Chapter 22 #2
My kanhoo senses come rushing back. He’s bluffing. Part of me wants to grab him and plant my lips on his, but . . . I don’t want him to feel bad or uncomfortable. I play along, because this Mr Lee is infinitely preferable to surly Mr Lee – or indifferent Mr Lee.
‘Fine.’ I get up and dramatically stomp out of the room.
‘Close the door!’
I turn and he’s standing with the bed sheet wrapped around him, but revealing almost all of his legs and chest. ‘Like I said, I’ve already seen everything.’ I give him a wink and playfully kick the door shut.
I pace the room while I wait, nervous and excited and not quite knowing what to expect. Do we sit facing each other? Beside each other? I can’t picture what he means to do. And I’ll get to have my first ever kiss. My insides tingle.
When Mr Lee emerges, he is purposeful. He sets two chairs side by side like an imaginary rickshaw. He gestures for us to sit. I take my seat, feeling strangely formal in the dining chair.
‘This is how you want to kiss?’
He takes my hand in his and gazes at me so intently I squirm.
‘May I?’ he asks.
My mouth goes dry. I nod. He leans forward, ever so slowly.
His scent, a perfume of sweet persimmon, citrusy walnuts layered with crisp watermelon rind and freshly fallen snow, fills my lungs.
His edges sparkle gold at the corner of my eyes.
He comes forward until he blurs and I close my eyes, hold my breath.
His lips meet mine in the softest of touches, like the gentle flutter of butterfly wings.
And then – nothing. I open my eyes. That’s it? He might as well have patted me on the head.
‘There,’ he says. ‘You have now had your first kiss.’
‘That’s not what I expected.’
Mr Lee blinks at me. ‘Was that not good?’
‘I thought it would be more exciting.’ I trace the pink brocade pattern on the armrest, trying not to pout. ‘I hardly even felt it.’ My mind flashes briefly to Brother Zhu, and his demon-may-care attitude. ‘Do all men kiss like that?’
Mr Lee bristles. ‘A-all men?’ I wonder if he too is thinking of Brother Zhu. ‘Let me try again,’ he insists. ‘I’m sure I can kiss better. I don’t want your first kiss to be a disappointment.’
‘But it already is. I can’t see how you can change that.’
‘It’s not over, this is still your first kiss – since you haven’t stood up, if I kiss you again, it still counts.’
I’m not convinced. He’s still, waiting for my consent, so I nod.
It can’t be as bad as the first one, surely.
He leans forward again, this time hands cupping my face.
His thumb traces over my lips, and he hovers, his nose brushing against mine, his breath tickling my lips.
He runs the tip of his nose over my cheek.
‘You smell of sunshine and chillis and orange blossoms, dancing on an ocean breeze.’ His voice is husky.
Want unfurls inside me and I can’t breathe him in enough.
I lift my chin seeking his lips, and he meets me halfway.
This kiss begins just as gentle as the first, butterflies fluttering.
His lips press against mine, meeting me fully.
And then, his lips move, oh so deliberately.
Like tasting. I do the same, and am surprised how much more I enjoy this than that first brush of skin against skin.
Kissing Mr Lee is a little like my first dance at the Paramount; I am so aware of myself, my body, my wrong turns, my wrong steps.
But then, like my second dance, with Mr Lee leading and showing me the steps, suddenly there’s a point when I’m no longer aware of myself, only of the music and how it makes me feel.
My hands thread into his hair, and I pull him tighter to me, groan softly.
Our scents entwine; the music takes over.
Lips touch, tongues dance. He cradles the back of my head, steals my breath, murmurs my name.
We kiss and kiss until I am breathless and no longer know where I stop and where he begins.
A knock at the door makes Mr Lee jump. He tears away from me, eyes wild, panting hard. He touches his fingers to his lips, swollen from kissing. ‘Forgive me, Lady Jing, contain this worthless one’s lack of control—’
He’s so panic stricken I can’t bring myself to be angry with that formal claptrap.
‘Jing!’ Gigi’s voice calls from the other side of the door. ‘I can smell the food from here. Let us in.’
Mr Lee takes one look at the door and runs for the bathroom. I let Gigi and Ah Lang in, puzzled by his strange reaction. Gigi’s gaze roves over my face. I roll my lips under, wondering if she can tell I’ve been kissing Mr Lee. My cheeks heat from the memory.
She smirks. ‘You look like you’re feeling better, Jing. Good night?’
I splutter.
Gigi sweeps past me, laughing. ‘I’m starving. Nighttime exercise always gives me a good appetite in the morning.’ It’s Ah Lang’s turn to splutter while Gigi’s tinkling laugh fills the room.
My face feels like it’s on fire, but I take her hands. ‘Thank you, Gigi, for taking care of me last night.’
Her smirk melts into a soft smile. She squeezes my hands gently before tossing her hair and saying, ‘Enough gooey eyes, it doesn’t suit you. Come, let’s eat.’
She pulls Ah Lang to the table and I join them. Eventually Mr Lee reappears, wet hair slicked back. He smiles shyly and takes a seat beside me.
‘We got word from Brother Zhu this morning,’ Ah Lang says through a mouthful of food. ‘Yun snuck a peak at Old Man Lei’s book.’
‘So, who was it?’ I ask.
Gigi stage whispers, ‘Lady Ay was the one who made the talisman and its silk pouch.’
For a moment the room is so silent I can hear the traffic from the Bund.
‘Lady Ay? She was my mother’s old handmaid.
The only one at court who looked out for me.
Never a harsh word. When she could, she hid me from the worst of my tormentors.
She doesn’t have a mean bone in her body.
’ I frown. It seems impossible to me that she would be the one to swap a talisman.
‘She doesn’t even know Mr Lee, why would she try to harm him? ’
‘Maybe Mr Lee offended her in some way?’ Gigi says. We all look to Mr Lee.
He scratches his head. ‘I’ve never met any hulijing except Lady Jing.’
‘It doesn’t make any sense,’ I say.
‘Well, at least now we know who is responsible,’ Gigi says, her tone conciliatory.
‘I guess,’ I say, though the knowledge only makes me more confused, not less. As the others finish their breakfast, I debate not telling Gigi and Ah Lang about the men who were following me. But then I remember Mr Lee’s words: I cannot prepare if you don’t tell me what’s going on.
‘I should probably tell you – three men followed me this morning,’ I say.
‘I bet they were smitten by your beauty,’ Ah Lang says sweetly.
‘Actually, they were scary. They wore Peking opera masks, and I didn’t get the sense they wanted to give me flowers. More like they wanted to hurt me.’
Gigi’s eyes blaze and Ah Lang’s brow furrows.
Mr Lee’s eyes are wide. ‘You’re only telling us this now? What if something had happened to you? We need to call Willie.’
‘I’m fine,’ I say. ‘I had the sense of being watched yesterday too, but not when Gigi and Ah Lang were with us. I’ll be fine so long as we stay together.’
‘We still need to tell Willie,’ Mr Lee insists.
Both Ah Lang and Gigi nod.
‘We can ask Fisherman Lo to fetch us early,’ Ah Lang says.
I sip the last dregs of my soya milk. There’s no reason to doubt Brother Zhu’s word. The talisman is another dead end. I can’t make heads or tails of Lady Ay’s involvement. And besides, something has shifted inside me. I want to make our last day count. Maybe friends do matter more than face.
‘No, it’s our last day,’ I say. ‘Let’s do something fun together. There’s an amusement hall at the end of the road. How about an opera?’
‘But what about those men?’ Mr Lee says.
‘So long as we’re together, we’ll be fine,’ I say, though Mr Lee doesn’t look convinced. ‘Gigi’s the Jade Emperor’s daughter. No one would dare attack her.’
She nods, because she knows it’s true.
‘I saw some people flying kites on the Bund. Can we do that?’ I say.
Gigi claps her hands in delight. ‘Oh that sounds fun! Ah Lang, what do you think?’
‘Anything you want, petal,’ he says, gaze disgustingly syrupy.
I make loud gagging noises, but Gigi pays me no attention and gazes doe-eyed back at Ah Lang.
We head out together in the sunshine. As we stroll along the Bund towards the kites, Mr Lee catches my hand, and interlaces his fingers with mine. His palm is warm. I glance up at him. He smiles and squeezes gently.
We fly kites, and then watch an opera, laughing and sharing snacks.
Ah Lang is delighted by the singing, humming along so loudly an old lady tells him off.
But she’s loud herself, and her shrill complaints make the opera singer stumble over his lines.
Gigi laughs and gives red-faced Ah Lang a wet kiss that earns another shrill protest from the old lady.
After the opera, Mr Lee offers to take Ah Lang on a ‘scholar’s’ tour, while Gigi and I opt to shop on our own. When they meet us at the French café on Rue Bourgeat, Ah Lang flops into his chair, eyes bright and rapturous.
‘Mr Lee took me to Moutrie and Co – the oldest music shop in Shanghai!’ Ah Lang gushes, gazing doe-eyed at Mr Lee.
‘They make pianos and sell all kinds of instruments. Some of the customers recognised me from the Paramount and we had an impromptu jazz session. Then Mr Lee took me to a university lecture on modern farming practices!’ Ah Lang shakes his head as if he can’t believe his good fortune and wraps an arm around Mr Lee.
‘Abundant gratitude, treasured brother. I will never forget these glorious memories.’
Mr Lee blushes, pleased.
‘I am so happy I didn’t kill you when Jing brought you to my house; you really have been a good friend to Jing and Ah Lang,’ Gigi says. She bows her head, folding her hands in front of her in the old way, the right hand on the left, then the left on the right.