Skeleton Women (22 page)
Instead of feeling sadness, when my body hit the cold water, a euphoric sensation engulfed me. I was not sure if Jinying heard the splash, but I no longer cared. There would be no good-byes. Mere minutes from now, the world that had so oppressed me would be gone.
As I was letting myself sink and feeling the cold water seeping into my eyes, ears, mouth, and bones, I heard Jinying’s desperate cry ripping the air.
“What happened, Camilla? Camilla! Help! Someone fell into the river—please help!”
Soon my only sensation was the cold water, invading all my orifices. Yes, I was going to die. I was dying... .
But then why did I still hear a loud splash? Someone else had jumped into the river. Jinying! Why would he do that?
Fool. Please stop being a fool for once, I beg you, Young Master!
Then I felt my chilled body being held and lifted, and soon my head rose above the water, and I was face-to-face with the same world I’d just left behind. I sucked in big gulps of the life-giving air that I’d thought I’d no longer need. The world had not changed; it was still indifferent and cruel, with me or without me. Why couldn’t heaven have just left me to perish so I could enter the blissful state of oblivion?
After pulling me to safety, Jinying gently laid my shivering, sopping body on the bank. Several people rushed toward us and began to ask questions in a language I didn’t understand.
Jinying waved them away, speaking in English. “It’s okay. She just leaned too far and fell in accidentally. Don’t worry, I’ll get her back to the hotel.”
A young man asked in accented English, “You want me to call ambulance?”
Jinying smiled faintly. “No, it’s really not necessary. She ‘s fine. But you can call us a taxi if you don’t mind.”
Jinying lifted me in his arms and carefully labored up the long steps, leaving the other people behind whispering heatedly in French.
Jinying bent his head to stare at me, his body and mine trembling in sync. “Camilla, oh, Camilla ...”
The water dripping from our clothes left a long trail on the stairs, looking like blood in the dark.
It was a long ordeal for him to ascend the narrow steps to ground level. When we reached the top, a taxi was waiting with the door open and the young couple standing guard. Jinying lifted me inside, then crawled in after me. He thanked the couple profusely and gave the driver the hotel’s address. From the rearview mirror, the driver cast us curious glances and opened his mouth as if to ask something. But then it seemed he had second thoughts and decided against it. Inside the speeding car, the young master cradled me like a baby, probably trying to transmit his body heat to me without realizing that his body was just as soaked and cold as mine. With a trembling hand, Jinying gently smoothed aside my matted hair as he cooed soothing words into my ear.
When the car arrived at the hotel, Jinying signaled the driver to pull up at the back entrance so our bedraggled presence would not cause a stir. A few minutes later we had made our way to my room.
After Jinying put me on the sofa, I said, my voice weak and trembling from the “accident,” “Jinying, please leave. Your father might come back at any time.”
He shook his head. “I’m not going to leave you alone. If he finds out about us, so be it. Now stay where you are.”
He dashed to turn up the heat, started running a hot bath, then came back to carry me to the bathroom. As gentle as a mother with her baby, Jinying peeled off my soaked clothes and lifted me into the tub. The contact with the steaming water began to soothe my nerves and even lift my mood.
Seeing me feeling better, Jinying began to take off his clothes and shoes, then got into the bathtub with me.
“Why?” he asked as softly as if he was talking to a newborn, taking my hands in his.
My voice came out weak and eerie-sounding. “Why what?”
He sighed heavily. “Why did you try to kill yourself?”
“I ... I didn’t. I just ... fell, like you said.”
“Don’t lie to me please, Camilla. Please tell me. Tell me everything about you and why you are so sad.”
I stubbornly shook my head. “Jinying, please don’t make life more complicated than it is. Believe me, I fell.”
He didn’t respond but pulled me so my head rested on his chest. “Camilla, if you want to disappear, let me disappear with you.”
Some silence passed before I said, “Jinying, please leave. I’m fine.”
“I can’t. What if you do something silly again?” He said firmly. “I’ll spend the night here.”
“Jinying, please don’t ... what if your father ...”
“He won’t.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because the whole gang will spend the night at Pigalle.”
At first I was shocked to hear that, but I quickly realized that of course Lung was not going to miss the famous red-light district and the many exotic, French-speaking ladies of the Parisian night. As the Chinese saying goes, “Never leave a mountain of treasures empty-handed.”
As relief washed over me, I closed my eyes, too tired to respond. In my semiconscious state, I felt Jinying’s arms lifting me, wrapping me in a thick towel, then carrying me to the bed. In a cocoon formed by the warm blanket and the young master’s arms, I soon fell into a deep, troubled sleep... .
21
Shopping the Champs-Élysées
T
he next morning when I woke up, Jinying was no longer by my side. But he had left a note:
he next morning when I woke up, Jinying was no longer by my side. But he had left a note:
Dearest Camilla,
Sorry, I had to go back to my room, just in case my father looks for me. But I’ll check on you. I wouldn’t leave if I thought you were really sick. But you seemed to be fine, no fever, no shivering, and sound asleep, melting my heart.
Please treasure your life and your heavenly voice; many people depend on them for their happiness, including myself.
If you’re no longer on this earth, I won’t be here either.
Holding the note, I didn’t know how to feel. Why would heaven use a man’s love to keep me here on earth? Maybe I
was
attached to this world and didn’t really want to die. Maybe my attempted suicide was a lesson sent from heaven that I shouldn’t fool myself by pretending that I couldn’t love. But that made things even more complicated, because there were two men who loved me, Jinying and Gao. To whom should I return my love?
was
attached to this world and didn’t really want to die. Maybe my attempted suicide was a lesson sent from heaven that I shouldn’t fool myself by pretending that I couldn’t love. But that made things even more complicated, because there were two men who loved me, Jinying and Gao. To whom should I return my love?
Was it out of despair or sheer stupidity that I had tried to kill myself? I didn’t have an answer. I only knew I was so disturbed after watching Cio-Cio San end her life that for a moment it seemed as if dying was a better way out.
Jinying saw through my lie right away; he knew my fall was not an accident. Were
suicide
and
hopelessness
inscribed on my forehead like a huge cigarette ad? Or, after years of training and practice, was I still only an amateur at lying? But fortunately or unfortunately, here I was, still breathing, sitting in a luxury hotel room, philosophizing about life. And death.
suicide
and
hopelessness
inscribed on my forehead like a huge cigarette ad? Or, after years of training and practice, was I still only an amateur at lying? But fortunately or unfortunately, here I was, still breathing, sitting in a luxury hotel room, philosophizing about life. And death.
I burst out sobbing till my eyes were sore and my face soaked. Feeling some relief after the outburst, I went to sit on the sofa, ate some grapes, sipped some wine, then tried to organize my thoughts. My reason for being in Paris was to finally see Lung killed, but not only had I flubbed this mission, I’d even failed to end my own life. So what was next? I downed more wine, thinking hard.
To clear my mind and better organize my thoughts, I decided to write down the
Thirty-Six Stratagems,
which I had learned by heart, to see if I could come up with a plan. After I deleted the irrelevant ones, there were eleven left. I analyzed each, weighing it carefully against my present situation.
Thirty-Six Stratagems,
which I had learned by heart, to see if I could come up with a plan. After I deleted the irrelevant ones, there were eleven left. I analyzed each, weighing it carefully against my present situation.
To kill with someone else’s sword
—Maybe I should seriously consider playing Jinying against his father. But I doubted that, however much he detested his old man, he’d go so far as to kill him. After all, Jinying was a man with a heart. Then what about Gao, since he also had a crush on me? But what if he refused and instead reported me to Lung?
—Maybe I should seriously consider playing Jinying against his father. But I doubted that, however much he detested his old man, he’d go so far as to kill him. After all, Jinying was a man with a heart. Then what about Gao, since he also had a crush on me? But what if he refused and instead reported me to Lung?
Wait until you exhaust your enemy
—But how? Lung seemed a master at absorbing energy—sexual or otherwise—from things and people around him, even the universe itself. I’d probably be exhausted before he did.
—But how? Lung seemed a master at absorbing energy—sexual or otherwise—from things and people around him, even the universe itself. I’d probably be exhausted before he did.
Loot a house while it’s burning
—This is also called “stir the water to catch the fish,” meaning to take advantage of chaos. This was the strategy the fake Japanese couple and I had tried on board the ship, but it had failed.
—This is also called “stir the water to catch the fish,” meaning to take advantage of chaos. This was the strategy the fake Japanese couple and I had tried on board the ship, but it had failed.
A dagger wrapped in a smile
—Unfortunately, even though I smiled a lot and was an expert in knife-throwing, I never had a chance to use this skill because I was always thoroughly searched before being allowed into Lung’s bedroom.
—Unfortunately, even though I smiled a lot and was an expert in knife-throwing, I never had a chance to use this skill because I was always thoroughly searched before being allowed into Lung’s bedroom.
Close the door to catch the thief
—Even if I was able to lure Lung behind a closed door, how I could I later make my escape?
—Even if I was able to lure Lung behind a closed door, how I could I later make my escape?
Feign madness, but keep your calm
—This is a good one, but not something I could use now, maybe only if an opportunity arose.
—This is a good one, but not something I could use now, maybe only if an opportunity arose.
Change your role of guest to that of host
—My boss, Big Brother Wang, had been trying to do this for years but without success; that was why he’d sent me to do the job. Though now I was Lung’s favorite woman, I was still a guest, far from being a host.
—My boss, Big Brother Wang, had been trying to do this for years but without success; that was why he’d sent me to do the job. Though now I was Lung’s favorite woman, I was still a guest, far from being a host.
Injure yourself to get your enemy’s trust
—This was the inspiration for the fake robbery I had set up for Shadow. I wished I could set up something like this with Lung, to gain his trust so he wouldn’t have me searched anymore.
—This was the inspiration for the fake robbery I had set up for Shadow. I wished I could set up something like this with Lung, to gain his trust so he wouldn’t have me searched anymore.
Shed your skin like a cicada
—This one means to disguise yourself or change your identity so you can sneak away from a dangerous situation. But, alas, I couldn’t even do that, for my identity was already a disguise!
—This one means to disguise yourself or change your identity so you can sneak away from a dangerous situation. But, alas, I couldn’t even do that, for my identity was already a disguise!
The last one is simply
Run away!
Run away!
To me, this was the best idea. When you run out of options, what would be better than to run for your life?
Should I escape with Jinying or by myself? What if we got caught? Unfortunately, there are consequences to any action; Buddhism calls this karma. I sighed. I must have been a whore, traitor, murderer, child molester, drug addict in my past lives to have attracted all this bad karma in my present incarnation!
As I was thus musing, the doorbell rang. I opened the door and saw neither Lung, his son, nor the head bodyguard, but instead a waiter with a cart holding a big plate covered with a silver lid.
He smiled and said in accented English, “Good Morning. Room service breakfast.”
“But I didn’t order—”
Ignoring me, he began to set the table. When he finished, I paid him a big tip for setting up the table elegantly, including a solitary pink rose inside a crystal vase.
Once he left, I lifted the lid and found four strips of bacons nestled by a scrambled egg and, to my surprise, a note next to the egg. I picked it up and read.
Dearest Camilla,
As you understand, I can’t come to see you early in the morning because there are two bodyguards pacing in front of my father’s room. So I tipped the waiter to bring you this note with your breakfast and to report back to me how you are doing.
Don’t forget that I’ll see you, my father, and the others when they have breakfast soon.
The rose is to show my love for you, in hope that your cheeks will always be as pink as the flower and your life beautiful and blooming.
So Lung was still alive. Since I’d been busy trying to kill myself last night, I’d completely forgotten about my suggestion for the “widower” and his nurse to kill Lung. Obviously the mission had failed again. So either they’d lost Lung on the way, or there was just no chance for them to play their poisonous hand. Next I took out the rose, inhaled its fragrance to feel its sender’s love, then gently put it down. Heaven had kept me alive, so I needed to discard my melancholy and plow on with my life.
It was now six-thirty in the morning. Lung and his men were probably still sleeping. I quickly put on a simple dress and took the lift down to the hotel café—to deliver a message to the old widower.
La Terrasse Montaigne was a small haven of greenery facing a street with shops displaying elegant French fashions. Only two tables were occupied, one by a young Caucasian couple, the other by the old man and his nurse, who were absorbed in their newspapers.
When the waiter came to place my order, I said in English, “Small black coffee with no sugar, please.”
Before he left, I added. “Oh, please add some milk.”
I had no idea if the French staff here understood English, or my English, to be precise, but that was not my concern. I didn’t care if I got my coffee right, only that I got my message through, not to the waiter but to the widower and his nurse.
“With no sugar” was a code meaning that there was not yet any other chance to kill Lung, and “add some milk” meant wait for more information. After I got my coffee, I took a few sips, meditated on the shops bathing in the early-morning Parisian light, then left to go back to my room. Just in case I was seen by Lung or his men, my excuse for being up and about would be that I couldn’t sleep, since I was too excited by being in Paris.
At eight-thirty, Master Lung, Zhu, Jinying, Gao, the three other bodyguards, and I were having breakfast together at the same Terrasse Montaigne. Lung, Zhu, Jinying, and I sat at one table, while Gao and his underlings were at an adjacent one. Not too far from us, the widower with his nurse was still eating, sipping coffee, reading his morning paper, and waiting for more news from me.
Lung took a big bite of his croissant covered with a thick pat of melting butter. He gulped it down as fast as if he were getting rid of a rival. After that, he noisily sipped his coffee, sighed with satisfaction, then cast me a curious look.
“Camilla, you don’t look very happy today. Something wrong?”
I tried my best to fake a genuine smile. “I’m fine, Master Lung. Nothing will go wrong as long as I am with you, am I not right?”
I dared not look in Jinying’s direction to see how he was reacting. Even though I now owed him my life, I really should stop having any communication, even intangible, between us. Otherwise he would have saved me from drowning only for me to end up as bloody mincemeat on Lung’s chopping board. I also avoided looking at Gao at the neighboring table. Since his loss of control inside the ocean liner’s bathroom, he had looked even more distressed and had become even more taciturn. There was no possible opportunity for me to reassure him that my lips were sealed, or that I really did have feelings for him.
“You don’t look fine.” Lung’s coarse voice woke me from my reverie, and his eyes scrutinized me like a hawk’s as his slashed eyebrow wriggled like two fidgeting lizards. “Maybe you’re not used to the heavy French food or the chilly weather here.” He dabbed his mouth and thought for a while. “You said you want to shop along the Champs-Élysées, so why don’t we do that today so you’ll cheer up, eh?”
Though after yesterday’s events I was in no mood for shopping or anything else, even at the most luxurious stores in the most expensive area in Paris, I feigned enthusiasm.
I raised my voice so the widower-and-nurse duo could hear clearly my every word. “Oh, shopping at the Champs Élysées—I’d love that! Thank you, Master Lung!”
In my peripheral vision, I noticed that Jinying cast me a puzzled look, then took a meditative sip of his coffee.
Lung asked me and his son, “How was the opera last night?”
We both uttered, “It was wonderful.”
“Good, because I spent a small fortune for those seats.” He patted his son’s shoulder. “Glad you came to Paris with us, Jinying. Otherwise, who would keep my little beauty company when I am busy?”
We both thanked Lung profusely before we immersed ourselves in eating and cautiously sipping the coffee, which was darker than my mood and as bitter as my life.
Moments passed, and I said, raising my voice again, “Master Lung, I’m so excited to go shopping at the Champs-Élysées! Can we go to the Hermès shop first? It’s been my dream to own a red Hermès bag!”
Lung laughed at my childish enthusiasm. “Of course, any shop and anything you want, my little pretty.”
Even the ominous Zhu looked up from his omelet and emitted a chuckle, shook his head, then resumed eating. So my acting was convincing.
I leaned to peck Lung’s cheek. “I love Hermès. Thank you so much, Master Lung!” I hoped the widower and his nurse had heard everything I’d loudly announced and that they would find an opportunity to strike.
I tried to act calm, but inside my whole body was on fire. If the mission failed, I might be again sinking in the Seine, and this time not by my own choice.
The name of the Avenue des Champs-Élysées has not traveled all over the world for nothing. The huge boulevard was flanked with towering, geometrically trimmed trees like rows of green-uniformed soldiers standing guard for the rich and powerful. We started at the glorious Arc de Triomphe and set out toward the Louvre at the other end, ready to taste all the splendid wonder in between.
It was a very pleasant, sunny day, and the four of us, Lung, Zhu, Jinying, and I strolled along the tree-lined boulevard, inhaling the Parisian air as we studied the city’s people and buildings. Gao and the three other bodyguards kept their distance a few steps behind us. Though they were normally undistractable, I imagined their attention would still be diverted by the beautiful French women smiling haughtily as they cast seductive glances at the tall, muscular Chinese men.
I noticed that both Jinying and Gao were watching me like a man his beloved new bride. Tears moistened my eyes as I felt a searing pain stabbing at my heart. I had done so much evil during my short life; why should I now deserve these two men’s love? However, most of the evil was not by my choice, since my life belonged to others. So perhaps someday I would receive forgiveness. Thus hoping, I felt a little better.
We continued to window-shop at the many luxury stores like Ferragamo, Céline, Louis Vuitton, Chanel, until we finally approached my destination, the Hermès store. My heart began to knock hard against my chest like an inmate shaking the prison bars. It was one thing to plot a murder but quite another to actually do it or witness it being done.
The plan was that after I took Lung inside the store, I’d suggest to him that, since all men are bored by women’s shopping, he could wait at the front of the store and watch the street while I looked around. Once the widower spotted him through the window, he would come in, pretend to look at the merchandise, shoot Lung, then quickly escape in the resulting confusion. However, the previous plot had failed, so what if this one failed also? Would Lung suspect me? If he was killed, would Gao and his gang suspect I’d set it up and kill me? They wouldn’t worry about proof, because, without Lung alive, killing me would not be a big deal. Maybe Gao wouldn’t have the heart to squeeze the trigger or plunge the knife, but his underlings would experience no such hesitation.
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