“Who are the Youngs?” Wye Mun asked eagerly.

“Why are you suddenly so interested in these people?” Dr. Gu queried.

Wye Mun considered the question carefully before he answered. “We are trying to help my daughter’s friend, since she is quite serious about the boy. I’m not familiar with the family.”

“Of course you wouldn’t know them, Wye Mun. Hardly anybody does these days. I have to admit that my own knowledge is very outdated.”

“Well, what can you tell us?” Wye Mun pressed on.

Dr. Gu took a long sip of his tea and leaned into a more comfortable position. “The Youngs are descended, I believe, from a long line of royal court physicians, going all the way back to the Tang dynasty. James Young—Sir James Young, actually—was the first Western-educated neurologist in Singapore, trained at Oxford.”

“He made his fortune as a doctor?” Wye Mun asked, rather surprised.

“Not at all! James was not the sort of person who cared about making a fortune. He was too busy saving lives in World War II, during the Japanese occupation,” Dr. Gu said, staring at the crisscrossing patterns of ivy on his fence as they suddenly seemed to transform into diamond-like patterns, reminding him of a chain-link fence from a long time ago.

“So you knew him during the war?” Wye Mun asked, jarring Dr. Gu out of his recollection.

“Yes, yes, that’s how I knew him,” Dr. Gu said slowly. He hesitated for a few moments, before continuing. “James Young was in charge of an underground medical corps that I was briefly involved with. After the war, he set up his clinic in the old section of Chinatown, specifically to serve the poor and elderly. I heard that for years he charged his patients practically nothing.”

“So how did he make his money?”

“There you go again, Wye Mun, always chasing after the money,” Dr. Gu chided.

“Well, where did that huge house come from?” Wye Mun asked.

“Ah, I see the true nature of your interest now. You must be referring to the house off Tyersall Road.”

“Yes. Have you been there?” Peik Lin asked.

“Goodness, no. I only heard about it. Like I said, I really did not know James very well; I would never have been invited.”

“I dropped my friend off at the house last week, and I could hardly believe it when I saw the place.”

“You must be joking! Is the house still there?” Dr. Gu said, looking quite shocked.

“Yes,” Peik Lin replied.

“I would have thought that the place was long gone. I must say I’m quite impressed that the family never sold out in all these years.”

“Yes, I’m quite shocked that there’s a property this large on the island,” Wye Mun cut in.

“Why should you be? The whole area behind the Botanic Gardens used to be full of great estates. The Sultan of Johore had a palace over there called Istana Woodneuk that burned to the ground many years ago. You say you were there last week?” Dr. Gu queried.

“Yes, but I did not go in.”

“A pity. It would be a rare treat to see one of those houses. So few are left, thanks to all the brilliant developers,” Dr. Gu said, glaring in mock anger at Wye Mun.

“So if James Young never made any money, how did—” Wye Mun began.

“You don’t listen, Wye Mun! I said that James Young wasn’t interested in making money, but I never said he didn’t have any. The Youngs had money, generations of money. Besides, James married Shang Su Yi. And she, I can tell you for a fact, comes from a family so unfathomably rich, it would make your eyes water, Wye Mun.”

“Who is she, then?” Wye Mun asked, his curiosity piqued to boiling point.

“All right, I will tell you and shut you up once and for all. She is the daughter of Shang Loong Ma. Never heard that name, either, right? He was an enormously wealthy banker in Peking, and before the Qing dynasty fell, he very smartly moved his money to Singapore, where he made an even greater fortune in shipping and commodities. The man had his tentacles in every major business in the region—he controlled all the shipping lines from the Dutch East Indies to Siam, and he was the mastermind behind uniting the early Hokkien banks in the thirties.”

“So Nick’s grandmother inherited all of that,” Peik Lin surmised.

“She and her brother, Alfred.”

“Alfred Shang. Hmm … another fellow I’ve never heard of,” Wye Mun huffed.

“Well, that’s not surprising. He moved to England many decades ago, but he is still—very quietly—one of the most influential figures in Asia. Wye Mun, you have to realize that before your generation of fat cats, there was an earlier generation of tycoons who made their fortunes and moved on to greener pastures. I thought most of the Youngs had long since dispersed from Singapore. The last time I heard any news, it was that one of the daughters had married into the Thai royal family.”

“Sounds like a pretty well-connected bunch,” Peik Lin said.

“Oh, yes indeed. The eldest daughter, for instance, is married to Harry Leong.”

“Harry Leong, the fellow who is director of the Institute of ASEAN Affairs?”

“That’s just a title, Wye Mun. Harry Leong is one of the kingmakers in our government.”

“No wonder I always see him in the prime minister’s box at National Day celebrations. So this family is close to the center of power.”

“Wye Mun, they are the center of power,” Dr. Gu corrected, turning to Peik Lin. “You say your friend is dating the grandson? She’s a fortunate girl, then, if she marries into this clan.”

“I was beginning to think the same thing myself,” Peik Lin said quietly.

Dr. Gu considered Peik Lin thoughtfully for a moment, and then he peered straight into her eyes, saying, “Remember, every treasure comes with a price.” She caught his gaze for a moment, before looking away.

“Dr. Gu, it’s always good to see you. Thank you for all your help,” Wye Mun said, getting up. He was starting to get a backache from the rickety wooden chair.

“And thank you for the wonderful tea,” Peik Lin said, helping Dr. Gu up from his seat.

“Will you ever accept my invitation and come over for dinner? I have a new cook who makes amazing Ipoh hor fun,* Dr. Gu.”

“You’re not the only one who has a good cook, Goh Wye Mun,” Dr. Gu said wryly, walking them to their car.

As Wye Mun and Peik Lin merged into the early-evening traffic on Dunearn Road, Wye Mun said, “Why don’t we invite Rachel and her boyfriend to dinner next week?”

Peik Lin nodded. “Let’s take them somewhere classy, like Min Jiang.”

Dr. Gu stood by his gate, watching as their car disappeared. The sun was setting just over the treetops, a few rays of light penetrating through the branches and glaring into his eyes.

He awoke with a start in the blinding sun to find his bleeding wrists bound tightly against the rusty chain-link fence. A group of officers walked by, and he noticed one uniformed man staring at him intently. Did he look familiar somehow? The man went up to the commanding officer and pointed directly at him. Curse to the gods. This was it. He looked at them, trying to muster up as much hate as he could in his expression. He wanted to die defiant, with pride. The man said calmly, in a British-accented English, “There’s been a mistake. That one over there in the middle is just a poor idiot servant. I recognize him from my friend’s farm, where he rears the pigs.” One of the Japanese soldiers translated to the commanding officer, who sneered in disgust before barking out a few curt orders. He was cut loose, and brought to kneel in front of the soldiers. Through his bleary eyes, he suddenly recognized the man who had pointed him out. It was Dr. Young, who had taught one of his surgical classes when he was a medical trainee. “See, this is not a man of importance. He’s not even worth your bullets. Let him go back to the farm where he can feed the dirty pigs,” Dr. Young said, before walking off with the other soldiers. More arguing between the soldiers ensued, and before he knew what was happening, he found himself on a transport truck bound for the work farms in Geylang. Months later, he would run into Dr. Young at a meeting in the secret room hidden behind a shop house on Telok Ayer Street. He began thanking him profusely for saving his life, but Dr. Young brushed him off quickly. “Nonsense—you would have done the same for me. Besides, I couldn’t let them kill yet another doctor. There are too few of us left,” he said plainly.