Crazy Rich Asians

“No, daughter, never bring flowers! Especially not those white ones you love. White flowers are only for funerals. You should bring them a big basket of mandarin oranges, and hand it to them with both hands. And make sure that you bow your head very deeply when you greet his mother and father for the first time. These are all gestures of respect.”

“I know, Mom. You’re acting like I’m five years old. Why are you suddenly getting so worried?”

“This is the first time you have been serious with a Chinese man. There is so much you don’t know about the proper etiquette with these families.”

“I didn’t realize you could be so old-fashioned,” Rachel teased. “Besides, Nick’s family doesn’t seem really Chinese at all. They seem more British if anything.”

“It doesn’t matter. You are Chinese, and you still need to behave like a properly brought-up Chinese girl,” Kerry said.

“Don’t worry, Mom. It’s just dinner,” Rachel said lightly, even though her anxiety was beginning to build.

18

The Youngs

SINGAPORE

With its prime position atop Cairnhill Road, the Residences at One Cairnhill was a striking marriage of architectural preservation and real estate wizardry. Originally the home of prominent banker Kar Chin Kee and built during the late-Victorian period, the house had long been a landmark. But as land values skyrocketed over the decades, all the other big houses gave way to the developers and high-rise towers sprang up around the graceful mansion like overgrown bamboo. By the time the great man died in 2006, the house was deemed far too historic to tear down, yet far too valuable to remain a single residence. So Kar Chin Kee’s heirs decided to preserve the original structure, converting it into the base of a sleek thirty-story glass tower where Nick’s parents now lived (when they were in Singapore, that is).

As the taxi climbed the hill toward the imposing Corinthian-columned portico, Nick explained its history to Rachel. “Uncle Chin Kee was a friend of my grandmother’s, so we used to visit every Chinese New Year, and I would be made to recite some elaborate poem in Mandarin. Then the old man, who reeked of cigars, would give me a hong bao^* stuffed with five hundred dollars.”

“That’s insane!” Rachel exclaimed. “The biggest hong bao I ever got in my life was fifty dollars, and that was from this asshole dating my mom who was really trying to win me over. What did you do with all that money?”

“Are you kidding? My parents kept it, of course. They kept all my New Year money—I never saw a cent of it.”

Rachel looked at him in horror. “That’s just wrong! Hong baos are as sacred as Christmas presents.”

“Don’t get me started on what they did with my presents on Christmas morning!” Nick laughed. As they entered the elevator, Rachel inhaled deeply as she prepared to meet Nick’s parents—these hong bao snatchers—for the first time.

“Hey, don’t forget to breeeeathe,” Nick said, massaging her shoulders gently. On the thirtieth floor, the elevator opened directly into the penthouse’s foyer and they were greeted by an enormous pane of glass that framed a panoramic view of the Orchard Road shopping district. “Wow!” Rachel whispered, marveling at the deep purple dusk settling over the skyline.

A woman appeared from around the corner and said, “Aiyah, Nicky, why is your hair so long? You look like a ruffian! You better get it cut short before Colin’s wedding.”

“Hi, Mum,” Nick said simply. Rachel was still reeling from the abruptness of this encounter when Nick continued, “Mum, I’d like you to meet Rachel Chu, my girlfriend.”

“Oh, hello,” Eleanor said, as if she had no idea who the girl might be. So this is the girl. She looks better than in that school yearbook picture obtained by the detective.

“It’s so nice to meet you, Mrs. Young,” Rachel found herself saying, although her mind was still trying to accept the notion that this woman could actually be Nick’s mother. Rachel had been expecting an imperious grande dame with a powdered white face and a tight perm dressed in some Hillary Clinton–esque pantsuit, but before her stood a striking woman in a trendy scoop-neck top, black leggings, and ballet flats, looking far too young to have a thirty-two-year-old son. Rachel bowed her head and presented her gift of oranges.