The Crazy Rich Asians Trilogy

“So now what? You’re going to throw him out of the house?” Shaoyen said facetiously.

“I could do more than that. I could threaten to disinherit him. Knowing he may no longer have a fortune to gamble away might help knock some sense into him,” Gaoliang mused.

Shaoyen’s eyes widened in alarm. “You can’t be serious.”

“I won’t disinherit him completely, but after all that’s happened, I think that giving him absolute control of everything would be a big mistake. Tell me, what is going to happen to everything we’ve worked so hard for? You especially—you took my father’s medical supplies company and single-handedly transformed it into a billion-dollar empire. Do you really think Carlton’s capable of taking the reins anytime soon? I’m thinking of getting Rachel more involved in the business. She’s a highly respected economist—at least she won’t run the company into the ground!”

Just then the door opened and Roxanne walked in. “Oh—you’re still here? I’m sorry to intrude, but I think Colette left her cell phone in here.”

Gaoliang saw it lying on a nearby chair and handed it to Roxanne. The minute the door closed behind her, Shaoyen began to speak again. “How dare you even think of bringing that girl into the company? How would Carlton feel?”

“I think Carlton couldn’t care less. He has shown no interest at all in doing anything serious with his life, and—”

“He’s still recovering from his accident!”

Gaoliang shook his head in frustration. “Carlton has done nothing but screw up over the past few years, but you keep making excuses for him every time. He races his car in London and almost gets himself killed, and you forbid me to criticize him because you think it will upset his recovery. He comes back to China and does nothing but party every night of the week with Colette Bing, and we say nothing. Now he goes to Paris and has the audacity to try to compete in another reckless race, and you’re still defending him.”

“I’m not defending him! But I can appreciate his inner struggle,” Shaoyen protested. If Gaoliang only knew what really happened in London, he would understand. But he couldn’t know.

“What inner struggle? The only struggle I’ve witnessed is how you’ve smothered him with all your pampering.”

Stung by his remark, Shaoyen let out an angry laugh. “So it’s all my fault then? You are too blind to see it, but your own actions are to be blamed! You let that girl come to China. She is the one who has destroyed the harmony in our family. She is the reason Carlton is acting so recklessly!”

“That is such nonsense! You heard it yourself from him tonight—Rachel was the one who talked sense into him, when he didn’t even value his own life!”

“How could he, when his own father has never valued him? Even when he was a baby, I could sense that you never loved Carlton the same way I did. And now I know why…it’s because you’ve never stopped loving that shabi* Kerry Chu, isn’t it? You’ve never stopped pining after her and your long-lost daughter!”

“You’re being ridiculous. You know very well I had no idea Kerry was even alive until a few months ago. I had no idea I had a daughter!”

“Then you’re even more pathetic than I thought! You are willing to give away your family’s legacy to a girl you barely know! I’ve bled for this goddamn company for over twenty years, and you’ll have to kill me before I see you hand it over to that…that bastard girl!” Shaoyen screamed, grabbing the half-empty teapot from the table and flinging it against the mirrored glass wall.

Gaoliang stared grimly at the smashed pieces of cracked porcelain and the amber lines of tea streaking down the mirrored wall. “I can’t talk to you when you’re like this. You’re clearly out of your mind,” he said, getting up from the table and leaving the room.

Shaoyen shouted after him, “I’m out of my mind because of you!”

* * *

* Mandarin for “stupid cunt.”

7

THE WEST LAKE

HANGZHOU, CHINA

As the last vapors of early-morning mist hovered over the still waters, the only sound to be heard was the discreet splish of the boatman’s single wooden oar as he rowed Rachel and Peik Lin through a secluded inlet of Hangzhou’s West Lake.

“I am so glad you dragged me out of bed to do this. This is beyond exquisite!” Rachel sighed contentedly as she stretched her legs out on the cushioned lounge seat of their traditional Chinese rowboat.

“I told you the lake is at its most beautiful right at dawn,” Peik Lin said, gazing at the poetry of lines created by the converging mountains. Far off, she could make out an ancient hilltop temple silhouetted against the pearl gray sky. There was just something about this landscape that touched her beyond words, and she suddenly understood how over the centuries all the great Chinese poets and artists were inspired by the West Lake.

As the boat drifted slowly under one of the romantic stone bridges, Rachel asked the boatman, “When were these bridges built?”

“There’s no telling, miss. Hangzhou was the favored retreat of the emperors for five thousand years—Marco Polo called it the City of Heaven,” he replied.

“I would have to agree with him,” Rachel said, taking another long, slow sip of the freshly roasted Longjing tea that the boatman had prepared for her. As the boat drifted through a watery grove of wild lotuses, the girls caught sight of a small kingfisher perched on the tip of a lotus stalk, waiting for the right moment to strike.

“I wish Nick could see this,” Rachel said wistfully.