Chapter 20 #2
Gigi leans forward, turns her back on Ah Lang.
‘What about me, I want a cocktail named after me too.’ She holds her hand out and Brother Zhu delicately sniffs her, at a more respectable distance since Ah Lang is watching, his doe eyes sad.
‘You, Ah Lang’s petal, smell of cinnamon and ginger and immortality peach.
I’ll have the bartender make a new drink called Ah Lang’s Petal. ’
Gigi pouts. ‘I want one named after me. Not some no-good boyfriend.’
Ah Lang’s face falls, but Brother Zhu doesn’t miss a beat. ‘How about The Goddess Gi.’ This makes Gigi preen and wiggle with delight. He certainly knows how to please the ladies. He turns his attention back to me. ‘Why do you ask about the talismans?’
‘There was a switch. Mr Lee got a fake, not one made of yin silver. Was there anything strange or different about the batch of talismans that contained Mr Lee’s?’
‘Bad luck, old boy,’ Brother Zhu says to Mr Lee with a broad grin.
‘Lucky you kept your qi; I imagine the yaojing would enjoy snacking on you. You too smell quite delicious, you know.’ At that Brother Zhu flashes a smile so wolfish I want to hide Mr Lee from his gaze.
Big Wang’s protective mark is no longer visible here in yang Shanghai.
‘I will carve out your tongue if you so much as lay a hand on him,’ I hiss. ‘Mr Lee is under Big Wang’s protection.’
At Big Wang’s mention, Brother Zhu glances at Mr Lee with an appraising light in his gaze.
His smile slips for a second but snaps right back again.
‘Your wish is my command, my golden orchid. I would never do anything to upset such a treasure.’ His gaze sharpens on me.
‘So, you wish to know if the hulijing had anything to do with the swap, am I right?’
I nod.
‘When did Mr Lee pick up his talisman?’
‘Two days ago, the first day of the Mahjong Council.’
‘I would have delivered that lot a few days before that.’ Brother Zhu steeples his fingers, gazes out at the now nearly full ballroom. ‘The list of who makes and packs each talisman is sent to Old Man Lei. Lord Lei’s son owes me a favour. I’ll see if I can get a copy.’
‘You know the Thunder God’s son?’ Gigi asks.
Brother Zhu leans back again, a lord in his element. ‘Sure. Yun and I go way back. He plays the drums in my band when his ba gives him time off.’
‘Yun’s job is to create the fog that hides the veil,’ I explain for Mr Lee’s benefit. Mr Lee spares me the briefest of glances, grunts, then looks away again. I stare. He’s never less than courteous. What is wrong with him tonight?
Gigi smirks and gives me a look I don’t understand. I drain my champagne. If that’s the kind of night I’m in for, I’ll need more alcohol.
There’s some motion on the stage, and Brother Zhu stands. ‘Time for our set. I’ll have the bartender send over your cocktails.’ He leans over the table, blocking Mr Lee from view. ‘Fragrant blossoms, promise you’ll save me a dance later?’
Gigi waves him off with a coy laugh. When he’s done giving her his simpering smile, he turns to me, expectant.
‘I don’t dance,’ I say flatly.
‘Like I said, I love the feisty ones. And you, my delicious plum blossom, are an empress in the mortal realm.’
He kisses the tips of his fingers and blows the kiss my way. I pretend to gag.
He bites his lip. ‘You are so adorable. Be still my fluttering heart!’ He bows with a flourish and hops onto the stage.
‘He’s always like that,’ Ah Lang says to Mr Lee. ‘Don’t take it to heart.’
Mr Lee crosses his arms, but seems to thaw a little. I lift my champagne glass. ‘To harvesting seeds well planted,’ I say.
Gigi laughs – a tinkling, girly sound. ‘Sowing seeds. I’ll drink to that.’
Ah Lang blushes and Mr Lee blinks like he’s got something caught in his eye.
‘I’d prefer to toast to new friends,’ Mr Lee says, then raises his glass.
Ah Lang nods and Gigi huffs, but in the end we all clink our glasses and drink.
Brother Zhu’s band sets the ballroom swinging with their tunes – vibrant and energetic.
My feet tap in time with the zinging piano lines played by a chap in a midnight blue tuxedo.
Brother Zhu plays a hook-shaped brass instrument – the sound is something like the plaintive cry of a crane, but raw and mellow at the same time. It makes my heart soar.
Even Gigi is impressed. ‘What is Brother Zhu playing? That’s no bamboo flute.’
Ah Lang smiles. ‘It’s called a saxophone. Incredible sound – so throaty! Brother Zhu really has a talent for it.’
As if on cue, Brother Zhu’s saxophone croons into the ballroom. The music sends a shiver through me. I can’t help smiling.
‘You said you play the pipa,’ I say. ‘Is that the instrument you played here?’
Ah Lang’s smile is a pleased, shy little thing. ‘Yes, at first, then Brother Zhu—’
Ah Lang’s interrupted by Brother’s Zhu’s amplified voice.
‘Tonight is a very special night. My old buddy Lang is here with his gorgeous girl! The Goddess Gi! Please enjoy the special cocktail created in her honour.’ At his word, waitresses circle the floor with trays full of a glittering peach concoction.
Four are placed on our table. Brother Zhu continues, ‘I think our Ah Lang should come up here to serenade her. Whaddya think?’
The crowd, fuelled by the new cocktails, cheers and claps.
Gigi wriggles in delight. I duck my head, giggling.
A public declaration of love to Gigi. There’s no way she’ll be able to stay mad at Ah Lang.
That Brother Zhu is a sly old pig. I take a sip of Goddess Gi and gasp.
The bartender captured Gigi’s essence in a very tasty cocktail.
Gigi takes a sip too and moans in delight.
‘Do I really smell like this? This is delicious!’
Gigi refuses to move, still punishing Ah Lang, so Mr Lee gets up to let Ah Lang out of the booth so that he can make his way to the stage.
The patrons swirl and sweep around Mr Lee, who stands so still he seems to be outside of time.
Then he nods to himself, breaking the illusion.
Squaring his shoulders, he turns to my side of the booth.
‘May I sit next to you?’
He’s oddly formal, but at least there’s no courtly blather.
‘Budge up, Gigi,’ I say as I shove over to make space for Mr Lee.
Gigi glances up from her drink and gives me a little smirk. ‘Sure,’ she says and shimmies about two finger widths over.
‘More.’ I move closer to her, but she holds her ground.
‘There’s an uncomfortable ridge beside me. Besides,’ she lowers her voice and leans in to whisper, ‘Mr Lee likes you. Let him cosy up to you a bit more. Maybe he’ll even kiss you.’
I wave away her words and duck my head. ‘That’s piss-fart,’ I say, feeling my cheeks heat. ‘Budge up.’
Her gaze is shrewd. ‘No.’ She knocks back the rest of the cocktail. ‘I’m not moving.’ She doesn’t bother to look at me, so my glare is wasted.
I give up, knowing she’s more stubborn than Bullhead when she’s like this. ‘What’s that instrument he’s got?’ I ask.
Ah Lang is positioning himself behind a large violin-shaped instrument. It’s taller than he is. Gigi still refuses to look.
‘It’s a double bass,’ Mr Lee says. ‘Not hugely different to a pipa – both are bowed instruments. But the sound is very different.’
The music starts. Ah Lang plucks the double bass, creating a rhythm of deep, resonant notes. He plays with his head bowed, long hair loose, swaying with the music. And then he looks up, straight at Gigi, and starts to sing.
His voice is full, deep, and raspy. Gigi turns to me in shock. ‘I had no idea he could sing.’ She watches him, enraptured. ‘What language is he singing?’
‘English,’ Mr Lee says.
‘What does the song mean?’ she asks.
Mr Lee listens. ‘It’s a song comparing his love to the deepest of oceans and highest of heavens. That he would travel to the stars to see you. It’s quite beautiful. If you like, I’ll write you the translation.’
Gigi’s eyes are shining. ‘Would you? This humble one offers you abundant gratitude for your kindness.’ She turns back to the stage, her gaze rapt on Ah Lang. He croons in that freight train voice of his, his doe-eyed gaze locked on Gigi’s.
When the song is over, he bows. Gigi seems to have forgotten her anger. Both she and I stand and clap, as do many others in the ballroom. A few women up in the mezzanine whoop their appreciation, earning a sharp stink-eye from Gigi.
I nudge her. ‘He only has eyes for you, Gigi, you know this.’
She tosses her hair, making her long tresses sheen in the light. ‘You’re right. It’s beneath a goddess to indulge in petty jealousies.’
I hide my laugh behind my hand, but needn’t have bothered. Gigi’s full attention is squarely back on Ah Lang, who is strolling over to us, hand rubbing the back of his neck, cheeks pink, and apprehension in his gaze.
She shimmies out of the booth and sashays with bold confidence towards Ah Lang. The music changes, and couples flood the dance floor, swallowing Gigi and Ah Lang in their midst.
Mr Lee turns to me. ‘Lady Jing, would you, I mean you don’t have to if you don’t want to, but—’
Brother Zhu saunters over to our table. With a smirk he says, ‘Why aren’t you spinning this gorgeous goddess on the dance floor?’
Mr Lee goes stony.
‘Well, what can I expect from a mere mortal?’ He smirks and turns to me. ‘How about it, Lady Jing? Fancy a dance?’
‘I’d rather gouge my eye out with a broken chopstick.’
‘Oh, you have spirit, my lady. How about a barter? You can ask me anything you like. I’ve been around; seen things, heard things. I will give you free access to my carefully hoarded treasure of information, for the duration of one dance. What do you say?’ He grins at me.
I weigh the offer, glancing at the dancers on the ballroom floor. They are smiling, laughing. It looks like fun.
‘How do I know what you have to say is worth my time?’ I say.
He rubs his thumb over his fingernails, as if wiping off an invisible spot. He shrugs. ‘I thought you were a better kanhoo player than that.’