Skeleton Women (6 page)

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Authors: Mingmei Yip

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BOOK: Skeleton Women
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There was an explosion of laughter and applause.
My heart was now groveling on the floor. Damn this Shadow who was trying to steal away my mystery, my show, my life!
When Shadow reappeared, she was wearing a traditional magician’s outfit: black tuxedo, white gloves, and tall hat. She did some usual tricks, like pulling rabbits out of her hat, but with great flair. For her finale, a large glass bowl filled with black ink was wheeled onto the stage, and a scroll was hung up next to it. With a graceful movement, Shadow dipped a huge brush into the bowl, then splashed the Chinese character for
fish
onto the scroll. She took down the scroll, wrapped it around the bowl, then whisked it away, to reveal the bowl now filled with fish swimming in clear water.
Spectacular as this was, I knew she must have even more spectacular illusions yet to come.
She would be the talk of Shanghai, stealing the limelight from my show. I had to put a stop to this.
Get close to yourself; get closer to your enemy.
If Lung was going to fall for her, it’d better be under my eyes.
I turned to the gangster head. “Master Lung, why don’t we invite Miss Shadow to our table for a drink?”
Lung nodded, looking excited. “This Shadow is pretty good, isn’t she?”
Fifteen minutes later, a stunning Shadow floated to our table, trailed by flashing eyes and heated whispers. Her dress was light purple with swaying green willows, making me dizzy. For Chinese, the willow symbolizes rootlessness. Was that the impression she intended to give? A mysterious magician whom no one could pin down?
Gao immediately stood up and pulled out a chair for her.
Lung smiled, his eyes traversing her body like wild horses galloping in a meadow.
After Gao went back to his table, Zhu spoke to the magician for his boss. “Miss Shadow, what a show!” Then he introduced us.
“Thank you so much for coming and inviting me to your table, Master Lung, Mr. Zhu, and Miss Camilla. Your names have long been thundering in my ears.”
The moment Shadow’s and my eyes met, I knew, and was sure she knew, that we would be rivals to the end.
It was a contest of feminine energies. I, slim and small-framed, was purer
yin,
and she, tall and robust, had some admixture of
yang
. I could only hope that the sage Laozi was right when he said, “The soft always overcomes the hard, the feminine, the masculine.”
I was also sure that only one of us would emerge victorious.
Lung was about to say something, but the manager came to tell him he had a telephone call.
The gangster head said to his right-hand man, “Zhu, you’d better come with me, in case it’s something important.”
After the trio left, Shadow smiled generously. “Miss Camilla, what an honor to be invited to your table.”
She was trying to please me, exactly the same strategy I intended to use on her.
I lifted the corners of my lips a little less than hers to show that my status was higher. “Thank you, Miss Shadow, but I’m sure you know that all eyes were upon you tonight, as they were the other night, too.”
“You overpraise, Miss Camilla. I still have a long way to go, especially in Shanghai.”
“You don’t need to be so modest. Your magic is astonishing.” I paused to sip my Champagne, then asked the question that had been burning in my mind, “Where did you learn your magic?”
Just then the evil duo, Lung and Zhu, came back.
I didn’t ask Lung what was the phone call about, because as a woman and his mistress, I had no business knowing.
The two sat down. My patron looked happy. It must be that the phone call had brought good news, plus he was returning to sit with two dazzling women.
“All right, I’m hungry. Let’s have something to eat.”
Mr. Zhu waved for the manager and ordered dinner. In almost no time our table was covered with fresh drinks and plates of exotic gourmet food like drunken fish, fried quail, stewed rabbits’ legs, spicy deer tails, and pigeon hearts with ginger.
While we ate, drank, and chatted, I tried to study Shadow without being too obvious.
“All right, what did you two girls talk about when I was away?” Lung asked, picking up a fish head and chewing out its eyes. Maybe to look at women better, because fish eyes are supposed to be good for your eyesight.
Hoping to force Shadow to respond, I told him, “I asked Miss Shadow where she learned her magic.”
Lung turned to stare at the magician, chewing and waiting for an answer.
She dabbed her lips with a napkin, put it down, then said, “I consider myself extremely lucky, because my teacher taught me everything he knew before he passed away.”
Since her answer was not a real answer, Lung pursued the point. “What’s his name, then? And his school?”
“Mine is an esoteric tradition, not to be made public.”
Probably seeing a fleeting shadow cross the gangster’s face, the magician immediately made amends by smiling flirtatiously as she apologized. “I’m so sorry, Master Lung. I had to swear a blood-oath to my ancestors—”
Lung waved a bony hand. “No need to apologize.” He turned his attention back to the fish.
But of course I knew full well that no magician would ever reveal his or her secrets but would carry them to the grave.
“Anyway, I learned it in Shandong, not here,” Shadow added.
An unexpected revelation—we Shanghainese look down upon anyone from outside our city, because they are never as smart or as scheming or as sophisticated as we are. But perhaps she said she was from Shandong just to put me off guard.
Lung threw her a slanted glance, his cheeks masticating rhythmically to the nightclub’s music. “Shandong? I have some business there.”
Shadow’s eyes brightened. “That’s wonderful! What kind?”
Lung looked at her condescendingly. “I don’t think a woman would be interested in men’s business. You are too pretty to trouble yourself about such things. Anyway, you wouldn’t understand even if I told you.” He cast his right-hand man a conspiratorial glance. “Right?”
Zhu sneered. “Completely right, Master Lung. That’s why I never talk to my old lady except to tell her what to cook for dinner.”
We all laughed, except Shadow.
Her smile froze, and her body stiffened, but she was smart enough to immediately try to make amends. “Of course you are both right, Master Lung and Mr. Zhu.”
Lung nodded, then gave her a once-over. “Hmm ... Shandong. That’s why you’re so damn big and tall!”
I was not sure if this was supposed to be a compliment or a criticism. But judging from what I knew of Lung’s previous conquests, or captives, he favored women with small frames and delicate features. Lung was a small man himself, about five feet four, with a narrow face on which sat a few crude features not unlike a monkey’s. But although he was short, the gangster boss never failed to project an intimidating presence. Wherever he went, he splashed the air around him with menacing, don’t-mess-with-me expressions, surrounded by bodyguards with fight-me-if-you-dare expressions.
Chinese opera actors cultivate the same kind of presence. Before going on stage they cross an imaginary line—the “tiger crossing gate” from the anonymity of the actor to the power of a mighty general or king. However short and puny, they miraculously transform themselves into heroes or villains. They meditate, thrust out their chests, relax their shoulders, hold their heads high. Only then do they cross the line into the illusory life of the drama, where they instantly become generals, warriors, or emperors, controlling the fate of millions.
“Build your presence.” Big Brother Wang had repeated this over and over during my training.
Reflecting on these matters, I poured Lung a full cup of tea, then turned to my rival, hoping to smooth out the growing tension in the air. “Miss Shadow, I’m sure you learned from the best. I have never seen anything close to what you do.”
“I believe my repertory is unique in Shanghai, if not all of China.”
As I was about to ask more, Lung suddenly turned amicable, smiling at us appreciatively. “Are you two going to be like sisters, huh? That would be big news, two pretty, talented women joining forces to win over Shanghai. Why don’t you two stop chattering for a while so we can eat more, eh?”
Mr. Zhu immediately poured more wine into our glasses and heaped more food onto our plates. Though I didn’t know Zhu well, and he was the only man Lung trusted, I had never liked him. His small eyes were always darting inside the confinement of their two sockets, ready to spot any impending trouble. His nostrils were always enlarged, as if sniffing for anything fishy. Lung almost looked benign next to Zhu, whose face spewed evil and murderous thoughts wherever he went. Perhaps Lung face’s was less warlike because the guns and knives had already been transferred from his hand to Zhu’s.
I glanced back at Shadow, but her gaze was fixed on my patron.
“Master Lung, if you ever want to hold a party and need a magic show, please don’t hesitate to ask me. It would be my greatest pleasure and honor.”
Zhu answered bluntly for his boss. “Miss Shadow, Master Lung is a very busy man.”
“Yes, of course.” She split an embarrassed smile, then looked back at her rice bowl.
Just then, we were approached by the striking young man I’d noticed earlier. Before he reached us, Gao, the head bodyguard, sprang up, ready for action.
Zhu leaned toward Gao and spoke softly to him. Gao then waved the intruder on to our table. “It’s okay, Master Lung,” Gao said. “This is Miss Rainbow Chang, columnist at the
Leisure News
.”
So this was the gossip columnist? I’d been reading her column for a while but never imagined she was of ambiguous gender.
Chang smiled an elegant smile. “Master Lung, Mr. Zhu, Miss Camilla, and Miss Shadow, what an honor to meet you all tonight after I’ve heard so much about you.”
Zhu smiled stiffly. “Miss Chang, please take a seat.”
The gossip columnist said, “Oh, please don’t let me take up your precious time. I came over to propose a toast to Miss Shadow’s brilliant show.”
Shadow barely acknowledged her compliment with a slight nod. Didn’t she know that this was the heartless reputation-killer Rainbow Chang? Or was she too distracted and eager to butter up Lung? However, her bad manners could only be to my advantage.
Then the columnist turned to the gangster head. “Master Lung, you have an excellent eye. Our Heavenly Songbird is beautiful as well as talented.”
Lung patted my back affectionately. “I do have a good eye, especially for women. Ha-ha!”
Rainbow Chang smiled. “Ladies and gentlemen, enjoy the rest of the evening.” After that, she went back to her table, where the group of pink-clad ladies awaited her.
I turned to my patron. “Master Lung, had you known that Rainbow Chang dresses as a man?”
Lung shook his head, while Zhu cast me a disapproving look and said, “Maybe you also don’t know that she’s calling you the skeleton woman, eh?”
Of course I knew. In the less than a year I’d been singing and dancing at Bright Moon, one man had killed himself over me, another had divorced his wife, and yet another had gone bankrupt after selling his apartment to buy me a flawless, eight-carat diamond ring.
If a skeleton woman had to destroy a family just for one night’s shelter, she wouldn’t hesitate for a moment. Words like
compassion, kindness, love,
or
generosity
did not exist in their dictionaries. For them, it was either win or lose, succeed or fail, destroy or be destroyed.
However, I was never sure, was being called a skeleton woman an insult, a curse, or a compliment?
5
The Young Master
A
s I’d feared, Shadow was dangerous, and something needed to be done about her. And soon. As the Chinese say,
suzhan sujue,
“Quick battle, quick victory.”
So as soon as I arrived home, I took out all the books of strategy I’d collected over the years and flipped through them for possible solutions. Judging from how Shadow had orchestrated her debut on the Shanghai scene, she was talented and imaginative. Though she said she was not from Shanghai, she was as scheming as the best of us. However, her bold interaction with Lung and her casual negligence of Rainbow Chang showed she still had a lot to learn. So now was the best time to crush this poisonous weed, before it grew out of control.
But I needed to figure out what she was plotting: to usurp my fame, to steal Lung from me, or to supplant me as the ultimate skeleton woman.
Most likely, it was all of the above.
Most important, I had to look for her weaknesses. To achieve that, I would become her close friend, to control my space and invade hers. To become master of
her
fate.
So I invited the magician for a chat at the famous Chocolate Shop located on Jingan Ci Road, in the International Concession. She accepted without hesitation.
I preferred the quieter, upper floor of the café and arrived fifteen minutes before we were to meet. The ambiance was elegant but relaxed, with young Russian waitresses in white and green striped uniforms silently serving the customers. A white-gloved waitress led me to sit at a round table next to a floor- length window framed by grass-green curtains. Here I watched life pass by outside on the busy Tranquil Peace Temple Road. From the street below, the tune of “I’m Always Chasing Rainbows,” wafted up.
I’m always chasing rainbows,
Watching clouds drifting by.
Some people look and find the sunshine.
I’ll always look and find the rain... .
Soon I spotted Shadow getting off a rickshaw and hurrying inside. A moment later, she made her magical appearance on the upper floor.
Precision, a trait necessary for both magician and spy. We smiled at each other as she was seated by the same Russian waitress. After our orders were taken, we politely complimented each other on our good taste in clothes—she was clad in a black-dotted pink dress with a rather plain gold pendant, and I in a beige, lacy
cheongsam
with matching pearl earrings and necklace. We chatted until the waitress arrived with a layered silver tray with our drinks—café crème for me and vodka for her—together with Russian bread accompanied by butter and jam. Sipping my coffee, more bitter than sweet, I studied her smooth, lightly made-up face, and smiled, hoping she would break the silence.
She smiled back, her face as inscrutable as her magic. “What an honor to be seen with Shanghai’s Heavenly Songbird.”
“Overpraise.”
Her eyes penetrated mine. “Don’t be modest, Camilla. You know you’re way ahead of me.”
And you’re desperate to take my place
.
She sipped her much stronger and more expensive vodka. Then she tilted her head, her waves of shoulder-length black hair glowing in the early- afternoon sunlight. “May I know the purpose of this invitation?”
What a blunt question! I’d better get used to her brusque style. In replying, I was careful not to sound too eager nor too cold, in order to maintain just the right distance. “Shadow, I am most impressed by your talent, and I still would like to know, how did you do it?”
Of course I didn’t expect an honest answer, or any answer at all. My goal was to evoke a response, to get a sense of how she handled things.
This time she let out a soft laugh, revealing rows of smooth, pearly teeth. “This will be my secret, unless someday I encounter a worthy student to pass on my teacher’s heritage. Or if I have a child.”
“Do you have a father in mind?”
“Camilla, do you think women like us can find someone suitable?”
The idea of having a husband and a family was as alien to me as going to America someday in the future, but I asked, “Why not?” just to hear what she would say.
“How long do you think people like us will stay in our prime?”
“We’re both still young.”
“You know, time never waits for anyone, especially not for glamour-girls like us.”
“You’re right,” I said, suddenly feeling older. “Just like the Huangpu River flowing on forever and, with it, our youth and beauty.”
Would this be her weakness—fear of losing her beauty, her possible fame and fortune, her magic? But why was she so fearful when she was yet in her prime?
She cast me a curious glance. “Camilla, I’m sure you’ve been carefully planning out your whole life, and that’s how you’ve gotten to where you are now.”
She was wrong, of course. But how could she have guessed that my life was not my own and that it had been strategically mapped out by others?
“Shadow, I’m not as much in control as you think.”
“I doubt that.”
After a pause she blurted out, “Camilla, do beauty and talent give you the happiness you’re looking for?”
Again, what a question. She must know that a pretty young girl like me would not really be in love with the old, puny, monkey-faced Lung.
But she’d never learn the truth from me. I threw her question back. “Shadow, how about you? Does your beauty and talent give you happiness—or trouble?”
We both laughed.
She raised her glass to tap my cup.
“Let’s just hope that fate has a worthy purpose in granting us our beauty.”
I had my agenda, but what was hers?
As we resumed sipping our drinks and munching the delicacies, she asked, “Camilla, what made you want to be a singer?”
Of course my training had well prepared me to cover up such matters. I never told anything but lies about myself.
The Art of War
says, “To guard yourself, hide your secrets below nine layers of earth.” In other words, others should know as little about you as possible.
“It was my mother’s dream to be a singer; that’s why she sent me to take singing lessons.”
“And your father?”
“Oh, he died when I was a baby. My mother never talked about him. I guess it was too painful.”
“Are you living with your mother?”
“No, she’s in an asylum.”
“Oh, how terrible! What happened?”
“She became insane and can’t take care of herself. She’s much better now, being cared for by professionals. That’s why I have to work hard, to pay for her care.”
I had just made up another elaborate lie. I’d better remember to whom I told which story about my nonexistent parents—in case it mattered.
“I’m so sorry. It must be very difficult for you.”
I changed the subject. “So, will you come to hear me sing at Bright Moon?”
“Of course. I’ve been wanting that for a long time. I just didn’t have the connections to get in.”
“Don’t worry. Just come tomorrow at eight, and I’ll tell the manager to let you in.”
 
The meeting with Shadow wore me out. So the following morning I arrived early at the winged-goddess statue by the Huangpu River. As usual, I went behind the gigantic column so I’d be left alone to practice. The sun had already risen over the wide river that seemed blissfully oblivious of the troubles and miseries of the human world. Staring at the peacefully rippling water always calmed me. What I loved most was that, though I would whisper my secrets to the river, it would never betray me by spreading them.
After I finished my vocal gymnastics, I turned around to watch the bustling boulevard. Vendors screamed their breakfast offerings:
Wholesome soy milk! Tasty green bean soup! Sizzling scallion pancakes! Crispy fried dough! Extra juicy pork buns!
Competing to be heard, street urchins shouted at full throttle:
Leisure News! Heaven Daily! Flower Moon News! Pleasure Talk News! Idleness News!
Amid the din, fast-walking businessmen with serious expressions lugged bulging briefcases, maids followed housewives carrying their shopping bags, children in uniforms headed toward school, coolies staggered under heavy boxes as they headed toward the piers... .
The collective
qi,
or energy, of this city always fascinated me. Though pulling in every direction, the resulting cacophony created a strange harmony, chaotic yet orderly. As I watched the people and their intersecting lives in this dusty world, a song I’d written escaped from my lips:
Everyone has parents, but I don’t.
Where are you hiding, dear Mama and Baba?
When, if ever, will we meet?
Would we recognize each other,
Or merely rub shoulders as we pass?
Unexpectedly, a deep and mellow male voice rose beside me, singing the famous song “Looking for You.”
You are the floating cloud in the clear sky,
The fleeting star at midnight.
My heart is caught in a pool of passion.
How can I hold myself back,
Hold myself back from looking for you... .
His voice sounded as if it could lure a lark down from a tall tree. When he finished, I could almost see the sad notes lingering above the rushing river, reluctant to end their melodious incarnation on earth. I felt strangely drawn by the singer’s unseen presence behind me. When I turned, I found myself under the scrutiny of Master Lung’s son.
“Hello, Young Master Lung.” I quickly pulled myself up from the well of my dangerous sentimentality. “I never imagined ... what a beautiful voice you have.”
Did he blush, or did I imagine it?
“Good morning, Camilla... . May I call you Camilla?”
“Of course, Young Master.”
“Camilla, my name is Jinying.”
I smiled, glancing at the crowds along the Bund. “What are you doing here so early in the morning?”
“Listening to your singing.”
We looked at each other in silence for a moment before he spoke again. “Camilla, when I was watching, I saw the sun’s rays splashing all over you. I really thought I’d seen a goddess. Or an angel.”
If only he knew. If I was an angel at all, it would be to his father—as the angel of death.
He went on. “When I saw you, I could only think of Botticelli’s
Birth of Venus.
”
So he was already visualizing me naked, my private parts covered only by long, flowing hair!
“And your voice, heavenly and golden like the sun ...”
I was not going to let him change the air by the river from foggy to romantic, so I responded matter-of-factly, changing the subject. “Young Master, how did you know I was here?”
“I like to come here and watch the river. Last week I saw you practice. You were so absorbed that I was afraid to interrupt you.”
“You don’t have to work?”
“I just got my law degree and wanted to stay in America. But my father sent me a telegram saying that he was not feeling well and needed me to come home. So he lied to get me back here. At first I was furious at him, but now I’m happy.”
“Happy, why?”
He blushed. “Anyway, it is the will of heaven... .”
Yes, it is also the will of heaven that your father will soon die through my efforts.
Oblivious of my secret thoughts, he spoke again. “But I don’t want to be a lawyer. I only want to sing and play the piano. Camilla, I’m so glad that we share the same passion.”
I didn’t respond. So he went on. “May I take you for a morning coffee or tea?”
“I’m afraid not.”
He made no effort to hide his disappointment. “You have something else to do this early in the morning?”
“Not really, but I just met you. Besides, I don’t go out to cafés with men... . Someone will see us and set off gossip.”
He protested. “You’re friends with my father, so it’s not like I am a stranger.”
“Young Master, I am a very busy woman. I wish I had the luxury for chitchat or wind-and-moon talk over a cup of bitter Western coffee or sweet Chinese tea. Besides, gossip is the last thing I need in my life.”
“But—”
“Sorry, I’ve got to go.”
“Wait a minute,” he said, then took something from his pocket. “Can you at least sign this for me?”
It was the fan I’d thrown into the audience the other night. “It was you who caught this? And you kept it?”
“Of course! How could I have thrown it away?”
I quickly signed the fan and turned away.
As I walked, I felt his eyes drilling small holes through the morning fog into my back.
 
The young master incident threw me off balance, and it was not until much later that I regained my composure. He wanted friendship, something I could not allow myself to have.

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