“Really?”
“Yeah—he went with his best friend Colin when he was living in England. They used to travel to all these extremely hard-to-get-to places. Nick used to have quite the life before he met me and settled down.”
“You guys seem to have quite the life now,” Carlton said wistfully.
“You can have any type of life you want, Carlton.”
“I don’t know about that. You haven’t met my mother. But you know what? You will soon. I’m going to have a talk with Dad—he needs to stand up to her and end this idiotic blockade that she’s imposed. Once she meets you, once you are no longer this mysterious entity to her, she’ll see you for who you are. And she’ll come to appreciate you, I just know it.”
“It’s very kind of you to say that, but Nick and I were discussing it earlier today and we’re thinking of changing our travel plans. Peik Lin, my friend from Singapore, is flying up to visit me on Thursday. She wants to take me to Hangzhou for a spa weekend while Nick is off in Beijing doing his research at the National Library. But when we get back next week, I think we’ll head home to New York.”
“Next week? You were supposed to be here until August—you can’t leave so soon!” Carlton began to protest.
“It’s better that way. I realize that it was a huge mistake for me to make this trip so soon. I never gave your mother enough time to adjust to the idea of me. The last thing I want to do is cause a lasting wound between your parents. Really.”
“Let me talk to them. You can’t leave China without seeing Dad again, and I want my mum to meet you. She has to.”
Rachel pondered things for a moment. “It’s up to you. I don’t want to impose on them any more than I already have. Look, we’ve had a fantastic time in China. And Paris, of course. Getting to spend all this time with you is already far more than I could have ever hoped for.”
Carlton locked eyes for a moment with his sister, and nothing more needed to be said.
4
RIVERSIDE VICTORY TOWERS
SHANGHAI
For many Shanghainese who had been born in Puxi—the historic city center—the glittering new metropolis on the other side of the river called Pudong would never be part of the real Shanghai. “Puxi is like Pu-York, but Pudong will always be Pu-Jersey,” the cognoscenti snidely remarked. Jack Bing, who hailed from Ningbo in Zhejiang Province, had no time for such snobberies. He was proud to be part of the new China that built Pudong, and whenever guests came to his triplex penthouse at Riverside Victory Towers—a hulking trio of ultra-luxurious apartment complexes that he had developed on the riverfront of Pudong’s financial district—he would proudly walk them around the sprawling rooftop garden of his 8,888-square-foot penthouse and point out the new city that stretched as far as the eye could see. “A decade ago, all this was farmland. Now it is the center of the world,” he would say.
Today, as Jack sat on the titanium and Mongolian gazelle lounge chair Marc Newson had custom designed for him, sipping his glass of 2005 Chateau Pétrus on the rocks, his thoughts lingered on the memory of an afternoon spent alone at the Palace of Versailles at the end of a business trip, where he delighted in stumbling upon a small exhibition devoted to Chinese antiquities in the court of Louis XIV. He was admiring a portrait of the Emperor Qianlong in a small gallery tucked behind the Hall of Mirrors when a large tour group of Chinese tourists crowded into the space. A man in head-to-toe Stefano Ricci pointed at the portrait of the emperor dressed in a Manchu-style fur cap and murmured excitedly, “Genghis Khan! Genghis Khan!”
Jack left the gallery hastily, afraid he might be associated with this group of ignorant Chinese. Imagine these heathens not knowing one of their greatest emperors, who ruled for more than sixty years! But as he strolled along the grand canal that bisected the majestic gardens of Versailles, he began to wonder whether the French themselves might today recognize a portrait of their own king who had built such an impressive monument to his power. Now, as Jack stared out at the curving crescent of golden lights along the Pudong waterfront, counting the buildings that belonged to him, he pondered his own legacy, and how the people of this new China might remember him in centuries to come.
The familiar click-click of his daughter’s high heels soon broke the silence, and Jack quickly removed the ice cubes from his wine and tossed them into the potted tan hua plant nearby. He knew Colette would scold him if she saw them. A couple of ice cubes missed the Ming ceramic planter and skidded across the floor, leaving faint red streaks along the Emperador marble.
Colette barged into his study all a-huff. “What’s wrong? Is Mother okay? Is Nainai okay?”
“Your grandmother is still alive as far as I know, and your mother is at her reflexology appointment,” Jack said calmly.
“Then why did you need me so urgently? I was in the middle of a very important dinner with the world’s most acclaimed chefs!”
“And that’s more important than seeing your own father? You come back from Paris and you would rather dine with the help?”
“This top truffle dealer was about to offer me his prized white Alba truffle when you called, but now I think that sneaky Eric Ripert has snagged it. I was going to surprise you with the truffle.”
Jack let out a snort. “What really surprises me is the way you keep disappointing me over and over again.”
Colette stared at her father quizzically. “What have I ever done to disappoint you?”
“The fact that you don’t even know is so telling. I went to such lengths to help Richie Yang orchestrate the perfect proposal to you, and look what you did in return.”
“You were part of that whole scheme? Of course you were—if I had planned the affair, it would have been so much more tasteful!”
“That’s not the point. The point is that you were supposed to say yes, like any normal girl who is being serenaded by one of the most expensive singers in the world.”
Colette rolled her eyes. “I like John Legend, but even if you had paid John Lennon to rise from the grave and sing ‘All You Need Is Love’ to me, the answer would still be no.”
Colette saw something move out of the corner of her eye and turned to find her mother standing by the doorway. “What are you doing skulking in the shadows? Have you been home all this time? You knew Dad was involved all along, didn’t you?”
“Aiyah, I couldn’t believe it when you turned Richie down! We have both wanted this for you ever since you started dating him three years ago,” her mother said with a deep sigh, planting herself down on the gilded settee.
“It’s not like I’ve been seeing him exclusively. I’ve been dating many other men.”
“Well, you’ve had your fun, and now it’s high time you got married. I had you by the time I was your age,” Mrs. Bing chastised.
“I can’t even believe we’re having this conversation! Why did you send me to the most progressive schools in England if all you expected out of me was to get married at such a young age? Why did I bother studying so hard at Regent’s? I have so many goals, so many things I want to accomplish before I become anyone’s wife.”
“Why can’t you accomplish your goals while you’re married?” Jack argued.
“It’s not the same, Father. Besides, my situation is so different than when the both of you were young. Sometimes I wonder if I even need to get married at all—it’s not like I need a man to look after me!”
“How long do you intend to make us wait until you are ready for marriage?” her mother demanded.
“I think I won’t be ready for at least another decade.”