Not since this fortune had dropped in my lap out of nowhere. Who was this Mindy Madison? Was she really my aunt? Then why did she have an American last name? How come my mother never mentioned a sister? And why would my aunt want to leave her fortune to me now? Didn’t she have any children of her own? Why hadn’t she contacted me earlier? Besides, how did she get so filthy rich?

After I settled what Chris referred to as my cute little yellow bottom on the used sofa he’d given me, I picked up the phone. I was about to dial Chris’s office when my hand stayed suspended in midair. Should I also tell him about my upcoming big fortune?

There were many things I liked about Chris—his poet’s face, muscular Yukio Mishima body (his hero), erudition, detached manner, knowing hands, glib tongue (you know what I mean)… but, was he to be trusted? A wife-cheating man? While the question kept flip-flopping in my mind like a fish in a dry bucket, my fingers were already hitting the keypad.

“Chris?”

“Yes, Lily, my China goddess, I miss you. Shall I come to your place tonight?” That’s one good thing about Chris; he never used clichés like “China doll.”

“Where are Jenny and Preston?” Jenny was the wife and Preston the son.

“She’ll be at the book club and Preston will be staying overnight with his buddy.”

Chris always referred to the book club as a stupid idea for wasting time but a good one for killing it. And an even better opportunity to look for someone—to turn a lonesome into a twosome. But I assumed this was for him, not his wife—or me.

“Hmm…” Maybe I needed time alone to ponder my three-million-dollar future.

But Chris’s eager voice rose like a wisp of smoke emitting a seductive scent. “Lily, I’ll cook you your favorite kung pao chicken, sweet and sour pork, plus a new dish. How’s that?”

Could any woman resist a man whose hands could write best-selling novels, cook exotic cuisine, and discover his lover’s body like an adventurer exploring an untamed land? So that night I decided to try out his new dish and maybe even the hanging-upside-down-lotus. I covered the receiver to let out a chuckle.

Then I cooed into the receiver, “All right, can you make it at seven?” trying to sound like a real goddess, Chinese or whatever.

“No problem. Jenny will dine with her bookies. See you soon, my love.”

“See you,” I echoed dreamily.

Besides literature and writing, cooking was Chris Adams’s other passion. Not only did he love to cook for me, he’d buy all the meat, vegetables, and dessert and bring them to my studio. During the evenings when he was cooking, I was treated as regally as an agent by wannabe writers. My professor lover would insist that he’d take care of everything: shopping, paying, chopping, cooking, setting the table, even cleaning afterward. And of course, all these nice acts from the market to the patisserie to the cashier to the kitchen to the dining room would naturally lead to the one ultimate place: the bedroom. Not that I had anything to complain about. Chris was an excellent lover, searching my body with his poet’s hand, then entering me like a tiger preying on a rabbit, or a dragon plunging down a ravine. But this was not without guilt—he was, after all, a married man with a child.


That night, when we were lying in bed, exhausted and tranquil after lovemaking, I lazily stroked Chris’s soft, blond hair.

“Chris, will you be lonely if I’m away for six months?”

His voice, tinted with surprise, rose in the dark, sex-smelling air. “Lily, what are you talking about?”

“I’m going away for six months.”

“Why? What happened?”

Should I tell him everything?

“I’ve decided to go to the Silk Road, the desert, you know, my lifelong dream.” My voice sounded controlled yet calm.

“That’s nice. I’ve always dreamed of traveling along the Silk Road with you.”

This was not what I had expected to hear. “I… I don’t think so. Chris, you have your wife and child here.”

“I can make arrangements for them when I’m away.”

“Chris, please, this is not possible.”

“What? You don’t want my company?”

“It’s not that… but…”

“Then what is it? I can ask for a six-month sabbatical, you know, since I haven’t taken any leave for a long time.”

“Chris, I have to go by myself.”

“What do you mean you have to?”

“I…”

He cut me off. “But, Lily, what about your job? You just can’t quit working like that. You need money to pay your rent, buy food, travel. And the Silk Road—I thought your dream is the Sahara Desert. Anyway, why such a long trip now? You’re not an impulsive person.”

Chris sat up and flipped on the light. He looked even more attractive when agitated. And naked.

“Calm down, Chris. I just got another new credit card.”

“But you don’t want to be in debt! Why do this now?”

I had a good answer for that, just not for him. “Chris, I’m going to be thirty, so I think it’ll be now or never.”

“Don’t be silly.” He combed his hair with his sexy fingers, stared at the calligraphy ren—patience—on the wall, then turned back to look me in the eyes, his words coming out slowly and deliberately. “Lily, are you seeing someone else, a rich guy? And you’re now traveling with him to the Silk Road?”

I opened my mouth, but no words came.

“Tell me, do you have another lover?” His tone was hurt and angry.

But how could he be? That was exactly what he was doing to his wife!

“No. I just want to go to the Silk Road and the desert.”

“But why now? And why by yourself?”

“Chris. I can’t tell you why now, maybe later. But I swear to you on my parents’ ashes it’s not a lover.”

A long silence lingered before he finally ejected a weak, “All right, then tell me later.”

I pulled him to me and started to kiss his eyes, his lips, then his… To my surprise, he pushed me away.

“Chris!”

“To leave you alone, isn’t that what you want?”

There was another long silence before I flipped off the light. Refusing to succumb to defeat, I reached out for his yang instrument, then slid my tongue, like a playful lizard, inside his mouth. It worked. Stirred, Chris pressed his torso against mine. I could feel his body heat enveloping me, then him hardening against my thigh like a mini–stone monument.

However, before his snake was about to enter its hole, a long-held question involuntarily shot out from my mouth. “Chris, why don’t we try the hanging-upside-down-lotus?”

“What!?”

“Eh… you mean you don’t know?” I assumed a nice-looking professor like him with so many sexual experiences would certainly already have tried all the beneficial positions.

Abruptly, the snake stopped moving and the hand kneading. Chris swung away, flipped the light back on, and sat up to face me. “What is this hanging-upside-down-lotus?”

“A… sexual act.”

Some silence before he slowly uttered, “I’m well aware of that.”

Then his tone turned icy cold and his eyes were shooting daggers into mine. “Lily, did you learn this from someone else and now you want to try it with me?”

“No… I… I just saw it somewhere in a book.” It was all that I could think of.

“A book? Then show it to me.”

This time no matter how hard I tried to rack my brain, no answer came. Let alone the much anticipated and needed orgasm.


Chris and I didn’t speak to each other for three days. I tried calling his work phone, even his house (making sure Jenny was working), but no one answered.

All right, so be it, since I’d be leaving very soon anyway.

I utilized the three Chris-free days to prepare for my trip—shopping (clothes, boots, hats, backpack, alarm clock, Swiss Army knife, medicine… ), going to the bank (taking out cash, buying traveler’s checks), looking up and booking hotels in Beijing and Xian (the first two stops toward the Silk Road), jogging (to maximize my energy), and gathering all the materials I could find about the Silk Road from guide books, academic books, maps, articles, even movies and novels.

On the fourth day, as I was packing and cleaning the apartment, Chris called. “Lily, I’m very sorry that I didn’t return your calls. Please understand how upsetting this whole thing is to me.” Some silence, then, “Can I come to your place tonight? We need to talk.” His tone was pleading.

“I’m busy cleaning and preparing for my trip.”

“You’re really going?”

“Do I sound like I’m lying? I told you I can’t tell you now why I have money for the trip.”

“All right, then when are you leaving?”

“In a week.”

His voice exploded like a firecracker. “So soon?! What about me?”

“You have Jenny, Preston, your best-selling novels, and your female students who’re all competing to take care of your ‘little brother.’ ”

Now the firecracker fizzled. “Lily, you know Jenny and I don’t get along, and I haven’t touched her for a long time.”

“Good. If you truly love me, then you can also abstain from touching other women for six months and wait till I come back.”

“Please, Lily, don’t torture me. I love you.”

“You love Jenny, too.”

“I… don’t think I’ve ever really loved her.”

“I hope you don’t say this about all your old girlfriends.”

“You want me to divorce Jenny and marry you? I’ll do that tomorrow. Or right now.”

Did Chris possess the ability to read minds? Could he already know about my upcoming fortune and now wanted to marry me to have a piece of the million-dollar cake?