LITMIR.BIZ

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Shadow’s and my eyes met, I knew, and was sure she knew, that we would be rivals to the end.

      It was a contest of feminine energies. I, slim and small-framed, was purer yin, and she, tall and robust, had some admixture of yang. I could only hope that the sage Laozi was right when he said, ‘The soft always overcomes the hard, the feminine, the masculine.’

      I was also sure that only one of us would emerge victorious.

      Lung was about to say something, but the manager came to tell him he had a telephone call.

      The gangster head said to his right-hand man, ‘Zhu, you’d better come with me, in case it’s something important.’

      After the trio left, Shadow smiled generously. ‘Miss Camilla, what an honour to be invited to your table.’

      She was trying to please me, exactly the same strategy I intended to use on her.

      I lifted the corners of my lips a little less than hers to show that my status was higher. ‘Thank you, Miss Shadow, but I’m sure you know that all eyes were upon you tonight, as they were the other night, too.’

      ‘You overpraise, Miss Camilla. I still have a long way to go, especially in Shanghai.’

      ‘You don’t need to be so modest. Your magic is astonishing.’ I paused to sip my champagne, then asked the question that had been burning in my mind, ‘Where did you learn your magic?’

      Just then the evil duo, Lung and Zhu, came back.

      I didn’t ask Lung what the phone call had been about, because as a woman and his mistress, I had no business knowing.

      The two sat down. My patron looked happy. It must be that the phone call had brought good news, plus he was returning to sit with two dazzling women.

      ‘All right, I’m hungry. Let’s have something to eat.’

      Mr Zhu waved for the manager and ordered dinner. In almost no time our table was covered with fresh drinks and plates of exotic gourmet food like drunken fish, fried quail, stewed rabbits’ legs, spicy deer tails and pigeon hearts with ginger.

      While we ate, drank and chatted, I tried to study Shadow without being too obvious.

      ‘All right, what did you two girls talk about when I was away?’ Lung asked, picking up a fish head and chewing out its eyes. Maybe to look at women better, because fish eyes are supposed to be good for your eyesight.

      Hoping to force Shadow to respond, I told him, ‘I asked Miss Shadow where she learned her magic.’

      Lung turned to stare at the magician, chewing and waiting for an answer.

      She dabbed her lips with a napkin, put it down, then said, ‘I consider myself extremely lucky, because my teacher taught me everything he knew before he passed away.’

      Since her answer was not a real answer, Lung pursued the point. ‘What’s his name, then? And his school?’

      ‘Mine is an esoteric tradition, not to be made public.’

      Probably seeing a fleeting shadow cross the gangster’s face, the magician immediately made amends by smiling flirtatiously as she apologised. ‘I’m so sorry, Master Lung. I had to swear a blood-oath to my ancestors—’

      Lung waved a bony hand. ‘No need to apologise.’ He turned his attention back to the fish.

      Of course I knew full well that no magician would ever reveal his or her secrets but would carry them to the grave.

      ‘Anyway, I learned it in Shandong, not here,’ Shadow added.

      An unexpected revelation – we Shanghainese look down upon anyone from outside our city, because they are never as smart or as scheming or as sophisticated as we are. But perhaps she said she was from Shandong just to put me off guard.

      Lung threw her a slanted glance, his cheeks masticating rhythmically to the nightclub’s music. ‘Shandong? I have some business there.’

      Shadow’s eyes brightened. ‘That’s wonderful! What kind?’

      Lung looked at her condescendingly. ‘I don’t think a woman would be interested in men’s business. You are too pretty to trouble yourself about such things. Anyway, you wouldn’t understand even if I told you.’ He cast his right-hand man a conspiratorial glance. ‘Right?’

      Zhu sneered. ‘Completely right, Master Lung. That’s why I never talk to my old lady except to tell her what to cook for dinner.’

      We all laughed, except Shadow.

      Her smile froze, and her body stiffened, but she was smart enough to immediately try to make amends. ‘Of course you are both right, Master Lung and Mr Zhu.’

      Lung nodded, then gave her a once-over. ‘Hmm … Shandong. That’s why you’re so damn big and tall!’

      I was not sure if this was supposed to be a compliment or a criticism. But judging from what I knew of Lung’s previous conquests, or captives, he favoured women with small frames and delicate features. Lung was a small man himself, about five feet four, with a narrow face on which sat a few crude features not unlike a monkey’s. But although he was short, the gangster boss never failed to project an intimidating presence. Wherever he went, he splashed the air around him with menacing, don’t-mess-with-me expressions, surrounded by bodyguards with fight-me-if-you-dare expressions.

      Chinese opera actors cultivate the same kind of presence. Before going on stage they cross an imaginary line – the ‘tiger crossing gate’ from the anonymity of the actor to the power of a mighty general or king. However short and puny, they miraculously transform themselves into heroes or villains. They meditate, thrust out their chests, relax their shoulders, hold their heads high. Only then do they cross the line into the illusory life of the drama, where they instantly become generals, warriors or emperors, controlling the fate of millions.

      ‘Build your presence.’ Big Brother Wang had repeated this over and over during my training.

      Reflecting on these matters, I poured Lung a full cup of tea, then turned to my rival, hoping to smooth out the growing tension in the air. ‘Miss Shadow, I’m sure you learned from the best. I have never seen anything close to what you do.’

      ‘I believe my repertory is unique in Shanghai, if not all of China.’

      As I was about to ask more, Lung suddenly turned amicable, smiling at us appreciatively. ‘Are you two going to be like sisters, huh? That would be big news, two pretty, talented women joining forces to win over Shanghai. Why don’t you two stop chattering for a while so we can eat more, eh?’

      Mr Zhu immediately poured more wine into our glasses and heaped more food onto our plates. Though I didn’t know Zhu well, and he was the only man Lung trusted, I had never liked him. His small eyes were always darting inside the confinement of their two sockets, ready to spot any impending trouble. His nostrils were always enlarged, as if sniffing for anything fishy. Lung almost looked benign next to Zhu, whose face spewed evil and murderous thoughts wherever he went. Perhaps Lung’s face was less warlike because the guns and knives had already been transferred from his hand to Zhu’s.

      I glanced back at Shadow, but her gaze was fixed on my patron.

      ‘Master Lung, if you ever want to hold a party and need a magic show, please don’t hesitate to ask me. It would be my greatest pleasure and honour.’

      Zhu answered bluntly for his boss. ‘Miss Shadow, Master Lung is a very busy man.’

      ‘Yes, of course.’ She split an embarrassed smile, then looked back at her rice bowl.

      Just then, we were approached by the striking young man I’d noticed earlier. Before he reached us, Gao, the head bodyguard, sprang up, ready for action.

      Zhu leaned towards Gao and spoke softly to him. Gao then waved the intruder on to our table. ‘It’s okay, Master Lung,’ Gao said. ‘This is Miss Rainbow Chang, columnist

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