son, Jinying, was not there for the occasion.
I turned to my patron. “Master Lung, how come your son’s not here? Didn’t you invite him?”
Lung made a face. “Of course I did. But he said he doesn’t believe in gambling. Must have learned that at HarFud.”
I knew I was not supposed to further inquire, so I changed the subject. “Hmm ... then what about Shadow? I don’t see her either.”
“Ha! What a thought, Camilla. I know you two are becoming like sisters. But you think any gambling house would invite a magician so she can trick all the money into her pockets and disappear?” He playfully patted my cheek. “Huh?”
“Of course you’re right, Master Lung.”
Just then the abbot, an emaciated, ancient figure, lifted a hand to signal the arrival of the auspicious moment—two o’clock sharp. We cut the ribbon as onlookers applauded, shutters snapped, and firecrackers popped, followed by the beating of drums, blasting of trumpets, and clanging of cymbals—all to scare away evil spirits and welcome the gods to protect the business.
When the noise subsided, we were all invited to sit on a row of chairs under the temple roof and offered fragrant tea. We started to sip as a red-maned yellow “lion” pushed aside the excited crowd and danced toward us, followed by renewed beating, banging, and clanging. Seemingly encouraged, the three-man team covered by the lion costume pranced around, leaping up, then kowtowing to all the guests, particularly Master Lung. We all laughed and applauded at their blinking, long-lashed eyes and trembling, flowing manes.
Next, each of the two men in front mounted the shoulders of the one behind him. Then the “lion” reared up to be ready to “grasp the green”—snatch the lettuce hanging from the roof for everyone’s good luck. I was excited to watch the “lion,” or the three men, perform all kinds of kungfu gymnastics—fists thrusting, legs kicking, making imaginary offerings to heaven and earth, kowtowing in the four auspicious directions. Finally, after all the contorting, the top man made a vigorous sweep of his kungfu hand and snatched the green vegetable hung high from the temple’s roof.
I peeked at Lung. He looked extremely happy, even relaxed, a rare moment for him. Of course with all these bodyguards around him and the audience having been meticulously screened, what could possibly go wrong?
But the dance wasn’t over. The two men on top jumped down, and the lion began to cavort again, playing with the vegetable, tearing it up, chewing it, and scattering its pieces all over the ground.
Lung, Mr. Zhu, the abbot, and Chief Li yelled, “Excellent! Money will flow in endlessly like the Huangpu River!”
As I watched, the lion approached Lung and opened its mouth. Lung’s hand plunged into his pocket. My heart skipped a beat. Was Lung pulling a gun? But then I realized that it was time for the lion to receive its fat red lucky-money envelope.
Just then a thunderous sound racked the air. All looked up and saw the smoke from huge strings of firecrackers exploding right above the gambling den. Red confetti showered down upon the crowd, another symbol of good luck.
But from the corner of my eye I spotted the opposite.
The man inside the lion’s-head mask, his face still hidden, took out a gun and fired at Master Lung. Because the firecrackers were still thundering out good luck, nobody noticed the assassination attempt except me.
A loud “Help! Master Lung is shot!” involuntarily shot out from my mouth as I saw Lung fall to the ground, followed by his even louder “Aiya!”
Then I bit the inside of my lips until I tasted blood.
How stupid!
What was wrong with me? Why couldn’t I just keep my mouth shut and let Lung bleed to death?! Had Lung died right here and now, I would be done with my near-impossible mission!
It took a few seconds for Lung’s gang to realize what had happened. Gao was the first to react, leaning over his boss to shield
I turned to my patron. “Master Lung, how come your son’s not here? Didn’t you invite him?”
Lung made a face. “Of course I did. But he said he doesn’t believe in gambling. Must have learned that at HarFud.”
I knew I was not supposed to further inquire, so I changed the subject. “Hmm ... then what about Shadow? I don’t see her either.”
“Ha! What a thought, Camilla. I know you two are becoming like sisters. But you think any gambling house would invite a magician so she can trick all the money into her pockets and disappear?” He playfully patted my cheek. “Huh?”
“Of course you’re right, Master Lung.”
Just then the abbot, an emaciated, ancient figure, lifted a hand to signal the arrival of the auspicious moment—two o’clock sharp. We cut the ribbon as onlookers applauded, shutters snapped, and firecrackers popped, followed by the beating of drums, blasting of trumpets, and clanging of cymbals—all to scare away evil spirits and welcome the gods to protect the business.
When the noise subsided, we were all invited to sit on a row of chairs under the temple roof and offered fragrant tea. We started to sip as a red-maned yellow “lion” pushed aside the excited crowd and danced toward us, followed by renewed beating, banging, and clanging. Seemingly encouraged, the three-man team covered by the lion costume pranced around, leaping up, then kowtowing to all the guests, particularly Master Lung. We all laughed and applauded at their blinking, long-lashed eyes and trembling, flowing manes.
Next, each of the two men in front mounted the shoulders of the one behind him. Then the “lion” reared up to be ready to “grasp the green”—snatch the lettuce hanging from the roof for everyone’s good luck. I was excited to watch the “lion,” or the three men, perform all kinds of kungfu gymnastics—fists thrusting, legs kicking, making imaginary offerings to heaven and earth, kowtowing in the four auspicious directions. Finally, after all the contorting, the top man made a vigorous sweep of his kungfu hand and snatched the green vegetable hung high from the temple’s roof.
I peeked at Lung. He looked extremely happy, even relaxed, a rare moment for him. Of course with all these bodyguards around him and the audience having been meticulously screened, what could possibly go wrong?
But the dance wasn’t over. The two men on top jumped down, and the lion began to cavort again, playing with the vegetable, tearing it up, chewing it, and scattering its pieces all over the ground.
Lung, Mr. Zhu, the abbot, and Chief Li yelled, “Excellent! Money will flow in endlessly like the Huangpu River!”
As I watched, the lion approached Lung and opened its mouth. Lung’s hand plunged into his pocket. My heart skipped a beat. Was Lung pulling a gun? But then I realized that it was time for the lion to receive its fat red lucky-money envelope.
Just then a thunderous sound racked the air. All looked up and saw the smoke from huge strings of firecrackers exploding right above the gambling den. Red confetti showered down upon the crowd, another symbol of good luck.
But from the corner of my eye I spotted the opposite.
The man inside the lion’s-head mask, his face still hidden, took out a gun and fired at Master Lung. Because the firecrackers were still thundering out good luck, nobody noticed the assassination attempt except me.
A loud “Help! Master Lung is shot!” involuntarily shot out from my mouth as I saw Lung fall to the ground, followed by his even louder “Aiya!”
Then I bit the inside of my lips until I tasted blood.
How stupid!
What was wrong with me? Why couldn’t I just keep my mouth shut and let Lung bleed to death?! Had Lung died right here and now, I would be done with my near-impossible mission!
It took a few seconds for Lung’s gang to realize what had happened. Gao was the first to react, leaning over his boss to shield
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