I ate a salted plum as Jun Zhi-Wu sat in silence.
“If sometime in the next few days,” I went on, “an elder, such as... well, such as myself, were to be accosted by the same gang of thieves, it would be useful to all if the gang were to learn they are not welcome on Mulberry Street.”
Jun Zhi-Wu sat silent again for so long that I found myself eating another salted plum.
“Chin Yong-Yun,” Jun Zhi-Wu finally said, “I thank you for your hospitality. Also, your advice. Now I must go.” She stood to leave.
“If I may offer one last suggestion?”
Jun Zhi-Wu nodded.
“The young man with the newspaper at the front of the room clearly has your best interests at heart.”
With a surprised smile, but without a glance at the man, she said, “Yes, he does.” The young man studiously ignored us.
“No doubt there are other such young men you could call upon should you be in need. However, I think perhaps there are young women, also, who could be valuable to you in such situations. Their presence might deliver a clear message. It is just something to consider.”
She nodded. “Thank you again, Chin Yong-Yun.” With that, Jun Zhi-Wu left Dragon’s Well Tea Parlor. The young man left immediately after. I stayed to finish the preserved plums, as I am not a wasteful person.
It was three more days before I spotted the young woman bandit again on Mulberry Street. As soon as I did I put on a worried look, then hurried to take a seat on the customer stool of the fortuneteller Gu Min, a woman I have known for years.
“Chin Yong-Yun,” she said in surprise. “You have never consulted me before. I didn’t know you had any faith in the assistance of the spirits.”
“I have great faith in the spirits. I have none, however, in you. What you do here is nonsense, but never mind that right now. Please pretend I am telling you a sad tale. After I shake out the kau chim sticks, pretend the spirits are saying I am in a bad situation.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Your understanding is not required. I am planning to pay you. Please give me the sticks. Say anything you like as long as you look worried. Now begin.”
Gu Min stared for a few moments, which I thought was not a bad thing. It might look, if anyone was watching, as though I had told her a problem so serious even she was shocked. I tried to make myself look even more worried than formerly. Then she handed me the bamboo cup, which I shook until the kau chim sticks were well mixed. I gave it a final hard shake. One stick jumped out. I picked it up. Gu Man looked at it. She ran her finger down a page of her well-thumbed book. “Three simple shoemakers,” she read, “equal one brilliant general.”
“Lovely,” I said, wringing my hands. “Interpret this for me, Gu Min.”
“I don’t know the problem you are concerned with.”
“Tell me more.” I covered my mouth with my hand, as if in horror.
“I can’t—”
“Thank you, that’s quite enough.” I jumped from the stool, thrusting a ten-dollar bill at her. Really, it is quite outrageous what these women charge for their babble.
Before I had gone ten feet on Mulberry Street I was approached by the young bandit. As I expected, she asked me for directions, to, as it turned out, the post office. I explained to her how to get there. Then, with a concerned look, she asked me if anything was wrong. I poured out a nonsense tale, but not about my unmarried son. That would be to court bad luck. I told her of the woes of my late husband’s unmarried brother, who does not exist. She sympathized, then, looking up, said, “Oh! How lucky!” She waved over the chubby bandit, who was walking up the street. The chubby one, hearing my story, said she had a cousin who had had the same difficulty as my husband’s brother (though this cousin’s main difficulty, I suspected, was that he also did not exist). It was their family’s great good luck that a sorceress had lifted the curse from him. I asked to meet the sorceress. She said she doubted the sorceress would come to Chinatown. I pleaded. Expressing doubt, she called. Oh, such happy fortune! The sorceress was nearby.
When the elegant third bandit arrived, she repeated my story back to me. I displayed appropriate astonishment. She looked at the sky, then at her costly watch. She withdrew a colorful bag from her large purse. Handing the bag to me, she began instructing me on its use. I was to go home, gather all my valuables— At that point a quartet of athletic-looking young women surrounded us.
“Go home!” one snarled to me. “Now!”
I scurried away, but only as far as the park, so that I could watch the unfolding events.
There wasn’t much more to watch. Three of the four muscular young women clamped hands on the three protesting bandits. The fourth opened the door to a waiting car, where I could see the newspaper-reading man from Dragon’s Well Tea Parlor at the wheel. The bandits were encouraged to enter. The athletes climbed into a second car, which followed the first. When they turned the corner I lost sight of them.
Three days later I sat with Lan Li in my living room, again drinking tea. I had just returned to her the money the bandits had stolen.
“Thank you, thank you!” she kept saying. “Thank you!” Really, it was embarrassing. “My daughter was correct to insist that I consult your daughter. Chin Yong-Yun, I don’t know how your daughter accomplished this. She is quite wonderful.”
“Please do not speak of this to my daughter when you see her,” I instructed Lan Li. “The methods used to bring about this outcome are not her usual ones. She does not care to discuss it. In any case, these bandits will not return. Mulberry Street is again safe.” Contentedly, I drank my tea.
Lan Li sipped at hers too. The tea I was serving was Iron Buddha. Lan Li did not appear to enjoy it greatly, probably due to its strength. She was, however, polite enough to drink it. She sighed happily also. “We are fortunate, Daije, in our children,” she said.
“Yes, we are,” I replied. ‘“One brilliant general equals three simple shoemakers.’”
Lan Li gave me a puzzled frowned. “What does it mean?”
“It means,” I said, “that though having sons is a delightful thing, one must never fail to appreciate the value of a daughter.”
The Big Run
by Mickey Spillane and Max Allan Collins
2018 is the centenary of Mickey Spillane, lorn Frank Morrison Spillane on March 9, 1918. Creator of the immortal P.I. Mike Hammer, Mickey Spillane was a huge international success, with more than 200 million kooks sold. Since Spillane’s death in 2006, award-winning writer Max Allan Collins has keen completing a number of his unfinished works. Here, in honor of the Spillane centenary, is their latest “collaboration.”
I saw them on the platform of the railroad station — two uniformed cops, a tall and a short. I watched from the recess of the doorway as a guy came around the comer and into the illuminated area of the cold, misty night only to get grabbed and patted down and made to display his driver’s license. Then they let him step onto the waiting train.
Another guy came along, in work clothes and cap, and he got the same procedure, even though he protested. “Hey! I’m with the railroad here! Platform man in the station.”
“Okay, feller,” one of the cops said. “Go on ahead.”