The Ninja's Oath, page 4
“What kind of friend is he?”
“The kind you don’t ask questions about.”
“Ugh. You’re more annoying here than you are back at home.”
“And you are equally nosy wherever you are.”
He led me to the rideshare car, confirmed it was ours, and hopped in the back.
“What about your family? Can I ask questions about them?”
He grunted his impatience. “What do you want to know?”
“Why didn’t your mother or cousins ask about your missing niece?”
“They don’t know.”
“You haven’t told them?
“It’s not my news to share.”
He glanced at the driver and back to me.
I took the hint and focused on the trip, something I should have been doing in case I needed to find my way back alone. We were headed due north past mid-size buildings and upscale shikumen neighborhoods toward an elevated highway lit up in neon blue—not just a channel of neon around the edges or pillars of light at the base; the entire underside of the highway and everything below it was lit up in Disneyland Space Mountain blue.
As we wove through lanes upon lanes of streaming cars, the magnitude of this city struck home. Shanghai was five times the size and seven times the population of Los Angeles. What I had seen so far represented a minuscule fragment of the whole. How would we ever find one missing girl?
I turned away from the lights and studied Lee’s face. From the grit of his teeth, I didn’t expect a warm greeting from his not-to-be-discussed friend.
The driver dropped us off in front of a dazzling building with a street-level club. A neon outline of a purple face sang into a microphone beneath Chinese characters and the words Happy Lounge KTV.
Lee threaded through the river of pedestrians and paused at the door. “Mouth shut. Ears open.”
“Does that mean I won’t have to sing?”
“I’m serious, Lily.”
“So am I.”
“Stop joking. Who do you think I called when you stuck your nose in the Scorpion’s nest? Old friends, that’s who. Friends who wished I had stayed dead.”
I wiped the humor from my voice and hopefully my face. Lee had resurrected his criminal relationships in Shanghai to help me with the triads in Hong Kong. The least I could do was show him respect.
Chastened and mute, I followed him into the karaoke bar, braced for tone-deaf singers and cheesy pop tunes. Instead, the chic lounge piped in soothing instrumental jazz.
An attractive young hostess greeted us in Mandarin. “Welcome to the Happy Lounge. May I book you a room?”
“We are guests of Big Tooth Fong.”
She blinked in surprise, then smiled. “Of course. Please come with me.”
She led us down a corridor with rooms on either side. The cheesy music and bad singing I had expected seeped through the walls. Bass beats vibrated the floor. A sexy women emerged from the last room, pulled the hem of her dress, and vanished into a restroom across the hall. As she entered, another scantily-clad woman emerged.
The hostess opened a door into a lounge with red leather couches, red patterned carpet, and indigo velvet walls. “Help yourself to the bar. I’ll let Mr. Fong know you have arrived.”
A Chinese pop-music video played on a wall-mounted television, framed in the same pink neon that outlined the recessed ceiling above. Two cordless microphones waited on stands beside a display menu of songs.
I sealed my lips against a flood of snappy comments and kept my expression as neutral as Lee’s. When he motioned to the far couch, I sat. A moment later, a smartly-dressed man entered with a toothy smile and unfriendly eyes.
He held out his arms in mock welcome and addressed us in English. “This is an unexpected visit.”
Lee nodded. “Yet you do not seem surprised.”
The man’s smile grew wider and colder. “Who else would have the nerve to call me Big Tooth Fong in my own establishment?” He headed for the bar. “You want a drink?”
“No, thanks.”
“How about your girl?” He leered at me. “It’s important to hydrate before a busy night.”
Lee ignored the insinuation and sat on the center couch.
Fong poured his scotch and took a seat across from me.
“So, American Lee, what do you want this time?”
“Information.”
“Hmm.” He raised his glass to indicate me. “I gave you lots of information last week. Why are you bothering me again?”
“I’m looking for my twelve-year-old grandniece.”
Fong laughed. “I don’t hire them that young.”
“What about the girls you don’t hire?”
Fong sneered. “Be careful, Lee. You are not Red Pole Chang anymore.”
“True. But there might be some old timers who wish I would return. Or a new hierarchy who wish I would leave. Maybe enough to provide encouragement?”
“You think she was taken?”
“I don’t know. Do you?”
Fong sipped his scotch, then set it carefully on the lacquered table top. “If I help you in this matter, will you go back to your adopted country and leave me alone?”
Lee nodded. “As soon as I find my grandniece and relocate my mother.”
“Ha. Old people are stubborn. It took years to move my grandparents out of the Old City.” Fong stood and brushed the creases from his slacks. “Attend to your family. If I learn anything, I will call.”
Nine
I held my temper until we had escaped the dubious karaoke bar, then turned my wrath on Lee. “Your gang prostitutes women?”
He grabbed my arm and yanked me down the sidewalk. “They are not my gang anymore. And from what I’ve heard, the Happy Lounge is a legitimate business.”
“Yeah, right. A legit biz with sex workers on the side. What did you mean about the girls Fong didn’t hire? Do the Scorpions traffic children as well?”
“Aiya, Lily. They dip their fingers into many pots. I stay out of their business. They stay out of mine. Or they did before I stirred up trouble helping you.”
I stopped on the sidewalk, eliciting angry looks as I disrupted the flow. I knew better, but I just didn’t care.
“Enough with the guilt, Lee. You helped, I thanked. You called, I’m here.”
Pedestrians veered out of our way, leaving an unobstructed line between my fury and Lee’s. Then he turned abruptly and marched up the road. Several blocks past commercial centers, hotels, and shops, he finally slowed his pace. When I joined him, he glanced at me and shrugged.
“I’m glad you came, but I don’t know what’s going on. Until I do, we must think fast and act slow. We’ll learn more tomorrow when we question my brother. For now, dinner and sleep is the best we can do.”
As if on cue, my belly rumbled and I stifled a yawn. Since I had planned to sleep on the long flight to Los Angeles, I had purposely stayed up late in Hong Kong. Without my anger to sustain me, my energy drained. If not for the shocks of electricity on the back of my neck, I could have dozed off as we walked.
“What’s the matter?”
I turned my head toward the buildings and checked the reflections in the glass. As I did this, the electrical sensation moved from the back of my neck to the side.
“Why are you walking so slowly? Don’t you want to be fed?”
“Pause at the next window and look at the display.”
“Why should I do that?”
“Because someone is following us, and I want to see who it is.”
I continued for a few yards, then turned back toward Lee, scanning the area for anyone out of step with the crowd before joining him at the display.
“So?”
“Nothing unusual. But I know what I felt.”
Instead of arguing, he accepted my ninja sense with a nod. “Do you feel it now?”
“No.”
“Maybe your slow walking irritated a pedestrian.”
“That’s possible.”
He nodded to a surveillance camera. “No one will try anything here. Keep moving and monitor what you feel.”
As we approached the multi-level intersection, I flinched.
“You feel it again?”
I flashed my eyes upward without raising my face. Lee did the same. Elevated walkways crisscrossed between us and the highway. The wash of blue over the street blended with taillights and neon to create an eerie purple glow. Pedestrians on the walkway above were silhouetted in black. Once out of their sight, I darted to the left.
Lee yelled at me to stop.
I motioned for him to continue and sprinted up the stairs. Although in great shape for a man in his sixties, Lee couldn’t match me. In Los Angeles, I ran and biked across the city and hiked in the Santa Monica Mountains, in addition to the hours I spent training or tangled in a fight. Even in his prime, Lee would have been challenged to keep up with me.
At the first landing, I spotted a man leaning over the railing. When I reached the walkway, he was gone. I sprinted to where he had been and looked down to see Lee pretending to chat with someone hidden beneath the walkway, presumably me. I waved for his attention and pointed to my right, then I dashed across the ramp to an intersecting walkway. I checked every direction for a sprinting man but, aside from me, no one even rushed.
I descended the stairs and met Lee on the street. “Did you see anyone running?”
He shook his head. “Only you.”
“A man was watching you from the railing as you pretended to talk to me.”
Lee grinned. “Smart, right?”
“Very. Except he left before I made it up the stairs.”
“Just one man?”
“Yep. Taller than us, broad shoulders, long hair pulled back at the neck.”
“Do you still feel watched?”
I tuned into my senses and shook my head. “Nothing. Although he could be masking his intent.”
Lee frowned. “If he has the skill to do that, I don’t want him following us to my apartment.”
We crossed the bright-blue avenue into a warren of less-populated streets. The neighborhood shops had closed for the night, giving this area a more tranquil feel. Even so, Lee turned at random and checked behind us for a tail. After passing the entrances of numerous shikumen lanes, he stepped inside the nook of a building and paused.
“Feel anything now?”
“Nope.”
“Good. Let’s go inside and eat.”
The tiny place was crowded with diners hunched over rustic wooden tables set with small bowls of intriguing food. A chalkboard menu ran the length of one wall from the hostess podium to the open-view kitchen, with cartoon drawings and choices written in yellow Romanized pinyin and pink Chinese characters. English words written in green chalk read, “Five Star Haiwanese Chicken Rice.” Below that, a slogan in blue read, “Die Die Must Try.” Every word, character, and cartoon on the board exuded color and fun.
We took an open table and pulled out the nested square stools.
“Did you choose this place for me?”
Lee shrugged. “You always like Hainan chicken rice when I fix it at home.”
When I was a toddler, Lee had fed me broth-soaked rice and chicken fat bits in a highchair in Baba’s kitchen. When I grew older, he served the poached chicken with an array of sauces at the prep counter and questioned me about my day.
Home.
With that one simple word, Lee became Uncle, and Red Pole Chang faded away.
Ten
At seven the next morning, Uncle shooed me out the door with promises of tea and breakfast on the go. I added an extra energy bar in my runner’s backpack and filled the water pouch just in case. The minimalist pack sat between my shoulder blades and secured under my breasts for a snug yet comfortable fit. In hindsight, I should have put the bar somewhere I could reach.
“What about that breakfast?” I asked as he swiped his transit card and hurried through the gate.
“Metro doesn’t allow food or drinks on the trains.”
“You didn’t know that before?”
“Of course I did. But we don’t have the time.”
We squeezed through the station and onto a train. It was Sunday morning and the platform was packed.
“Where are we headed?”
“To see my brother on Chongming Dao.”
He brought up the island on Baidu Maps. Chongming was the largest of three in the estuary where the Yangtze River widened into the East China Sea. We would need to travel north, cross the winding Huangpu River, and catch a ferry to one of Chongming’s ports.
“What does your brother do?”
“He farms.” Uncle waved away my puzzlement. “I know. Most people move from farms to cities, not cities to farms. But Qiang is a stubborn man and claims it was all anyone ever taught him to do.”
I pictured the decrepit lane house where the brothers had grown up. The only crops I had seen in the Old City was one spindly tomato plant struggling for life in a clay pot.
“Did you have a home in the country?”
“What, like Hollywood celebrities?” He choked out a laugh. “No. Qiang received his agricultural education in Anhui Province during the Down to the Countryside movement. You know about this?”
I shrugged. “It sounds familiar. Maybe from Asian history class?”
Uncle frowned. “It was personal history for us. Qiang was born during the Great Famine. When he was nine and I was eleven, Chairman Mao Zedong shut down schools and universities for three years. By the time we went back, I cared more about the skills I could learn from the Scorpions than from school. Qiang was different. When I joined the gang, he studied harder and excelled. Then the government ordered every urban household to send one of their ‘intellectual’ teenagers to rural districts to be re-educated by farmers. Qiang was the eldest of us still in school. If my family had tried to send me, I wouldn’t have gone.”
“Is this why he resents you?”
Uncle sighed. “Qiang has many reasons to resent me. This is only one.”
“But you said he received an education in agriculture. Wasn’t he appreciative of that?”
“I was joking, Lily. The government sent those kids to the poorest rural areas in the country to stamp out their intellectual ways and teach them Communist values. The farmers in charge of Qiang nearly worked him to death. When he finally returned to the city, he had aged so much our mother didn’t recognize him.”
The story was tragic, but it still didn’t make sense.
“It wasn’t your fault the government sent him away.”
“Oh, no? Then why do you blame yourself for your younger sister’s murder?”
I gaped at Uncle, shocked to hear him bring up Rose. If I had commuted to UCLA instead of living on campus, I would have known my fifteen-year-old sister was going to clubs with a fake ID. I would have answered her text and rescued her from that monster instead of losing my virginity to Pete. I could have protected my sister in so many ways if only I had cared more about her life than my own. Rose was murdered seven years ago. No matter how many lives I save or how many joys I deprive myself from experiencing, my mission to help others would never make up for my failure as an elder sister. Although furious with Uncle for dredging up these feelings, I understood the comparison between him and his sibling and me with mine.
“You wanted your own life more than you cared about Qiang.”
He shrugged. “We can’t change the past.”
A simple truth, but so hard to accept.
We rode the train in silence as a new puzzle nibbled at my brain.
“On the ride from the airport, you said Qiang blames you for his missing granddaughter. When we spoke with Big Tooth Fong last night, you implied that she might have been kidnapped as leverage against you. Why would anyone use her as leverage if you and your brother aren’t close? Wouldn’t it be smarter to take your mother, whom you obviously love?”
“This has also occurred to me. Which is why I need to speak with Qiang, face to face.”
When we reached the ferry station, we grabbed a breakfast of fried dough sticks wrapped in sesame pancake—carb on carb, the Shanghai way. To wash it down, Uncle bought cups of freshly pressed hot soy milk. It tasted so good, I hardly missed my morning tea. Once done, we squeezed onto the ferry and took interior seats on the cheaper lower level away from the windows. I craned my neck to catch the shoreline view.
“What are you doing? There’s nothing to see except buildings and smog.”
“Buildings and smog in Shanghai.”
He slumped in his seat and pretended to nap. I struggled to see over the passengers, then gave up on the shoreline and islands and checked WeChat instead.
Ma: Smooth flight. Heading home now. Everything okay with you?
Her message had come in during the night, which would have been early morning in Los Angeles. Now it would be late afternoon.
Me: On a ferry to meet Uncle’s brother. Shanghai’s great. We went to the Bund!
I uploaded the selfie of Uncle and me in front of the colorful skyline and riverboat lights. The early evening glow and the golden lights from the boulevard lit my cheery face and Uncle’s impatient scowl.
Me: See how much fun he’s having showing me the sights? (Laughing crying emoji)
Then I saw the other photos in my gallery and paused. Uncle had taken a series of them as he moved me back and forth, changing the framing and catching my animated expressions and positions. I hadn’t seen myself look this happy in photos since the ones taken of me at UCLA. I added three of them, ending with the smiling shot of me in front of the golden buildings and the emerald-topped hotel.
I thought about messaging Baba before his dinner prep began, but I didn’t want to get cornered into telling a lie. Unlike my mother, he asked pointed questions that were hard to avoid. Better to wait for him to reach out to me.
The ferry docked, and Uncle leapt to his feet, suspiciously awake after avoiding me with his nap. “Let’s go, lazy girl. Time to rent bikes and ride.”
Eleven
We rented mountain bikes despite the flat terrain of fields, marshes, levees, and mud, not because Uncle anticipated off-road biking, but for the multiple gears that would help him match my pace. As it turned out, the thicker tires came in handy once we turned off the thoroughfares onto ruggedly paved roads. I breathed in the earthy scent of fertilized soil and irrigation channels. It was hard to believe we were still within the municipality of Shanghai.
