Journey Across the Four Seas (17 page)

*

On Chinese New Year’s eve, Wai-Jing appeared at my doorstep with a message from Lo Bak. He was hosting a dinner in a restaurant that night and would like me to attend. I was speechless. Lo Bak’s kindness was overwhelming, but it also put me in a difficult spot. To reject his goodwill would be rude, yet to accept it would be unbefitting. Chinese New Year’s eve was a special night for families to get together and enjoy the happiness of kinship. I was neither a relative nor even a close family friend. Such a gathering had no place for me.

I used Sam-Koo as my excuse for refusing. Yolanda was out with friends, so if I went out Sam-Koo would be left alone on New Year’s eve. But when Wai-Jing extended the invitation to include Sam-Koo, I couldn’t cook up a fresh excuse. Sam-Koo and I quickly changed into our blue cheongsams. The sky blue cotton, which symbolized frugality and endurance, was the latest craze in wartime fashion.

At the restaurant, the owner whisked us into a private room. The entire crew from
Wong
Mountain
was present, as well as an aunt and uncle whom I’d never met before. Lo Bak seated me next to Hok-Ching and placed Sam-Koo between his two wives. Waiters ran in and out carrying dish after dish. Everything was beautifully prepared in both taste and presentation. The restaurant owner dropped in from time to time to make sure that the food was to Lo Bak’s satisfaction. There was a lot of thumbs up and approvals of "Hao, hao, hao." We were all having a great time, and even Sam-Koo, who’d been a bit stiff in the beginning, began chatting with Ah Ma and Ah Yi.

Lo Bak held center stage. Whenever he spoke, everyone would hang on his words. If anyone interrupted him, it was to indicate agreement or tell him how great he was. I thought the bootlicking was a bit much, but who was I to judge? Lo Bak was the star of the National Assembly, an independent and outspoken thinker not beholden to any party. His stubborn refusal to join the Kuomintang was well known, yet Chiang Kai-Shek held him in high esteem and sought his advice.

"I must have been born under a lucky star," Lo Bak said in his commanding voice. A hush fell on the table. "Death has knocked on my door several times, but so far I’ve always managed to slip away. The first time was in
Shanghai
, when I was kidnapped and held for ransom." His wives clucked their tongues and shook their heads, and he began to tell a most fascinating story.

He was riding his rickshaw to work when two gunmen jumped on him. They hustled him into a car, blindfolded him, and drove him to an unknown destination. He was locked in a cell with a ceiling so low that he could only sit cross-legged. The same day, a ransom note was delivered to his home. Do not contact the police, it said, or Mr. Wong’s body would turn as cold as ice water.

The ringleader of the gang went to see Lo Bak in his cell. The kidnapper turned out to be a gentleman who apologized for the inconvenience he was causing. He was a discharged soldier from
Shandong
, and was merely doing what he could to earn a living. Lo Bak expressed his sympathy, but he explained that he didn’t have the kind of money his captor was asking. He was just an editor-in-chief of Commercial Press, and prestigious as the position sounded, the salary was barely enough to feed the many mouths in his family. The kidnapper heard him out, but he parted with this piece of advice: l
ife
is more precious than money; think about it.

Frightened out of their wits, Ah Ma and Ah Yi sought help from the managers of Commercial Press. A decision was made to call on the good offices of Mr. Chang. At Commercial Press Mr. Chang was just a translator, but in
Shanghai
’s underworld his position was equal to that of an executive. He was a leader of the Green Gang, an organization that was more powerful than the government. In the Chinese section of
Shanghai
, this group of mobsters
was
the government.

Mr. Chang took action at once. He invited the kidnappers to the finest restaurant. Over a nine-course feast and the best brew, he explained Lo Bak’s financial situation. It turned out that the kidnappers had thought that Lo Bak owned the row of houses on his lane. When Mr. Chang pointed out their misunderstanding, they were willing to take his word for it. The underworld had its own ethics, and one of its principles was never to challenge a gang member’s honor. On the other hand, the kidnappers couldn’t go away empty-handed after all the trouble they’d taken. The two sides negotiated. Finally, they agreed on an amount to compensate the kidnappers for their "travel expenses."

"I never found out how much my life was worth," Lo Bak said. His laughter ricocheted around the room, and everyone laughed with him.

The second narrow escape, Lo Bak went on, was on the eve of the "128" Incident. 128 stands for January 28, the day the Japanese launched its first attack on
Shanghai
. It was 1932, but the trouble had started the year before, when a group of Chinese thugs allegedly killed two Japanese monks in a dark alley. In protest, the Japanese ambassador presented the mayor of
Shanghai
with a list of humiliating demands. Meanwhile, Japanese battleships sailed up the
Whampoo
River
into
Shanghai
.

Fearful of an invasion, Lo Bak moved his family from the Chinese district into a rental house in the International Settlement. As this part of town was British-administered, he trusted that the Japanese wouldn’t have the audacity to step on the toes of a western power.

Negotiations went on for months. To everyone’s relief, the mayor of
Shanghai
gave in to the Japanese demands on January 27. Everyone was sure that war had been averted. Lo Bak thought it was high time to go home and check on the house. He left his family in the International Settlement and went with a brother-in-law to the Chinese district with the intention of spending the night. Around
midnight
, the telephone rang. The anonymous caller told Lo Bak that the Japanese were about to attack. If he didn’t get out immediately, it would be too late. Lo Bak cranked up the phone and got through to a newspaper editor who was a friend of his. The man said he’d seen a dispatch that the Japanese had added one more demand at the last minute, but since he couldn’t read it to him over the static, he invited Lo Bak to come to his office and read it himself. Lo Bak’s brother-in-law had turned in already and didn’t feel like venturing out in the dead of night. However, he changed his mind just as Lo Bak was leaving. The two went to a nearby garage to hire a car. Right after their cab drove across the bridge, they looked back and saw Japanese troops moving in to seal off the district. Then the bombing began. The Japanese destroyed the warehouses and printing presses of Commercial Press, and the next day they came to Lo Bak’s home to arrest him.

A chill went down my spine. Had Lo Bak fallen into Japanese hands, his fate would have been unthinkable. To keep his head on his shoulders, he would have to collaborate with the enemy. That kind of living would be worse than death.

"Big men have big lives," somebody said to dispel the gloom.

"A person who survives a major disaster will have great fortune afterward," another said.

Everybody showered praises on Lo Bak. Even Sam-Koo, who wasn’t easily impressed, was spellbound. Lo Bak was an extraordinary man, and he’d done me great honor by inviting me to his family reunion. However, when everyone was praising him to high heaven, I kept quiet. I wasn’t that kind of person.

"I used to lie awake every night worrying about Father," Hok-Ching said to me. "I could never fall asleep until I heard his car enter the gates."

"Hok-Ching had always been a sensitive child," Ah Yi said, her throat tight with emotions.

"I remember clearly Father’s kidnapping," Hok-Ching said. "During those days, the curtains were always drawn because we didn’t want the kidnappers to watch us. We were told to stay away from the windows. But when the grown-ups weren’t around, I peeked out and tried to figure out which one of the people on the street was the kidnapper."

Lo Bak gazed fondly at Hok-Ching. After having spent so many weekends with the family, I was beginning to notice the intricacies in the relationships. Of his wives, Lo Bak was closer to Ah Yi, the younger sister. Whenever she cooked a dish, he would praise it to the skies. After dinner, the two often sat down to a game of Chinese checkers. I’d never seen him play like that with Ah Ma, who didn’t seem to mind. If she were jealous, she didn’t show it. She was very kind to me, although she had no reason to be; my association was with Ah Yi’s sons. Of Lo Bak’s children, I couldn’t judge who was the favorite because I hadn’t met them all. However, I’d overheard some relatives discuss the subject. The general consensus was that Hok-Ching was the one. I supposed it made sense, because Hok-Ching was the eldest son of the preferred wife.

"Flora, what are you doing for the holidays?" Ah Ma said.

Ah Yi didn’t give me a chance to answer. "Why don’t you come up to
Wong
Mountain
with us tonight?" she said. "Hok-Ching, didn’t you borrow your friend’s gramophone? You young people can have a dance party."

I looked at Sam-Koo. The next day was a holiday, and I was loath to leave her alone with Yolanda.

"You go on. The landlady has invited me to play mahjong," Sam-Koo said, reading my mind.

"So it’s settled," Ah Ma said to me. "You’ll ride up with us tonight."

"Oh, but I don’t have a change of clothes."

"Why don’t we do this," Ah Yi said. "You go home and pack. Hok-Ching will spend the night in town, and tomorrow morning he’ll escort you to
Wong
Mountain
. There are sedan chairs for hire at the foot of the mountain, and Hok-Ching can rent a horse to ride along with you."

"That sounds like so much trouble for everyone," I said weakly.

"No trouble at all," Hok-Ching said. "I can sleep over at Commercial Press."

"Good," Lo Bak’s voice boomed. "I’ll see you tomorrow at lunch."

3

On Chinese New Year’s Day, two coolies carried me in a sedan up the hundreds of steps on
Wong
Mountain
. Trotting alongside was my gallant knight on horseback. Little did I realize that the moment I alighted from my sedan, I would be stepping into a trap that would snare me for life.

Long before I had an inkling of the forces at work, Lo Bak had decided that I would marry his son. Between his peace talks to bring about communist-nationalist cooperation, his conferences at the National Assembly, and his efforts to introduce "scientific management" to Commercial Press, he was a busy matchmaker. After my first visit to
Wong
Mountain
, he’d written Hok-Ching to come home. He then sent Wai-Jing to lure me to
Wong
Mountain
on the pretense of needing a typist for his manuscript. Everybody else was in on the scheme—Ah Ma, Ah Yi, Hok-Jit, Hok-Yi, and most probably the servants too.

Unbeknownst to me then, Hok-Ching had a history of falling for women of ill repute. His first love was a ravishing Shanghainese who, Lo Bak learned through his connections, had already been claimed by a wealthy man. Hok-Ching was only a toy for her entertainment whenever her sugar daddy was away. Lo Bak managed to break up the relationship. Hok-Ching’s second girlfriend was the bridesmaid at his eldest brother’s wedding. Hok-Ching was the best man, and so it naturally came to pass that they started dating after the wedding. Lo Bak investigated her background and uncovered some unsavory information about this woman’s past. He was eager to put an end to the relationship, but knew that a direct confrontation would backfire. When I stumbled on the scene, Lo Bak hit on me as the solution. I was presentable in appearance, had a meek personality and a clean record, and most importantly, I was a graduate of
Hong Kong
University
. To a man of letters like Lo Bak, a diploma from a reputable institution was more valuable than any dowry. He picked up his brush and started writing my destiny.

I might not have seen clearly into Lo Bak’s heart at the beginning of my stay, but I would have been mentally retarded if I didn’t by the end. Throughout the holidays, everyone in the family contrived romantic opportunities for Hok-Ching and me. The smiles, the messages in the eyes, the layers of meaning under the seemingly innocent bantering, the whispering that stopped the moment I appeared—all made it clear that the Wangs were stepping up their campaign.

Knowing what I knew, I couldn’t pretend to go on as before. A momentous decision faced me. If I had no interest in the man, the right thing to do was to cut off the friendship. But just the thought of doing that pained me. My social life in
Chungking
had been built around this group of people. Severing ties with Hok-Ching meant doing the same to his entire family, including Wai-Jing. I pondered the other possibility—marrying Hok-Ching. His family background was impeccable; in fact, I couldn’t ask for a more prestigious family to marry into. His personality was also desirable, having enjoyed his lavish attention and witnessed his kindness to even the lowliest servant. His education level was below my standard, but once he got his master’s from
London
, he would be better qualified than most university chancellors in
China
. Last but not least, I had to consider his physical appearance, for I couldn’t imagine myself marrying a man I wasn’t attracted to. Overall he was quite acceptable, and I’d been gradually coming to terms with his major shortcoming, his height.