The Concubine's Daughter (58 page)

Above this, on a different level of sophistication, was the gaudy and extravagant Nine Dragons restaurant, where Hong Kong’s finest chefs provided a sumptuous meal to those who could afford it. On the third floor, from nine o’clock each evening until four in the morning, the Nine Dragons Ballroom offered Wan-Chai’s most luxurious nightclub, where the cream of local male society could drink, dance, and enjoy the expert attentions of a Nine Dragons hostess.

On its central stage, beneath a turning ball of crystal mirrors that scattered light among candlelit tables, an orchestra alternated the Wan-Chai version of the latest Western music with the popular songs of China.
An endless progression of entertainers, singers, magicians, acrobats, and after-midnight striptease artists crossed every licentious boundary to entertain the guests.

For those who looked for more, there was an elevator to the floor above, where prior arrangements with a chosen hostess could be carried out in absolute comfort and privacy. The rules were strict and rigidly enforced by bodyguards dressed as waiters. If an amicable agreement was reached, the client could accompany the hostess to her room upon payment of the negotiated sum.

The owner of the Nine Dragons, Three-thumbs Poon, prided himself that there was nothing a man could ask for that could not be provided by taking the elevator from the ballroom to the floor above. It was why his hostesses were carefully chosen for their looks and style, and above all for their expertise in extracting the maximum amount of money from his regular patrons while leaving them impatient to return for more.

The yellow-shaded light above Three-thumbs Poon’s desk hung so low that it illuminated the account books and row of soapstone chops, but left his face in shadow. His hands, however, could easily be seen, the sleeves of his shirt rolled back as if spotlighted to exhibit the deformity that had given him his name. On his left hand, some mischievous god had bestowed a second thumb, almost perfectly formed, growing outward from the lower joint of his normal digit as though stuck on as nature’s last-minute joke. To emphasize this distinction, he wore a ring set with many diamonds on the extra thumb. A well-chewed cigar butt smoldered between his tobacco-stained fingers as they beckoned Ruby forward.

“I remember you, Ruby the
chi-chi
, though you have grown older and your face bears the mark of the Japanese whore Tamiko-san. There is no longer a place for you in the ballroom. In the kitchen, perhaps, or to serve dim sum in the tea house.” He leaned forward into the circle of light to look more closely into Ruby’s face, leering at her with more amusement than kindness. “The last time I filled your bowl, you were nothing but trouble. Why should I fill it now?”

“It is my companion I bring to you; I am no more than a shadow compared to her. Her name is Siu-Sing, number-one pipe-maker for the Golden One. I am here to attend her; you will get the work of two at the cost of one because we share in everything. Together, we will bring you much business.”

Ruby moved back as Siu-Sing stepped forward to take her place. Three-thumbs Poon tilted the lamp to look at the tallish girl with bronze hair, his bulging eyes peering through his rimless spectacles, reminding her of a frog on a lotus leaf. “Does the
chi-chi
speak the truth … were you pipe-maker to Ah-Jin?”

Ruby had prepared Siu-Sing on the two-hour ferry ride from Macao to Hong Kong. “They are rivals, those two. It would please him greatly to take a pipe-maker from Macao’s most famous opium house.”

“Yes, but Ruby was my teacher. She tells me the Nine Dragons Teahouse and Ballroom is the most famous establishment in Wan-Chai and, its owner is a rich and successful man who is called the Emperor of pleasure. His fame is such that there is nothing he does not know, and nothing he cannot do on the island of Hong Kong.”

The frog eyes looked her up and down suspiciously. “How do I know you are not sent by Ah-Jin to spy upon my business?”

Siu-Sing hurried on. “I speak English, Cantonese, and several dialects. I am a dancer and mistress of the
er-hu
. I know folk medicine and can cure a headache and bring relief of pain… . I can make a man happy and put him to sleep in moments. I am an expert pipe-maker if this is required of me. I am also a virgin, but this is not for sale.”

Siu-Sing played her final card. “It is the great importance of your esteemed position that also brings me to you. I am the daughter of an English taipan, known among our people as Di-Fo-Lo and to the British as Devereaux … Captain Ben Devereaux. If your incomparable connections could find news of him, his gratitude would know no bounds. On this you have my word.”

“
Gwai-los
are not welcome here. If they come, they soon leave and do not return. I can do nothing to help you in this fantasy.” There was a moment of silence while the cigar butt was drawn into glowing life. “But
if you are all that you say you are, what do you ask for these great skills of yours?”

“I ask only what is given to any Nine Dragons hostess—a place to sleep, to eat as they eat, be dressed as they are dressed, and paid as they are paid.”

After the briefest of pauses, he nodded. “Your room is number twelve and that will be your name. I know no one called Siu-Sing, only Number Twelve and her
chi-chi
attendant.” His thumbs disengaged long enough to take a key from its hook on a crowded board behind him. “But I warn you. I know nothing of foreign devils, rich or poor. If this is what you seek, then go to the bars to be fucked for a dollar by a drunken
gwai-lo
. If you are to be a Nine Dragons hostess, you will forget such grand illusions and say no more of it.”

Sliding the key across the desk, he dismissed them with a flick of his sparkling thumb. “Number Five is the
mama-san
. If you break the rules, if you hide money or lie about your business, she will know it and report to me.”

Siu-Sing found the bar district of Wan-Chai strangely exciting. When walking its bustling streets or riding, wonder of wonders, in a taxi, she dressed in perfectly fitted cheongsams made by the ballroom’s resident tailor in different hues of violet, from the palest wisteria to the rich purple of the iris; it was, she had decided, her lucky color.

Her training at the Tavern of Cascading Jewels served her well: The tired clients who were eager to escape their
tai-tais
for an hour or two seemed easily pleased, and she quickly learned how to separate such men from their money with the least possible effort.

The hostesses received a small commission on every drink that a client bought. A “lucky drink,” which was nothing but Coca-Cola or cold tea, cost as much as five-star brandy or twelve-year-old whisky. Very soon, Siu-Sing was handing in more drink receipts and receiving more requests for the pleasure of her company than any other hostess. After scarcely a month, seeing how popular she was among his most important
customers, Three-thumbs gave Siu-Sing and Ruby a small suite of their own in which to entertain her clients. High above the chaos of the streets below, the view from its tiny balcony reached across the spread of Victoria Harbor to the high rise of Kowloon. From that suite, she attended to the needs of a procession of customers who interested her no more than the Duke of the Golden Persimmon.

Those that required her private ministrations paid dearly for the experience. So skillful were her techniques that she could part a man from every cent in his pocket and often in his checkbook for a few moments of indescribable bliss. No man was allowed to touch Number Twelve, and yet there were no complaints, and those who could afford it became her regular clients. She did not go to sleep as soon as her shift had ended, but sought out a place on the roof, where she would recall the words of her
si-fu
: “No matter where you are, there will always be a new day dawning, always a stillness before the sunrise. In the hour before daylight, the world is yours alone. In your heart and mind you will return to the rock … you will see the crane on the sandbar and the tiger in the reed bed. You will watch them in mortal combat and see why the crane is triumphant. You are the crane and you will never fall. It is called spiritual boxing.”

High above the never-sleeping streets, she and Ruby would watch the harbor come to life at dawn. With the happiness silk in her hair and the finger jade warm in her palm, Siu-Sing would look at the ships from every corner of the world and wonder if her father could be on one of them, or perhaps not far away.

Every day she read both Chinese and English newspapers from cover to cover, thankful for the English lessons she had attended to so diligently. As long as she possessed the photograph and the few other relics of her parents, safe in the bottom of the Tanka sling, there was hope. For now, the little balcony and the view from the rooftops were as close as she wished to come to the world outside, and Ruby the only companion she needed.

Recognizing the Eurasian beauty as a gold mine, Three-thumbs Poon made no attempt to discover more about Number Twelve’s past. His philosophy was simple and direct: If a girl made him money, he would pay and treat her well. The moment she failed to do so, he would see her back on the streets without a moment’s thought.

Even if he had wanted to inquire about the foreigner Number Twelve claimed as her father, only a fool would call attention to an establishment such as his. Prostitution and gambling were forbidden under colonial law—which made little difference to the massage parlors, casinos, and vice dens that prospered under the garish lights of Wan-Chai, or to the members of the Royal Hong Kong Police Force who fortified their meager earnings by accepting lucky money at the end of each month, unconcerned with the ridiculous laws of a distant king. Their British officers seldom ventured into the area, except during the propitious days of Chinese New Year, when they were wined and dined in their chosen venues with a fat packet discreetly folded into the menu.

Beneath this level of authority, the local triad gangs controlled their territory with brutal enforcement, demanding protection money from every business that opened its doors. The Nine Dragons was visited regularly by the younger brothers of the black society, who answered only to the rules of violence—collecting the squeeze, eating and drinking, and taking women without payment whenever they wished.

Number Twelve seated herself before Three-thumbs as he began counting out banknotes with a practiced hand. “You have done well, Number Twelve. You are entitled to your commission of five percent.”

He was taken aback when Siu-Sing replied, “I thank you for your generosity, sir, but I believe the other hostesses receive ten percent, and I wish to be paid the same. I would also ask that this become fifteen percent if I am asked for special services.”

Three-thumbs paused in his counting, his frog face thrust into the lamplight. “You ask too much. You are new here. If those that have been here longer knew of such demands, there would be great trouble.”

“Then we will not tell them. I am contented here and do not wish to
seek employment elsewhere. I make no further inquiry of my father, as I am sure you have done your best to seek word of him.”