Illustration by Anderson X. Lee
Madame Leung-Kett and her seven-year-old granddaughter, Blanche, were sitting at the dining table stuffing brand new money into red lai-see packets.
‘Chinese New Year bleeds me dry. Unmarried people make a killing this time of year. They don’t have to give out a single lai-see. Paw! Bloody freeloaders.’
It was Chinese New Year’s Eve in Hong Kong. Blanche Lee thought it was wonderful to enter the Year of the Dragon, but not so her grandmother.
‘Tell you something else. If your mother doesn’t repay me the $200 she owes me, she’s done for.’
Blanche’s eyes were fixed on the crisp, green notes she was folding. She’d learnt to avoid her grandmother’s eyes when she was seized with grievance.
‘Always friends before family. Never eats at home. Never saves a penny. Throwing away my hard-earned money. If she’s not careful, I’ll give everything to charity.’
‘Really? You’d give away Marmee’s money?’
Madame Leung-Kett shot a sharp glance over gold-rimmed glasses.
‘Why not? I’ll give my money to whoever I like.’
Blanche turned back to the pile of lai-see. There was no arguing with her.
‘Por-Por, you’ll be in a better mood tomorrow.’
‘What do you mean?
‘Tomorrow’s New Year’s Day.’
‘Why should that make any difference?’
‘You told me that if we follow the rules in the Tong Shun there’ll be luck and happiness. You know, those New Year rules. Like not to wash your hair on New Year’s Day or you’ll wash your luck away.’
‘What else?’ Madame Leung-Kett tested her.
‘Don’t argue on New Year’s Day or you’ll have bad luck all year.’
‘And what else?’
‘Don’t sweep the floor on New Year’s Day or you’ll sweep all your luck away.’
Madame Leung-Kett’s features remained hard.
‘Well, your mother will have no luck whatsoever. She’s a disgrace. I worked like a dog, gave up everything for her, and she hasn’t even put up one square of good luck red paper—’
‘Can’t we put it up for her?’
‘It’s her responsibility,’ Madame Leung-Kett thundered. Don’t make excuses for her. She’s got no filial piety.’ She banged her fist on the table. ‘Get Ah Sarm to wash your hair right now. Or you’ll have bad luck next year. Off you go!’
The old woman bustled Blanche out of the room and swept up the pile of lai-see.
Down the corridor, in her bedroom, Madame Leung-Kett’s only child, Lauren Lee, was cursing as she stuffed her last $200 into a lai-see packet. A striking-looking woman in her late thirties with long black hair and vividly mascaraed eyes, she’d sworn she’d get everything done on time this New Year, yet here she was, fretting at the eleventh hour.
Earlier, she’d been at the flower market choosing cumquats and cherry blossoms before queuing at the bank to exchange old notes for new.
‘What do I have to do with these New Year traditions? I’m an ABC, born and raised in Australia…’
That moment Ah Sarm came into the room carrying her freshly pressed evening dress with the latest flared sleeves.
‘Don’t be late for tonight’s toon-lin dinner with the professor. You mustn’t keep the host waiting.’
‘I know,’ thought Lauren. Aloud, she said, ‘Thank you for reminding me.’
Ah Sarm left the room.
‘Blast the toon-lin dinner!’ The professor and his wife Marjorie had raised her husband Kwok-Keong like their own son but these New Year’s Eve dinners were tedious. Not to mention her mother badgering her about New Year decorations.
‘You haven’t put up one square of red paper to welcome in the Year of the Dragon!’
‘I’m not having cheap red paper with ridiculous sayings stuck all over the house.’
‘And the fortune character must be stuck upside down above the front door so luck will flow into the house.’
Later, Lauren had noticed the square of red paper someone had stuck above the door. She peeled off the square of red paper and re-stuck the character the right way up. Lauren chuckled at the memory of her little defiant manoeuvre. Then her eyes fell on the purse on the bed.
‘Oh, my God! I owe Marjorie $200. If I don’t repay her tonight, I’ll start the New Year with bad luck!’
She couldn’t start the New Year with debts.
‘I know. I’ll repay Marjorie with the $200 I owe mother. That way, I clear my debts and save face by returning the money in the form of a New Year lai-see.’
In his study, seated behind a polished rosewood desk, Dr Kwok-Keong Lee was smoking his pipe and carefully inserting $200 into a lai-see packet.
Dr Lee’s mind drifted back to the year he turned thirteen when he was living in a remote little Hakka village in southern China.
How many years since he had seen his older brother? Since the Cultural Revolution had forced them to part? Eight years? Ten?
His eyes fell on the lai-see he made up symbolically for his Ah Gor every year, to remind him of their spiritual connection.
Dr Lee pictured their village – wide river, sleepy paddy fields and miles of open green country. What a beautiful life they’d had! Free as swallows, the children played outdoor all day, They were poor and life was hard but they gorged on star fruit and persimmons in season. In his mind, Dr Lee saw his older brother, stripped to the waist, wet from swimming in the river. He was a dreamy boy with long hair, more artist than farmer… Where was that photo of him?
Lai-see in hand, he headed for the dining room. He rummaged through the buffet drawers among coasters, candlesticks, matches, string, safety pins…
‘My dear, you haven’t changed. We’re expected at the professor’s in less than an hour.’
‘I’m sorry. I’d forgotten the time.’ He continued to go through the drawers of the buffet sideboard. ‘I could’ve sworn the photo was here.’
A minute later, he followed Lauren, leaving the lai-see packet behind.
It was after one in the morning when they got home. Lauren’s high heels hit the parquet floor with a clatter.
Dr Lee went to check on Blanche while Lauren stretched out on the couch. She liked to sit alone before bed, reviewing the events of the day like a movie.
She poured herself a nightcap. Not a single detail had changed in ten years. The professor was wrapped in the same shabby min-lup and tartan scarf, shuffling along in worn leather slippers. Marjorie clad in pearls, cashmere and unsmiling dignity.
Lauren threw down her drink, savouring the burning sensation at the back of her throat.
It was always the same. The professor offering her red melon seeds, hard jujubes, coconut toffee and chocolate gold coins and Marjorie saying in an almost bullying way, ‘Don’t eat too much. I’ve got cha pow and woo har coming.’
She loved those cha pow vegetable chips. As she was going for her second handful, the amah announced with gloomy formality, ‘Dinner is served.’
Every year, the same whole fish, overcooked lion’s head meatballs, chicken, dead lettuce, red dates, and moss hair.
They talked of the end of British rule in Hong Kong.
You know, the British will be leaving in twenty-three years’ time.
You know, the British will be leaving in twenty-two years’ time.
This year, the British will be leaving in twenty-one years’ time.
‘Well, China may be the Motherland,’ said Marjorie, ‘but Hong Kong has too strong a sense of style to be tied down. Don’t you agree, Kwok-Keong?’
It was a relief when the amah emerged with dessert.
Lauren poured herself another drink, remembering the plump steamed ma lai goh cake. You must have something sweet on New Year’s Eve! They were sipping champagne when the clock struck midnight.
‘Gong Hee Fat Choi!’ ‘Sun Leen Fi Lok!’ Glasses clinked. ‘Good health!’ ‘Happiness!’ ‘Happy New Year, everyone!’
The movie in Lauren’s mind vanished. ‘I forgot to give Marjorie her lai-see!’
Lauren jumped up, seized the packet of lai-see from her handbag and placed it in a prominent position on the long table outside her bedroom.
‘I’ll give it to Marjorie during bye-lin. I must tell Ah Sarm not to move it… Oh, no, I forgot a lai-see for Ah Sarm—’
‘Lauren, you coming to bed?’ Dr Lee called.
‘How could I forget Ah Sarm? She’s like family. Where can I find some money?’
‘Lauren!’
‘Coming.’
She threw down the rest of her drink and wheeled round, the billowing sleeve of her dress catching the packet of lai-see on the long table. Airborne, it fluttered like a leaf and fell on the floor.
Blanche jumped out of bed, bubbling all over. She tore open the pair of lai-see by her pillow. Her parents had given her the same amount of money as last year and the year before. She put on a brave face and buttoned up her silk min-lup padded jacket.
‘There’ll be turnip cake with lup chern for breakfast then going bye-lin to eat New Year snacks,’ she thought. Surely something more will happen on the Year of the Dragon. Hey, what’s this?’
Blanche swept up the fancy red and gold embossed lai-see packet at her feet. She lifted the flap and counted aloud, ‘Fifty… one hundred… one hundred and fifty… two hundred dollars!’ This must be the money Marmee owes Por-Por.
‘What’s that you got in your hand?’
Blanche jumped. Her grandmother emerged from her room, resplendent in a new burgundy min-lup. ‘Por-Por. You scared me!’
Madame Leung-Kett repeated. ‘What’s that in your hand?’
A strange light glowed in Blanche’s eyes. Quickly closing the flap of the lai-see, she said, ‘I think it’s your lai-see, Por-Por. You know, the money Marmee owes you. It was – er – on the long table.’ She handed the red packet to her grandmother.
A slow smile crept into Madame Leung-Kett’s lips.
‘About time.’ She slipped the lai-see into a side pocket and headed to the kitchen. ‘Let’s have breakfast.’
‘Por-Por, haven’t you forgotten something?’ said Blanche in her sweetest voice.
‘What?’
‘Gong Hee Fat Choi – Lai-see Dull Loi.’
‘Paw! You young ones don’t waste time asking!’
Blanche trotted after her grandmother into the kitchen.
‘I won’t spend my lai-see money, Por-Por. I’ll add it to my Hang Seng bank account.’
‘You have more sense than your mother. I’ll give you your lai-see after breakfast.’
As Madame Leung-Kett fried slices of turnip cake, she considered what to buy with the $200. A bag of dried scallops? Treat herself to some Swiss chocolates? Three years ago a friend had given her a pink tin of Brown & Haley’s Almond Roca but she’d refused to open it. After two years, she tried one but it was inedible.
Lauren had laughed. ‘Just like those bars of Palmolive soap still wrapped in war-time khaki paper! Too old and cracked to use!’
All her life she’d resisted temptation so Lauren could have a better life. She’d never felt justified in spending money. A scent of smoke wafted up her nostrils and the matriarch scooped up the turnip slices just in time.
‘Ah Sarm!’ she called out. ‘Fry the sweet lin goh slices!’
Ah Sarm was dusting the buffet. She looked dignified in her extra white, extra starched cheongsam shirt.
‘Ah Sarm! Did you hear me? Come and fry the lin goh.’
Ah Sarm turned towards Madame Leung-Kett.
‘Leung Tie, I heard you. I thought I’d better put away these important papers.’ She indicated the packet of lai-see on the sideboard.
‘Stop fiddling. Get in the kitchen! I said lin goh.’
Ah Sarm hurried to the kitchen but not before slipping the packet of lai-see into her trousers pocket. ‘I’m sure this belongs to young Mrs Lee,’ she thought. ‘Can’t think of anyone else leaving money lying around like that. She’s careless but she has a generous heart.’
Madame Leung-Kett and Blanche sat at the dining table by the cherry blossom. The old woman attacked the turnip cake with gusto.
‘Never tasted better,’ she raved, lifting another slice with her chopsticks. ‘Ah Sarm, the turnip cake is excellent!’ she shouted with her mouth full. ‘Just the right ratio of turnip to rice flour. The lup chern’s perfect, too. Mei-Mei, eat up.’ The old woman dropped another slice into Blanche’s bowl.
Madame Leung-Kett was finishing her third slice of turnip cake when Lauren appeared.
‘Sit down,’ said the old woman. ‘Everything’s getting cold.’
Lauren sat down but her eyes were remote, her face strained. In contrast, her grandmother was in a very good mood. She lifted the fattest slice of turnip cake and dumped it in Lauren’s bowl.
‘By gee, why are you sitting there like a dead Buddha? It’s New Year’s Day! You’ll never taste anything better than Ah Sarm’s turnip cake. What’s wrong with you?’
‘Mummy…’ Lauren began.
She was diverted by her husband bouncing into the room.
‘Gong Hee Fat Choi, everyone! Goodness, the turnip cake smells delicious.’
Lauren drew him aside.
‘Later, you two,’ Madame Leung-Kett said. ‘Everything’s getting cold.’
Lauren went on as though she hadn’t heard.
‘My dear,’ she whispered when they were out of earshot. ‘I forgot to prepare a lai-see for Ah Sarm. And I forgot to give Marjorie her lai-see last night…’
‘That’s easy,’ said Dr Lee. ‘Give Ah Sarm Marjorie’s lai-see.’
‘The thing is,’ said Lauren impatiently, ‘I can’t find the lai-see for Marjorie. I put it on the long table last night. Do you have spare cash?’
Dr Lee frowned. ‘I’ll give you the lai-see I prepared for my brother.’
‘I can’t possibly take his lai-see.’
‘Don’t be silly.’
‘What’s going on with you two?’ Madame Leung-Kett called out.
‘Now where’s that lai-see of mine,’ Dr Lee murmured, pulling out the buffet drawers. ‘I left it here yesterday when I was looking for the photograph.’
‘The turnip cake’s stone cold. We’ve still got lin goh and gin doi to come.’
‘Mummy,’ said Lauren with an effort. ‘I need some money.’
‘What?’
‘I forgot to prepare a lai-see for Ah Sarm.’
‘You what?’ Madame Leung-Kett fired a shower of saliva in her face. ‘So you’re taking back the $200 you gave me?’
Lauren started.
‘What $200?’
‘Mei-Mei said it was from you.’ Madame Leung-Kett looked from Lauren to Blanche. ‘You said it was from your mother!’
‘I found it on the floor outside Marmee’s room and I thought…’
‘Calm down everyone,’ said Dr Lee. ‘Once I find my lai-see everything will be sorted out.’
‘Look, Mummy, I’ll repay you but I need to give a lai-see to Ah Sarm.’
‘So she comes before me. And I’m your mother.’
‘Don’t argue,’ said Blanche. ‘If you argue on New Year’s Day you’ll have bad luck all year.’
Lauren ignored her.
‘Mum, I must give a lai-see to Ah Sarm. She’s been with us twenty years.’
‘That useless fool,’ Madame Leung-Kett glared in the direction of the kitchen. ‘Can’t cook to save herself!’
The door opened. Ah Sarm entered with a dish of sweetly fragrant lin goh.
‘Take it back,’ Madame Leung-Kett shouted.
‘But I thought…’
‘Take it back I said!’
An arm shot out. The dish of lin goh was thrown forward followed by a CRASH.
‘You damned fool! Look what you’ve done!’
Fragments of crockery were scattered all over the floor.
‘I’m so sorry, Leung Tie.’
‘Get the broom!’
‘Don’t sweep the floor on New Year’s Day or you’ll sweep all the luck away!’ Blanche shouted.
Ah Sarm, full of apologies, picked up bits of broken crockery and retreated to the kitchen.
‘Did you have to be so harsh?’ said Lauren.
Madame Leung-Kett foamed at the mouth. ‘Always excuses, apologies, compromises! That’s the problem with you lot. No one is ever responsible.’
Madame Leung-Kett stared at the square of red paper pasted above the front door.
‘Ah Sarm. Come here!’ she bawled.
‘Yes, Leung Tie,’ came a diminutive voice from the kitchen then a little head appeared in the doorway.
‘The fortune character, Ah Sarm. Explain yourself.’
The amah cast her eyes up at the front door, perplexed.
‘I don’t know what you mean, Leung Tie. It is stuck on.’
‘Leave her alone, Mummy. It’s not her fault,’ said Lauren.
The old dragon’s eyes were wild. She clenched her fists.
‘We’ll see about that! I will not have the fortune character stuck the right way on New Year’s Day. How many times do I have to tell you, Ah Sarm? The fortune character has to be stuck upside down. It has to be pointing down for luck to flow into the house. No wonder I’m having all this bad luck!’
Ah Sarm bit her lip, looking at Lauren whose head was bowed.
‘I can’t lie to you any longer, Leung Tie,’ said the amah after a long silence.
‘What are you talking about?’
‘Well, you see, Leung Tie, I didn’t want to lose my job,’ she said, still looking at Lauren, who had covered her face with her hands. ‘After all you’d done for me, if you were to know that I can’t read or write… I have my elderly mother to feed, my five sisters, a crippled brother and a nephew who needs money for schooling…’
Tears started running down Lauren’s face. Everyone fell silent. There was even a trace of emotion on Madame Leung-Kett’s face. Blanche looked away. Dr Lee was about to say something when a voice said hoarsely, ‘Stop blubbering, you lot.’
Madame Leung-Kett pulled out the lai-see from her pocket and thrust it into the hands of the amah.
‘Oh, Leung Tie.’
Blanche gaped in astonishment.
Ah Sarm reached into her trousers pocket.
‘I almost forgot. I picked this off the buffet for safekeeping this morning. I don’t know who it belongs to but I think this might be yours, young Mrs Lee?’
‘It’s been three years since she’s paid me! Three years. What d’you mean it’s her lai-see?’
The arguments began again but Blanche’s wish had come true. The Year of the Dragon was different after all!
Bon-Wai Chou is a short story writer, screenwriter and producer. Her work has been published in Southerly, Meanjin, The Age, Australian Short Stories, Overachiever, awarded by Glimmer Train and Writer’s Digest, and anthologised in Roots: Home Is Who We Are, among others. Her short film, “Mei-Mei, Speak More Chinese” (Official Selection Multicultural Film Festival 2023, finalist Open category) premiered at ACCTA’s Unsung Stories Gala in Sydney. Born in Chicago but raised in Hong Kong and Melbourne, Bon-Wai holds degrees from the University of Melbourne and is recipient of an Australian Society of Authors 2020 Award Mentorship for Adult Fiction.