Crazy Rich Asians (41 page)

Rachel sighed audibly. “You were right, Nick, this
is
the best scone on the planet.”

Nick grinned triumphantly.

“Mrs. Young, I am still discovering the history of Singapore. Was afternoon tea always
a custom in your family?” Rachel asked.

“Well, I am not a native Singaporean. I spent my childhood in Peking, and we of course
did not follow the British custom there. It was only when my family moved here that
we picked it up, these colonial habits. It was something we first did for our British
guests because they didn’t much appreciate Chinese cooking. Then, when I married Nick’s
grandfather, who had spent many years abroad in England, he insisted on a proper afternoon
tea with all the trimmings. And of course the children loved it. I suppose that’s
how I got used to it,” Su Yi replied in her slow, deliberate way.

It was only then Rachel realized that Nick’s grandmother had not touched any of the
scones or finger sandwiches. Instead, she ate only a piece of
nyonya kueh
with her tea.

“Tell me, is it true that you are a professor of economics?” Su Yi asked.

“It is,” Rachel replied.

“It is good that you had the opportunity to learn such things in America. My father
was a businessman, but he never wanted me to learn about financial matters. He always
said that within a hundred years, China would become the most powerful nation the
world has ever seen. And that is something I always repeated to my children and grandchildren.
Isn’t that right, Nicky?”

“Yes, Ah Ma. That’s why you made me learn my Mandarin,” Nick confirmed. He could already
see where this conversation was headed.

“Well I was right in doing that, wasn’t I? I am fortunate enough to see my father’s
foresight come true in my lifetime. Rachel, did you watch the Beijing Olympics opening
ceremony?”

“I did.”

“Did you see how magnificent it was? No one in the world can doubt China’s might after
the Olympics.”

“No, they really can’t,” Rachel replied.

“The future is in Asia. Nick’s place is here, don’t you think?”

Nick knew Rachel was headed straight into an ambush, and interrupted her before she
could answer. “I have always said that I would return to Asia, Ah Ma. But right now
I am still gaining valuable experience in New York.”

“You said the same thing six years ago when you wanted to remain in England after
your studies. And now you’re in America. What’s next, Australia, like your father?
It was a mistake to send you abroad in the first place. You have become far too seduced
by Western ways.” Rachel couldn’t help noting the irony in what Nick’s grandmother
was saying. She looked and sounded like a Chinese woman in the most traditional sense,
and yet here they were in a walled garden straight out of the Loire Valley having
English afternoon tea.

Nick didn’t know how to respond. This was a debate he had been having with his grandmother
for the past few years, and he knew he would never win. He started to pick apart the
colored layers in a piece of
nyonya kueh
, thinking he should excuse himself for a moment. It would be good for Rachel to have
some private time with his grandmother. He glanced at his watch and said, “Ah Ma,
I think Auntie Alix and family will be arriving from Hong Kong any minute now. Why
don’t I go welcome them and bring them here?”

His grandmother nodded. Nick smiled at Rachel, giving her a look of assurance before
stepping out of the conservatory.

Su Yi tilted her head to the left slightly, and one of the Thai lady’s maids immediately
sprang to her side, bending in one graceful motion onto her knees so that her ear
was level with Su Yi’s mouth.

“Tell the conservatory gardener that it needs to be five degrees warmer in here,”
Su Yi said in English. She turned her attention back to Rachel. “Tell me, where are
your people from?” There was a forcefulness in her voice that Rachel had not previously
noticed.

“My mother’s family came from Guangdong. My father’s family … I never knew,” Rachel
answered nervously.

“How come?”

“He died before I was born. And then I came to America as an infant with my mother.”

“And did your mother remarry?”

“No, she never did.” Rachel could feel the Thai lady’s maids staring in silent judgment.

“So, do you support your mother?”

“No, quite the contrary. She put herself through college in America and is now a real
estate agent. She’s done well for herself and was even able to support me through
my university studies,” Rachel responded.

Su Yi was silent for a while, considering the girl before her. Rachel
didn’t dare to move at all. Finally, Su Yi spoke. “Did you know that I had quite a
few brothers and sisters? My father had many concubines who bore him children, but
only one supreme wife, my mother. She bore him six children, but out of all my siblings,
only three were officially accepted. Myself, and two of my brothers.”

“Why only the three of you?” Rachel ventured to ask.

“You see, my father believed he had a gift. He felt that he was able to ascertain
a person’s entire future based on their faces … the way they looked … and he chose
to keep only the children he felt would go on to please him. He chose my husband for
me this way as well, did you know that? He said, ‘This man has a good face. He will
never make any money, but he will never hurt you.’ He was right on both counts.” Nick’s
grandmother leaned in closer to Rachel and stared straight into her eyes. “I see your
face,” she said in a hushed tone.

Before Rachel could ask what she meant, Nick approached the conservatory door with
a cluster of guests. The door burst open, and a man in a white linen shirt and bright
orange linen pants bounded toward Nick’s grandmother.

“Ah Ma, dearest Ah Ma! How I’ve missed you!” the man said dramatically in Cantonese,
dropping to his knees and kissing her hands.

“
Aiyah
, Eddie,
cha si lang
!”
^†
Su Yi scolded, withdrawing her hands and smacking him across the head.

Nassim Road

“God is in the details.”
Mies van der Rohe’s iconic quote was the mantra Annabel Lee lived by. From the sculpted
mango popsicles handed out to guests lounging by the pool to the precise placement
of a camellia blossom on every eiderdown pillow, Annabel’s unerring eye for detail
was what made her chain of luxury hotels the favored choice for the most discriminating
travelers. Tonight the object of scrutiny was her own reflection. She was wearing
a high-collared champagne-colored dress woven from Irish linen, and trying to decide
whether to layer it with a double strand of baroque pearls or an opera-length amber
necklace. Were the Nakamura pearls too ostentatious? Would the amber beads be subtler?

Her husband, Peter, entered her boudoir wearing dark gray slacks and a pale blue shirt.
“Are you sure you want me to wear this? I look like an accountant,” he said, thinking
his butler had surely made a mistake in laying out these clothes.

“You look perfect. I ordered the shirt specifically for tonight’s occasion. It’s Ede
& Ravenscroft—they make all of the Duke of Edinburgh’s shirts. Trust me, it’s better
to be underdressed with this crowd,” Annabel said, giving him a careful once-over.
Although there were grand events every single night of the week in the ramp-up to
Araminta’s wedding, the party that Harry Leong was throwing tonight in honor of his
nephew Colin Khoo at the fabled Leong
residence on Nassim Road was the one Annabel was secretly most eager to attend.

When Peter Lee (originally Lee Pei Tan of Harbin) made his first fortune in Chinese
coal mining during the mid-nineties, he and his wife decided to move their family
to Singapore, like many of the newly minted Mainlanders were doing. Peter wanted to
maximize the benefits of being based in the region’s preferred wealth management center,
and Annabel (originally An-Liu Bao of Urümqi) wanted their young daughter to benefit
from Singapore’s more Westernized—and in her eyes, superior—education system. (The
superior air quality didn’t hurt, either.) Besides, she had tired of the Beijing elite,
of all the interminable twelve-course banquets in rooms filled with bad replicas of
Louis Quatorze furniture, and she longed to reinvent herself on a more sophisticated
island where the ladies understood Armani and spoke perfect accentless English. She
wanted Araminta to grow up speaking perfect accentless English.

But in Singapore, Annabel soon discovered that beyond the bold-faced names that eagerly
invited her to all the glamorous galas, there hid a whole other level of society that
was impervious to the flash of money, especially Mainland Chinese money. These people
were snobbier and more impenetrable than anything she had ever encountered. “Who cares
about those old mothball families? They’re just jealous that we’re richer, that we
really
know how to enjoy ourselves,” her new friend Trina Tua (wife of the TLS Private Equity
chairman Tua Lao Sai) said. Annabel knew this was something Trina said to console
herself that she would never be invited to Mrs. Lee Yong Chien’s legendary mah-jongg
parties—where the women bet with serious jewelry—or get to peek behind the tall gates
of the magnificent modernist house that architect Kee Yeap had designed for Rosemary
T’sien on Dalvey Road.

Tonight she was finally going to be invited in. Even though she maintained homes in
New York, London, Shanghai, and Bali, and even though
Architectural Digest
called her Edward Tuttle–designed house in Singapore “one of the most spectacular
private residences in Asia,” Annabel’s heartbeat quickened as she passed through the
austere wooden gates of 11 Nassim Road. She had long admired the house from afar—Black
and Whites
^*
like these were so exceedingly
rare, and this one, which had been continuously occupied by the Leong family since
the twenties, was perhaps the only one left on the island to retain all of its original
features. Entering through the Arts and Crafts front doors, Annabel quickly soaked
in every minute detail of the way these people lived.
Look at this whole row of Malay servants flanking the entrance hall in crisp white
blazers. What are they offering on these Selangor pewter trays? Pimm’s No. 1 with
fizzy pineapple juice and fresh mint leaves. How quaint. I must copy that for the
new Sri Lanka resort. Ah, here is Felicity Leong in tailored silk jacquard, wearing
the most exquisite piece of lilac jade, and her daughter-in-law Cathleen, the constitutional
law expert (this girl is always so plain, with not a drop of jewelry in sight—you
would never guess she’s married to the eldest Leong son). And here is Astrid Leong.
What was it like for her to grow up in this house? No wonder she has such great taste—that
robin’s-egg blue dress she’s wearing is on the cover of French
Vogue
this month. Who’s this man whispering to Astrid at the foot of the stairs? Oh, it’s
her husband, Michael. What a stunning couple they make. And look at this drawing room,
oh just look! The symmetry … the scale … the profusion of orange blossoms. Sublime.
I need orange blossoms in all the hotel lobbies next week. Wait a second, is that
Ru ware from the Northern Song dynasty? Yes it is. One, two, three, four, there are
so many
pieces. Unbelievable! This room alone must have thirty million dollars’ worth of ceramics,
strewn about as if they were cheap ashtrays. And these Peranakan-style opium chairs—look
at the mother-of-pearl inlay—I’ve never seen a pair in such perfect condition. Here
come the Chengs of Hong Kong. Look how adorable those children are, all dressed up
like little Ralph Lauren models
.

Never had Annabel felt more content than right now, when at last she was breathing
in this rarified air. The house was filling up with the sort of aristocratic families
she had only heard about over the years, families that could trace their lineage back
thirty generations or more. Like the Youngs, who had just arrived.
Oh look, Eleanor just waved at me. She’s the only one who socializes outside the family.
And here’s her son, Nicholas—another looker. Colin’s best friend. And the girl holding
Nicholas’s hand must be that Rachel Chu everyone is talking about, the one
that’s
not
one of the Taiwan Chus. One look and I could have told you that. This girl grew up
drinking vitamin-D calcium-fortified American milk. But she still doesn’t have a chance
of catching Nicholas. And here comes Araminta with all the Khoos. Looking like she
belongs
.