The Crazy Rich Asians Trilogy

“You’re right, Elle—there’s no need to rush into anything. Besides, after Shenzhen, all the cards are in your hand,” Lorena said gleefully as she scraped away the frosting from her cake.

“What happened in Shenzhen?” Francesca asked eagerly.

Eleanor ignored Francesca’s question and smiled. “I might not even have to play the Shenzhen card. Let’s not forget, all the Youngs and the Shangs are about to descend on Singapore for the Khoo wedding.”

“Oh-ho! Who wants to bet she doesn’t even last through the weekend?” Nadine cackled.

* * *

* Mandarin for the little red packets of money that are given out by married adults and the elderly during Chinese New Year to children and unmarried young people as an act of well-wishing. Originally a token coin or several dollars, the hong bao in recent times has become a competitive sport, as wealthy Chinese strive to impress one another by giving ever larger sums. In the 1980s, $20 was considered customary and $50 was a big deal. T

hese days, $100 has become the minimum in all the best houses. Since it is considered impolite to open a hong bao in the presence of the giver, this has led to the phenomenon of little children running off to the bathroom immediately after receiving one so they can peek at how much they’ve scored.

1

Tyersall Park

SINGAPORE

“Colin and I would speed down this slope on our bikes, hands in the air, seeing who could go the farthest without touching the handlebars,” Nick said as they were driven up the long winding driveway to Tyersall Park. Arriving here with Nick was an entirely different experience for Rachel from her first time with Peik Lin. For starters, Nick’s grandmother had sent a gorgeous vintage Daimler to pick them up, and this time Nick was pointing things out along the way.

“See that enormous rambutan tree? Colin and I tried to build a tree house in it. We spent three days working in secret, but then Ah Ma found out and was furious. She didn’t want anything to ruin her precious rambutan fruit and forced us to dismantle it. Colin was so pissed off, he decided to pluck down as many of the rambutans as he could.”

Rachel laughed. “You guys got into quite a bit of trouble, didn’t you?”

“Yep—we were always getting into scrapes. I remember there was one kampong* nearby we would sneak into to steal baby chickens.”

“Little rascals! Where was the adult supervision?”

“What adult supervision?”

The car pulled up to the porte cochere, and several servants emerged from a side door to remove their luggage from the trunk. The Indian butler came down the front steps to greet them.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Young, Miss Chu. Mrs. Young is expecting you for tea. She’s in the star-fruit grove.”

“Thanks, Sanjit, we’ll head there now,” Nick said. He guided Rachel past the red flagstone terrace and down a graceful allée, where white acanthus and colorful bursts of hibiscus mingled with lavish thickets of Egyptian papyrus.

“These gardens are even more glorious in the daytime,” Rachel remarked, running her fingers along the row of papyrus stalks swaying gently in the breeze. Enormous dragonflies buzzed about, their wings sparkling in the sunlight.

“Remind me to show you the lily pond. We have these enormous lily pads there—Victoria amazonica, the largest in the world. You can practically sunbathe on them!”

As they approached the grove, a most curious sight awaited Rachel: Nick’s ninety-something-year-old grandmother stood at the top of a wooden ladder that leaned precariously against the trunk of a tall star-fruit tree, painstakingly fussing over some plastic bags. Two gardeners stood at the foot of the rickety ladder, holding it steady, while a Gurkha and the two Thai lady’s maids looked on placidly.

“Sweet Jesus, she’s going to fall off that ladder and break her neck!” Rachel said in alarm.

“This is Ah Ma’s thing. There’s no stopping her,” Nick said with a grin.

“But what exactly is she doing?”

“She inspects every single one of the young star fruits and wraps each of them in their own plastic bags. The humidity helps them to ripen and protects them from birds.”

“Why doesn’t she let one of the gardeners do it?”

“She loves doing it herself—she does this with her guavas too.”

Rachel stared up at Nick’s grandmother, immaculately dressed in a crisply pleated yellow gardening smock, and marveled at her dexterity. Su Yi looked down, noticing that she had a new audience, and said in Mandarin, “One minute—I just have two more to do.”

When Nick’s grandmother had safely descended the ladder (much to Rachel’s relief), the group proceeded down another pathway that led to a formal French walled garden where a profusion of African blue lilies were planted amid perfectly manicured boxwood hedges. In the middle of the garden stood a jewellike conservatory that appeared to have been transported straight out of the English countryside.