Echo reads

Summary: Lust, Caution by Eileen Chang is a gripping tale of espionage, desire, and deception set against the backdrop of 1940s Shanghai.

 Bright light blazes over the mahjon’s table even in the day. Diamond rings shine with the rhythm of shuffling. The white table cloth is bound on the table legs, tighter, brighter, almost blinding the eyes. Light and shadow accentuates Jiazhi’s breasts. A face can also be examined by the cruel glare. A narrow forehead, untidy hairline, somewhat refine her angular face. Minimal makeup on both cheeks, only thin lips are glossed bloody red, combed front hair is loose, and back hair meets the shoulders, arms are bare. She is wearing a blue satin cheongsam adorned with water ripples motifs, small round collars just half inch high, reminiscent of western fashion. A brooch on the collar opening, complementing with sapphire-studded diamond earrings.

 Two Mmes. wearing black capes sitting next to her, a heavy gold chain links under their turned-down collars. Shanghai is isolated during the war, developing its local attire fashion. In the enemy-occupied area, the gold is more expensive than ever, such a heavy gold chain will cost a fortune, a substitute for coat’s button, clever, easy to flaunt, impossible to ignore—which is precisely why it’s become the unofficial uniform of women aligned with Wang Jingwei’s regime. Maybe under Chongqing government’s influence, they still think black coats are more formal than others.

 Mrs. Yi is in her own home, doesn’t wear her uniform, still sits like a bell, more rounded. She met Jiazhi in Hong Kong two years ago. Back then, Mr. and Mrs. Yi followed Wang Jingwei, left Chongqing, spent some time in Hong Kong. Zeng Zhongming, who follows Wang, had been secretly killed in Hanoi, withdrew into seclusion.

 Mrs. Yi wanted to buy things nevertheless. With wartime shortages everywhere, she couldn’t return empty-handed. Somebody introduced her Mrs. Mai (Jiazhi), she’s a local. The locals know better. Even in Hong Kong’s major department stores, bargaining was expected. Not knowing Cantonese meant being at a disadvantage. Mr. Mai was a foreign trade businessman who enjoyed cultivating friendships with officials. They treated Mrs. Yi with cordial hospitality. Mrs. Yi appreciated it very much. And now Hong Kong also falls in the war after the pearl harbor incident, and that stages Mr. Mai business. So Jiazhi needs to do business as well, to help him. She brings some watches, western medicines and perfumes for selling in Shanghai. This time Mrs. Yi insists let her stay in her home.

 “Yesterday we went to SHUYU-Mrs. Mai has never been here yet. “Mrs. Yi told one of the black capes.

[SHUYU: Shanghai Sichuan restaurant on Guangxi Road, famous for steaming delicacy. -Seen on Chinese eating by Tang lusun]

 “Oh.”

“Mrs. Ma hasn’t been around these past few days,” adds the other black cape.

 In mahjong’s clacking noises, Mrs. Ma mumbles that she has something need to take care of, about one relative.

 Mrs. Yi smiles, “it’s your turn to invite us to a meal, you can’t hide behind excuses!”

 Jiazhi suspected Mrs. Ma is jealous of her, since she’s here, the attention had quietly shifted to her.

 “Yesterday was Mrs. Liao’s treat, She’s been the only one winning these past two days. “Mrs. Yi tells Mrs. Ma, “We met Mr. Li and his wife and asked them to sit with us. Mr. Li said their guests had not come yet. I said, ‘Mrs. Liao rarely treats us—how could you refuse? By coincidence, Mr. Li invited lots of people to sit around the table. There weren’t enough seats, so we added more chairs, but even then, it was too crowded. Mrs. Liao ended up sitting behind me. I joked this is the rooster tile, better than others! Mrs. Liao smiled and then said I was old, and you still want to take advantage of me. I said Mapo Tofu is only made of the old Tofu! Oh my, everyone bursted into laughter! Even Mrs. Liao—the Mapo herself—was also blushed from all the laughing.

 Everyone laughs.

 “Who was it,” Mrs. Ma chimes in, “that joked during Mr. Li’s birthday—‘Mapo herself is bestowing blessings!’”

 Mrs. Yi is still telling Mrs. Ma about recent news. Then Mr. Yi comes in, nodding to other three guests.

 “Today you’re all starting early.”

 He watches the tiles, standing behind his wife. On the far wall hung thick curtains of brownish-yellow wool, emblazoned with towering red Huguenot Ferns, each stalk taller than a man and leaning into the next.

Zhou Fohai’s home have the same curtains—so does theirs. In the West, floor-to-ceiling drapes are becoming fashionable. But in war-torn Shanghai, curtain fabrics and matching patterns are a rare luxury. Owning such décor costs a small fortune.

His shadow falls against the big Huguenot Ferns’ world, dwarfing him in contrast.

He wears a gray suit, his face pale yet genteel. A receding hairline reveals a widow’s peak, and his nose—long and slightly rodent-like—is, in Chinese tradition, said to bring fortune.

 “Mrs. Ma, how many carats is your ring? Three carats? The day before yesterday Pinfeng stopped by again. They showed me a five-carat ring, but it didn’t shine like yours.” Mrs. Yi said.

 Mrs. Ma, “They all say Pinfeng’s products are better than other stores.”

 Mrs. Yi, “Middlemen always sells themselves—it’s hard to turn them down. But you can keep them for two more days at your convenience. Pinfeng sometimes do offer rare pieces. Last time, they had an oily diamond ring, Yi wouldn’t let me buy it.” she said, glancing briefly at her husband, “How much is it now? You can’t go wrong with oily diamond rings; the price rises to dozens of taels of gold. After that, Pinfeng said, ‘oily rings and pink diamond ring can’t sell no matter what price you list.’”

 Mr. Yi forced a smile, “That oily ring weighs more than ten carats—not even top-grade. A diamond is still just a stone. You can’t play tiles with such a burden.”

 On the table, it is indeed a rings’ exhibition, Jiazhi thought. Only she doesn’t have a diamond ring, always the jade one. Shouldn’t wear that, making others look down at me.

 “I have to listen to this nonsense after you didn’t buy it for me!” Mrs. Yi exclaimed, discarding a five-dot tile. The black cape sitting across Mrs. Ma crackling puts down all her tiles-she wins. Laugher and complains arises, cutting the conversation short.

 Everyone starts counting their scores. At that moment, Mr. Yi gave a subtle nod toward the door.

 Jiazhi glances at two black capes, good, no one seem to notice. She pays her chips, lifts the cup and takes a sip of tea, then suddenly says, “Oh, my poor memory! I have a business meeting at three o’clock. I totally forgot! What should I do? Could Mr. Yi help me plays a few rounds? I’ll be back soon.”

 “No way!” Mrs. Yi protested. “How could you not say so earlier? What a letdown!”

 “I just thought it’s my lucky turn,” grumbled the black cape who just won.

 “Unless Mrs. Liao comes instead.” Mrs. Li says, calling a servant, “Make a phone call to Mrs. Liao.” Then, turning to Jiazhi, Mrs. Yi added, “Wait until she arrives.”

  “Mr. Yi helps me play a few rounds.” Jiazhi took a glance at her watch, “It’s already late, I have a coffee shop appointment with a vendor.”

 “I’ve got something to handle today, few days later I’ll play Mahjong with you guys all night.” Mr. Yi said.

 “Wang Jiazhi is the worst!” Mrs. Yi likes to call Jiazhi with her family name, shows intimacy, like you call your classmate in the school. “This time has to punish you a little bit! Your turn to buy us a meal.”

 “It doesn’t make sense-how could you let a traveling guest to buy you a seated guest a meal?” Mrs. Ma objected, “Mrs. Mai (Jiazhi) is the guest, she came to Shanghai.”

 “Mrs. Yi has already given her the command. You protect her!” Another black cape laughs.

 Even their jokes have to be paid attention, although Mrs. Yi is old enough to be her mother, but they never talk about seeing her as a step daughter. At the age of Mrs. Yi, you will have a swinging mood-like old ladies who needs the young ladies to accompany, but also you will become jealous of them. 

 “Ok, ok, I’ll buy the dinner tonight,” Jiazhi said, “Mr. Yi helps me play, otherwise no dinner for you tonight.”

 “Help! Mr. Yi, please. Four players without one affect the luck. Just play it now, Mrs. Ma is calling others to come.”

 “I really have something to do,” Speaking of which, his voice is lower, “Later others will come to visit.”

 “I just know Mr. Yi doesn’t have spare time.” Mrs. Ma smiles.

 Was there a hidden message in that? Or is she just being sensitive? Jiazhi wonders. He said with a cheerful grin, and even Mrs. Ma’s words carried a hint of flattery. He clearly wanted people to notice, almost eager for someone to flatter him. No wonder they say, even solemn men sometimes forget themselves.

This is too dangerous. If she doesn’t succeed today, Mrs. Yi will know eventually.

 She is still bargaining with Mrs. Yi, but he’s already left. She talks herself out of it with all the efforts, comes back to her bedroom, without changing any clothes, just tidy it a little in a hurry. The maid comes in and says the car is waiting outside. Later, she gets in the car and order the driver to go to a coffee shop. After she arrived and gets off, she tells him to leave.

 Time is still early, no one is in the coffee shop, rows of wall lamps covered by apricot red pleats silk. It is a big place with small round tables, covered by jacquard linen tablecloth, kind of conservative. She goes to the counter and makes a phone call, then hang off after it rings four times. Later, she calls again. She’s afraid the waiter will find it strange, so she says embarrassingly, “Maybe I dialed the wrong numbers?”

 It’s the secret code for this assassination. And it is picked up this time.

 “Hi.”

 Thankfully, it’s Kuang Yuming’s voice. Even now, she’s afraid it’s Liang Runsheng who will pick up, although she knows he’s smart enough to let others do it.

 “Hi, second brother,” she says in Cantonese, “Is everything okay at home, these two days?”

 “Everything is fine. How about you?”

 “I will go shopping today, but time is not decided yet.”

 “Ok, never mind. We’ll wait for you anyways. “Where are you now?”

 “On Xiafei Road.”

 “Ok, then that’s it.”

 A moment of silence.

 “Then nothing else?” Her hands are cold, but she feels a moment of warmth and nostalgia towards home accent.

 “Nothing else.”

 “Probably I will go now.”

 “We can make it in time, no problem. Ok, see you later.”

 She hangs off and goes out to call a rickshaw.

Disclaimer: This is an original English translation of a Chinese literary work, rendered by the site owner for cultural appreciation and academic interest. All rights to the original text remain with the respective author or copyright holder.