Skeleton Women (14 page)
Rainbow exclaimed, “What can I say?”
Shadow asked, a little sarcastically, “Is this some kind of magic I never knew existed?”
I smiled inside; they had no idea that my ultimate skill was yet to be revealed.
“Thank you.” I bowed, pulled the knives from the target board, then went to the gramophone to put on a record. As an eerie jazz tune began to fill the room, I walked to the carpet placed in the middle of the room. Slowly I began to raise myself on one hand, my other hand holding the six knives. Soon I was upside down with my legs in a straight line, forming the English letter T. Again, the knives flew from my hand to form a perfect circle surrounding the red dot.
Before they had a chance to applaud, I had already changed into another posture—feet and one hand on the floor like a spider’s, torso facing upward and face inverted. Again,
Swish! Swish! Swish! Swish! Swish! Swish!
This time a heart-shaped form appeared on the target board.
Swish! Swish! Swish! Swish! Swish! Swish!
This time a heart-shaped form appeared on the target board.
When I finally returned my limbs to their normal positions, the two looked at me as if I had just come from another realm.
As she clapped, Rainbow’s eyes were rounded like two soy sauce dishes. “Camilla, you took my breath away, literally. I feared that even my slightest exhalation might blow this magic moment away. Are you also a magician like Shadow? Surely what I just saw could not have happened.”
Shadow’s brow knit briefly upon hearing the word
magician,
but she quickly regained her calm and put on a forced smile. “Camilla, if you open a class to teach, I’ll be the first to enroll.”
magician,
but she quickly regained her calm and put on a forced smile. “Camilla, if you open a class to teach, I’ll be the first to enroll.”
“It is you who should be my teacher, Shadow. If you are ever willing to pass on your magic, I’ll be your first student.”
“So, should we trade lessons?”
Of course she was not going to let me know her magic in exchange for my knife-throwing and contortionist skill. My skill could be attained by anyone with the right talent and years of relentless practice, but her repertory used secrets that would likely accompany her to her grave, unless she could be persuaded to part with them for an astronomical sum.
The three of us continued to throw compliments back and forth like Ping-Pong balls.
Finally Rainbow peeked at her watch. “Camilla, thank you for inviting me to your beautiful home and treating me with such delicious food, exquisite wine, and a stunning show. As much as I’d love to stay, I am on deadline for my article for tomorrow’s
Leisure News
.”
Leisure News
.”
“Of course, Rainbow, don’t let me hold you up. Thank you for coming and spending your precious time with us.”
“Maybe I should leave, too,” Shadow said, about to stand up. “You must be tired; we should not keep you up.”
I made a gesture for her to sit. “No, Shadow, please stay and have one more glass of wine with me. You don’t have articles to write, do you?”
“No, I can stay a little longer.”
That was exactly what I wanted.
After Rainbow left, I took Shadow to my study. As we sat and chatted, I refilled her glass again—hoping to get her as drunk as possible.
I could see that she tried to hold back, but she couldn’t resist the expensive, rare—and free—wine. As I saw the struggle on her face, a saying in
The Art of War
emerged in my mind:
By waiting for your enemy’s moment of vulnerability, you’ll surely triumph.
The Art of War
emerged in my mind:
By waiting for your enemy’s moment of vulnerability, you’ll surely triumph.
I asked, “Shadow, would you like to see my art collection?”
Her eyes were glazed with alcohol. “You collect art?”
“Yes, but only recently. I didn’t have much money in the past.”
“I love art but can’t possibly afford even a small piece.”
“But your magic shows were packed... .” I was hoping to get some idea of her finances. Her home was modest, but that did not mean she wasn’t hiding money away somewhere.
“Oh, Camilla. You know, my kind of shows are expensive to put on, and most of the ticket sales at the Ciro Nightclub don’t go to me. Besides, the disappearing act was free, and so was Lung’s. I’m still struggling... .” She looked at me intently. “How did you become so rich?”
What a foolish question. Of course I was not going to tell her how I did it—nor that I was not nearly as rich as she thought. “Oh, my story is not very interesting. Maybe I’ll bore you with it some other day. Now let’s look at my collection.”
I brought out and let her touch some of my—actually Wang’s—most expensive pieces. First was a Ming ivory statue of Guan Yin, the Goddess of Compassion, then a pair of Qing dynasty celadon vases, and finally a jade lotus pod. Then I opened one of my jewelry boxes, revealing to her envious eyes a gold filigree necklace, translucent jade earrings, and a dragonfly brooch encrusted with diamonds and emeralds.
When I placed the dragonfly brooch in her hand, she caressed it like Lung stroking my breasts. By now she must be dying to have my rich, pampered life.
“Camilla, if you don’t mind my asking again, how did you become so famous and so rich so fast?”
“It was not as fast as you think. I worked very hard, just like you, Shadow. But of course it’s also dumb luck. I happen to have a voice that people love, so they are willing to pay anything to hear it.”
In her drunken state, Shadow threw me an unexpected question. “Does Master Lung pay ...” Then she stopped.
Of course she wanted to know if Lung paid for my luxuries. She must be thinking that if she could steal him from me, she could live my life. But since Lung had shown no interest in her, I could safely enjoy inflaming her envy.
Ignoring her question I decided to further test Shadow’s greed by slipping a small, inexpensive jade ring onto her pinky.
Finally, deciding that that was enough, I said, “Shadow, thank you for coming tonight; I’ve had such a wonderful time. Now it’s almost midnight, and you must be tired. So let me ask my driver, Ah Wen, to take you home.”
When we were at the door, as if by impulse I snatched another bottle of wine from the console table in the foyer. “Please take this.”
She smiled. “Sure, why not?”
As we walked to the car, a saying in
The Art of War
flashed into my mind:
The Art of War
flashed into my mind:
Preventing defeat depends upon oneself;
To achieve defeat depends on the enemy.
To achieve defeat depends on the enemy.
So I smiled at my enemy. “Shadow, let me ride with you. I could use some fresh air after all the wine.”
“You’re so kind, Camilla.”
Inside the vehicle, we continued to chat about this and that, nothing of significance, just idle conversation.
A little later, a car behind us suddenly speeded up and was trying to pass.
“Ah Wen, pull to the side so this car won’t hit us!”
But after passing us, the other car also stopped—right in front of us. A muscular man wearing a mask jumped from the vehicle and dashed toward us..
Shadow exclaimed, her voice filled with fear, “Is he going to rob or kidnap us? Oh, heaven, please, I don’t want to die!”
I took her hand. “Shadow, calm down. If he wants money, I’ll give it to him.”
Then the muscular man flung open the back door and pulled Shadow out.
“No, don’t hurt my friend!” I kicked at the muscular man’s balls. He leaped back and let go of her.
Then he pulled a knife and lunged at me. Instinctively I raised my hands to protect myself, but just then another car came driving up from behind us. Probably wondering if that driver might see something and stop, Muscular dashed back to his own car and sped away. However, the third car just drove by without stopping. Either its driver didn’t see anything or didn’t care.
I got out of the car to check on Shadow. Dead drunk and scared to death, she was now an alcohol-sodden mess, slumped on the ground, sobbing uncontrollably.
I touched her arm. “Shadow, it’s all right now. The robber is gone.”
She couldn’t be comforted.
“Shadow, we’d better get out of here in case he comes back!”
I helped her get to her feet and back into the car. It was then that I saw the stain on her dress and realized that she’d soiled herself. Worse, my driver, Ah Wen, had disappeared. Instead of fighting the attacker and protecting us, he had abandoned us to save his own meatless ass!
“Coward!” I spat.
Suddenly Shadow cried, “Oh, my heaven, you’ve been stabbed!”
I looked at my forearm and was relieved that the cut was not deep, only a surface scratch. The blood made it look much worse. I used my handkerchief to press on the wound.
Shadow looked at my arm with an expression of horror. “You’d better go to the hospital.”
I looked more carefully at my wound. “I don’t think so. The cut is not deep, so I won’t need stitches. You don’t want our names to be all over the newspapers tomorrow as victims of a botched robbery, do you?”
14
Shadowy Recipes
A
fter dropping off Shadow and heading home, I laughed to myself all the way back, pleased by my own ingenuity. The robbery had been my doing. The muscular man who’d attacked us was none other than Gao. At first, when I’d asked him to do it, he’d adamantly refused. Not that he was breaking his promise to do anything for me but because he couldn’t bear to see me threatened, even though it would be fake. However, after a little flirting, he had agreed. Of course he wouldn’t do anything to hurt me, so I deliberately hit my forearm against his knife to draw blood.
fter dropping off Shadow and heading home, I laughed to myself all the way back, pleased by my own ingenuity. The robbery had been my doing. The muscular man who’d attacked us was none other than Gao. At first, when I’d asked him to do it, he’d adamantly refused. Not that he was breaking his promise to do anything for me but because he couldn’t bear to see me threatened, even though it would be fake. However, after a little flirting, he had agreed. Of course he wouldn’t do anything to hurt me, so I deliberately hit my forearm against his knife to draw blood.
In the
Thirty-Six Stratagems,
this is called
kurouji,
literally “painful flesh strategy.” You intentionally injure yourself to get the trust of your enemy. Now not only had I gained Shadow’s trust, I had also discovered her weaknesses—greed and fear. She’d left with my jade ring on her pinky. She’d peed in her dress.
Thirty-Six Stratagems,
this is called
kurouji,
literally “painful flesh strategy.” You intentionally injure yourself to get the trust of your enemy. Now not only had I gained Shadow’s trust, I had also discovered her weaknesses—greed and fear. She’d left with my jade ring on her pinky. She’d peed in her dress.
However, if I were in the same situation, would I stay as calm as the Buddha? I believed so. Because I was a spy. During my vigorous training, my boss had always quoted the Chinese saying:
Even when Mount Tai is collapsing in front of you, your expression will be unchanged.
As soon as I arrived home, I took out my lipstick camera and went to my bathroom to develop the negatives, a skill I’d learned as part of my training to be a spy. As soon as they were dry, I printed them, then took the glossy images to my study.
The first one was from Shadow’s notebook, a short article on “Teasing the Bloody Shoes.”
Tie the shoes with dark strings and manipulate them from the ceiling above. Use a black wall with a wavy pattern as background so neither the black strings nor their movements will be seen from ten feet away.
I laughed out loud. Was it really that simple? How easily we humans can be fooled!
I went on to read the next one: “Jumping to Disappearance.”
A basic technique in magic is to distract. You can do this in many ways: setting off fireworks, releasing smoke, playing loud music, even casual motions like scratching your head, blinking your eyes, adjusting your glasses, dropping a pen, or just chattering nonstop. This is called
shengdong jixi,
making noise in the east while attacking in the west.
shengdong jixi,
making noise in the east while attacking in the west.
In this trick, a dummy, dressed to look like the magician and tied to a wire, will be thrown to the ground, then quickly pulled back up. At the same time, lightning, thunder, and smoke will blur the audience’s vision so they cannot tell the object is a dummy or that it is being pulled up. Blood and shoes are thrown down a few seconds after the dummy plunges.
Next my eyes landed on the account of her recent grandiose act: “The Disappearing Mansion.”
Make a Big Object Disappear—A house, a plane, a monument.
This is sure to stun your audience. You need a revolving tent with only one entrance. The spectators will be ushered inside the tent, facing the entrance so they can see the building outside, which is best if it is upon a hill. After the magician puts a curtain over the entrance, he’ll distract the audience by talking to them nonstop, cracking jokes, mesmerizing them with a strange story, asking questions.
When finished, the magician will lift the curtain and the audience will be shocked to see that the building is gone. This is because the tent’s entrance has, unbeknownst to them, slowly revolved to face another direction, so that the building is no longer to be seen.
The audience will be directed to a bus right outside the opening to take them back where they came from. This is to prevent anyone from noticing that the building is still there, albeit on the other side.
As for the disappearing paintings inside the mansion, they were but images from a magic lantern.
As is usually the case with these stage tricks, once explained, the magic seems as obvious as a reflection in a mirror. Then I realized that Shadow couldn’t possibly do this all by herself, yet no assistant ever appeared. Who was she or he? A lover, a brother, a twin sister, or just hired help?
Since no answer was forthcoming, I picked up another photograph and read:
Seeing Is Deceiving—It Is a Mistake to Believe What You See.
People always believe what they see with their eyes. That’s why we say “seeing is believing.” But in magic, it is the opposite: “believing is seeing.” When people see something with their own eyes—from a rabbit appearing out of thin air to a huge mansion disappearing in front of them—they have to believe it.
That’s why seeing is also deceiving. This is what magic is about—creating illusions to fool the eyes and trick the mind.
Magic is a game of manipulation and distraction. When you pay intense attention to one thing, your mind will ignore everything else. Therefore, the magician directs the audience’s attention to something irrelevant as he carries out his routine. They won’t notice how the trick is done because their eyes are fixed on the magician’s misleading maneuvers, like constant prattling, releasing pigeons, tossing a hat or waving a wand.
I sipped my tea, then was suddenly wide awake despite the late hour and the wine, as my eyes encountered a section entitled, “The Art of Stealing.”
To distract your audience, lure their attention away from your real intention. This includes:
1.
Keep talking to prevent the audience from noticing your stealing hand.
Keep talking to prevent the audience from noticing your stealing hand.
2.
Touch your victim in different places—a pat on the shoulder, a squeeze of the arm, a palm on the back; when he is conscious of the hand that is touching, he won’t notice your other one.
Touch your victim in different places—a pat on the shoulder, a squeeze of the arm, a palm on the back; when he is conscious of the hand that is touching, he won’t notice your other one.
3.
When you steal, let’s say a wristwatch, first press your hand on your victim’s wrist. This sensation will linger, so he will still “feel” his watch on his skin even though it’s already gone.
When you steal, let’s say a wristwatch, first press your hand on your victim’s wrist. This sensation will linger, so he will still “feel” his watch on his skin even though it’s already gone.
4.
Focus your victim’s attention on another place: Tell him his hair is mussed or flick an imaginary bit of lint off his jacket.
Focus your victim’s attention on another place: Tell him his hair is mussed or flick an imaginary bit of lint off his jacket.
To sum up: your hands should be like magnets pulling a compass needle in all directions so as to cause total confusion.
Then the manual took a philosophical turn:
People like to be manipulated, although they may not know it. They need to be guided and told what to do. Most of us are not born leaders and are inclined to be lazy.
That’s why everyone wants to believe in miracles. And who doesn’t hope for a little magic in their unsatisfactory, obligation-filled existence? That’s why people are so easily led by those who promise them magic, not just stage magicians but politicians, priests, monks, even gangster-heroes.
Is there real magic in the world? Everyone looks for it, but in reality, “magic” is nothing other than the possession of a dazzling appearance, a clever mind, perfect timing, and infallible skill that has been developed with relentless practice!
If you have these qualities, people will believe in your miracles. If you don’t have them, don’t bore your audience and humiliate yourself onstage. Stay home instead to play with your children or dogs.
So magic is entertainment, but it is also poetry, myth, philosophy, even wisdom and an excellent way of life.
Wow. So magic is philosophy and wisdom. And a magician is not much different from a spy, since both need to possess “a dazzling appearance, a clever mind, perfect timing, and infallible skill developed with relentless practice” !
I smiled, thinking of my extreme skills of knife-throwing and contortion with which I had yet to stun the Shanghainese. So, when I performed, everyone would believe my knives had eyes, for they’d always go where they should, always just missing my assistant as they landed around her with soft thuds.
That was the real reason I’d invited Shadow to perform with me. I wanted her to believe that my knives had eyes, yet later painfully learn that in fact they were sometimes nearsighted.
Shadow was a master of manipulation, but so was I. In a perfect world we could be friends—even sisters, as Lung teased. We could share our insights, experiences, stunts, and schemes. But in this dusty world, it was more likely that one of us would end up destroying the other.
I sipped more tea, absorbing what I had read. After that, I picked up the photographs of what had looked like her diary. The characters were much smaller than those in the instruction manual, so I guessed the latter must have been written by her teacher. I strained my eyes to read:
To be Master Lung’s number one mistress has been my goal; unfortunately the place is already taken by Camilla. How to pluck her from Lung’s side? I’m sure that would be even more challenging than jumping off the Shanghai Customs House.
The first time we met at Bright Moon, Camilla asked me about my training and my teacher. Smart as she is, she should’ve known better. Will I just tell anyone about my past? She certainly won’t. I never get anything from those lips except her singing, which everyone seems to think is so wonderful. Makes me wonder if her pretty little lips perform other naughty and dirty deeds. Maybe that’s why Lung fell for her.
I’ll never tell her or anyone else about my past. Why should anybody know that my magician stepfather would only teach me his craft if I let him fondle my breasts and sometimes, when I could no longer resist, even have sex with him? At least he’s dead now, the cut-by-a-thousand-knives piece of dog-fucked corpse! If I ever visited his grave, I would spit, pee, and shit on it, so that his stinking, rotten cadaver would stink even more!
Fortunately, before I killed him, I took all his notes and repertoires that he thought no one could find inside our house’s hollow wooden door. Ha-ha! He forgot how fine a magician I’d become under his coaching and molesting hands!
Nobody in Shandong knows about what had happened. One day both of us simply disappeared from this province. I, to Shanghai, friendless, he, to his grave, childless. I will laugh if his ghost thinks I am a daughter who will someday make offerings at his grave.
I never met my real father; I only learned from my mother that he was a half-breed—half foreign devil and half Chinese. That’s why I have this big-boned physique with high nose, deep-set eyes, muscular body, pale skin, and hair with some brown in it, so I have to dye it black. My mother said that no one should know about this, absolutely no one. For I would be spat upon and my life would be ruined even before it began. But I was ruined, anyway, by her new husband.
I wanted so badly to be a magician that I let him touch my breasts when he taught me how to make rabbits disappear and reappear. Then when I let him touch me between my legs, he’d teach me how to make a house disappear. Eventually he’d touched my body everywhere and entered me more times than I want to remember. Finally, the day came when I had learned all that he had to teach about magic. But despite my numerous pleadings, he would never let me see his written manual.
Then my mother died. Followed by him, with his blood on my hands.
Actually, I didn’t exactly murder him, only let him fall to his death without lending a daughterly hand. As I deserved his magic, he deserved my callousness. It happened one morning as he practiced tightrope-walking two stories above ground, with me treading behind him. When he was approaching the finishing line, I made a wrong move. The rope wobbled, and he lost his balance. Could I have prevented his fall? I’m not sure. Maybe. But I didn’t, and then I never had to see his face again. Ever.
Before anyone knew, I gathered up everything valuable in the house—cash, my mother’s jewelry, the gold chain from his neck, the watch from his wrist, the pen inside his pocket, and, most important, all the props that I could carry—and left for Shanghai. I changed my name to Shadow, so no one would know who I was or am. So if today I die, there won’t be anyone to cry, burn offerings, or kowtow to my portrait.
There is no fairness in life. Look at Camilla. Yes, she’s beautiful, talented, hardworking, smart. But so are many other girls, including myself. Then how come only she is Lung’s number one mistress with an easy life, when mine is a constant struggle? If I want to be a huge success, I’ll have to steal Lung from her, not waste my nights with the cut-by-a-thousand-knives manager at Ciro Nightclub, nor the Shanghai Customs House’s dog-fucked tower guard.
Camilla has her heavenly voice, but I have my magic. And I am particularly well-trained in stealing.
My heart sank. My suspicions were correct. My guess had been right all along: Shadow hoped to take my place with Lung. Then I shook my head. My situation was not nearly as good as she thought, since most of the money I made did not go inside my pocket but Wang’s.
So she was wrong. Actually life is quite fair—no one gets what they want.
I continued to read:
I was the only one who knew my stepfather’s background. He even kept it secret from my stupid mother.
All magicians dream of living in big cities like Beijing or Shanghai, but we were stuck in the countryside in Shandong. This is because my stepfather’s father—that was my step-grandfather—had made his escape from the Empress Dowager’s palace. A talented magician and a handsome man, he was the Empress’s imperial illusionist and secret lover. But during one performance, he’d made disappear her most treasured pet parrot but failed to bring it back. The pet suffocated inside his long sleeve. He tried to fool the Empress with an identical one, but the trick was discovered; the real one had a large pearl stitched inside its feathers for good luck.
Before the court had decided on the most appropriately horrific way to slowly execute him, he had already fled to Shangdong with his son. In this desolate western province, he changed his name and worked as a farmer. However, unwilling to let his imperial court magic silently die out, he secretly taught it to his son.
I am sure many would be stunned if they knew my acts were originally for the entertainment of the Empress. But there are no more emperors; China is supposedly a republic. So I keep this to myself.
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