Free The Nine Fold Heaven by Mingmei Yip

including a bar. A door led to a curtained bedroom with a broad bunk. Though I liked his boat and was sure it had cost a lot, it did not seem so impressive compared to the rich men’s mansions I had visited.
    But I said excitedly, “Oh, heaven! It’s so beautiful. I’ve never been in a sea palace like this!”
    Edward gave me an appreciative once-over, his eyes lingering on my breasts and slim waist conspicuous under my simple, crocheted top and blue slacks. Then he took my hand and led me back onto the deck. We leaned on the railing, silently inhaling the fresh air while appreciating our expansive view of the river with its scattered junks, boats, and ships weaving back and forth in front of the city’s skyline.
    “Jasmine, I’m glad you like it. I use this for both business and pleasure. People feel more relaxed out on the water and thus speak their minds more freely. Sometimes I also come here by myself to think or meditate on the flowing river.”
    “How interesting,” I said, calmed by the rhythmically undulating waves, “I also used to come here to sing to the rising sun and its reflection on the water.”
    “Did you?” he cast me a curious look, “When? You mean you could just leave the orphanage and come here?”
    Damn. I’d forgotten Confucius’s famous precept, “A refined person is careful in speech.”
    Fortunately, I had to learn early in life to make up answers quickly.
    “Of course not, they’d never let me do that when I was in the orphanage. It was after I left.”
    The crew already cast us off from the dock and we were now under way, the engine throbbing quietly, making it easy to change the subject.
    “So today there’ll be only the two of us?”
    “Just us, and, of course, my captain and his mate. I like to steer the boat myself, but this way I can enjoy your company.”
    “It’s fine with me, Edward.” I smiled mysteriously. “No one from the orphanage is going to see me here with you.”
    “Jasmine, I’ll be right back.” He returned with two flutes of champagne. “To our wonderful cruise,” he said, smiling handsomely while tapping my flute with his.
    I returned his toast with a coyly flirtatious smile. “To our cruise, Edward.”
    My diplomat friend went on enthusiastically. “We will be passing some of Shanghai’s most scenic spots: the Bund’s Western-style skyscrapers, the Customs House with its bell tower, Shasun Mansion with its pyramid top, the Garden bridge at Suzhou Creek, and many more. I’m sure we’ll have a good time.”
    From behind his back, Edward produced an orange orchid and put it above my ear.
    Staring at a few sea gulls gliding above the waves, I thought of a poem and began to recite it for Edward:

    Last year the plum blossom failed to bloom,
This year it bloomed aplenty.
Every year the petals unfurl to welcome Spring,
How many times to appreciate a flower,
even if you live to a hundred?
Why busy oneself rushing in all directions?

    After I finished, he exclaimed, “What a lovely poem! And how well you recite it!”
    “You flatter me too much, Mr. Ambassador. Poetry is just a hobby for me. And, Edward, you know so much about Chinese culture!”
    “Jasmine, from the first time I met you I knew you were different from the others. As the Chinese say, ‘After one look at the loftiest mountain, all the other hills look flat.’ ”
    What a naive foreigner, and a Consul General at that! If only he knew how different I was: That I could throw knives with deadly accuracy. That I was skilled in having sex in the most contorted positions possible. That I was indeed an orphan but rescued from the orphanage, not because of anyone’s compassion, but, on the contrary, to be trained as an assassin.
    After more compliments bouncing back and forth between us like Ping-Pong balls, Edward suggested we go down into the salon for a late lunch. From the galley he took a platter of cold snacks, placed them on the center table, and we began to eat. When he was busy