SNOW PHOENIX AND ME

Hilarious, poignant, and filled with wonder, it is a story about two star-crossed lovers in old Shanghai when chaos and lawlessness reigned.

Many of its chapters were picked as the "Most Beloved Story" on Avon Romance. 

Purchase outlets: Amazon.com, Kindle, and all major bookstores.

Excerpt:

Her name was Li Suet-foong. She was only twenty-three years old when she died. I affectionately called her my sugarplum; she cheekily baptized me a dumdum. She was beautiful like an angel and fairer than the morning dew. I do not recall her complimenting on my good looks though - I vainly believe I belong to the tall, dark, and handsome category. Her love for adventure suited me just fine for danger is my business. Winter was her favorite season. I asked her why. With a smile she replied she loved the snow, the mandarin oranges, and the lunar New Year. On top of that, she loved me.

I am a liquidator. I have been liquidating people ever since I knew how to hold a gun. It does not matter who my victims are - politicians, underworld big-shots, tycoons - as long as my asking price is met, I send them a one-way ticket to hell, no question asked. But I do not kill children; it is my religion. My clients call me "Mr. Clean", a satirical nickname actually - I am never a morally pure guy, not even by a long shot. Rather, I always do a clean kill: a direct shot to the victim's brain; no suffering and no mess to the other parts of his body.

It was 10:30 P.M. on March 20th, 1913. Despite the passing of winter, the northerly wind was unusually cold. Nonetheless, the sky was clear and the stars were bright. Disguising myself as a porter, I was at Shanghai Railway Station getting ready for my next hit: a young politician named Song Jiao-ren. The place was crowded, but I managed to spot him standing at the platform waiting to board the train to Beijing. He was impeccably dressed in a black western suit, his hair was neatly combed over the top, and his mustache was perfectly trimmed. Calmly, I approached him. Right up to the last moment he did not suspect anything amiss. When our eyes finally met, mine flashed like lightning. Quicker than a wink, I whipped my gun out of my uniform pocket. Only then did he realize that he was targeted for assassination. His face turned pale.

"Y ... You are making a big mistake, friend," he spluttered, overwhelmed by fear to defend himself.

"So sue me," I said, firing at him at point-blank range. He collapsed like a sack of potatoes on the concrete floor - his life was snuffed out instantly.

Subsequently I pumped another two rounds up in the air - those who were deaf to the first shot could definitely hear them now. Utter chaos reigned supreme the next instant: people ran helter-skelter to the exits; women were screaming like banshees; and some hid under the benches or behind the dustbins.

I smirked; that was my plan.

Amid all the confusion, I made my way to the storeroom near to one of the exits. Quickly I went inside, locking the door behind me; I knew this room was empty as I had surveyed it earlier. I changed my attire and discarded the gun into a wastepaper basket. Thirty seconds later, in my white suit and shoes, I was out in the open again.

One more time I smirked; yup, that was another part of my plan. I could now walk past the police cordon that had been thrown around the station, shake hands with the men in blue even, no sweat. They were seeking for a guy in a drab porter uniform, not a smartly-dressed gentleman.

"Wow, that was fast!" said a female voice behind me. It sounded kind of sultry.

I felt my heart skip a beat. Looking over my shoulder I noticed a lean young woman sitting cross-legged on the bench a few paces from where I was. She was clad in men's clothing - long-sleeved striped shirt and pants, her hair drawn to the back of her head like a ponytail, and her eyes had a mischievous glint. A sketch block was on her lap.

She was not part of my plan.

After regaining my composure, I walked toward her. At the same time I cast a glance around the platform - there was still a mad scramble for the exits. I advanced until I stood face to face with the woman, looking over her keenly - God, she was drop-dead gorgeous! She did not stir; she just smiled at me. I then spoke in a hushed tone: "You saw me going into the storeroom? What else did you see?"

"Everything," she whispered back.

"Including the shooting?"

"Yes, I was standing a short distance behind you when you pulled the trigger. Then I followed you here."

"You were not scared at all? I shot a man in cold blood."

"Scared? Nah! Just petrified," she deadpanned. "But I followed you anyway."

"Why?"

"I like your butt."

I was unimpressed. Her attempt at stroking my ego fell flat because I had heard it all before from my lady friends: my bum turned them on. Her honeyed words were just a reaffirmation. On the other hand the thought of her announcing to the whole world that there was a killer with a sexy ass running loose did not appeal to me. Not one bit. Who did she think I was - a frigging pansy? I looked at her in the eyes - they were brown - pondering whether to silence her there and then or not. The decision came fast and furious. It was a no-no; I did not have my gun with me. Damn! One big heavy sigh later, I silently told myself to take it easy. I could kill this nosy broad anytime. In the interim I would work at getting us better acquainted so as to know more about her. Somehow or rather, she intrigued me ... a lot.

"May I know your name?" I asked in my normal deep voice.

"I am Li Suet-foong. And you?"

I extended my hand. "You can call me Ake, short for Akecheta Lung."

"That's a very funny name," she said, standing up to shake it. "Are you Chinese? You look like one to me."

"I am an outcast."

"Huh?"

"I had a Sioux father and a Chinese mother for my parents," I said, clearing up her befuddlement. "When they got killed during the Boxer Rising, I was placed in an orphanage. Because of my darker skin color and my strong American accent then, I looked different in the eyes of the other kids there. They avoided me like a plague, bitching that I was neither Chinese nor a 'foreign devil'. I grew up alone and unwanted."

"Oh, you poor man," she replied. It appeared that she was feeling a gush of pity for me. "Life must have been very tough for you."

"On the contrary I consider it to be a blessing. I wouldn't be what I am today if life had treated me otherwise."

"Goodness me, you like being you-know-what?" she said, making a finger gun gesture.

I laughed - it sounded more like a snort actually. "My ignorant friend, it's either you kill or be killed," I retorted with a swagger. "Shanghai may be called Paris of the Orient but it is one of the most lawless cities on Earth. So what's wrong if I have a gun? In fact it would be good if everybody is armed; we would all be safer. More guns equal less crime. You savvy?"

She listened attentively, looking at me in wonder while nodding in agreement with every word that came out of my mouth; she was completely under my thumb. I hate to praise myself, but boy, was I a smooth talker or what!

A pause later, she tucked the sketch block under her armpit and said, "Okay, let's go to the noodles stall. You are buying me supper." She then headed to the exit nearest to us.

"I am?" I asked, following close behind her. She had a sexy round ass; much better-looking than mine.

"Yes, it's either I eat noodles or I spill the beans; your choice."

I was flabbergasted, but of course. Was it just a jest or a real threat? I could not tell. Thus, there was only one thing to do: I stooped and walked silently behind her like a eunuch accompanying the empress to her destination. I wondered who was under whose thumb now.

About the author:

Arthur T. Y. Foo, who graduated from The Institute of Marketing, United Kingdom with a Diploma in 1980, did not choose writing as his career. Writing chose him and he is happy for it. His first two Natasha novels were nominated for the Readers' Choice Awards.

He is presently residing in Malaysia with his wife, three grown-up children, and a big, hairy dog.