Read Online The Money Is Green by Mr Owen Sullivan - Free Book Online
Authors: Mr Owen Sullivan
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learned.”
Chi stepped forward while the older girl set her backpack on the kitchen counter. Chi stopped about three feet in front of Mei and put her hands behind her back. In a high-pitched voice she said, “We studied algebra, biology, and Cantonese today, Mother. I learned about the Pythagorean theorem.”
Mei’s eyes widened. “Really, Chi? Recite it for me.” The girl did as instructed and Mei patted her cheek softly. Satisfied the day at school had been a success, Mei spoke to the older girl. “Okay, you know what’s next, Pin. Make her spend two hours on the piano and then two hours on the violin. Get going, the time’s wasting.”
The two girls turned and headed out of the kitchen in silence. A few moments later, the soft notes of Edvard Grieg’s “Butterfly” wafted into the room.
Mei listened for a minute, then got up and hurried into the expansive family room where Chi was sitting behind the oak-stained Steinway piano. She slapped her hand on the keyboard, causing the girl to jump. “Play the piece correctly, Chi!” she shouted at her daughter, who stared straight ahead without an expression. “It’s supposed to be light and feathery, not choppy!”
Mei turned and went back to the kitchen, picking up the newspaper sitting on the corner of the counter. She started thinking about David’s hotels in Hong Kong and what she would do with them once she became his partner. She smiled an evil smile as she rubbed her hands together. I’m going to enjoy running those hotels the way I want to and make them even more luxurious than they already are. They’ll be the talk of the world’s richest people! Her thoughts where interrupted as, from the next room, violin notes from Viotti’s Concerto floated across the house. Has she already practiced the piano for two hours? she thought. Mei put her fingertips to her temple in exasperation and stormed into the room. “Keep the vibrato even, Chi. Check your fingering!” She turned to the nanny, Pin, who was sitting quietly in a wicker chair across from Chi. “That sounds horrible, Pin. Make her practice an extra hour until she gets that piece correct!”
Mei heard some noise coming from the living room area, so she left the girls to their practice and went to investigate. As she entered the room, she stopped to see her husband Ho sitting on a large leather couch eating an apple.
“I didn’t expect you home until later,” she said, crossing her arms. Mei didn’t like it when he came home early, as he was too easy on their daughter and often clashed with her regarding the amount of practice she made her put in. He was a slight man, maybe five foot seven, with a medium build. He wore thick dark glasses, and his straight black hair was combed to one side. She eyed his dark suit, an off-the-rack model that was simple but neat. Nothing about Ho was pretentious or splashy.
“Xi is heading to Chongqing, as there was a midsized earthquake there,” he answered evenly. “He needs to show the people there he feels their pain and is concerned. I’ll be leaving to go there in the morning to join him.”
Mei didn’t hide her disgust. She knew Xi was the leader of China and everybody danced to his fiddle, but she thought he was incompetent and did little for their country. She wanted moreopenness toward capitalism and more trade with the west, and Xi didn’t. It was not the Communist way, he would always say. But he was going to step down soon—not soon enough for Mei, but soon—and Ho was in line to take over. Once that happened, Mei had big plans for China.
“I hope his train wrecks on the way and he’s crushed by a herd of water buffalo as he tries to get away from it,” she snarled. “The sooner he goes, the better it will be for all of China.”
Ho stood up and grabbed her arm. “Do not speak such blasphemy about our leader,” he hissed. He looked around the room cautiously. “Did you forget there are twelve servants running around this house?
Chi stepped forward while the older girl set her backpack on the kitchen counter. Chi stopped about three feet in front of Mei and put her hands behind her back. In a high-pitched voice she said, “We studied algebra, biology, and Cantonese today, Mother. I learned about the Pythagorean theorem.”
Mei’s eyes widened. “Really, Chi? Recite it for me.” The girl did as instructed and Mei patted her cheek softly. Satisfied the day at school had been a success, Mei spoke to the older girl. “Okay, you know what’s next, Pin. Make her spend two hours on the piano and then two hours on the violin. Get going, the time’s wasting.”
The two girls turned and headed out of the kitchen in silence. A few moments later, the soft notes of Edvard Grieg’s “Butterfly” wafted into the room.
Mei listened for a minute, then got up and hurried into the expansive family room where Chi was sitting behind the oak-stained Steinway piano. She slapped her hand on the keyboard, causing the girl to jump. “Play the piece correctly, Chi!” she shouted at her daughter, who stared straight ahead without an expression. “It’s supposed to be light and feathery, not choppy!”
Mei turned and went back to the kitchen, picking up the newspaper sitting on the corner of the counter. She started thinking about David’s hotels in Hong Kong and what she would do with them once she became his partner. She smiled an evil smile as she rubbed her hands together. I’m going to enjoy running those hotels the way I want to and make them even more luxurious than they already are. They’ll be the talk of the world’s richest people! Her thoughts where interrupted as, from the next room, violin notes from Viotti’s Concerto floated across the house. Has she already practiced the piano for two hours? she thought. Mei put her fingertips to her temple in exasperation and stormed into the room. “Keep the vibrato even, Chi. Check your fingering!” She turned to the nanny, Pin, who was sitting quietly in a wicker chair across from Chi. “That sounds horrible, Pin. Make her practice an extra hour until she gets that piece correct!”
Mei heard some noise coming from the living room area, so she left the girls to their practice and went to investigate. As she entered the room, she stopped to see her husband Ho sitting on a large leather couch eating an apple.
“I didn’t expect you home until later,” she said, crossing her arms. Mei didn’t like it when he came home early, as he was too easy on their daughter and often clashed with her regarding the amount of practice she made her put in. He was a slight man, maybe five foot seven, with a medium build. He wore thick dark glasses, and his straight black hair was combed to one side. She eyed his dark suit, an off-the-rack model that was simple but neat. Nothing about Ho was pretentious or splashy.
“Xi is heading to Chongqing, as there was a midsized earthquake there,” he answered evenly. “He needs to show the people there he feels their pain and is concerned. I’ll be leaving to go there in the morning to join him.”
Mei didn’t hide her disgust. She knew Xi was the leader of China and everybody danced to his fiddle, but she thought he was incompetent and did little for their country. She wanted moreopenness toward capitalism and more trade with the west, and Xi didn’t. It was not the Communist way, he would always say. But he was going to step down soon—not soon enough for Mei, but soon—and Ho was in line to take over. Once that happened, Mei had big plans for China.
“I hope his train wrecks on the way and he’s crushed by a herd of water buffalo as he tries to get away from it,” she snarled. “The sooner he goes, the better it will be for all of China.”
Ho stood up and grabbed her arm. “Do not speak such blasphemy about our leader,” he hissed. He looked around the room cautiously. “Did you forget there are twelve servants running around this house?
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