I can’t bear it. I turn and flee.
‘Jing! Wait!’
But it’s too late, I’m out the door and up the stairwell before he’s even reached the hallway.
I pry open a window and crawl up the side of the hotel to the penthouse terrace. Once there, I throw myself across the gap and land hard on the gravelled rooftop of the next building. Humiliation streams down my cheeks in wet rivulets. I swipe my forearm over my face. I will not cry over that worthless mortal, I tell myself, but the tears don’t stop.
I launch myself off the edge, careening through the air and landing hard on the next roof over, cracking the stone under my feet. My lungs scream and I can barely see through the tears. Rooftop after rooftop, I fling myself forward, but those words stay in my ear.
You’ve mistaken adventurous curiosity for real regard.
My feet pound on the stone and tile, leaving cracks and crumbling rubble behind me. By the time I reach the Custom House I’m sobbing and can barely breathe. I climb blindly to the clock tower then haul myself over the edge of the roof.
The clock ticks, rhythmic and sure. My breathing is harsh and wretched. The bell strikes. The ringing drowns out all sound – the vibrations course through me, numbing my heart, making my teeth buzz and my inner ear throb – and finally I can hear those cursed words no more. When the pealing stops, I lay still, and focus on the ticking. Breathe in for four counts, hold for four counts, breathe out for eight counts. I stare at the brilliant blue sky spread out above me, almost the same colour as the ceiling of my hotel room, and dotted with silk floss clouds tinged pink along the bottom edges. No rotted babies or tiny penises, thank Tian.
I replay the past two days and Mr Lee’s behaviour. His propriety, his kindness, always doing as I wished.I was carrying out my duty. That is all.
How could I be so naïve? All along Mr Lee has only been entertaining me. Taking care of me as Big Wang requested. Letting me have some ‘fun’. He was doing his duty, and I, fool that I am, assumed it meant more than that. Big Wang made a deal with Gigi, too. Her duty was to make sure I was safe, help me have fun. I touch my hair, remembering how she’d curled it, the hairpin, the dress. All those kindnesses were nothing more than a bargaining chip for the chance to spend time with the person she really cares for – Ah Lang. I mistook her friendship for duty. Her kindness was like those marcelles she curled into my hair. Fleeting and contrived.
I push myself up to sitting, let my feet dangle over the ledge of the roof. Beneath me, the Bund unfurls like a grey ribbon, miniature cars and people going about their business, the ships and junks tracing lines over the brown waters of the Whangpoo River. The sun sails across the sky, shadows trailing in its wake. The horizon flames, burnishes the clouds gold and then everything is bathed in a rosy glow.
My last sunset.
I watch the colours bleed then fade, a heaviness inside me that even the blazing display fails to lighten. Chime by chime, the night darkens. The moon rises, almost full. Stars glare down at me, cold and indifferent to my sorrows. I lie there until the sun makes its creeping return, knowing I too will have to do the same. When the horizon glows pink and the golden fingers of day scrape across the horizon, I sit up.
It’s time to get my things and face Mr Lee. I consider going through the window, but I’m not certain I can open it from the outside, and besides, it would only delay the inevitable. Might as well don my trusty mahjong face. I dust myself off, leap from the clock tower, and pick my way back across the rooftops to the Cathay Hotel’s terrace, where I slip inside and head down the fire stairs back to my room.
The room is empty. A pang of jealousy hits as I realise Mr Lee must have gone out with Gigi and Ah Lang. He’s probably at some ballroom dancing his heart out. I grab my suitcase, throw it open on the bed and storm around the room gathering my belongings. It doesn’t take me long to pack everything; I had so little to start with. My stomach growls, but I’m out oftoo seesand caramels. I remember the bottles of blood and go check the ice box. There’s one more left, along with a bowl of strawberries. Not wanting to make a fool of myself, again, I eat all the strawberries before gulping down the blood. The flavour really is something else – crisp and juicy rather than unctuous. I know this flavour... I’m on the cusp of pinpointing it, when I hear footsteps in the hall, followed by the scratch of a key in the door. As I hurriedly put the empty bowl and bottle back in the ice box, I spy a bag of caramels and too see rolls hiding behind the ice bucket. I grab a few and shove them into my pockets.
Mr Lee opens the door. He moves slowly, like his limbs are too heavy for his muscles. Then he realises I’m standing there. We stare at each other for a heartbeat, before his gaze turns hard. ‘Where have you been? We’ve been all over Shanghai looking for you. How could—? What if those men—?’
I’d forgotten about those men. Guilt stabs at me for causing them to worry. ‘I—’ I say, trying to find the words, but he shakes off my feeble attempt to speak and stalks towards the phone. He jabs the dial, cradling the phone between his shoulder and ear and glaring at me with bloodshot eyes.
‘It’s me, she’s here.’
There’s squawking at the other end. I can’t make it out, but I’d recognise Gigi’s tones of outrage anywhere.
‘She looks fine. Yes. Okay. See you in a few hours.’ He hangs up then sinks into a nearby chair. His head is in his hands and he’s motionless for so long I wonder if I should go back to my room. But then he lifts his head. He looks utterly broken. ‘What if something happened to you? Do you know how worried we all were?’
For a moment, I believe he truly cares. Then he says, ‘How could I account to Yan Luo Wang if any harm came to you?’
I step back, my heart shrinking at his words. ‘Of course. Contain my thoughtlessness.’ I turn to leave.
‘Lady Jing, please. I am sorry for my harsh words earlier.’
Keeping my back to Mr Lee, I shake my head, not wanting to relive them, not wanting to face him. ‘May sherrr,’ I drawl, and keep walking.
‘Please, let me explain. I was out of my head with worry – all night I regretted my choice of words. I don’t want us to part on such hurtful terms.’ He sighs and the sound of it bruises my heart. ‘Seeing Ah Lang and Lady Gi suffer so much because they are forced to be apart—’ he starts, but loud banging on the door stops him. He glances over, grimaces. ‘Must be Lady Gi. She was about to raze all of Shanghai to find you.’
I want to believe Gigi cared that much, but a voice in my head reasons that of course Gigi would be upset – how wouldsheaccount to Big Wang for failing in her duty? I was her ticket to spending more time with Ah Lang.
Mr Lee heads for the door. I realise with a start whoever is on the other side is not Gigi. I know that scent – acrid, like burnt ginger and smoked resin.
‘Don’t open—’ I cry, but it’s too late.
Four men clad in black shove into the room, forcing Mr Lee to stumble backwards into the coffee table. Their faces are hidden behind Peking opera masks – yellow, red, black, and green – each painted with leering mouths, flaming eyebrows and ornate swirls around their eyes. The men hold brutish-looking daggers – short wide blades that glint as they jab them towards us.
Mr Lee holds his hands in the air. ‘Who are you? What do you want?’ His voice is level. He’s slowly moving backwards, towards me, but keeping the strangers in view.
