One.

When I was younger, I had a care-taker. I used to fondly address her as ‘Nana’. Nana was a wonderful woman in her early thirties – same age as my mother’s, yet the two women were completely different. My mother couldn’t be bothered about my whereabouts, whereas Nana would anxiously wait for me to return from school. She’d tell the cooks beforehand to prepare my favorite meal so when I came back home, exhausted, there’d be something that cheered me up.

I wasn’t allowed to go out and play with the other kids, so Nana became my only playmate. We’d play with the expensive porcelain dolls which were passed on to me by my elder sister, whenever she got bored of them. Of course, father would gladly buy her more playthings. I, on the other hand, was the black sheep of the family. I never knew why they hated me so much.

I had even asked Nana if she knew anything about that. Nana had assured me that they didn’t hate me. Lies. Every time I sat at the dinner table for a meal with my family, I could sense their hostility. My mother would ask my sister about her day, and coo affectionately when she narrated some incident. And I would remain a mere spectator, invisible to their eyes, as they bonded over dinner.

One day, the worst thought came to my mind. I asked Nana about it. I was certain that I was adopted, which would explain why my parents never loved me as much as they loved my sister. Nana simply responded by saying I was speaking nonsense, and the two were indeed my biological parents. I felt dejected, because I just couldn’t understand why my parents never treated me the way they treated my elder sister.

Everybody could see the growing attachment I bore with Nana, that didn’t go down well on my mother. I believe it hurt her pride that some other woman had taken a place in my heart instead of my own mother. So to boost up her ego, she took that precious woman away from my life. She fired Nana and found two other playmates for me – Luhan and Liling. She said it would be more appropriate for me to play with kids my own age.

It took me a while to warm up to Luhan and Liling. They were friendly and kind. Years passed since Nana went away, Luhan, Liling and I became almost inseparable. But the words Nana told me at night were still etched in my mind.

“Everyone would eventually find their own happy ending,” she had said.

If that was true, where was mine?

                                                                                                                                 Shanghai, 1981

A soft record played in the background. Clouds of smoke filled up the air in a dimly lit room. The only source of light was a monochrome lamp placed over the table top, which illuminated the features of a man who was intently working on something. A young girl, sprawled comfortably on the couch, coughed out loud. The man remained unfazed by her constant coughs; he was busy rolling out a thin paper.

The girl whimpered slightly, her eyes were slightly lidded. “This stuff is weak,” she exclaimed, amidst her wheezing coughs. “Make the next one better.”

The man hummed softly in response, not averting his eyes off the table. Perhaps, it had something to do with the scantily clad girl. He was certain he wasn’t supposed to look at his employer’s daughter in such a manner and the girl had no decency to cover herself up in his presence. He sighed inaudibly as he continued to roll the paper. The things he had to do for money. He wished he had been warned beforehand, when he got employed, at least then he would have known what to expect. He was supposed to be Mr. Yang’s secretary, but here he was babysitting his youngest daughter, Michelle Yang – a nuisance, if he had to add.

Last week, he had been called out to Mr. Yang’s personal office at his home; the former had wondered if he had done something wrong for Mr. Yang always settled his work affairs outside home. What he hadn’t expected was to be assigned the most ridiculous task. He was to take care of his daughter when she got back from America. Not many went abroad to study; it cost a fortune. But he supposed if one were the daughter of a wealthy businessman slash local goon, everything was possible.

In the end he had agreed, Mr. Yang had suggested a possible pay-raise, and he was an ambitious young man who wished to save up some money for the future. Besides, how difficult would it be, she was a grown girl – if he weren’t mistaken –in her early twenties.

He should have known something was wrong the minute he had heard the rumor regarding her sudden, untimely departure to America. She had apparently slept with her sister’s fiancé and disrupted a very valuable engagement. Her furious father had sent her off to exile.

The young secretary didn’t think much of it; she could have always been lured into it. It happened to most of these naïve, young girls. What he didn’t know, and had to learn later, was Michelle Yang wasn’t even close to being naïve. He had to find out the hard way when he first greeted her the day she came back.

She had carelessly thrown her luggage towards him and said these words. “Roll me a joint.”

It wasn’t a request, it was a command. And here he was rolling out what she had wanted, with the illegally procured drugs. He hoped he wouldn’t land up in prison; he had to take care of his widowed mother. She had given him the dirtiest look when he’d told her he knew nothing of rolling joints, let alone smoke them. She had immediately stretched her perfectly manicured fingers and asked him to observe while she demonstrated.

He was a quick learner; she had to give him that. Perhaps that was the reason why her father employed him; she knew her old man would want nothing s