ah Lang as a threat. He’s too upright to torment mortals.
I watch Brother Zhu who, of all of us, seems the most at ease.
He casually stretches his arm along the back of the broad booth so that his arm rests against my shoulders.
I shift so I’m not touching him. His scent – classic Celestial – is layered with an artificial odour, cologne Gigi called it.
Many of the yaojing and even the mortals here seem to like it. It makes my nose itch.
‘How lucky are we to be in the company of the two most beautiful women in all of Shanghai?’ Brother Zhu says.
Ah Lang beams at Gigi who is still ignoring him, while Mr Lee glares at Brother Zhu.
I try to get Mr Lee’s attention so I can signal for him to stop behaving so bizarrely but he won’t look my way.
A waitress dressed in a slinky qipao brings us crystal flutes and a fat bottle of champagne in a silver ice bucket.
When she leaves, Brother Zhu leans forward.
‘It is really great to see you, Ah Lang. But—’ He glances around the table. ‘What’s going on?’
‘Well, uh, we—’ Ah Lang stammers.
‘Look, I’m no idiot. When Big Wang’s ward and the Jade Emperor’s daughter are here in Shanghai together, with you and a random mortal’ – he nods his head at Mr Lee – ‘no offense, it’s not a regular jaunt over to yang Shanghai.’
I clear my throat and lay my cards on the table. ‘We’re here on a private matter and wondered if you might help.’
A corner of Brother Zhu’s mouth quirks up. ‘It would make my day to help you, my beautiful plum blossom.’
Mr Lee makes a choking sound. He seems fine though, if a bit red.
‘Do you still courier the talismans from Turquoise Hills?’ I ask.
‘I do.’ He appraises me, then leans in close. I block his approach, my hand on his forehead to keep him from coming any closer. He chuckles, and takes my hand in his, raising it to his lips.
I try to snatch my hand away, but he’s prepared this time and holds me tight. ‘I won’t hurt you, my spring vision,’ he says and grazes the back of my hand with his nose.
‘The lady wants you to let go.’ Mr Lee almost snarls as he glowers at Brother Zhu.
Brother Zhu doesn’t let go of my hand, but he leans back, relaxed and unbothered by Mr Lee’s outburst. ‘You can calm down loverboy, I only wanted to know if Lady Jing smelled as good as she looks.’ I yank my hand from his grip, face burning.
‘And you do,’ he says gently. ‘Spicy and feisty, like Szechuan chillies and the sweetest mandarins.’ His eyes sparkle with mischief and I blink in surprise.
No one has ever told me I smell nice. ‘I’m going to have the bartender make a special cocktail in your honour.
’ He spreads his hands in the air. ‘The Lady Jing.’