The Crazy Rich Asians Trilogy

AL: So where are you now? You’re going to be late!

MT: Already here. I’m sitting one row behind and across from u.

Astrid swiveled around and saw Michael seated across the aisle.

AL: Why are you over there?

MT: Don’t pretend u don’t know. Your father’s fucking bodyguards wouldn’t let me into your row!

AL: I promise you I had nothing to do with that. Come join us now.

Michael stood up, but before he could leave his pew, a cluster of guests walking up the aisle blocked him from moving. Instead, they were being directed into his row, and a lady wearing a chic dark gray silk shantung dress with a silver gray frayed bouclé topper coat and black gloves was ushered into the seat next to him.

Astrid’s jaw dropped. She spun around and faced Oliver, who was seated just behind her. “Am I hallucinating, or is that who I think it is over there in head-to-toe Chanel couture?”

Oliver turned and saw the lady who had just taken the seat on the aisle opposite from him. “Holy Anita Sarawak!” he muttered under his breath. It was Colette, sitting with her husband, the Earl of Palliser, and the British ambassador. How stupid of him—of course the earl would attend. His father, the Duke of Glencora, was great friends with Alfred Shang.

Eagle-eyed Nancy T’sien leaned over and whispered to Oliver, “Who is that girl over there?”

“Which girl?” Oliver asked, feigning ignorance.

“The pretty Chinese girl sitting with all those ang mors.” As the two of them looked at Colette, she suddenly swept her hair aside, revealing an enormous jade butterfly brooch pinned to her left shoulder. Oliver turned white as a sheet.

Nancy almost gasped, but she stopped herself. Instead, she said, “What an exquisite brooch. Mummy, do you see that lady’s lovely jade brooch?” She tugged furiously at Rosemary T’sien’s elbow.

“Oh. Yes,” Rosemary paused for a moment in recognition. “How lovely it is.”

Just then, Reverend Bo Lor Yong approached the pulpit and spoke too close to the microphone. His voice came out booming: “Your Majesties, Highnesses, Excellencies, Mr. President, ladies and gentlemen, may I present Shang Su Yi’s dearest grandson, Edison Cheng, accompanied by the one and only…Lang Lang!”

The crowd murmured excitedly at the announcement of the celebrated pianist, and all eyes were on the main altar as Lang Lang walked to the grand piano and began to play the opening chords of a curiously familiar melody. The doors of the cathedral swung open, and eight Gurkha guards from Tyersall Park stood silhouetted in the dramatic arched entrance, bearing Su Yi’s casket on their shoulders. Captain Vikram Ghale was the lead pallbearer, and as they slowly began to enter the nave of the cathedral, Eddie emerged from the shadows of the transept and took his place in front of the piano, a lone spotlight on him. As the guests in the church stood up respectfully, the casket made its way up the central aisle as Eddie began to sing in a quivering tenor:

“It must have been cold there in my shadowwwwww,

to never have sunlight on your faaaaaaace…”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Nick muttered, burying his face in his hands.

“They cut your speech for this?” Rachel was furious and yet trying desperately not to laugh.

“Did I ever tell you you’re my heeeee­eeeee­eero…” Eddie belted out, not quite hitting the right pitch.

Victoria turned to Felicity with a frown. “What on earth?”

Felicity whispered to Astrid, “Do you know this hymn?”

“It’s not a hymn, Mum. It’s ‘Wind Beneath My Wings’ by Bette Midler.”

“Bet who?”

“Exactly. She’s a singer Ah Ma would never have heard of either.”

As the guards proceeded up the aisle, everyone in the cathedral suddenly went quiet as they caught sight of Su Yi’s two devoted Thai lady’s maids. Swathed in dark gray silk dresses with a single black orchid pinned above their breasts, they walked five paces behind her casket, tears running down their faces.

* * *

*1 Just count the commas and you’ll understand what Eddie means: $1,000,000,000.

*2 A Singlish term meaning “to reserve.” Singaporeans chope seats at concerts, hawker centers, and other public venues by placing a packet of tissue paper on the seat.