The Ninja's Oath, page 8
I took in the showroom furniture and design. “Have you been here before?”
“Not inside.”
“Will she be safe on the marble steps?”
He shrugged and picked up a box. “Let’s move this to her room before Meimei’s husband comes home.”
Although grand in style, the villa had a minimal footprint, with only two tiny bedrooms and a main suite at the end of the hall. We found Meimei and her mother in the first room, decorated with the keepsakes of a teenage girl.
“This was our daughter’s room. She graduated from University of Science and Technology in Hefei. She has an important position at a chemical company near there. Isn’t that impressive, Uma?”
Her mother opened a crowded closet and frowned.
Meimei closed the door. “Don’t worry, Uma. I will pack up her things and make room for yours. Come and see the rest of my house.”
I set the garbage bags full of the old woman’s clothing on the bed and whispered to Uncle as he set down the box. “Are you sure this is going to work?”
“We have no other choice.”
We followed Meimei past her husband’s cozy den into a bedroom suite with French doors opened onto the rounded balcony with a table and chairs. Trees and rooftops blocked the city view except for the high-rises jutting behind.
Meimei patted her mother’s arm. “See how well I live? You should have come sooner. When I asked before.” Sadness dampened the cheeriness of her tone.
Her mother responded in Shanghainese and slumped back to her cluttered room.
Uncle watched her go, then snapped at his sister in English. “Why didn’t you make room for her?”
“No time.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
She started to argue in Shanghainese but Lee stopped her and glanced toward me.
His sister sulked. “My English is not good like you or Qiang.”
“Then lower your voice and speak in Mandarin so Lily can understand. Why didn’t you make space for Uma?”
“Our daughter moved out of her apartment in Hefei last week.”
“So what?”
“Her roommates thought she might come home.”
“And where would you put our mother? In your daughter’s closet?”
“Of course not. They could sleep together like she used to do with me.”
“Don’t be silly. Uma doesn’t know Suyin. Why would you make them share a bed?”
Meimei sniffed. “Because I want my daughter and my mother to know each other. I miss them both. My daughter is so busy. We used to video chat every night. We haven’t talked in a week.”
A man called in Mandarin from downstairs. “Qizi. Why are these dirty boxes on our floor?”
Meimei shoved us out of her bedroom and hurried down the hall.
Uncle grabbed her arm. “Stay with Uma. I’ll bring the boxes upstairs.”
“What will you say to my husband?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“Go.”
As Uncle dealt with the husband, Meimei and I stashed her daughter’s old belongings under the bed and stuffed the garbage bags of Uma’s possessions into the closet. The old woman remained on the bed and pretended to sleep. Stern voices carried up the stairs. A moment later, Uncle brought in the boxes and stacked them in the corner.
“Did he ask who you were?” Meimei whispered.
“He assumed. What did you tell him about me?”
“Nothing. Why do you ask?”
“The mixture of distaste and fear in his eyes.”
She waved it away. “That’s just his face. Come downstairs. I’ll fix tea.”
She kissed her mother’s cheek and whispered soothing words in Shanghainese. I heard longing and loneliness in Meimei’s voice. When I saw her husband, decades older without a spark of joy on his face, I understood why.
Meimei brightened her disposition and called out to her husband as we came down the stairs. “How was your visit with friends?”
“Like always.”
“Did you meet my brother Lee?”
He nodded and averted his gaze.
Although not quite as old as my grandfather in Hong Kong, Meimei’s husband and former boss had a similar condescending air. Retired banker, perhaps? Whatever he was, he still treated his wife like an employee.
“This is his friend from Los Angeles. Lily, this is my husband, Feng Honghui.”
He nodded curtly to me and responded to her. “It takes both of them to move your mother into my house?”
“I’m just here to help, Mr. Feng.”
He ignored me and kept looking at her. “So, Qizi.” He punctuated her name to silence me. “Is your mother settled in my house?”
“Yeah, yeah. She’s napping like a child.”
He sighed in resignation and walked across the room.
As Meimei followed him to the stairs, I leaned toward Uncle. “What’s your sister’s name?”
“Huh?”
“Her name. You call her Younger Sister. He calls her Wife. What is her actual name?”
Uncle looked genuinely confused.
“You don’t know?”
“I haven’t heard it spoken since she was a child in school, and that was only for one year.”
“One year?”
“I graduated from middle school and joined the Scorpions the year after Mao Zedong restarted China’s education. Don’t worry. It doesn’t matter. Everyone in the family calls her Meimei. You should too.”
But it did matter.
Uncle’s sister only existed in relationship to others. She had no identity of her own. No wonder she hungered to have her mother and daughter living under her roof. Without them, she was only her former boss’ wife.
Nineteen
Constellations of light whizzed past my window as we sped across Yan’an Elevated Road back to Uncle’s apartment in the Former French Concession. Red, yellow, white, and green mixed with the Space Mountain blue illuminating the underside of the highway and cast the FFC in the familiar purplish hue. When we descended onto the streets and drove away from the retail zone, the brilliance grew more intimate with smaller shop signs and twinkling trees. That said, even the darkest alleys and shikumen lanes were illuminated by Shanghai’s urban glow. The apartment complexes on Uncle’s boulevard shone most brightly of all.
As I stepped out of the rideshare car, WeChat pinged with a message from someone asking to connect. The profile photo showed Will Smith in his Men in Black suit, smirking behind impenetrable shades.
J: Meet me at The Center.
Me: When?
J: Now.
I looked at Uncle. “Is there a place called The Center near here?”
He pointed across the avenue at a plaza with a tall building, benches, and trees. “Why do you ask?”
“Tran wants to meet.”
“Now?”
“He must have been waiting for us to return.”
As we crossed the boulevard to the plaza, Tran emerged from behind a pillar. Unlike us, he was dressed for the night in a custom-fit leather jacket the same dark hickory color as his hair. I crossed my bare arms against the evening chill. Although Shanghai had a similar latitude to Los Angeles, the high air pressure from Siberia made the September night feel cooler than home.
Tran’s eyes glinted in the lamplight. “You look chilly, K. Would you like my jacket to keep you warm?”
“Hard pass, J. But thanks for asking.”
And thanks for planting the thought in my mind, you sly bastard.
He smiled mischievously as if he knew I was imagining his body-warmed leather against my skin. As if I could smell the intoxicating scent of him.
Uncle huffed at me and glared at Tran. “Enough about the weather. What did you learn about Chyou?”
Tran strolled across the lighted glass tiles in the pavement, speaking in a chatty tone as if out with friends. “You have an interesting family, Chang Lee. Such a full history. So many skeletons. Even more enemies.”
“Are you suggesting that my grandniece was taken because of me?”
Tran shrugged. “People don’t like your brother much either.”
“What people?”
“Neighbors. Farmers. The Chongming King.” Tran held out his hands to forestall Uncle’s remarks. “I know. You knew all of this before. But you and your brother aren’t the only ones making enemies. The Chang family has been pissing off the wrong people since your grandfather started idolizing Chiang Kai-shek.”
Tran turned to me. “The general enlisted the notorious Green Gang to purge the Communists from Shanghai. They massacred thousands in what became known as the White Terror purge. Apparently, some of the officials still hold a grudge.”
Uncle snorted. “That was a long time ago. My grandfather never joined the Green Gang.”
“Only because your great-grandfather forbade it. If your grandfather had joined, he could have paved your way into Shanghai’s criminal history. Lucky for you, his sister’s marriage paved your way instead.”
“What does my grandaunt have to do with this?”
“Maybe nothing. Maybe a lot.” Tran turned to me. “When Chiang Kai-shek fled to Taiwan, he encouraged the three leaders of the Green Gang not to do business with the Japanese or to facilitate their invasion. Huang and Big-Ear Du, who would later become grandmaster, complied. Zhang did not. The traitorous thug collaborated with the Japanese during the invasion.”
Tran stopped strolling and looked at Uncle. “Was your family scandalized when your grandaunt married a member of Zhang’s traitorous new gang? Or did they benefit from his Japanese connections?”
Uncle clenched his teeth.
“Your grandaunt must have gained a few perks when her husband was martyred trying to prevent Zhang’s assassination. What a shame your cousin Chester didn’t inherit his grandfather’s entrepreneurial spunk. He and his parents could have been living the high life in Japan instead of freeloading on your couch.”
“How did you learn all of this?”
Tran grinned. “Your elderly cousin is a chatty woman with an appetite for sweets.”
I grabbed Uncle’s arm before he could swing. Although a skilled fighter with dozens of kills under his belt, the former Scorpion enforcer was no match for a trained assassin in his prime.
Uncle shook his arm from my grip and glared at Tran. “Did you learn anything useful that will help us find Chyou? Or did you spend the afternoon eating cake?”
Tran chuckled. “I did more than that, old man. Apparently, your grandaunt wasn’t the only member of your family who made questionable choices and alliances. Her brother—your grandfather—was quite vocal against the Communist Party. As I mentioned, certain government officials hold grudges against Kuomintang sympathizers. Guess whose family is on their list?”
“Ha. You found the name Chang on a list? Chang. How could you possibly know that was us?”
“Because it listed your family address on Qiaojia Road. Not only did your grandfather idolize Chiang Kai-shek, I think he also had puppy-dog eyes for Big-Ear Du. Why else would he have followed the Green Gang leader all the way to Hong Kong?”
Uncle spat. “Over a million people fled from the mainland during the Civil War. Why would anyone still care about him?”
“I wondered the same thing.” Tran resumed his stroll. “Did you know your grandfather caused trouble for your relatives in Shanghai when he moved his wife and son to Hong Kong? He made the move with his Kuomintang-sympathizer friend, his wife, and their young daughter. Do you think he and his friend pledged their children to marry each other in advance? Or did they let your parents fall in love on their own? Either way, the families doubled down on their political beliefs. Another bad alliance for the Changs.”
“That’s enough,” I said. “Make your point and stop bullying my friend.”
“Bullying?” Tran laughed. “Do you feel bullied, Red Pole Chang?”
Uncle froze in the lamplight glow, eyes full of hatred, body tensed to fight. “This is my city, not yours. Make your point or get on a plane.”
I looked from triad to assassin, gaging who would strike first and whether I should risk my life to intervene. Never had I encountered two more deadly opponents. I needed to reset this conversation without drawing fire onto me.
“Hey…we’ve all had a long and illuminating day. Maybe we should call it quits for the night and regroup in the morning.”
“No.” Uncle glared. “I want to hear what else this bastard has to say.”
Tran flinched at the word.
I shook my head, letting him know I had not shared his anything about his past.
Satisfied, he turned back to Uncle. “You say this is your city, but you haven’t lived here in twenty-four years. There could be alliances, debts, and grudges of which you are unaware. You and your father were Scorpions. Your grandfather was KMT. Your grandaunt married a former Green Gang leader who sold out his people and collaborated with the Japanese. Your family name is on a city government watch list. I learned all of this in one afternoon. What will I discover about you and your family tomorrow?”
Uncle’s phone chimed. He swiped to ignore. A moment later, it chimed again.
“Family?” I asked.
“Meimei. I need to take this. It could be my mother.”
Uncle stepped aside for a private conversation.
I smacked Tran’s arm. “What the hell?”
“You asked for my help. I reported what I found.”
“You intentionally antagonized him. Why?”
“Come on, K—”
“And stop calling me K. I gave you that name as a joke, before you knew who I was, before you investigated everyone in my family, before you waited for me in the back alley of my home.”
“Relax, Lily. Your friend and I are getting acquainted.”
As I prepared to acquaint Tran with a kick to the gut, Uncle returned looking very concerned.
“Is your mother okay?” I asked.
“It’s not about her. Meimei’s worried about Suyin. She wants me to find her and drag the woman home.”
Tran stepped closer. “Who is Suyin?”
“My sister’s stepdaughter.”
“How old is she?”
“Thirty. I think. But Meimei treats her like a child.”
“Did you tell Meimei about Chyou?” I asked.
“I did. But she barely knows the girl. My sister’s life revolves around her husband. Neither of them has visited Qiang in Chongming, nor has Qiang visited her. Our family hasn’t been together under one roof since my grandmother died.”
“When was that?”
“Before you were born.”
Uncle’s family dynamic was definitely more intricate than my own.
“We saw your sister an hour ago,” I said. “Why this sudden alarm?”
“All that talk about Uma sharing a bed with Suyin made Meimei feel lonely. She called her daughter’s roommates. Not only did Suyin move out last week, she quit her job several months before. During all those nightly video conversations my sister bragged about, her daughter never consulted her about this important decision.”
“Where did Suyin work?” Tran asked.
“I don’t know. Some biotech company in Hefei. It doesn’t matter, Meimei is only thinking about herself.”
As I commiserated with Uncle about family and stress, Tran vanished into the night.
Twenty
Thoughts of Tran permeated my dreams, not as a child soldier in Vietnam or as a tantalizing enigma as he frequently appeared. This time, he asked a single question and vanished into the night.
Where did Suyin work?
As Uncle prepared breakfast in the kitchen, I lingered in the cramped guest room and searched for information about Feng Suyin.
With the bits of history Meimei had shared, I learned that her daughter had graduated with honors in chemistry. Soon after, she landed a job at a biotechnology company in Hefei that specialized in research and development for pharmaceutical intermediates as well as chemical ingredients for cosmetics, pesticides, and customized products. An additional internet search defined pharmaceutical intermediates as chemical compounds that form the building blocks of active pharmaceutical ingredients. These compounds were used in the production of bulk prescription drugs for biopharma companies around the world.
Before I could hunt down more information, Uncle called me to breakfast. I switched my sleep clothes for cargo shorts and an army-green tee, summer clothing for September’s ninety-degree heat. The short sleeves kept fabric from rubbing against the glued knife slash on my arm. It was sore if I pressed on it, but otherwise fine.
Uncle yelled from the kitchen. “Come on, lazy girl. We don’t have all day.”
I emerged from my windowless bedroom to see clear blue skies through the window beyond the couch. No air quality alerts would be issued today.
“Stop gawking and eat your jook.”
Uncle scooped a ladle full of rice porridge and shoved the bowl along the kitchen counter toward me. His sleeveless shirt showed taunt muscles and a red gash beneath the glue. I had done a serviceable first aid job for us both.
The scent of sautéed garlic, ginger, scallions, and shrimp made my stomach growl. “How did you fix it this time?”
“With dried seafood and mushrooms. I keep them in the pantry. I went out to the market for fresh scallions and yau ja gwai.”
Oil fried ghosts.
“Why do you call the dough sticks by their Cantonese name? And why do you call the porridge jook instead of zhou or congee?”
Uncle ladled jook for himself and dropped a handful of sliced yau ja gai into his bowl. “Your father named his restaurant Wong’s Hong Kong Inn because he wanted to serve authentic Hongkonger food. So I learned the Cantonese names for everything we fix.”
“Do you speak the language?”
“No. It’s completely different from Mandarin and Shanghainese. Once my parents and grandmother returned from Hong Kong, they forgot the little bit they had learned.”
He shoved the plate of sliced oil fried ghosts toward me. “Eat quick. The driver arrives at seven thirty to take us to Qiang.”
“Driver?”
“Not inside.”
“Will she be safe on the marble steps?”
He shrugged and picked up a box. “Let’s move this to her room before Meimei’s husband comes home.”
Although grand in style, the villa had a minimal footprint, with only two tiny bedrooms and a main suite at the end of the hall. We found Meimei and her mother in the first room, decorated with the keepsakes of a teenage girl.
“This was our daughter’s room. She graduated from University of Science and Technology in Hefei. She has an important position at a chemical company near there. Isn’t that impressive, Uma?”
Her mother opened a crowded closet and frowned.
Meimei closed the door. “Don’t worry, Uma. I will pack up her things and make room for yours. Come and see the rest of my house.”
I set the garbage bags full of the old woman’s clothing on the bed and whispered to Uncle as he set down the box. “Are you sure this is going to work?”
“We have no other choice.”
We followed Meimei past her husband’s cozy den into a bedroom suite with French doors opened onto the rounded balcony with a table and chairs. Trees and rooftops blocked the city view except for the high-rises jutting behind.
Meimei patted her mother’s arm. “See how well I live? You should have come sooner. When I asked before.” Sadness dampened the cheeriness of her tone.
Her mother responded in Shanghainese and slumped back to her cluttered room.
Uncle watched her go, then snapped at his sister in English. “Why didn’t you make room for her?”
“No time.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
She started to argue in Shanghainese but Lee stopped her and glanced toward me.
His sister sulked. “My English is not good like you or Qiang.”
“Then lower your voice and speak in Mandarin so Lily can understand. Why didn’t you make space for Uma?”
“Our daughter moved out of her apartment in Hefei last week.”
“So what?”
“Her roommates thought she might come home.”
“And where would you put our mother? In your daughter’s closet?”
“Of course not. They could sleep together like she used to do with me.”
“Don’t be silly. Uma doesn’t know Suyin. Why would you make them share a bed?”
Meimei sniffed. “Because I want my daughter and my mother to know each other. I miss them both. My daughter is so busy. We used to video chat every night. We haven’t talked in a week.”
A man called in Mandarin from downstairs. “Qizi. Why are these dirty boxes on our floor?”
Meimei shoved us out of her bedroom and hurried down the hall.
Uncle grabbed her arm. “Stay with Uma. I’ll bring the boxes upstairs.”
“What will you say to my husband?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“Go.”
As Uncle dealt with the husband, Meimei and I stashed her daughter’s old belongings under the bed and stuffed the garbage bags of Uma’s possessions into the closet. The old woman remained on the bed and pretended to sleep. Stern voices carried up the stairs. A moment later, Uncle brought in the boxes and stacked them in the corner.
“Did he ask who you were?” Meimei whispered.
“He assumed. What did you tell him about me?”
“Nothing. Why do you ask?”
“The mixture of distaste and fear in his eyes.”
She waved it away. “That’s just his face. Come downstairs. I’ll fix tea.”
She kissed her mother’s cheek and whispered soothing words in Shanghainese. I heard longing and loneliness in Meimei’s voice. When I saw her husband, decades older without a spark of joy on his face, I understood why.
Meimei brightened her disposition and called out to her husband as we came down the stairs. “How was your visit with friends?”
“Like always.”
“Did you meet my brother Lee?”
He nodded and averted his gaze.
Although not quite as old as my grandfather in Hong Kong, Meimei’s husband and former boss had a similar condescending air. Retired banker, perhaps? Whatever he was, he still treated his wife like an employee.
“This is his friend from Los Angeles. Lily, this is my husband, Feng Honghui.”
He nodded curtly to me and responded to her. “It takes both of them to move your mother into my house?”
“I’m just here to help, Mr. Feng.”
He ignored me and kept looking at her. “So, Qizi.” He punctuated her name to silence me. “Is your mother settled in my house?”
“Yeah, yeah. She’s napping like a child.”
He sighed in resignation and walked across the room.
As Meimei followed him to the stairs, I leaned toward Uncle. “What’s your sister’s name?”
“Huh?”
“Her name. You call her Younger Sister. He calls her Wife. What is her actual name?”
Uncle looked genuinely confused.
“You don’t know?”
“I haven’t heard it spoken since she was a child in school, and that was only for one year.”
“One year?”
“I graduated from middle school and joined the Scorpions the year after Mao Zedong restarted China’s education. Don’t worry. It doesn’t matter. Everyone in the family calls her Meimei. You should too.”
But it did matter.
Uncle’s sister only existed in relationship to others. She had no identity of her own. No wonder she hungered to have her mother and daughter living under her roof. Without them, she was only her former boss’ wife.
Nineteen
Constellations of light whizzed past my window as we sped across Yan’an Elevated Road back to Uncle’s apartment in the Former French Concession. Red, yellow, white, and green mixed with the Space Mountain blue illuminating the underside of the highway and cast the FFC in the familiar purplish hue. When we descended onto the streets and drove away from the retail zone, the brilliance grew more intimate with smaller shop signs and twinkling trees. That said, even the darkest alleys and shikumen lanes were illuminated by Shanghai’s urban glow. The apartment complexes on Uncle’s boulevard shone most brightly of all.
As I stepped out of the rideshare car, WeChat pinged with a message from someone asking to connect. The profile photo showed Will Smith in his Men in Black suit, smirking behind impenetrable shades.
J: Meet me at The Center.
Me: When?
J: Now.
I looked at Uncle. “Is there a place called The Center near here?”
He pointed across the avenue at a plaza with a tall building, benches, and trees. “Why do you ask?”
“Tran wants to meet.”
“Now?”
“He must have been waiting for us to return.”
As we crossed the boulevard to the plaza, Tran emerged from behind a pillar. Unlike us, he was dressed for the night in a custom-fit leather jacket the same dark hickory color as his hair. I crossed my bare arms against the evening chill. Although Shanghai had a similar latitude to Los Angeles, the high air pressure from Siberia made the September night feel cooler than home.
Tran’s eyes glinted in the lamplight. “You look chilly, K. Would you like my jacket to keep you warm?”
“Hard pass, J. But thanks for asking.”
And thanks for planting the thought in my mind, you sly bastard.
He smiled mischievously as if he knew I was imagining his body-warmed leather against my skin. As if I could smell the intoxicating scent of him.
Uncle huffed at me and glared at Tran. “Enough about the weather. What did you learn about Chyou?”
Tran strolled across the lighted glass tiles in the pavement, speaking in a chatty tone as if out with friends. “You have an interesting family, Chang Lee. Such a full history. So many skeletons. Even more enemies.”
“Are you suggesting that my grandniece was taken because of me?”
Tran shrugged. “People don’t like your brother much either.”
“What people?”
“Neighbors. Farmers. The Chongming King.” Tran held out his hands to forestall Uncle’s remarks. “I know. You knew all of this before. But you and your brother aren’t the only ones making enemies. The Chang family has been pissing off the wrong people since your grandfather started idolizing Chiang Kai-shek.”
Tran turned to me. “The general enlisted the notorious Green Gang to purge the Communists from Shanghai. They massacred thousands in what became known as the White Terror purge. Apparently, some of the officials still hold a grudge.”
Uncle snorted. “That was a long time ago. My grandfather never joined the Green Gang.”
“Only because your great-grandfather forbade it. If your grandfather had joined, he could have paved your way into Shanghai’s criminal history. Lucky for you, his sister’s marriage paved your way instead.”
“What does my grandaunt have to do with this?”
“Maybe nothing. Maybe a lot.” Tran turned to me. “When Chiang Kai-shek fled to Taiwan, he encouraged the three leaders of the Green Gang not to do business with the Japanese or to facilitate their invasion. Huang and Big-Ear Du, who would later become grandmaster, complied. Zhang did not. The traitorous thug collaborated with the Japanese during the invasion.”
Tran stopped strolling and looked at Uncle. “Was your family scandalized when your grandaunt married a member of Zhang’s traitorous new gang? Or did they benefit from his Japanese connections?”
Uncle clenched his teeth.
“Your grandaunt must have gained a few perks when her husband was martyred trying to prevent Zhang’s assassination. What a shame your cousin Chester didn’t inherit his grandfather’s entrepreneurial spunk. He and his parents could have been living the high life in Japan instead of freeloading on your couch.”
“How did you learn all of this?”
Tran grinned. “Your elderly cousin is a chatty woman with an appetite for sweets.”
I grabbed Uncle’s arm before he could swing. Although a skilled fighter with dozens of kills under his belt, the former Scorpion enforcer was no match for a trained assassin in his prime.
Uncle shook his arm from my grip and glared at Tran. “Did you learn anything useful that will help us find Chyou? Or did you spend the afternoon eating cake?”
Tran chuckled. “I did more than that, old man. Apparently, your grandaunt wasn’t the only member of your family who made questionable choices and alliances. Her brother—your grandfather—was quite vocal against the Communist Party. As I mentioned, certain government officials hold grudges against Kuomintang sympathizers. Guess whose family is on their list?”
“Ha. You found the name Chang on a list? Chang. How could you possibly know that was us?”
“Because it listed your family address on Qiaojia Road. Not only did your grandfather idolize Chiang Kai-shek, I think he also had puppy-dog eyes for Big-Ear Du. Why else would he have followed the Green Gang leader all the way to Hong Kong?”
Uncle spat. “Over a million people fled from the mainland during the Civil War. Why would anyone still care about him?”
“I wondered the same thing.” Tran resumed his stroll. “Did you know your grandfather caused trouble for your relatives in Shanghai when he moved his wife and son to Hong Kong? He made the move with his Kuomintang-sympathizer friend, his wife, and their young daughter. Do you think he and his friend pledged their children to marry each other in advance? Or did they let your parents fall in love on their own? Either way, the families doubled down on their political beliefs. Another bad alliance for the Changs.”
“That’s enough,” I said. “Make your point and stop bullying my friend.”
“Bullying?” Tran laughed. “Do you feel bullied, Red Pole Chang?”
Uncle froze in the lamplight glow, eyes full of hatred, body tensed to fight. “This is my city, not yours. Make your point or get on a plane.”
I looked from triad to assassin, gaging who would strike first and whether I should risk my life to intervene. Never had I encountered two more deadly opponents. I needed to reset this conversation without drawing fire onto me.
“Hey…we’ve all had a long and illuminating day. Maybe we should call it quits for the night and regroup in the morning.”
“No.” Uncle glared. “I want to hear what else this bastard has to say.”
Tran flinched at the word.
I shook my head, letting him know I had not shared his anything about his past.
Satisfied, he turned back to Uncle. “You say this is your city, but you haven’t lived here in twenty-four years. There could be alliances, debts, and grudges of which you are unaware. You and your father were Scorpions. Your grandfather was KMT. Your grandaunt married a former Green Gang leader who sold out his people and collaborated with the Japanese. Your family name is on a city government watch list. I learned all of this in one afternoon. What will I discover about you and your family tomorrow?”
Uncle’s phone chimed. He swiped to ignore. A moment later, it chimed again.
“Family?” I asked.
“Meimei. I need to take this. It could be my mother.”
Uncle stepped aside for a private conversation.
I smacked Tran’s arm. “What the hell?”
“You asked for my help. I reported what I found.”
“You intentionally antagonized him. Why?”
“Come on, K—”
“And stop calling me K. I gave you that name as a joke, before you knew who I was, before you investigated everyone in my family, before you waited for me in the back alley of my home.”
“Relax, Lily. Your friend and I are getting acquainted.”
As I prepared to acquaint Tran with a kick to the gut, Uncle returned looking very concerned.
“Is your mother okay?” I asked.
“It’s not about her. Meimei’s worried about Suyin. She wants me to find her and drag the woman home.”
Tran stepped closer. “Who is Suyin?”
“My sister’s stepdaughter.”
“How old is she?”
“Thirty. I think. But Meimei treats her like a child.”
“Did you tell Meimei about Chyou?” I asked.
“I did. But she barely knows the girl. My sister’s life revolves around her husband. Neither of them has visited Qiang in Chongming, nor has Qiang visited her. Our family hasn’t been together under one roof since my grandmother died.”
“When was that?”
“Before you were born.”
Uncle’s family dynamic was definitely more intricate than my own.
“We saw your sister an hour ago,” I said. “Why this sudden alarm?”
“All that talk about Uma sharing a bed with Suyin made Meimei feel lonely. She called her daughter’s roommates. Not only did Suyin move out last week, she quit her job several months before. During all those nightly video conversations my sister bragged about, her daughter never consulted her about this important decision.”
“Where did Suyin work?” Tran asked.
“I don’t know. Some biotech company in Hefei. It doesn’t matter, Meimei is only thinking about herself.”
As I commiserated with Uncle about family and stress, Tran vanished into the night.
Twenty
Thoughts of Tran permeated my dreams, not as a child soldier in Vietnam or as a tantalizing enigma as he frequently appeared. This time, he asked a single question and vanished into the night.
Where did Suyin work?
As Uncle prepared breakfast in the kitchen, I lingered in the cramped guest room and searched for information about Feng Suyin.
With the bits of history Meimei had shared, I learned that her daughter had graduated with honors in chemistry. Soon after, she landed a job at a biotechnology company in Hefei that specialized in research and development for pharmaceutical intermediates as well as chemical ingredients for cosmetics, pesticides, and customized products. An additional internet search defined pharmaceutical intermediates as chemical compounds that form the building blocks of active pharmaceutical ingredients. These compounds were used in the production of bulk prescription drugs for biopharma companies around the world.
Before I could hunt down more information, Uncle called me to breakfast. I switched my sleep clothes for cargo shorts and an army-green tee, summer clothing for September’s ninety-degree heat. The short sleeves kept fabric from rubbing against the glued knife slash on my arm. It was sore if I pressed on it, but otherwise fine.
Uncle yelled from the kitchen. “Come on, lazy girl. We don’t have all day.”
I emerged from my windowless bedroom to see clear blue skies through the window beyond the couch. No air quality alerts would be issued today.
“Stop gawking and eat your jook.”
Uncle scooped a ladle full of rice porridge and shoved the bowl along the kitchen counter toward me. His sleeveless shirt showed taunt muscles and a red gash beneath the glue. I had done a serviceable first aid job for us both.
The scent of sautéed garlic, ginger, scallions, and shrimp made my stomach growl. “How did you fix it this time?”
“With dried seafood and mushrooms. I keep them in the pantry. I went out to the market for fresh scallions and yau ja gwai.”
Oil fried ghosts.
“Why do you call the dough sticks by their Cantonese name? And why do you call the porridge jook instead of zhou or congee?”
Uncle ladled jook for himself and dropped a handful of sliced yau ja gai into his bowl. “Your father named his restaurant Wong’s Hong Kong Inn because he wanted to serve authentic Hongkonger food. So I learned the Cantonese names for everything we fix.”
“Do you speak the language?”
“No. It’s completely different from Mandarin and Shanghainese. Once my parents and grandmother returned from Hong Kong, they forgot the little bit they had learned.”
He shoved the plate of sliced oil fried ghosts toward me. “Eat quick. The driver arrives at seven thirty to take us to Qiang.”
“Driver?”
