Chapter Twelve
With the advent of Mr. Zephyr, it's high time to eat crabs. Mrs. Lin bought a dozen fresh water crabs, supposedly air-transported here from China. Crabs from the Yangzheng Lake in Southeast China tasted a bit different from those caught in the salty seas or in the other parts of China. The meat was more luscious, even a little sweet. The crabs were allowed to enjoy their freedom and swim in the sink half-full of cold water before their last moment came. Mrs. Lin put a wok with water half an inch deep in the bottom on the stove fire. Then she put in a stainless steel rack, covering the wok with a lid. She used a long-handle brush to scrub off the dirt left on the crabs. After the final bath, the crabs were hoisted one by one with a pair of long tongs and dunked into the wok on the rack and covered up. As the crabs were being steamed, Mrs. Lin took a very fresh piece of ginger, cut it into bits smaller than the ground meat, and dipped them into a half-full bowl of brown vinegar bought from a Chinese food store.
“You can't use white apple vinegar to go with the crab meat,” she would say. “In the world-renowned novel Red Chamber Dream, the Jia family ate crabs only with minced ginger in brown vinegar, no scallion, no sesame oil, nothing more. That's the Chinese traditional standard way to eat crabs in any decent families.”
It was Sunday evening. Everyone was at home, waiting at the dining table ready for the crabs to be served. Mrs. Lin came from the kitchen, carrying a platter with six crabs on it, one for each person.
“I kept the other six warm in the wok,” said she. “Whoever finishes this one can get another.” She placed the platter in the middle of the table and took her seat at one end. This was an oblong table, generally seating six people. The old couple sat at either end while the young people on the sides. Alida chose a small one. “I don't care much for crabs. It's too much trouble to eat it.”
“You are not like your father. Your father liked crabs,” said Tricia.
“So that's why she was said to be picked up from a dumpster by Uncle Charles somewhere near their old house,” said Sally solemnly, struggling with the lid of the crab. The shell was too hot to handle.
“Is that true, Auntie Louise?” Alida seemed in tears, putting down the crab on the plate before her.
“Never mind what she said,” Louise assuaged her. “Chinese people often tease children like this.”
“She's not really Chinese. She's one hundred percent American.” Alida pouted, as if deeply offended.
“Even I can't determine what percentage of American culture and what percentage of Chinese culture is in her,” quipped Louise. “She's an odd mix.”
“See, Auntie Louise said you are an odd mix.” Alida began to smile, casting a sideways look at Sally, who sat right beside her. “Since you are lying, your nose will grow longer than Pinocchio's.”
Sally touched her nose with her right hand and bent her twisted long neck a little down toward Alida, saying, “See, my nose's not growing, so I'm not lying.” Alida just thrust her tongue out at her.
***
“My husband died in an accident three months ago,” the widowed wife told Lois when she visited yet another master in his Philadelphia house. “He was a salesman, often traveling all over the country.” Fresh tears emerged in the eyes of the wife. Lois murmured something like “I'm sorry” and soon left. She crossed out the name on her list.
The next master, Mr. Chen, was living in Brooklyn, New York. As soon as Lois set her eyes on him, she mentally ruled out his name on her list. The master had already been paralyzed for a year and a half from exercising chi that had gone a wrong way and clogged somewhere in a xue; the outcome was the paralysis. If another master could infuse his chi into the system of the paralyzed master and help him to break through the jammed xue, the paralysis could be healed, but he didn't have such a friend to help him. Lois had a compassion for this master and promised to ask her father to assist him.
***
The residence of the last master on her list yet to visit was a magnificent mansion in Long Island. It was Mr. Zi, a piously religious person. He often went to a Chinese church and to a Buddhist temple as well. He was also a vegetarian, declaring that he never even killed an ant. How about mosquitoes? He didn't comment. There were some old Chinese stories about people who were so golden-hearted as to let themselves feed the mosquitoes so that the mosquitoes wouldn't bite others.
When Lois reached the colossal wrought-iron gate with gilt relief, a voice came from a loudspeaker on the wall, “What can I do for you, Miss?”
“I have an appointment with Mr. Zi,” said Lois casually.
“A moment, please!” The heavy ornate gate opened automatically.
Lois followed a long winding driveway with tall trees lined on both sides, the boughs intertwined to form thick shades. It took a few minutes to get to the front of the mansion. A uniformed attendant opened the car door for Lois and drove the car to somewhere else to park after Lois got out. A butler held open the massive double doors for her. When Lois approached in a graceful gait, he bowed low as if he was welcoming the advent of a queen. Though it was not often that Lois had chances to enter so splendid a place, she had a spirit to match anything, either vastly grand or fiercely awesome, or whatsoever. The highly vaulted hallway with crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling echoed her footsteps. A uniformed valet led Lois through a vestibule, along which were closed doors on either side. The soft illumination in the vestibule came from nowhere Lois could perceive. The valet opened a door for Lois and shut it after she stepped in. It was a guest-reception room. There were big scarlet velvet sofas in the center arranged in a fan-shape with a half-round redwood coffee table like a half-moon in the semicircle before the sofas; redwood shelves along one wall with expensive antique vases, jade figurines and other carvings and curiosities displayed on them. Old Chinese paintings and calligraphy scrolls by celebrated ancient artists hung on other walls. As Lois was not a connoisseur, she could not tell if they were genuine or mere imitations, but she guessed that they were genuine since the host was a person of great wealth and great importance. And he would feel humiliated with mere imitations. A few minutes later, Mr. Zi came in and sat down on one of the sofas, diagonally across the coffee table from Lois. A maid, dressed in a white uniform with aqua-colored laces on the front, opened the door, carrying a tray with two cups of tea, which she put on the glass-topped coffee table, one in front of Mr. Zi and the other in front of Lois. Then she withdrew from the room.
“I'm a reporter writing stories on eminent people like you.” Lois didn't care to be a white liar. “Do you mind telling me something about yourself?” She was ready with a notepad and a pen. Mr. Zi was as tall as her father, more robust, with a long face, a hooked nose like an eagle's beak, and round beaded eyes above high cheekbones. His tanned skin was smooth and his hair looked dyed black. He had long fingers, which meant he was clever, a palm reader would say.
“No. Indeed, I'd very much like you to write my biography,” he chuckled teasingly. Lois could not help but smile. “I moved from South America to the U. S. fifteen years ago with my wife,” he continued. “I had saved quite a bit money there; so when I moved here, I opened a Chinese restaurant at first. I named it CHICKEN DEPOT because I had collected a hundred different recipes for chicken cooking, which are on our menus in the restaurants. Some day you can come to one of my restaurants to try the recipes. It's my treat. As the business flourished, I opened more chain restaurants and then invested my money into other businesses like laundromats and gift shops and bakeries. Most of my businesses are in New York City. Some are in Jersey City and Newark.”
“I heard that you often made donations for charity purposes.” Lois esteemed the people who could feed back to the communities when they earned money from the public.
“I like the idea of doing good to society when becoming rich.” He picked up the cup, took a swig of tea from it and put it back on the saucer. He sat back on the sofa, making himself comfortable.
“You are a kind man, very considerate.” Lois praised him heartily, sitting on another sofa a little away from him. She glanced at the teacup as though unable to decide whether to drink it or not. She really didn't like tea, but must she just take a sip out of politeness? Mr. Zi smiled modestly.
“You are a man of success and of interest, too. I'd like to write your biography, if you can supply me with more materials.” Lois wanted some pretext to come here more often so that she could know more about this master.
“You can get all the materials you want from my secretary, Helen, about my businesses.” He passed his right hand over his hair, just on the verge of turning grayish at the temples.
“How about your private life? Readers will be more intrigued if I can include it and you'll be more popular.” Lois needed more chances and threw out the bait.
“Oh, yeah, I understand. You can talk to my wife, if you want.” The big fish took the bait.
“I will. I feel honored to have such an opportunity to know Mrs. Zi, but rumors say that your second wife disappeared mysteriously.” This was an unwise move. As soon as Lois said it, she regretted it. Too late.
“I think that you need facts, not rumors, but it's a long sad story. I am not in a mood to talk about it right now.” He stood up, a gesture meaning that the interview was at an end.
“Sorry to have provoked your unhappy retrospection.” Lois stood up, too, and turned to leave.
“Sorry, Miss, I have business to attend to now.” Mr. Zi rang a bell on the coffee table and the valet came in. Lois followed the valet out.
***
When Lois left Mr. Zi's mansion, she felt hungry and found a fast-food restaurant in a small town on her way back. Unexpectedly, she met an old classmate of hers. They hadn't seen each other for several years. Both were so excited that they talked and talked, recalling the golden olden days in school, so free of care, so happy together, that they were forgetful of time slipping by till it was late at night. They exchanged phone numbers and said goodbye to each other.
Lois was on the highway heading home. There was not much traffic at that time. She was driving in the middle lane when she saw from the rearview mirror that a vehicle was fast approaching from behind in the left lane. A good detective would notice everything and be prepared for everything, even though not suspicious at the moment, so that she should not be taken by surprise. When the vehicle drew up alongside her car, she saw it was a Cherokee jeep. For a few seconds they went side by side. Then the jeep began to swipe toward her car. As she saw the jeep veering her way, she moved quickly to the right lane and accelerated at the same time. The jeep missed her car by a thread’s breadth. Now Lois drove over the speed limit to escape. If she would be caught speeding by the police and given a ticket, it was fine with her. She even wished that there were a police car nearby to pursue her. At least the jeep could no longer chase her. But no police cars were in sight, though generally they were out of sight before they suddenly appeared behind you. Now the jeep followed closely and bumped her car from behind. Lois moved to the next lane and suddenly braked, causing a skid. Another car came from behind and honked. The driver was nimble and careened to the left lane in time to avoid hitting Lois's car, also by a hair’s breadth. But the driver of the jeep didn't think that Lois would make such a drastic move and so he shot past Lois. He slowed down, waiting for Lois to come up, but then he found that Lois stopped altogether at some distance behind him. He was at a loss of what to do. Then he backed up fast to Lois's car, hoping to bump her car with the rear of his jeep. Before he was halfway down, Lois moved to the next lane again and simultaneously flung out a coin aided by her chi through the open window at the jeep. The coin pierced the front tire on the driver's side and made it flat. Lois sped past the jeep. The driver took out a gun and shot at Lois's car. The bullets landed on the car body, shattering the windowpane of the right-side rear door, but didn't stop the car. A few minutes later the car was out of his sight.
Lois used her cell phone to call the local police as she drove away and told them where to find the thug who had attacked her, but when the police arrived there, the jeep was gone.
***
Next day Lois got up late. She slipped out of her sleeping gown and wriggled into her daily clothing: khaki pants, a silk blouse and a jacket. She combed her jet-black hair and tamed it into a ponytail as usual. When she came downstairs, her father had already left for work, Alida was at school and Tricia and Sally had gone to the office.
“Lois, what's the matter with your car?” Mrs. Lin asked with concern. Lois told her mother about her adventure last night. “Be careful,” her mother said tritely.
“I will, Mom.” After breakfast, Lois took her car to the garage to have it fixed. She left the car there and Sally picked her from the garage and drove back to the office.
“Who would have done that to you?” Tricia wondered after Lois narrated the adventure last night.
“I have no idea,” Lois said, bewildered as well.
“Who knew you would go to Long Island?” asked Sally, drinking hot cocoa from a Styrofoam cup.
“Mr. Zi, of course, but he doesn't seem like such a person.” Lois dispersed the suspicion with the wave of her hand. She leaned back in her swivel chair, closing her eyes, mentally exhausted.
“Everything is possible,” Sally persisted in her doubt. She threw the empty cup in the garbage pail, then took out a gum from her desk drawer. “Oh, no,” Tricia moaned, rolling her eyes upward. “I will send you to a clinic for gum addicts.”
“I forgot to tell you that before I dropped my car at the garage, I used my high-tech detector and found a bug in my car, which functions as a listening device as well as a tracer. So it's hard to say Mr. Zi is a suspect for that. Of course, I'll keep an eye on him.” She got up and went to the attached kitchenette to have a cup of coffee.
“From now on, you must use your detector every time before you get into your car. If it was a bomb, you would be dead,” Tricia advised.
“You are right, Tricia.” Lois turned halfway to smile at her for her sisterly solicitude.
***
“Richard, you have a visitor.” Mrs. Chang called from the front doorway. Richard was in the den contemplating what had happened these days. When he heard his wife call him, he stood up from the cross-legged sitting position and walked to the front door. There was a man in his fifties, of middle height, a total stranger to him. His wife stepped back, letting Richard go forward to address the stranger. “Who are you, sir?”
“I am the father of David Li, who died in your house.” He spat out these words so icily that the words seemed to freeze in the air.
“Please, come in, Mr. Li,” said Richard with a polite gesture to invite Mr. Li into the house. When Mr. Li settled on the sofa and Richard in an armchair, Mrs. Chang brought a cup of green tea for the guest. It was a Chinese-styled set with a lid and a saucer of the same color and design.
“It's my pleasure to meet you, Mr. Li. What can I do for you?” asked Mr. Chang with a slight forward inclination of the head, somewhat like a bow.
“I come to demand an explanation of why you killed my son,” Mr. Li said in a serious tone, endeavoring to suppress his tears, but his voice betrayed his grievous emotions.
“I'm sorry for your son's untimely death, but I didn't kill him. The police didn't say that I killed him, though he died in my house.”
“The police know nothing about such things. His Death Xue was pricked. You know that as well as I do,” Mr. Li insisted.
“That's right, but it's not I who hit his Death Xue. The Death Xue had been pricked six hours before he died. He was in my house for only one hour,” Richard told Mr. Li truthfully.
“I don't care about that. I only know he died in your house. You are the sole suspect to me. Either you give me back my son or I'll fight with you to avenge my son.” The bereaved sorrow made him irrational. He sure had a quick temper.
Mrs. Chang stood aside all the time. When she saw that Mr. Li was threatening her husband, she was quivering all over and could only say, “Please, don't. Please, don't.” Mr. Li ignored her, glowering at Richard as if he would devour him like a boa does a doe.
“I didn't kill your son. I won't fight with you,” Richard responded tranquilly. “If you want to kill me to avenge your son, you can do it right here and now. I won't resist.” Richard shut his eyes, waiting to be killed.
“What about your reputation as a renowned master if you dare not fight with me?” Mr. Li used a strategy of instigation. But Mr. Chang said placidly, “I don't care much about reputation now. I care more about death.”
“So you are afraid of me? You are a coward?” Mr. Li shouted.
“Whatever you say, Mr. Li. I won't fight with you. You can kill me if it will make you feel better,” Richard said sedately. Though Mr. Li lost his reason in the wrath and woe, he could not kill a person like this. Either he or Richard would die in a fair duel. That was required by the dignity of a master. He could not force Richard to fight. He could only leave without vengeance.
***
Sam called their office. “May I speak to Lois?”
“This is she speaking.” Lois cradled the bow-like receiver against her shoulder while she was writing something on her notepad.
“Hi, Lois, can you help me to check something out in Newark?” Sam sounded urgent.
“Sorry, I'm kind of busy, but Tricia can, I think,” Lois replied. “Will you hold on, please?” She pushed on the hold button without waiting for Sam to say another word. Tricia picked up the phone and talked to Sam.
Since Lois had seen Sam's name scribbled on a scrap paper in Tricia's desk drawer, she had avoided Sam as much as possible. As an eldest sister, she must consider the welfare of her other sisters first. That's the requirement of the Chinese traditional virtue standards, quite contrary to the modern concept to fight for anything worth vying for among sisters, brothers and friends. Now she was busy on the cases, no time for love affairs. She must keep an eye on Mr. Erik Hsu, her sole suspect in David’s case at present. David Li worked in his company and he was a master, which meant that he knew how to hit the Death Xue. All was too coincidental and suspicious. Sally now went to work in his company undercover and might discover something helpful.
***
“Dad, a master on your list, Mr. Chen, is paralyzed for one and a half years because of the stray chi, can you help him to break through the clogged xue?” Lois asked her father expectantly.
“Not every case is curable,” her father said. “I must look at him first.” Mr. Lin was a kind person and liked to help other people whenever he could.
“Good,” said Lois enthusiastically. “As the store is closed today, we can go now, can't we?” After beholding an affirmative gesture from her father, Lois made a phone call first, then drove to Brooklyn with her father in the passenger seat.
On their arrival, they were welcomed into the house by his wife. After careful examination, Mr. Lin said, “Your case is hopeful, Mr. Chen. It would be quicker, if we can get a ginseng at least five hundred years old.” Hearing this, Mr. and Mrs. Chen had a glint of hope in their eyes. Mr. Chen was lanky and dwarf, only five feet four inches, sixty-three years of age, with short gray hair. Mrs. Chen had a bit more flesh on the bones than her husband, but could not be defined even as plump. However, she was certainly a bit taller than Mr. Chen, five feet six inches, and three years younger. Silver threads could be detected in her hair. Even in the prime of her youthful days, she was just ordinary, could not be deemed as pretty, but Mr. Chen was gratified with her mediocre features, saying, “Although beauty pleases the eyes, sometimes it will bring you troubles. Only the shining virtues will bear you benefits.”
“I know there's such a ginseng,” Mrs. Chen ejaculated.
“Where is it?” asked Mr. Lin and Lois in unison.
“But I don't want to get it from him,” Mr. Chen said firmly.
“At least you can tell me in whose hands it is now,” Lois pressed.
“John Zi.” replied Mrs. Chen, glancing at her husband, dissatisfied with his stubbornness.
“He's known as a kind charity donator. He may give it up for your health,” Lois ventured.
“I don't want to accept any favor from him even if he's so generous,” said Mr. Chen with absolute certainty, leaving no alternatives.
“Why not?” Lois inquired scrupulously.
Mr. Chen kept silence.
“Okay, I'll do my best to help you, with or without such a ginseng,” Mr. Lin promised.
“I don't know how to thank you enough. You're my life saver. When I'm healed, I'll do whatever you want me to do to repay you,” Mr. Chen said with a grateful beaming countenance.
“It's my human duty to help others.” Modesty was the motto of Mr. Lin. He would go to Mr. Chen's house thrice a week.
“You met Mr. Zi once, didn't you?” Mr. Lin asked Lois at the breakfast table. “Can you go again to ask about the ginseng? If he doesn't want to donate, we can pay for it.”
“I'll try,” Lois said. “But I really don't understand why Mr. Chen opposed it so strongly.”
“There may be something personal that happened between them that we don't know about and we are not in a position to inquire. Some masters are eccentric, too,” said her father.
***
Mr. Li was in the kitchen of his restaurant. He was eating a bowl of fried rice for dinner when he heard some unusual noises in the customer's dining area. He pushed open the swinging door and saw two boys wearing black masks and holding guns in their hands backing out the front door. The sudden notion struck him: robbers. Mr. Li slung one of the chopsticks he was using at one of the boys. It dipped into his right shoulder and the gun fell on the floor. The two boys turned and escaped. His wife stood behind the register, stunned and speechless. She had never had such an experience before during the fifteen years this business had been going. Only a couple of hundred bucks had been taken. It was not a big sum, but the robbery would affect the business. Who would come to a restaurant with the risk of being robbed or even shot? Someone wanted to ruin him. The idea came immediately to his mind, but who?
When the police came, they picked up the fallen gun, which turned out to be a very authentic-looking toy gun. Nice job! Young people nowadays were really amazing. Maybe, the manufacturing business was really amazing, added to the cleverness of the young people today. Thanks to the Maker, who made such high-IQed creatures!
***
That night, Mr. Li turned and tossed on his bed, unable to fall asleep. The question of who would do that to him whirled in his head, making him dizzy.
The next morning, Mrs. Chang opened the front door after hearing a roll of heavy knocks on it. She was astounded to see a wrathful Mr. Li standing there. She invited him to come in, but he didn't move, only saying, “Let your husband come out.”
“Sorry, he's not at home right now,” Mrs. Chang apologized in a quavering voice, feeling a little frightened before the incensed Mr. Li.
“Then tell him not to pull any more of his stupid stunts on me, or I swear I'll kill him.” With these words, he stomped off in a hurry and in fury.
Mrs. Chang was scared and called Lois. “Mr. Li came again and threatened to kill us,” she sobbed out the words.
“Is he still there?” Lois asked anxiously.
“No, he left.”
“Don't worry, I'll come over,” Lois soothed her.
When Lois arrived, Richard was back already. They sat in the living room and Mrs. Chang told her husband and Lois about what Mr. Li had said. “What stunt did he mention?” Richard asked.
“He didn't say anything in particular,” said Mrs. Chang.
“Maybe something happened to him or to his family,” Lois guessed. “And he thought it was your doing.”
“I didn't do anything to him,” Richard pleaded on his behalf. “I don't even know where he lives.”
“Don't worry, Dry Mother. I'll see to it. I'll go right now to talk it over with him.”
***
Lois found Mr. Li in his restaurant with a big sign above the door bearing the name “Cook the Great”, which sounded like “Alexander the Great” in world history. They took seats in a corner booth. “What happened?” Lois asked in a low voice so that the diners would not overhear her. When she came into the knowledge of the robbery, she said, “We don't have any proof to link the event to anyone who may be behind it. Perhaps it was just some impulsive street juveniles who needed money.” Seeing Mr. Li not convinced, she added, “Will you let me know first if anything takes place again? We can't act on surmise. It will hurt people. “ Mr. Li nodded with some scruple.
“Will you trust me to act on your behalf, because I don't want any innocent people hurt.” Lois pressed a little more once again. Mr. Li smiled his consent and importuned Lois to stay for lunch.
***
“What can I do for you this time, Miss Lois?” Mr. Zi asked politely in a very formal manner, clasping his long fingers on his lap.
“I heard that you have a ginseng five hundred years old. Can I buy it from you?” She fixed her gaze at Mr. Zi, all smiles.
“From whom did you learn it?” Mr. Zi asked with a hardly perceptible frown.
“It doesn't matter who told me. A good reporter never reveals the source.” She smiled innocently.
“What do you want to use this for?” He looked at her, a little curious.
“A friend of my father's is paralyzed and needs it for a quick recovery,” said she truthfully.
“Sorry, you are late. I already gave it to a friend of mine for the same purpose. If I still had it, you could have it for free, but… “ Mr. Zi looked away and spread out his hands, palms upward, a gesture which showed that he could do nothing now.
“Can I talk to your wife to glean some materials from her about your biography, since I'm here?” Then she added, “It's a long way to come over.”
“Sure, why not?” He rang a bell and a maid came in. “Bring Miss Lois to Mrs. Zi's guestroom.” He gave the maid his command. Lois thanked him and followed the maid out.
Mrs. Zi's guest reception room was much smaller, but everything was shrouded with embroidered silk of a grass green color. There were sofas with silk coverings and cushions in silk cases, a silk cloth on a round table, even chairs clad in silk, windows with silk tapestries and walls hung with paintings in rosewood frames, paintings of mandarin ducks, peonies, chrysanthemums, azaleas, bamboos, storks and pine trees, all in beautiful colorful silk embroidery. The maid brought in teacups, which she put on the plum-blossom-shaped rosewood mats on the coffee table in front of the sofa. The coffee table also had a silk cloth on it. Mrs. Zi and Lois sat on the sofa, ready for a tête-à-tête. Mrs. Melissa Zi was an American woman with an oval face, brown eyes, brown hair loosely hanging to her shoulders, and an athletic figure. She had on a watermelon green silk dress to her knees and a pair of emerald green satin slippers. She revealed a white row of neat teeth when grinning. She didn't put on any jewelry, because jewels were to wear when going out, not at home, certainly not for twenty-four hours.
“I'm writing a biography for your husband and need some information from you, too,” stated Lois after a self-introduction and handshake.
“I will tell you what I know,” Mrs. Zi grinned, showing her pearl white teeth.
“Your husband has a lot of friends, I guess?”
“Yes, a lot,” she said with pride in her voice.
“Do you know if any of his friends is paralyzed?” This question was really irrelevant to the biography writing, but Mrs. Zi was not a person to doubt much.
“None that I know of.” She grinned again.
“Do you know that he has a ginseng five hundred years old?”
“He has many ginseng stored in his study, but I don't know how old they are.”
“Do you know that your husband's second wife disappeared?”
“I heard of it.” No more grin this time.
“Do you know why?”
“I'm not a curious woman, certainly not one to be jealous of the non-existing.”
“You sure live in a comfortable magnificent edifice. Can you show me around?”
Mrs. Zi most obligingly complied and led the way through the maze of corridors and opened every door for Lois to admire the grandeur of every room. Lois made a mental map of all the bearings. |
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发表于 2008-9-6 23:35:00