Bury What We Cannot Take_A novel by Kirstin Chen

Author:Kirstin Chen [Chen, Kirstin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781542049702
Publisher: Little A
Published: 2018-03-19T23:00:00+00:00

18

Night after night, Ah Zhai tossed and turned in the newly vast four-poster bed, tangling himself in the bedding, darting awake before dawn. Each evening after work, his chauffeur delivered him to Cousin Cynthia’s, where he cajoled and begged the housekeeper to let him see Lulu. But the skinny, sullen servant barred the door, and once, when he’d pushed past her, she’d screamed for the kitchen boy to help. Cynthia herself had appeared at the top of the stairs with her arms crossed over her chest. “Really, Zhai,” she’d said, condescending as a headmistress, “you can’t force her to see you.”

Like any other couple, Ah Zhai and Lulu of course had their rows. He’d accuse her of behaving like a spoiled child, and she’d fire back that he was ungrateful, hard-hearted, and worse. A few years into their romance, after a particularly ferocious argument, she’d even packed her bags and returned to her uncle’s house. Ah Zhai had fumed and then wept and then resolved to honor Lulu’s decision. She was so beautiful and vivacious and young—he must have been an imbecile to think she’d settle for being his mistress. But less than twenty-four hours later, Lulu had marched through the front door and ordered the maid to unpack her luggage. Ah Zhai gingerly approached, and she melted into his arms, heaving with sobs. He showered her with kisses and held her until she quieted. He would never ask what made her change her mind, and she’d never offer to tell him, but he suspected her uncle had turned her away, that Lulu had realized then that Ah Zhai was all she had.

In the six years since the border had closed, Lulu and Ah Zhai had never spent a night apart—until now.

Bleary with fatigue, Ah Zhai made it through the morning by gulping down a steady stream of strong red tea. He pushed aside the documents he’d been struggling to read for the past hour, dialed his secretary’s line, and asked her to bring him a fresh pot.

“Of course, sir,” Wendy said.

He heard her move down the hallway in her sensible flat shoes. Unlike the other secretaries, she wore minimal makeup, boxy blouses, and skirts that covered her calves. He appreciated that about her. He disliked people who tried too hard to be something they were not.

Several minutes later, his secretary returned to her desk outside his office, but instead of bringing him the pot, she fell into conversation with someone who must have been waiting to see him.

“Please take a seat,” she said. “I’ll let Mr. Ong know you’re here.”

He glanced at the clock. There were no meetings on the calendar.

When the phone rang, he asked, “What’s holding you up, Wendy?”

“Your wife is here, sir.”

He very nearly dropped the phone. “What in heaven’s name for?”

Wendy answered evenly, “Well, sir, she didn’t say.”

Ah Zhai could think of no one he wanted to see less. Dazed with longing for his mistress, he felt, in some strange way, that seeing his wife right then would be a violation of his and Lulu’s love.

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