Crazy Rich Asians

Just as the ladies reached the front entrance of the hotel, Mr. Wong suddenly came running out of the lounge. “Okay, okay, ten thousand,” he said breathlessly. Eleanor beamed in triumph as she followed the man back to the table.

Mr. Wong made a quick phone call on his cell, and then said to the ladies, “Okay, my informer will be here very soon. Until then, what would you ladies like to drink?”

Lorena was a little surprised to hear this — she had assumed that they would be taken to some other place to meet the informer. “Is it safe to meet right here?”

“Why not? This is one of the best hotels in Shenzhen!”

“I mean, it’s so public.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll see that it will be just fine,” Mr. Wong said, grabbing a handful of macadamia nuts from the silver bowl on the table.

A few minutes later, a man entered the bar, walking with trepidation toward their table. Eleanor could tell just by looking at him that he was from some rural area and that it was the first time he had set foot in a hotel as fancy as this. He wore a striped polo shirt and ill-fitting dress pants, and carried a metallic-silver briefcase. It looked to Lorena like he had just picked up the suitcase an hour ago from one of those cheap luggage stalls at the train station, to make himself seem more professional. He looked nervously at the women as he approached the table. Mr. Wong had a short exchange with him in a dialect that neither woman could understand, and the man set his briefcase onto the granite-top table. He fiddled with the combination and clicked the locks on each side in unison before opening the briefcase lid ceremoniously.

The man took out three items from the suitcase and placed them on the table in front of the ladies. There was a small rectangular paper box, a manila envelope, and one photocopy of a newspaper clipping. Lorena opened the manila envelope and fished out a yellowed piece of paper, while Eleanor opened the box. She peered into it, and then looked at the piece of paper Lorena was holding. She only read very basic Mandarin, so she was mystified by it. “What does all this mean?”

“Just give me a minute to finish, Elle,” Lorena said, scanning the last document up and down. “Oh my God, Elle,” she exclaimed, suddenly staring at Mr. Wong and the informer. “Are you sure this is completely accurate? There will be big trouble for all of you if it isn’t.”

“I swear on the life of my firstborn son,” the man replied haltingly.

“What is it? What is it?” Eleanor asked urgently, hardly able to contain herself. Lorena whispered into Eleanor’s right ear. Her eyes grew large, and she looked up at Mr. Wong.

“Mr. Wong, I’ll give you thirty thousand yuan in cash if you can take me right now,” Eleanor commanded.

13 Rachel

SAMSARA ISLAND

Sophie was splashing some water on her face when she heard an urgent rapping. She went to the door and found Rachel standing there, her lips white and her whole body shaking.

“What’s wrong? Are you cold?” Sophie asked.

“I … think … I think I’m in shock,” Rachel stuttered.

“WHAT? What happened?”

“My room … I can’t describe it. Go see for yourself,” Rachel said numbly.

“Are you okay? Should I call for help?”

“No, no, I’ll be fine. I’m just shaking involuntarily.”

Sophie immediately slipped into doctor mode, grabbing hold of Rachel’s wrist. “Your pulse is a bit elevated,” she noted. She grabbed the cashmere throw on her chaise lounge and handed it to Rachel. “Sit down. Take long, slow breaths. Wrap this around yourself and wait right here,” she instructed.

A few minutes later, Sophie returned to the villa, ablaze in anger. “I can’t believe it! This is outrageous!”

Rachel nodded slowly, having calmed down a little by this point. “Can you call hotel security for me?”

“Of course!” Sophie headed for the phone and scanned the list on it, looking for the right button to press. She turned back to Rachel and gave her a thoughtful look. “Actually, I’m wondering whether it’s the best idea to call security. What exactly could they do?”

“We can find out who did this! There are security cameras everywhere, and surely they must have footage of who went into my room,” Rachel said.

“Well … what would that really achieve?” Sophie ventured. “Hear me out for a second … No one’s committed any real crime. I mean, I feel bad for the fish, and it was certainly traumatizing for you, but if you think about it, this was just a nasty prank. We’re on an island. We know it had to be one of these girls, or maybe even a group of them. Do you really care who did it? Are you going to confront someone and make a scene? They’re just trying to mess with you — why give them more fuel? I’m sure they’re on the beach right now just waiting for you to go hysterical and ruin Araminta’s bachelorette party. They wanted to provoke you.”