GH-47

Chapter Fourteen Part 2: Submission, Jealousy, and Arrival 

To spare Shui Huo’s feelings, Mom joked that French-kissing was the highest honor in Japanese etiquette. With Yedun’s silent OK, Mom and Chusheng also locked lips though Mr. Shui was clearly miffed, despite Mom’s intervention.  

At mealtime, Dad and I ate alone I had to tend to him while the group feasted at the forward table.  

The sisters just blushed at the spectacle, especially Xin’er, who was clearly moved. Mom and Leng Niang doted on their men, feeding and serving until they were satisfied.  

Several hours passed, and with Shui Huo’s tacit consent, Leng Niah and Chusheng became inseparable. By landing time, Shui Huo was all but ignored, just another attendant, while Leng Niang clung to “Master” like the devoted wife.  

Chusheng meant to return for official business, but with Yedun’s invitation, he accompanied us to Shinjuku, Yedun’s stronghold.  

Right off the plane, a massive, bald, terrifying man awaited browless, sun-tanned, broad-chested, and unmistakably menacing. Yedun and this brute exchanged nods; then Yedun introduced him in Japanese.  

Chusheng nodded, exchanged polite Japanese, and this black-browed ogre bowed deeply.  

“Yedun says that bald, terrifying man is his younger brother, Yedun Jiro he runs all of Dongsheng’s underground in Japan,” explained Xin’er, the Interpol agent, to me and Ling’er (of course multilingual cops).  

Mom and Leng Niang then bowed low, greeting Jiro in fluent Japanese seemingly, even Leng Niang was fluent. How’d she learn? Spying, presumably.  

Xin’er scowled. “I’ve chased this Jiro before international wanted man, but he bribed his way off the list. Watch out he’s a born killer.”  

Ling’er elbowed her. “We’re here to relax, not fight. Don’t screw up Mom and Auntie’s plan!”  

Jiro suddenly shot us a serpent’s glare my knees went weak. His eyes were ice.  

“Hmph.” Xin’er swallowed her glare.  

Mom smoothed things over, introducing us all in Japanese Xin’er, too sullen, refused to translate.  

Jiro’s gaze lingered on the sisters flicking a black-toothed grin.  

“Disgusting!” Xin’er looked away.  

Eventually, we boarded separate cars headed for Yedun’s lair.  

Dongsheng HQ was a massive Tokyo office tower, swarmed by paparazzi. Dad was whisked off for special treatment, while we the “main party” met the press.  

I tagged along, Mom’s bag man.  

When a Chinese reporter asked if Mom really intended to “marry out” her empire to a Japanese devil, Mom ignored them, answering only Japanese reporters.  

Eventually, the Chinese journalists caught on and switched to Japanese, at which point Mom deigned to reply. I couldn’t catch much, but I figured she was just repeating the usual line.  

Once free of the press, Yedun wrapped an arm around Mom, declaring, “Tonight, you’ll attend the Dongsheng reception with me.”  

“Anata, don’t worry I’ll win over those wavering companies.” Mom simpered, supremely confident in her seductive wiles.  

The look she gave Yedun telegraphed absolute adoration.  

“Back in China, I told all of you to act submissive before Japanese men. But now we’re in Japan it’s time to play the proud, powerful Chinese lady again. At tonight’s formal reception, anything less would dishonor Dongsheng,” Yedun barked, newly emboldened, as if back on his own turf.  

“I’ll follow your word, Anata!” Mom was ever his docile servant, but in front of the circling reporters, she exuded a regal, imperious aura suddenly every inch the unapproachable queen.  

I followed, gaping, up to the private penthouse. A servant, at Yedun’s nod, stepped forward to steer me away.  

Shit was I to be locked up? I shot Mom a terrified look.  

Mom glanced back, then scoffed, “This is your father’s lair. Worried he’ll hurt you, coward?”  

I caught her message.  

“Mrs. Yedun is right a Chinese son should never fear his own parent!” I groveled.  

Yedun didn’t even glance my way, so I meekly followed the servant to a bedroom where Dad lay with pills and a nurse.  

“Qi-san just finished treatment. His body is too weak needs nutrients,” said the young maid, neither plain nor a stunner, but cute enough in her maid outfit.  

“Thanks.” Dad actually looked healthier. Had Yedun really helped him? Unlikely he’d killed my grandfather.  

I texted Ling’er. She replied eventually that Leng Niang was in some high-level meeting, while Xin’er and Jiro butted heads Xin’er, remembering Kaklik’s death, was frosty, while Ling’er, weirdly, didn’t hate Jiro, even said she “found him attractive” in a savage way, and teased me about my cuckold kink.  

Funny Ling’er was the only one who knew it, and she loved rubbing it in.  

I told her, “Don’t forget why we’re here this is dangerous.”  

Later, Ling’er replied that all three women had been invited to the evening gala, as “China’s beauties,” and were getting glammed up.  

I, apparently, wasn’t invited.  

I ended up babysitting Dad, stuck in that room, wondering what was going on out there.  

That night, browsing the Japanese gossip rags, I found photos: Mom in an elegant red gown stunning face, icy air clinging to Yedun, while Leng Niah, in yellow, did the same. The sisters, in black and white, likewise clung to Jiro, though Xin’er’s eyes were guarded.  

They made it back safely, and I finally drifted off, exhausted.