My sister split the treat in half and together we ate, licking the crumbs off our fingers. For years afterward, she’d rhapsodize about egg tarts, though it’d be years before we could find them in our local bakeries. None would taste as good as that first one.
. . .
When Richard turned a month old, Sai Ma hosted a grand red egg party at the house. Preparations had begun as soon as he was born, and Sai Ma spent two entire weeks fasting so she could fit into her cheongsam. After a month of being sequestered from society, she was determined to make sure no one had forgotten her.
A hundred guests were invited. Sai Ma fixated on every detail, from what song she would sing to the French wines that Gu Ma would serve. I was given one of Sai Ma’s old cheongsams to wear. It was far too long, and I spent every free moment I had hemming the skirt and altering the bustline, but I didn’t mind. I adored the beaded roses and the lace along the collar. I’d never owned anything so pretty.
Alas, I’d never have the chance to wear it. For early on the morning of the party came the dreaded knock on my door.
“Yut Ying.” Sai Ma burst inside, dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief. “I hate to ask this of you, but the extra helper I hired for the kitchen still hasn’t shown up. Do you think...”
As her voice trailed, I knew exactly what she wanted to hear. “I can help.”
“Would you?” Sai Ma clasped her hands. “I’ll make it up to you. We’ll go to Bastion’s once I’m well again. We’ll buy you a beautiful new dress.”
“I’d just like to go to school.”
“Ah yes, school. You’ve been so patient, I’ll speak to your aunt about it first thing in the morning. There are two reopening in the neighborhood. I’m sure either would be suitable.”
I didn’t want to believe her, but wretch that I was, I nursed an inkling of hope. “Really?”
“First thing in the morning,” she repeated. She sucked in a breath. “Oh, and it’d be best if you stayed out of sight tonight. Our family would lose face if guests saw you working in the kitchen.”
My throat burned as I spoke, “I understand.”
“That’s a good girl, Yut Ying.” She folded an arm around my shoulder. “I’ll tell Lily you aren’t feeling well. Hurry now, Susu’s waiting downstairs.”
She left, and for the first time, the smell of lavender made me feel sick.That’s a good girl, Yut Ying. You’re so obedient, Yut Ying.
Was I a dog? All my life, I had wanted Mama to stand up to Ah Ma. To push back when she was being mistreated, and to let her thoughts be known. What a hypocrite I was, because here I was doing the same thing with Sai Ma.
Of course my brother just had to rub it in.
He entered my room right after Sai Ma left. “Let me guess,” he said, “she’s making you into a servant for the night.”
“I volunteered.”
“Liar. I bet she didn’t even hire an extra helper. This was her plan all along.”
I wouldn’t let my brother see me cry. “Doesn’t matter. It’s only a silly baby party, I didn’t want to go anyway.”
“Mm, so there’s no reason why your face is all red and puckered up. You weren’t looking forward to sitting with Lily, to dancing with the rich city boys and hearing all the guests tell you how pretty you are—”
“Will you shut up?” I redirected my rancor to my brother, noting he was holding a pair of white driving gloves. “Who are you to talk? Baba asked you to be a valet.”
“He did,” Yi Gor said, dropping his cigarette on the wooden floor. “But unlike you, I’m not lying to myself about it.”
He was right, though I’d rather swallow a toad than admit it.Lies taste sour,Mama used to say,but the truth is bitter.
Smoke curled out of Yi Gor’s cigarette butt. I stamped on it with my heel until the embers went out.
I regretted agreeing to help Sai Ma. It was one of the rare crisp and breezy days in Hong Kong, neither humid nor hot, and I was wasting it working in the kitchen. First I had to boil an emperor’s ransom in eggs, then dye them as red as Sai Ma’s lipstick. When that was done, Susu dropped a punchbowl full of ginger on my table for me to peel and slice and pickle. The red eggs signified good fortune and prosperity for my new half brother, and the ginger was meant to bring energy back to Sai Ma.
All day, I worked. I made dough for noodles, then cut them fine as strands of rabbit hair. I chiseled roses out of carrot chunks and mashed red beans with my knuckles to make a dessert soup. By sundown, my feet ached like mad, and I rolled my soles over a fat turnip for relief.
I had begun starting on the cake when a gentleman in a black hat tapped the kitchen window.
“I’ve never seen you before,” he said. His voice was porous and sponge-soft and carried the trace of an accent that I could not place. “You look too young to be Yan’s new cook.”
