"... with every passing hour, my infatuation for her grew by leaps and bounds ..."

Chapter 3 - Have Love, Will Travel (1)

With the moody blues as my pillion passenger, I went straight to Nanking Road - it was the biggest shopping district in Shanghai and one of the most densely populated places in the world - hoping to meet up with Suet-foong. Her presence would no doubt please me as I felt she had the magic touch to get rid of my depression ... okay, okay, I lied. Actually, with every passing hour, my infatuation for her grew by leaps and bounds until my desire to see her almost reached the level of complete madness.

When I finally reached the place, it was already dusk. The crowded street, now looking like a sea of lights, was an amazing visual experience: there was a vast number of shops that included big department stores, eateries, bars, and prostitute dens occupying every inch of street frontage; the sidewalks all lined with rickshaw drivers plying their trade, some ferrying their customers to their destinations; and packed trams passing through the busy sections every couple of minutes or so. Holy cow, finding Suet-foong in these surroundings was like looking for a needle in a haystack - I needed a map ... wait a second, what was I saying? For crying out loud, maps are only for dimwitted navigators. Anyway, who says I was lost? I was already here, only the trail was lost.

Yeah, right.

Luckily I had the next best thing: her calling card with her address printed on it. However, asking for directions posed another problem. The people whom I approached were either illiterate or just plain snobbish. Finally a kind old shop-keeper who noticed my plight showed me the way to her studio; I had to go to the other end of the three-mile-long Nanking Road, near to the residential area. Upon arriving there I breathed a sense of relief when I saw lesser people - I dislike crowds. The streets, however, were dimly lit. There was a small temple, its long burning coils of incense tickling my nose as I went past them. Close by, a block of single-story shops was home to Shanghai's biggest fine arts center. Here one could find paintings, handicrafts, and sculptures for sale - well, that was what the old shop-keeper told me anyway. Frankly I never knew such a place existed; art is never my forte.

At last I caught sight of Suet-foong's studio at the far end. Her front door was closed but I knew she was inside when the windows showed light behind thin flannel curtains. After tying Flash onto a wooden pole beside the five-foot path, I casually walked over there. Just then her door swung open, and a fat middle-aged man, his face paralyzed with fear, dashed out. Suet-foong, who was swinging a cleaver wildly, was right behind him; she was angrier than a raging bull.

"Who do you think I am - a bloody whore?" she barked at the fatso. "You'd better get the hell out of my sight before I chop you up into eighteen pieces, you lecherous moron!"

A moment of surprise washed over me as I looked at them. Stepping aside, I allowed room for the frightened man to go through. He flew past me and ran into an alley. Suet-foong halted when she noticed my presence, her frown quickly turning into a smile.

"Hello," I greeted her. She was wearing the same garment from last night. "What's going on? And that guy you were chasing, who is he?"

"I don't know him," she replied indignantly. "He came to my shop a while ago wanting to buy one of my paintings. It was selling for twenty dollars; he offered me forty if I sleep with him. Of all the nerve, he thought money could buy him anything!" 

"I see. An artist of principle; I like that."

There was a pause. Then she looked at me in the eye. "You are late!" she snapped. "I expect you to come this morning."

"Why? You miss me?" I said in jest.

"Yes I do. And you don't?"

"Oh, I do too, I do too," I swiftly replied - I must be out of my mind to say no to a woman wielding a cleaver.

To be continued on Saturday (Malaysia time) ...