Shanghai Girl Read Online Free

resist. "I can’t open Father’s mail."
    "What a silly girl you are. Your father’s dead and your mother has remarried. You’re the only Hong here. Open it, Sha-fei. See what America has to say to you," urges Aunt Cheng.
    "That’s right. That’s right. You’re the only legitimate Hong here, Sha-fei," says, Teacher Gao, smiling. Her bespectacled head hovers over the mail in my hands.
    "Sorry, I have to go. I may have forgotten to lock my apartment door when I got the chop."
    I run to the apartment and lock the door behind me. Holding my breath, I tear the aerogramme open.
     
     
    Dear old pal Tao,
 
    Yes, this is your good old Gordon Lou from Columbia -- long time no see. Three decades have passed in the blink of an eye. Believe it or not, I have a last-minute arrangement to visit Shanghai the 2nd week of January ‘85 for some business. Will stay at the Shanghai Plaza. I’d be happy to see you during my one-week’s stay.
 
    Hope all is well.
    Gordon
 
    "Gordon," I repeat the name under my breath, not Marlene. Mr. Gordon Lou apparently doesn’t know that Father has died five years ago. His scheduled arrival is just is a week from now, at the beginning of my winter break. Father’s old friend from America is coming to visit Shanghai! What should I do? Contact Mother? But her stomach is like a watermelon right now. A male watermelon Stepfather’s likeness, an orangutan in the flesh, suddenly appears before my eyes. I choke on the thought, my throat again a drought-devastated land. I am hit by the urge to get the pail of water still in the kitchen.
    Ignoring my neighbors in the kitchen as I carry the pail out proves difficult. Aunt Cheng puts down her cooking spatula and blocks my way. "What does the American letter say, Sha-fei?"
    I want to say I didn’t read it, but the words come out differently. "Nothing. Someone’s looking for Father, but you all know it’s impossible now," I say coldly, trying to leave.
    Aunt Cheng snatches the pail in my hand and drops it on the concrete floor near our feet, sending cold water spattering. "Who is he? An American?" she demands.
    "No. I don’t know who he is. Someone who knew Father."
    Aunt Cheng’s eyes become two surprised ping-pong balls. "Wonderful, Sha-fei! Your rich relative from America is here. Now you can finally go abroad. Don’t forget us poor folks here, Sha-fei girl!"
    "What are you talking about?"
    Aunt Cheng puts her arm around my neck and presses my shoulder. "Just think, Sha-fei, your father suffered so much since you people moved here from the Upper Corner. It’s all because of his overseas connections. At least now you can benefit from his past."
    Father’s past. A past once considered disgraceful and suddenly so desirable in the eyes of these same neighbors. They were eyewitnesses to his arrest on that autumn day. I was barely seven.
    Father was preparing lessons at his desk while I folded origami dolls on the floor by his feet. An approaching siren pierced my ears. I clasped my hands on the windowsill and looked down. Struck by the rare sight of an army-green jeep parking in front of our building’s common entrance, I called out, "Father, look! There’s a jeep downstairs."
    Rising, Father frowned, his face turning grim. I sensed something wrong. Before I could ask, our door was kicked open. Three ferocious-looking men in navy-blue uniforms stormed in. The man in the lead shouted, "Is Tao Hong home?"
    Father came forward, "I’m Tao Hong. What do you-?"
    Two men grabbed his arms and pinned them behind his back. The third man pulled out a dirty white towel and shoved it into Father’s mouth. He then took out a rope and tied Father’s hands.
    "We’re from the Public Security Bureau," the man in the lead announced. "You are under arrest, Tao Hong!"
    The men pushed Father against his desk, where his class notes lay. Trailing them silently into my parents’ bedroom that also served as Father’s study, I was too frightened to know what to do.