The Red Thread (23 page)

These thoughts occupied him for some time. Then he remembered. He would soon be meeting the violet-eyed Ch'ang O. He sprang from the bed, clapped his hands and danced a little jig, his long queue jumping like a sprite behind his back.

22

Qian was happy to go along with the arrangement that Zhen had negotiated. After the period of mourning he would begin his grooming to marry the second daughter of Sang's house. There was a young son and heir who was only eleven, so part of his duties would be to groom this child to take over Sang's large holdings. Ah Liang had spoken to Qian and told him he had been specially chosen by Sang. In the meantime, he left Qian in the hands of the Eurasian clerks, who began to teach him, in a mixture of Malay and halting Chinese, the intricacies of the business.

What he should do on his marriage night lay constantly at the back of Qian's mind. There were young men at some of the whorehouses and, in a moment of intense curiosity and frustration, he had visited one. It had been an explosive revelation. He now knew he had a real problem to deal with but did not know where to turn.

Ah Liang had his hands full, organising the funeral and consulting the hierarchy as to who should replace Sang as grand master. Sang's obvious successor was another rich merchant who had been his number two, but this man had been ill himself and declined the post. After several meetings it was finally agreed that Chen Long, a
kongsi
man from Malacca, who had arrived in Singapore only a year before but had considerable influence and wealth, should be appointed.

Chen Long did not care for the
ang mo
any more than had Sang, though to their face he was friendly and cooperative, knowing the value of such a relationship for commerce. He had a particular dislike for the Catholic Church and its works in converting poor Chinese. Why did these interfering priests not stick with their own kind? The Buddhist priests at the temple didn't go round giving out tracts and preaching to the foreign community. After the funeral was over and his appointment official, he would call a meeting of the higher authorities and put this problem to rights once and for all.

Things were changing in the settlement. The gambier and pepper plantations were less and less profitable as the land was depleted. Opium smuggling decreased the profitability of the opium farm. In any consortium, to buy up the licences offered by the governor every year for the grog, gambling and opium farms, Chen Long would bring huge capital. He had begun to make a considerable fortune in the tin mines on the mainland. If land needed to be cleared over there, he would be of great use. Also he wanted to address the issue of piracy, which plagued not only the British but the Chinese ships as well.

He thought the Malays a useless and lazy race and was annoyed at the
kowtow
ing the British seemed to do to the temenggong and all that rabble at Telok Blangah. His English was good, better than Sang's strangled attempts. He could speak to the governor, and they could work to sort out this piracy thing. For this he knew he needed British cooperation. He had already thought that the newly developed steamships were the thing and was considering buying one himself. Chen Long had other plans, too. One of them included marrying his second daughter to Sang's weakling son and heir. A grandson and hopefully a quick death of the sickly boy would ensure he had his hands well into that fortune before long. Well, all in good time. For now, that could wait.

Zhen became involved in Sang's funeral in the oddest way. A discreet visit from Ah Liang one evening had been a surprise. Since he had been a ‘red rod' back in China, he surely knew how to round up and control the crowds who had been ordered to turn out for the funeral. Their main
honggun
was not well; actually he had been severely injured in a knife fight, though Ah Liang did not tell Zhen this. Ah Liang was a bit short on muscle, and the sight of Zhen in full regalia would give them pause.

Zhen had considered this very carefully. As a prospective son-in-law of Baba Tan, he had to be careful what he got up to now. On the other hand, to be seen by the British as having a controlling influence over the
kongsi
, as a man who could keep order, would be to his advantage. Zhen asked Ah Liang to prepare a paper ordering him to attend and give help to Incheck Sang's entourage as a means of keeping order. This he showed to Baba Tan, who, after some initial concerns, considered it not a bad idea at all.

Armed with this paper Tan went to the governor and told him that his new prospective son-in-law was being put in charge of public order by the Ghee Hin Kongsi. Although he was not closely involved with that body he was considered a person able, by his natural authority, to keep the peace, which he had had occasion to do back in China. Bonham had first congratulated Tan, then expressed his delight at the young man's help with the peacekeeping effort. Robert was informed and he, too, was pleased and relieved. It was then arranged that Zhen and Robert would meet, even more desirable, said Baba Tan, since his sister Charlotte had agreed to teach Zhen English.

Robert was more than happy for this arrangement. Perhaps, he suggested, Baba Tan could come to the police office with Zhen tomorrow night to discuss the route and any security arrangements. At the same time, he would have the honour of introducing his sister.

When Zhen heard this news, he bowed to Baba Tan, keeping his face resolutely lowered. Then he turned and busied himself with the stocks of a newly arrived shipment of
chandu
from the farm inland. He drew a deep breath. Soon he returned to Tan's office and began a delicate discussion of his clothes. He was slowly trying to learn Baba Malay and had made some progress, and with him Tan made an effort to speak proper Hokkien.

Zhen had nothing fitting to wear to meet these Europeans, he said. Most of his day was spent half-naked loading bales. Baba Tan nodded. He would find him clothes. After all, he wanted this young man to be very pleasing to his daughter, and a little vanity in that line did not hurt. He was himself, after all, a good-looking man and had kept his physique. His concubine never complained.

All this discussion of physique and clothes turned the baba's mind elsewhere, and he decided to visit his concubine that very evening. First, though, he sent a note to his wife to send round the tailor for Zhen.

23

Qian was full of misgivings as Zhen prepared for the meeting he had waited for since arriving in Si Lat Po. He voiced a few, but Zhen eyed him severely, and he shut up. Zhen was nervous, he could tell. He had bathed a long time in the back tub. They had visited the barber, and his face and half of his head were as smooth as glass. Qian was braiding his freshly washed hair and running a red ribbon through it. When he had finished, Zhen began to dress. It was a pleasure, Qian thought, to watch him strip to his undergarment and begin the process of dressing in his shirt and silk coat. He had learned to disguise the erection he often got when he was around his friend, but today, faced with Zhen's semi-naked body, it was proving difficult.

Fortunately Zhen was so preoccupied he noticed nothing. When he had pulled on his high-soled boots, he stood up, and Qian laughed with delight. His friend looked every inch a Prince of Qing, a mandarin of China. Zhen smiled nervously. Then Baba Tan arrived and he, too, laughed at the extraordinary transformation. Secretly he was proud that this handsome and intelligent young man would be his son-in-law; it would give him enormous face.

Tan's personal
sampan
carried them over to the landing stage on the opposite bank. The police house was only a short distance, but as they walked Zhen felt his legs begin to buckle. The Englishman. The girl with the violet eyes. Quietly he said to Tan, ‘I do not know how to act with the
ang mo
. You must guide me.'

Baba Tan looked at him and, with a slight smile, said quietly, ‘I will speak and shake hands. You will bow when you are introduced, in the Chinese style. They do not expect you to be English. This meeting is so you can recognise Robert Mah Crow, the police chief, and we can agree a route for the funeral cortège. Also, you will meet Xia Lou, his sister, who will be your teacher of English.'

Xia Lou. Her name was Xia Lou. Tan continued to speak, but Zhen understood little else after this revelation. It was lovely, as lovely as her. He searched his mind for the soft sounds of his mother's northern dialect.
Xia
, summer, yes, and dew,
loushui de lou
, summer dew. Xia Lou, yes, perfect. It was as if she had been named for this island, where the dew was warm and where it was perpetual summer. More than ever it seemed that the Way was leading them together. He smiled slightly, relaxed and composed his face into an expressionless mask.

They climbed the steps of the police office. Robert came to the door, and Zhen bowed to him. Baba Tan tipped his hat and shook Robert's hand. They entered a room where some drink and strange-looking food had been laid out and immediately began making plans for the cortège. Although Zhen was somewhat distracted, he tried to forget his possible proximity to this Xia Lou and concentrate on their business. After an hour, the route and security arrangements had been agreed: Zhen would have a patrol of some trusted men to keep order; there would be strict instructions, and the police should keep out of sight unless needed. He showed Robert a drawing of the uniform and regalia he would wear and the flags that would be carried by his men. These had been invented for the occasion and bore no resemblance to the real
kongsi
flags, but they carried one sign which all the members would recognise on the day.

Zhen decided he liked Robert, although the Englishman smiled too much. Perhaps this was the
ang mo
way. In China, if a man smiled too much he was considered effeminate, but Zhen noticed that Baba Tan was completely at ease with them and laughed and smiled more in their company than when he was with the Chinese.

When the negotiations had been completed, Robert offered his guests some Porter beer from the jug on the table. Zhen had never tasted this before but seeing Baba Tan drink his with gusto, he tried a sip. To his astonishment it was delicious and he drank to the bottom of the tankard. However, neither of the Chinamen partook of the strange bread objects on the table. The baba explained they were called ‘sandichies', and very popular with the English. Finally Baba Tan rose to take his leave, and Zhen rose with him, his heart sinking. It seemed he would not meet this man's lovely sister, this Xia Lou.

As if reading his thoughts, Robert said, ‘Before you go, would you please say hello to my sister?' He opened the door of his office and called her softly.

Zhen heard her move down the hall, the swish of her gown against the floor. It was if all of his senses were heightened, like a hare in the woods. He thought he could hear her breath. Then, suddenly, she appeared in the doorway, as light and lovely as a breeze in the warm night air. He did not notice what she was wearing; he was simply and dumbly transfixed.

Then Robert said something, and he woke and bowed very low. When he straightened up, she was standing just as she had been, her eyes fixed on him.

She advanced slightly into the room and, smiling, curtsied lightly to him. His heart beat so hard he thought it must be heard outside his chest. Robert and Baba Tan were speaking as if from deep under some vast ocean. He stood completely still.

Charlotte knew it was him immediately, the man from the temple, and a deep joy spread over her. He was here, a friend of Baba Tan's; her new student was this man. They would know each other. She hadn't realised how much she had longed to see him again.

He was beyond handsome; he was the most beautiful man she had ever seen, tall and elegant in his silk jacket. She sensed the power of his body beneath his clothes. His face was perfect, his slanting eyes deep and dark. She wanted to go quietly up to him and run her fingertips gently over his full lips, feel his smooth, brown skin. Why was she not outraged at such a thought?

Robert frowned, somewhat taken aback at her stillness, and prompted his sister to greet her new student. He had introduced him to her but she had not taken in a word he had said.

‘How do you do?' she said obediently, realising she must recover her poise immediately. She dragged her eyes off the man's face and curtsied also to Baba Tan. Then, smiling again, she apologised for being somewhat tired. She would be delighted to be able to teach English to this new student. A moment later, with every semblance of cool-headedness, she wished them all goodnight and left the room.

Qian was waiting when Zhen returned and quizzed him mercilessly, but Zhen would say little, except that she was lovely. He would talk about it tomorrow. He undressed to his undergarment and lay down on his cot, his mind filled with her. What poetry could he recall to describe her beauty?

‘Fair is the pine grove and the mountain stream

That gathers to the valley far below

The black-winged junks on the dim sea reach, adream

The pale blue firmament o'er banks of snow

And her, more fair …'

He had acted like a stupid country bumpkin, not saying anything. She had been cool, unaffected. He could not bear it. She did not remember him. At their next meeting he would not be so awful. He must learn to be with her. Why was he thinking this way? How could they ever be together in the way he now wanted more than ever? For heaven's sake, she was the sister of the foreign police chief.

The weight of this fact began to sink in. Before he had met her, she was an illusion, a thrilling, erotic dream of a white woman, beyond his experience. Now, she was real. He came thumping down to earth, stood up again and started pacing the floor. Any liaison would be vastly dangerous. It would put his prospective marriage in jeopardy and ruin his chance to save his family in China. Qian was right; he was crazy.

Charlotte, too, was lying on her bed. It was hot, and no breeze stirred the humid air. She rose and bathed slowly, pouring streams of cool water over her hair, and returned to her room. Luckily Robert was out tonight on a patrol round Kampong Glam. She wanted to get outside, go sailing or walk along the sea path, but she knew it was dangerous at night. Instead she went out onto the verandah and sat in the dark; here there was at least a small breeze. She poured a little glass of whisky from a bottle which Robert always had on the table. It seared as it went down her throat, but she had drunk whisky many times before; her grandmother enjoyed it, and it had preceded every meal. The drink relaxed her body, but her mind was in some considerable turmoil. Well, he is beautiful, of course, but he's Chinese. What on earth could come of these feelings? She watched the torchlight and the flickering figures of the soldiers on duty in the fort opposite, gazed at the lights on the ships in the darkened reaches of the harbour.