“Tell Jade that I’ll be out all morning. I’ll meet her at the theater by five,” she said, walking out of the gates. There was no rickshaw waiting for her outside—she hadn’t asked HanChol to drive her this morning, because she didn’t want Jade to know. She walked two blocks to the boulevard and lucked out in hailing a rickshaw, although there were not many drivers left nowadays.
“The Grand Oriental Cinema, please.” Lotus leaned forward to tell the driver, then sank back into the partitioned seat, hiding away from the biting wind. It was a chilly November morning, just teetering at that point where the clear blue and yellow of autumn give way to the gray, silver, and pink of winter. People were bustling about, dragging carts and hawking persimmons, fire-roasted sweet potatoes, charcoal, fish, herbs, and mushrooms. Meanwhile, cars kept overtaking the rickshaw, although the driver was trotting at an admirable speed. There was a smoky, fresh, and sweet smell in the air. While Lotus was noticing these things with childish wonder, the rickshaw arrived in front of the two-story movie palace.
She paid the driver and walked into the lobby, which was deserted at this time of day. As soon as she entered, a woman secretary appeared and greeted her. “You’re Miss Lotus, right? President Ma is waiting for you,” the secretary said sweetly, but without a bow. “Right this way, please.” She led the way through a dark corridor and opened the door to an office, where President Ma was looking through some papers at his desk.
“Ah, Miss Lotus, it’s an honor to receive you here,” he said, rising and bowing to her courteously. He had a largish head, flashing eyes anchored by a well-pronounced nose, and an open forehead. The husky vigor of early old age emanated from his face and body, which was still upright and manly. Lotus felt nervous for no reason.
“No, you honor me by your invitation,” she murmured as the president came around from his desk and led her to the club chairs in the center of the room, lightly touching her back to do so. He ordered the secretary to bring them coffee, and Lotus noted with pleasure the resentment in the young woman’s face.
“So, Miss Lotus, you must know why I asked you to come here,” the president began. “You’re one of our finest actresses and singers. I heard you sing for the first time at MyungWol, two years ago. Do you remember when I came for a banquet one night?”
Lotus shook her head.
“You sang a waltz, and your voice had so much depth in it that I couldn’t believe you were only fifteen.” He smiled. “Since then, I’d always dreamed that one day you might perform at the Grand Oriental Cinema. The other day, I heard that you were under contract with Joseon Theatre for a role that’s far beneath you. So I decided to reach out and see if you’d like to be a star at the Grand Oriental.”
Lotus blushed, forgetting her wish to seem haughty like Dani. The Grand Oriental was by far the largest theater in Seoul—a two-thousand-seat movie palace showing motion pictures, variety shows, dance performances, and plays. It was even more prestigious than Joseon Theatre, and she was being offered a star billing.
“Talent like yours, one sees only once or twice in a generation. I’d like to make sure you get the attention you deserve. We’ll start with a new show, with you in a singing role. Maybe The Story of ShimChung. The public can’t get enough of the adaptations of medieval novels—they rouse their sympathies and let them cry out their feelings. Of course, they also have the advantage of passing Japanese censorship without difficulty.” President Ma paused, putting his two hands together so that they only touched at the fingertips. “At the same time, you’d be making a new record. Original jazz and waltz songs, written by a composer I know who studied in Tokyo. How does that sound?”
“I’m amazed that you think so highly of me.” Lotus flushed.
“Well, Miss Lotus. You have an exceptional voice.” President Ma smiled. “I have heard you’re the niece of the celebrated courtesan Kim Dani. All Seoul used to be under her sway, fifteen or so years ago. I remember her well . . . She’s a breathtaking woman with a brilliant mind and courage like a man’s. But your fame will surpass hers, I am sure of it.”
15
Nocturnal Birds
1928
THE SPRING WHEN LOTUS AND JADE TURNED TWENTY, THEIR HOUSE was always filled with a timorous and delicate air. The junior maid was busy delivering secret letters to one mistress and then the other. They were prone to looking dreamily into space, or suddenly smiling for no reason.