Chapter Thirteen - (Part 2 of 2)

I glanced at my wife; she was already in idolization mode.

"Behave," I admonished her. "Don't go throwing yourself at his feet and embarrass the two of us!"

"Yes, Papa dearest," she teased me.

Much to our dismay, the emperor, who seemed agitated over something, shot past us as if we were transparent. In that instant, I noticed that he was holding a ball of string; putting two and two together, I came to the conclusion that he was chasing after the runaway kite. He only stopped and turned around when we kowtowed to him with me saying aloud: "Your humble servants pay their respects to the Lord of Ten Thousand Years. Is Your Majesty searching for your kite?"

Walking round in circles, he looked at us more closely; he must have realized that we were not eunuchs. "Yes, the string snapped," he finally answered in his squeaky voice, "and who are you?"

"We are kite seekers."

"You are?" asked the Son of Heaven, standing dumbfounded before us.

"We are?" whispered Suet-foong, gawking at me.

"Oh yes, the gods knew of your dilemma and they have summoned me and my wife here to help Your Majesty," I said, maintaining a poker face. Others might not believe my cockamamie statement, but for Pu Yi who was just a seven-year-old kid, he just ate it up.

"Goody! Goody!" said the little emperor, beaming with delight. "So you know where the kite is right now?"

I nodded, pointing to the eastern gate.

His happy countenance turned to horror. "Oh no, not there!" he exclaimed.

"What's the matter?" I asked, startled by his sudden change of reaction.

"That place is haunted!"

By this time, his pigtailed eunuchs, with their distinctive androgynous appearance, had gathered around us, some of them eyeing lecherously at my beautiful wife - confirming my suspicion that even without their manhood, these half-men were still lusty buggers. My wife, however, took no notice of their stares for her focus was only on the emperor. Although I was peeved by her adulation of the youngster, I could not really blame her; it is not every day one can get to meet Pu Yi. He, like emperors before him, was regarded as a sacred personage by the Chinese. On the contrary, I considered this Son of Heaven to be just another son-of-a-gun.

"Haunted?" I asked with some skepticism. "Surely, Your Majesty is joking."

"No, no, it is true!" he retorted. "My Grand Eunuch Chang Chien-ho told me that there are ghosts and she-devils in every corner of that accursed place. Had not a piece of iron over the gate kept them in, they would have come out."

Hearing his name mentioned, the middle-aged eunuch with a slight hunchback approached us, moving with a dramatic gait, leaning forward as he walked and taking short, mincing steps with his feet turned out. "No one dares to go in there, Your Majesty. Please let your humble slave make you a new kite," he said in a falsetto voice.

"I don't want a new kite! I want this kite! You hear me? I don't care how you do it, but I want this kite!" wailed the Lord of Ten Thousand Tears. Yup, trust the spoiled brat to throw a tantrum.

Chang Chien-ho's face went as white as death itself. He and the rest of the eunuchs prostrated themselves before their master, trembling in fear; they were totally at a loss about what to do next.

It was up to us kite seekers to save the day.

"Don't you worry about a thing, Your Majesty," I placated him, "my wife and I will retrieve your precious kite."

Pu Yi's eyes lit up. "You will?" he asked, wiping away his tears.

"We will?" asked Suet-foong, gazing stupidly at me again. She also seemed to be struck by the two-word syndrome.

"Yes, of course!" I said confidently. "We're not afraid of ghosts." Then, holding the hands of my somewhat apprehensive other half, we made our way to the eastern gate. With jittery nerves, Pu Yi and the eunuchs followed close behind.

When we reached the gate, we saw that its wooden doors were thickly plastered with strips of sealing paper, clearing indicating that it had not been opened for decades. I gestured to Chang Chien-ho - he, Pu Yi, and the rest had by now kept a safe distance from the two of us - to get one of his eunuchs carry my knapsack while I peeled the strips off. A young, thin fellow finally nipped forward, took my pack, and scooted back to the group.

"You Chinese are a superstitious lot," I scoffed, my sight on my wife. "There's no such thing as ghosts; they are just fantasy stuff!"

"Don't be so cocksure, Ake," retorted Suet-foong. It looked like her full vocabulary had returned to her. "Did you not feel their presence while we were passing through the gates a while back? Or have you forgotten about it?"

There was a pause. I shuddered. She was right - it did slip my mind.

"Yes, I felt them, but so what? Those who fear ghosts have got weak minds," I said boldly. It was mere rhetoric, of course; I was more concerned about saving face than admitting I was scared stiff!

When the peeling was done, I removed the rusty iron bar which was pinned to the doors. Then with a mighty kick from yours truly, the doors swung open, unfolding the dusty, cobwebbed interior to us. The air smelled of phantom perfume. I could hear loud gasps coming from Pu Yi and his eunuchs. To assure them that everything was okay, I made a thumbs-up gesture; they reciprocated with nervous smiles.

Turning my attention back to Suet-foong, I said, "Let's go in."

She cowered. "Err ... after you, O brave one."

I gulped. Taking my first step into the compound, my tummy seemed to be tying itself in knots. All of a sudden something touched my shoulder. It felt horribly cold. The next thing I knew I was screaming my head off. Suet-foong nearly had a heart attack. And Pu Yi and the half-men fled in all directions, some wailing for their mothers, some pleading for mercy.

Looking angrily at me, Suet-foong barked, "It was just a frigging falling branch, you idiot!"

"Oh, sorry," I whimpered in embarrassment.

Great Caesar's Ghost! How in hell did I get myself into this mess?

Chapter Thirteen - (Part 1 of 2)

Two days later, Suet-foong and I were finally off. The Forbidden City, a forty-minute ride on horseback from our place, was on top of our list of places to visit. As we galloped eastward to the city center, we saw that the chilly December wind had scattered the mist and the sunrays were piercing through the snow-covered branches of the trees. It was indeed a lovely morning. Even lovelier was my wife; she looked radiant. Gone were her migraine headaches and leg cramps. I was so glad.

The majestic Forbidden City, the world's biggest palace and home to twenty-four emperors spanning nearly five hundred years, sat at the heart of the metropolis. A massive rectangular-shaped structure, it had a 150-feet-wide moat and 30-feet-high walls that ran for almost three miles round what was known as "the Great Within" - a city of walls within walls. Colossal gates, magnificent halls, and grand pavilions were set on marble platforms amid huge courtyards. Suet-foong and I deemed it a treasure house of the finest creations of Chinese culture.

Just before we entered the first of many sets of gates, I lifted my eyes up to the gate-towers, imagining how a few hundred years ago another visitor might have quivered at the very same spot and felt the intimidating strength and power emanating from the towering vermilion walls. Once inside, there was a wide open square cut by a bow-shaped stream, straddled in its middle stretch by five arched bridges. Up ahead, I gazed in amazement the white marble balustrades that swept upward to the glowing golden roofs of the big hall; its sloping ridges sculptured with dragons, phoenixes, and other mystical creatures. In silhouette against the rising sun, they added to my sense of being in a dream.

"Stop daydreaming, Ake," said Suet-foong.

Her voice brought me out of my musing. "You knew?" I asked, looking at my wife.

"Your eyes are glassy."

"Yeah," I nodded, "the grandeur of this palace makes it impossible not to dream about days gone by when we ruled the world."

"Now our country is akin to a large cheesecake being cut into slices by greedy foreigners," she concluded with a sigh.

"I didn't know you were into politics."

"Are you kidding?" she replied, rolling her eyes. "You know how much I detest politics. It is worse than war. In the battlefield you can only be killed once, but in politics so many times that even your mother cannot recognize you."

"Well said," I clapped, agreeing with her without reservation.

We came to the courtyard that was opened to the public. With vendors and government offices as its tenants, there was no way we could avoid the knots of people, vehicles, and animals clustered here. I groaned; we felt so cramped. After the abdication of seven-year-old Pu Yi, the last emperor of China, on February 12th, 1912, the front portion of the palace had been requisitioned by the new republican government. Naming it the Outer Meridian Court, another wall was built to separate it from the Inner Meridian Court where the young emperor and his family now lived.

Leaving our horses at a stable, we hot-footed it to the next massive gate leading to the Inner Meridian Court with me carrying a knapsack containing sandwiches and a flask of water on my shoulder - we expected a very long walk inside the palace. There were a dozen guards at the gatehouse; no one was permitted to go beyond this point except with a specially issued  pass which I had - Ducky, through his connections with the palace officers, managed to obtain one for me and my wife. When the guards saw my pass, they allowed us to enter.

Once we crossed over, we saw another big courtyard, another hall, and another huge gate before us. The only difference was the emptiness and deafening silence which were in stark contrast with the frenzied activity of the Outer Meridian Court. There were also many dilapidated buildings - the centuries had certainly taken their toll - but age and dust only added to its charm. Under fresh snow, when the chili red walls were tempered by drifts of glittering white, and sunshine fell on dusty shafts on the deserted square, the palace looked so remote, so timeless.

As we moved from one gate to another, passing through the narrow corridor lanes between the high blank walls, we could not help feeling spirits of the past tailing after us. Wraiths were moving quietly across the pavement in satin shod feet. And voices murmured in the shadows. Did something of those astral presences stay behind from the ceaseless procession of concubines, eunuchs, and maidservants who, during the imperial days, were always going back and forth in the Forbidden City? Just thinking about it made the hair at the back of our necks stood up, yet in the same breath we were thrilled beyond words.

It was past midday when we drew near an open space with gates to the east, west, and north. Feeling hungry, we halted under the shade of the northern gate. There was a frost in the air and the sky was a pale clear blue.

"I never imagine that the Forbidden City is so vast!" remarked Suet-foong as she ate her sandwich which was prepared by Ah Lan this morning. "We have been walking for almost two hours, passing through one big wall and beneath one gatehouse after another, to find beyond it only a featureless avenue leading to yet another wall and gate. Goodness me! When will it end?"

"Pretty soon, we're almost at the rear portion of the City," I replied. "Behind this gate is the Palace of Heavenly Purity where the Son of Heaven resides and continues to hold illusory court."

"Wow, do you think we will bump into young Pu Yi today?" she asked excitedly. "That would be the highlight of this trip!"

"Definitely; he is not going anywhere. One of the articles providing for the favorable treatment of the Qing emperor after his abdication stipulated that he can't leave the palace."

"Yes!" Snow Phoenix yelped, fist pumping in hysterical joy. She then took out the lipstick from her jacket and colored her lips.

Unduly inquisitive,I asked, "What's going on?"

"I got to make myself pretty, we're meeting the emperor, you know!"

"Gee, I don't recall you being this emotionally aroused when you first met me."

"Do I detect a tinge of jealousy in your voice?"

"Hell, yes!" I said. Being her husband, I reckon I had every right to turn into the green-eyed monster. "What has that little rascally emperor got that I don't?"

She smirked. "Well, for starters ..."

"Not another word, Suet-foong," I cut her off, wise to her witty remark to my question. "Not. Another. Word."

When lunch was over and my knapsack trussed up, we pressed on. We were about to reach the throne hall when a shadow flew past above us. Gazing up, we saw a big yellow kite with a dragon design being blown toward the eastern flank of the Palace by the strong wind. And there it fell out of sight behind the walls. Moments later, heavy feet were heard in the corridor. We moved forward in great anticipation. Suddenly, a small human figure, clad in yellow dragon robes, appeared in the chamber. Behind him a few dozen eunuchs clustered in the doorway. His moon-shaped face was fair; his lips were thick; and his big, expressive eyes sparkled like pearls. He was none other than Emperor Pu Yi!

To be continued ...

Chapter Twelve

It was not an auspicious start for our long-awaited vacation. Suet-foong suddenly got an attack of migraine, compelling us to stay at the house for the first couple of days. But being a happy-go-lucky couple, we took her ailment in our stride and could even afford to make a joke out of it.

"Hey, Suet-foong, I thought your headaches only occur during the warm season."

"They went rogue."

"You should see a doctor."

"Aw, give me a break! It'll make my migraine worse when I get the bill."

Every cloud has a silver lining and we found one in Ah Lan. Twenty-nine years old, soft-spoken, and illiterate, she was Ducky's sister-in-law. After her husband died of illness, Ducky came to her aid, providing her with board and lodging. In return, she had to stay beholden to him, becoming his unpaid servant, so to speak. Life was not a bed of roses for our housekeeper who was orphaned since childhood, but she remained optimistic, treating everyone she met with care and kindness, safe in the knowledge that one day someone might do the same for her. Thus, when she saw that Suet-foong was unwell, she went out of her way to look for herbs in the woods. Then, from the selected herbs, she brewed a concoction for my wife to drink to ease the pain. Always cheerful and energetic, she was genuinely happy to wait on us; perhaps our leniency toward her had something to do with her chirpy demeanor. We felt so blessed to having her around.

By the third day, Suet-foong was up and about again. The herbs seemed to have nursed her back to health. Or was it the beauty and magic of the snowfall which began this morning that swept away her illness? Maybe I was wrong, but I always felt there was an affinity between her and the snow; she was named Snow Phoenix for a reason, you know.

After donning our jackets and gloves, we came out of the house and watched the little, soft flakes floating down like feathers from the sky, enwrapping the woods in white; it was a picturesque vista of a winter wonderland. Our emotions of joy and awe ran high the next moment. Snow Phoenix ran to the middle of the white field and got me in the face with a snowball.

"Why, you little bitch!" I screamed in mock anger. "This is war!"

"You're bound to lose!" she retorted with a giggle, playfully bombarding me with more snowballs. This time I got hit in the ears, eyes, mouth, and even my groin. Oh my God, her attack was like greased lightning; I was splattered with a mass of cold, powdery snow even before I could make my first snowball. I may be a terrific liquidator, but when it comes to a snowball fight I am a sure goner.

At this juncture the wise man always says, "When defeat is imminent, there is only one thing to do: run like hell!" Okay, okay, I made that up. Even a dumdum has wisdom, agree? And so there I was, scurrying for cover with her chasing after me like a bloodhound. The snow was now knee-deep and it crunched under our feet as we raced across the field. Our breaths were hanging in the air. Our noses tingled from the cold. We laughed. We yelled. We went wild. You can bet your last dollar we were delighted beyond measure. It is moments like this that we forget we are adults and let the kid inside us rule our lives once more!

Fifteen minutes later, the assault from my soul mate stopped. No, she did not run out of ammunition. It was more like she had run out of gas! Her timing was perfect; I was exhausted too. We slumped to the snowy ground, closed our eyes, and felt ourselves being hit with ice crystals.

After a short rest, I sat up and looked at Suet-foong who was still on all fours. "Hey, Sugarplum, what can possibly top the good time we've had today?" I asked her.

"Explore the Forbidden City and climb the Great Wall," she enthused.

"Yes, yes, yes!" I agreed whole-heartedly. "They will be in our itinerary tomorrow!"

"And what are we going to do in the meantime? We still have half a day left."

When I did not reply, she finally opened her eyes and was shocked to see me standing on top of her. I was grinning like the devil. In my hands were snowballs, lots of snowballs. From where she was lying, she knew she could not escape me. As my snowballs rained on her, she shrieked like a wrung hen.

"Vengeance is mine!" I cried, looking at the sky in triumph.

My momentary lapse of concentration on her was going to cost me dearly.

Seeing her chance, she tripped me. Like a thunderbolt I fell. Quickly she got up and recommenced her assault; we were back to square one.

"You were saying?" she scoffed.

Damn! I should have quit while I was ahead!

By the time we were done with the snowball fight, it had stopped snowing. The sky was the bluest of blue and the frosty land glistened under the sun. We next challenged each other to make the biggest snowman in the shortest time. Needless to say, I won this game hands down. However, I did not flatter myself, for I suspected she lost on purpose so that I had one saving grace. Yeah, my brown-eyed lady was absolutely a good sport!

Then disaster struck.

Suet-foong yelped in pain, clutching the back of her legs, and collapsed in a heap. I nearly jumped out of my skin. Rushing over to her side and wiping the snow from her pale face, I frantically called out her name. Panic-stricken, I did not know what else to do. To my big relief, she woke up before letting out a muffled groan.

"What's wrong? What's wrong?" I asked, my body quivering like a tuning fork.

"I ... I don't know," she replied slowly, obviously still in a disorientated state. "All of a sudden I felt a sharp pain on my legs. Everything went blank following that." 

"Are you all right now?"

"Yeah, yeah, the pain's gone, but my legs feel like jelly at the moment," she replied, looking annoyed. "I can't understand it. I'd never felt this way before."

"I think it is just a bad case of leg cramps," I comforted her, and the same time comforted myself too. I refused to believe that it could be anything worse than that. "We've been out in the cold the whole morning."

"Yeah, yeah, that must be it," she nodded.

"Let's get back to the house," I said as I helped her to her feet. She appeared to have pulled herself together. "I'll carry you."

"I can walk," she objected, limping away.

"No, you can't," I protested, scooping her in my arms.

"My, my, a knight in shining armor!" she smiled. "Think you can take the weight? You might be carrying two persons, you know."

"Huh?" I blinked. "What do you mean 'two persons'?"

"Did it ever occur to you that I might be having a baby?"

I nearly dropped her.

"Aha! Shocked you, didn't I?" she said.

"Yeah, but don't get me wrong. My shock is not of horror; it's more like profound happiness," I clarified.

"I know," she chuckled.

"So, are you really having a baby?"

"No, but we can make one tonight if you like."

She was back to her mischievous self as usual.

Chapter Eleven - (Part 3 of 3)

"Ducky, for your info, my hubby is planning to hang up his gun and get a new lease on life," interposed Suet-foong. "Anyway, why would he want to kill you when all of us are friends?"

"You're right, I'm being absurd," answered Ducky, wiping away the sweat on his forehead with his handkerchief. "Perhaps I should explain myself. As tea is a very lucrative trade here, we would do anything, even murder, to get a bigger piece of the pie. I guess you're very well aware that when it comes to law and order, Beijing fares no better than Shanghai. Lately, the competition has become so intense that less than a month ago, the boss of Best Tea Company was assassinated. Then last week another one got smoked. Yesterday my associate was blown to pieces by dynamites hidden beneath his car. Someone in our fraternity has resorted to hiring a hit man called Mr. Clean to get rid of his rivals. Who knows, I might be the next victim. That's why I panicked when Ake mentioned his profession - it had a bad psychological effect on me."

Suet-foong who knew I am Mr. Clean was taken aback. I frowned; I did not like the idea of another liquidator misusing my namesake.

"How do you know the hit man is called Mr. Clean?" I asked.

"He left his calling card behind after each kill," replied Ducky. "He seems to be advertising himself for his services."

"Hmm ... interesting," I said, characteristically rubbing my chin in intrigue.

Our host then got up and bade goodbye - it was music to our ears. "Oh, before I forget, there are a couple of horses in the stable for your travelling convenience," he made it known to us when he shook our hands. "And if you wish to contact me, there's a telephone in the house. Ah Lan knows my number." We thanked him and escorted him to the door.

"Good day, my friends," he waved while walking back to his car with Cai Gan-toh, who, we were told by him, acted as his bodyguard too. "Have a pleasant stay in Beijing."

"We will, goodbye," said Suet-foong, returning his wave.

"And good riddance," I muttered, smiling a saintly smile.

When we were alone in our plush and spacious bedroom, my loving wife asked me in a cheeky kind of way: "Hey, Ake, how come you never told me about your protege?"

"That's because I don't have one," I replied, feeling quite upset - no, not with her, but with the impostor. "Damn! This is clearly a sham and I'm going to get to the bottom of it. My reputation is at stake here."

"For heaven's sake, stop making a big deal out of this issue. We made a promise to each other on the train that we would put our work on the back burner and just sit back, relax, and enjoy life in Beijing, remember?"

There was a pause. I gazed at her, my brain working overtime on a sharp rejoinder for her statement. But the effort proved futile. She knew perfectly well that I would never go back on my word.

"Goddammit!" I cussed in frustration.

"Well now, that's very eloquent," said Suet-foong sarcastically.

"What am I supposed to say - 'hallelujah'?"

"No, just say you like Beijing."

"Why?"

"Because I do," she replied. "Okay?"

"Okay." 

Chapter Eleven - (Part 2 of 3)

After parking the car beside the stable, we made our way to the house.

The front door was opened by a thin, young woman in black trousers and white blouse, her black hair tied in a bun.

"Good morning, Master," she greeted us, her voice soft and thin. I did not know whether she was addressing me or Ducky, but I smiled at her anyway. Besides, after referring Lau Beng as my sifu for so long, it was nice to hear someone calling me by that eminent title for a change; it inflated my ego like a balloon.

"This is Ah Lan, the housekeeper," said Ducky, introducing her to my wife and me. "She will do your bidding during your stay here." Then turning his attention to the somewhat timid housekeeper, he spoke with a firm voice: "Ah Lan, this is Mr. and Mrs. Akecheta Lung; they are like family to me. See that they are very well-treated. If I receive any complaints from either one of them about you, I'll tan your hide!"

"Yes, Master, I shall not disappoint you or Master Lung and his missus," said Ah Lan obediently. I could see the tremble in her legs. No wonder she was so thin; the poor woman had to deal with the stresses of working for a demanding employer.

As soon as we entered the house, I felt like in another continent. It had a frantically baroque design with classical Roman statutes, busts, and painted ornaments, and the walls and ceilings were adorned with decorated motifs like medallions, vases, and dancing nymphs.

"Bloody hell, are we still in China?" I exclaimed, gawking at the surroundings.

My better half was abhorred at my lack of good manners. She nudged me and whispered: "Hey, Dumdum, what happened to you? It's not cultured to utter rude words in front of our host, you know."

I blushed and apologized to Ducky. Many a time I am amazed that my tongue can move swifter than my brain.

"Oh, that's all right," replied our family friend between his chuckles. "I guess it's quite grand when you see this house for the first time. For your information, I love everything Roman."

"Hail, Caesar!" I wisecracked to atone for my insolence.

"Hail who?" asked Ducky, looking at me like a dumb turkey.

Obviously he did not love the Romans enough.

After a guided tour of the mansion - it was another once-in-a-lifetime thrill for Suet-foong - I was expecting our host to take his leave. To my consternation, he did not. Instead, he announced that Ah Lan had prepared a sumptuous feast for us - sort of a "Welcome to Beijing" lunch - and we were to join him. Quietly I winced. Let's face it; he was a real gentleman who behaved with the utmost courtesy toward us, but this charade was becoming a bit of a drag.

I glanced at Suet-foong who, despite her smiling visage, looked as bored as I was - her eyes told me so. We sat at the round dining table and when the food came, we gobbled it up like a horse. No, we were not hungry; we just wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible so that we could politely ask our host to get lost. No such luck. When lunch was over, we withdrew to the living hall to have tea - his tea. How could we say no? Subsequently, a teacup found its way to our hands and I took a sip as we sat on the sofa. It had a pungent taste; definitely not my cup of tea, pardon the pun. Even worse was Ducky. He was a goddamn chatterbox. And he only liked to talk about him, him, and more him. Apart from taking heed that he was one of Sze-hoi's most trusted lieutenants while he was in the Green Gang and that he got interested in the tea business because his wife was working in a tea trading company, I was not actually paying attention to what he was saying.

Finally, Ducky switched the topic to me. "Mr. Du didn't mention much on the phone except to say he and you were very close friends since your teens, Ake. What do you do in Shanghai? Are you in business?"

"I kill people for a living," I replied, working up a rascally grin.

I think he choked on his tea.

"No shit?" asked our cultured host.

"No shit," I assured him, taking out my gun - I had religiously followed my sifu's advice to never leave home without it, even when I was on leave - from my shoulder holster and pointing it at his head. The color drained from his face.

"A ... Are you here for your next kill?" he stammered. "Who is your target?"

I began to laugh, quite wickedly if I may add. "Why yes, how astute of you; and my target is ... time, I am here to kill time. My wife and I are on holiday, or have you forgotten?"

He breathed a big sigh of relief when I replaced my firearm. Then with a nervous chortle, he said, "For a moment there, I thought the target was me."

"Be careful what you wish for - it might just come true," I said, my eyes gleaming. It was nothing humorous about my reply; I had a good mind to shoot him if he made me lose my cool which I predicted would be very soon.

To be continued ...

Chapter Eleven - (Part 1 of 3)

It was a lovely, blustery morning in Beijing. As we stepped out of the train into the embrace of the cold winter air, we felt invigorated. Even the billowing vapors from the steam-powered engines did not smell like suffocating emission today. Instead, it undertook a kind of scent that was indefinable to go hand in hand with our emotions of joy and exhilaration, if emotions could exude a fragrance.

Ducky, a successful tea merchant, was already waiting at the exit gate. Another man was beside him wearing a chauffeur uniform and holding up a big placard with our names on it. When we gestured our presence to them, Ducky rushed over and shook our hands warmly as if we were his best buddies. After exchanging pleasantries, the chubby, mustachioed, and affable thirty-something man instructed his big, burly chauffeur whose name was Cai Gan-toh, to take our luggage and escorted us to his car.

Beijing, unlike glamorous and modern Shanghai, had retained much of its old-world charm with its mystical Forbidden City, elegant ancient buildings, incense-choking temples, and cobble-stone streets full of little shops and restaurants. We could still see men's hair shaved in the front and then plaited in a long queue which hung down the back, and women teetering on their little bound feet, moving their hips from side to side, like a tender young willow in a breeze, to balance themselves. Suet-foong told me that foot-binding among women was very popular in the last couple of centuries as they believed it had an erotic effect upon men. I beg to differ; give me a voluptuous blonde anytime.

"First time in Beijing, I reckon?" asked Ducky when we were being driven to our temporary residence. He sat beside me and Suet-foong in the back seat. "You gave me that impression with your riveted attention on this place."

I nodded for the both of us. "Its infrastructure, its atmosphere, and even its smell somehow evoke a poetic romanticism," I replied. "We can't seem to take our eyes off it."

Our host smiled. He then graciously gave us a low-down on some of the sights as we passed through the imperial city. He also told us something about himself: married with a six-year-old daughter, he was a former member of the Green Gang in Shanghai. Three years ago, when he wanted to quit and venture into the tea trade, the other members wanted his head - it was an unwritten rule that nobody could leave the outfit unless he was dead. Fortunately, Du Sze-hoi chose to set him free. No one dared to go against his decision - the drug lord's word was law in the underworld. The big man even gave him money to kick-start his business. He moved to Beijing with his family, bought over an ailing tea plantation, and business had been flourishing ever since.

"I'm surprised that Sze-hoi let you off the hook so easily," I remarked. "It's so very unlike him."

"Oh, it came with a condition: Mr. Du has a fifty percent share in my company," replied Ducky.

"Ah," I said. I knew there was a catch somewhere.

"Ah," echoed Suet-foong, sharing my sentiment.

About twenty minutes later, we came off the main road into a street - Ducky dubbed it Millionaires Street - lined with a dense growth of trees and underbrush on both sides.

"Why do you call it Millionaires Street?" I asked. "There's nothing here but the woods."

"The mansions are behind the woods," said Ducky with a grin.

Just then, our car slowed down and made a left turn to an entrance. It was at least half a mile from the street before the mansion which had a huge lawn came into view. The building, with its stately pillars and imposing columns, was a magnificent piece of neoclassical architecture. Suet-foong and I stared at the place in awe; so this is how the immensely wealthy sons-of-bitches flaunt their money, I thought.

"You've got a very beautiful home, Ducky," I commented when I managed to find my voice. "I envy you."

"Well, envy no more, it's yours; this mansion is just one of my many guesthouses," replied our host with a boastful tone. "You and your lovely wife can stay here as long as you like. My house, which is much bigger than this one, is further down the street."

Super-rich people - don't you just hate them?


To be continued ...

Chapter Ten (Part 2 of 2)

He paused and gave me a funny look. I guess he did not believe his ears when I mentioned the "M" word; he had always taken me for a freewheeling son-of-a-gun. Finally he said, "Hey, fuck you!"

"Thanks, but I believe 'congratulations' would sound nicer."

"You made her pregnant, didn't you?"

"Hell, no ... well, not yet anyway."

"Then why the fuck did you marry her?"

"Does it ever occur to you that we are deeply in love?"

"Love - that's a big no-no for distinguished bad-asses like us, Ake."

"That's why I'm quitting my daytime job."

"Fuck! You can't quit! Ever since I learned about the death of Lau Beng, I was hoping that you will join me. Your mastery of the gun is a great asset to our line of work."

"You know I don't do drugs, old friend," I replied, shaking my head.

Sze-hoi smiled. "Another one of your so-called religions, I presume?"

"Yeah," I said, returning his smile. "But if you ever need my help, just call out my name and I'll be there. That's what friends are for."

"Likewise, Ake," he said in earnest. We then raised our glasses and drank the whisky in one gulp. "And I wish you and your wife all the best. By the way, who's the lucky gal?"

I told him ... everything: from my first encounter with Suet-foong at Shanghai Railway Station right down to our wedding day. His expression suggested some pleasure at my narration which surprised me because listening to soppy love stories was never his favorite pastime. He certainly was one unpredictable creature. When I finally finished, the cabaret show was about to start. With the best entertainment in town featuring song, dance, and nudie burlesque, men flocked to Sze-hoi's nightclub like moths to a flame. Pretty soon, the place was packed to the brim.

My, how time flies when one is enjoying himself. Before I knew it, the clock struck one; it was my cue to bid my buddy goodnight.

"Suet-foong and I will be leaving for Beijing soon, sort of a belated honeymoon for us," I said, getting up. "So I guess I won't be seeing you for a while."

"Ah, Beijing, renowned for its opulent palaces, temples, and gardens ... say hello to the emperor for me when you are there," replied Sze-hoi in jest.

I laughed not knowing whether he meant Pu Yi, the real but powerless emperor, or President Yuan, the pretender to the throne. Anyway, who cares? We were not playing a lottery.

"Where are you staying in Beijing?" he asked.

"I don't know yet. Reckon we'll be spending our nights in hotels like when we were in Hangzhou."

"There's no need to, bro. I know a guy there who owes me big time. His name's Ducky. I'll give him a call. He can find free accommodation for you two lovebirds. Consider this as my wedding gift."

"Much obliged," I said, shaking his hand and heading for the exit.

"Err ... Ake?"

"Yes?"

"You made her pregnant, didn't you?"

"Oh, up yours!"

After getting another good friend of mine to take care of our horses and my house ... oops, I mean our house, we finally hit the road. On a cold December night, Suet-foong and I were in Shanghai Railway Station waiting at the platform for the train to Beijing. By chance, we were standing at the same spot where I had shot dead Song Jiao-ren; positively not a very pleasant reminder.

I looked at my wife. She could hardly stand still. She kept fidgeting, pacing back and forth. She tried to sit down and relax, but she could not repose a moment. She was so excited. To be honest, so was I; tonight a phase of our lives was closing and tomorrow a new one shall open. Just thinking about this made me want to burst out in all directions like fireworks.

The train finally arrived at 11:00 P.M., and we made our way to our first-class cabin - but of course, I would not settle for anything less - that had a comfy bunk bed and a washroom. When the locomotive slowly pulled out of the station a few minutes later, Suet-foong rushed to the window and cheerily waved goodbye to the crowd on the platform.

"You know those people, Sugarplum?" I asked with much curiosity.

"Does it matter? Come on, Ake, just wave at them; do it for the fun of it!" she replied, her smile like a sun flower, ever so radiant, ever so warm.

I did, waving my hands wildly until they were out of sight. She was right. It was amusing and enjoyable. Both of us were feeling on top of the world. We did not know it then, but her farewell waves proved to be prophetic; this was the last time Suet-foong saw Shanghai.