The Crazy Rich Asians Trilogy

“Oliver T’sien, what a pleasure!”

“The pleasure is all mine, ma’am. May I humbly present Mrs. Kitty Bing of Shanghai, Los Angeles, and Singapore.”

“It’s an honor to be in your beautiful country, Your Majesty,” Kitty blurted out nervously, before remembering that she wasn’t supposed to speak first.

The Dowager Sultana pursed her lips and stared at Kitty for a brief moment, saying nothing. She sat down on a throne-like Bergère chair, and Oliver and Kitty took their seats again. An army of maids entered the room bearing gold-lacquered platters filled with Malay desserts and steaming pots of tea.

As the maids began serving tea to everyone, the Dowager Sultana smiled at Oliver. “Come, don’t be shy! I know how much you love ondeh ondeh.”

“You know me too well,” Oliver said, helping himself to one of the bright green rice-cake balls stuffed with palm sugar and rolled in grated coconut.

“Now, what brings you to this neck of the woods today?”

“Well, Kitty has recently become enchanted with Malaysia, so since we were in town, I thought it only fitting that she meet this country’s greatest living legend.”

The Dowager Sultana beamed. “Oh Oliver, you make me sound like a fossil! Tell me, child, what do you like about my country?”

Kitty stared at the sultana blankly. Until today, she had never set foot on Malay soil and didn’t know a thing about the country. “Er…well…I love the people most of all, Your Majesty. So warm and…hardworking,” Kitty said, thinking of the half a dozen or so Malay maids that worked at Cluny Park Road.

The Dowager Sultana pursed her lips again. “Really? I was not expecting to hear that at all. Most people tell me how much they love our beaches and our satay. So do you intend to put down some roots here?”

“Well, if I can find a palace as beautiful as yours, I’d be very tempted.”

“Why thank you, but this is no palace. This is just a house.”

“Kitty’s husband, Jack Bing, is one of China’s premier industrialists. So they are highly interested in investing in Malaysia.”

“Well we do have such a wonderful relationship with China. And I do adore that First Lady of yours,” the Dowager Sultana said, picking up a piece of ondeh ondeh with her fingers and chewing on it slowly.

“Oh, you’ve met her?” Kitty said excitedly, forgetting royal protocol again.

“Why yes. I gave her an audience at my palace in Perawak. What an accomplished woman, and what a voice! Now, tell me, Oliver, how has your dear grandmama been since I last saw her?”

“Her health is excellent, ma’am. But I must confess her spirits have been rather low lately. As you know, my great-aunt Su Yi’s passing has affected her greatly.”

Kitty, feeling bored, began to zone out on the photo of the sultana with Michelle Obama. She was trying to identify the designer of Michelle’s red dress. Was it Isabel Toledo or Jason Wu? She felt sorry for the First Lady—that poor woman was obligated to only wear American designers.

The sultana continued to speak. “Ah yes, it was such a beautiful funeral. Did you not enjoy my son’s eulogy to Su Yi?”

“It was remarkable. I did not know that the sultan spent a year living at Tyersall Park.”

“Yes, when he was doing a special course at the National University of Singapore, Su Yi was kind enough to host him. I’m afraid he found the Malay embassy accommodations to be lacking, and he was much more at home at Tyersall. You do know his great-grandfather was the sultan who originally built it?”

“Forgive me, ma’am, I had forgotten. No wonder he would feel a kinship to the place. If I might venture to ask, was Su Yi ever conferred with a title?”

Kitty’s ears suddenly pricked up.

“To my knowledge, she wasn’t. I believe in the 1970s the Agong*—whoever it was back then, I’ve lost track—tried to honor her, but she graciously turned it down. She was already Lady Young, and never even used that title. Alamak, what would Su Yi need a title for? There was never any doubt of her position. I mean, she already had Tyersall Park. What more do you need?”

“That’s quite true.” Oliver nodded, stirring his tea.

“Tell me, Oliver, what is going to happen to that spectacular palace now?” the sultana asked, her brow furrowing.

“Oh it’s anyone’s guess. My cousins are entertaining an avalanche of offers. Every day I hear there’s someone new coming in with an even higher bid. We’re in the billions now.”

“I’m not surprised at all. If I was younger, I might have considered it as a home in Singapore myself. Of course, it will never be the same without Su Yi, but whoever ends up living there will be tremendously fortunate.”

Oliver sighed dramatically. “Sadly, though, I don’t think that will happen. The house will surely be torn down.”