As if I were invisible, the two continued their conversation.

Black Pearl-the bigger woman with a husky voice-asked, “So have you heard about the Dunns’ divorce?”

“Oh, yes,” Red Dress replied in her shrill voice, “I’d known from the start it wouldn’t work out.” She paused to wet her lips. “The girl’s nobody, all she’s got are her boobs-but just like old Dunn’s Song dynasty painting collection, half are fakes.”

The two burst into laughter.

Then Red Dress, her big eyes darting around, added, “Besides, there are rumors that she’s wild.”

“You mean-” Black Pearl’s high-cheek-boned face lit up.

“Oh, come on, don’t tell me you haven’t heard about her and that actor.”

Black Pearl nodded knowingly. “You mean the one who does independent films and commercials?” She winked. “He’s cute, though.”

“That’s why. Besides, she’s had enough of old Dunn. I doubt he even had sex with her during their honeymoon.”

“You sure?”

“He’s seventy, so maybe he’s already used up…”

The two exchanged meaningful glances, then malicious smiles.

Black Pearl spoke again. “The girl’s not as lucky as she thinks. Dunn’s ex-wife got the better end of things. Now they say he’s going to have to auction off his collection of jewelry.”

Right then I heard Michael’s voice calling me softly from outside the temple. I hurried past glittering pearls and rubies and cold glances and stepped out of the gossip zone.

Michael slipped his arm around mine. “You like the temple?”

“Oh, yes,” I said, faking enthusiasm, while wondering whether I should tell him about my temple experience.

After we’d had our glasses refilled at the bar, we went to a corner to sip our drinks. I continued to watch the people, feeling self-conscious. Then my eyes caught an elegant-looking man walking toward us, smiling. It took a moment before I recognized him-Philip Noble, Michael’s glamorous buddy whom I’d met at La Côte Basque.

He shook hands with Michael. Then, like last time, he lifted and kissed my hand. “It’s such a pleasure to see you again, Meng Ning. How have you been? Enjoying yourself?”

“Yes.” I looked into his sapphire eyes. “I’m also starting to let the famous names and faces sink in.”

Philip mocked disapproval by tossing his thick blond mane. “Nah, big deal, they’re just common people like us-eat, sleep, work, play, and you-know-what.”

He leaned forward and looked deeply into my eyes. “I hear that Michael and you are engaged. Congratulations.”

“Thanks.” I smiled, then blurted out, “Philip, then when is your turn?”

He threw back his head and laughed. “I’m different from Michael; he’s the thinker and I’m the hedonist. Since he was a teenager, he’s known what he wanted. Now he’s gotten it, while I’m still living the floating life and enjoying it. Difference is, I’m just not interested in finding a center-unless someday when I meet someone as lovely as you.” He slapped Michael’s shoulder. “If I’m as lucky as him.”

Michael said, “Meng Ning, just wait. Philip will be married with kids and living in Scarsdale in a few years.”

We all laughed. Although I had no idea where Scarsdale was.

A shaft of light landed on Philip’s face, bringing out more blue in his eyes. How would it feel to be so handsome, to be able to charm all the women in the world?

Then, taking me by surprise, he leaned down to plant a kiss on my lips. I felt my blood cascading like a waterfall. After that, he said, “Michael’s a very nice guy; take good care of him.”

I blushed, then nestled against Michael’s chest.

He sighed. “Why is Michael always the one who gets the best?”

Michael laughed. “It’s because you never look in the right direction.”

Philip smiled, then saw a friend and excused himself. He winked at me as he walked away. I felt my heart skip a beat.

Michael took my hand. “Let’s go find Professor Fulton.”

As I was looking around, I saw a silver-haired gentleman in his sixties with a lofty air and a no-nonsense look. I nudged Michael. “Michael, this man looks so pompous…”

He cast me a chiding glance. “Meng Ning, he’s Professor Fulton.”

I blushed and muttered an apology. Michael took my hand. “Let’s go and greet him.”

The professor was now talking intimately to a very tall and handsome young woman.

“Michael, who’s that beautiful tall woman next to Professor Fulton?”

Michael looked uneasy. He said awkwardly, “She’s…Lisa Fulton, Professor Fulton’s daughter.”

Just then the woman spotted us and smiled. Michael forced a smile back. We finally waded through the crowd and went up to them. The professor greeted Michael warmly. I was impressed that although the professor’s frame was frail and lean after his stroke, he nevertheless had a commanding bearing.

Michael put his arm around my shoulder. “Professor Fulton, this is Meng Ning from Hong Kong. Meng Ning has just gotten her Ph.D. in Chinese art history from the Sorbonne.” Then he turned to the woman and introduced us.

The professor smiled down at me, exchanged a few pleasantries, then turned right back to chat with Michael.

Lisa Fulton moved to my side and smiled warmly. “So you are Michael’s fiancée?”

I nodded, appreciating this very tall, striking beauty in front of me in a turquoise gown decorated with sequins.

To my surprise, she abruptly lifted up my hand and squinted, her voice sharp. “Wow, the rock is huge! Michael must really love you.”

Before I could respond, she asked, “When are you getting married?”

“Oh, I have no idea. You better ask Michael.”

She imitated my tone. “‘You better ask Michael.’ Lucky little woman! Everything is being taken care of.”

I didn’t know how to respond to that.

While Michael and the professor were engaged in a deep conversation on the arts and the art world, his daughter and I went on learning more about each other. Lisa told me that she was a painter of mainly abstract works and had a gallery representation in SoHo. I was only half listening, for my eyes were busy studying this turquoised goddess in front of me.

Then in the middle of our conversation on New York ’s art galleries, she suddenly said, “Oh, excuse me, I need to greet someone,” and hurried toward a white-haired, heavily jeweled, and lavishly dressed couple.

The clickings of her high heels on the floor sounded uneven to my sensitive ears. The perfect-looking goddess was limping. Did she just hurt her leg?

Now I was standing beside Michael and Fulton, feeling like a child bumped into an adult’s party. The professor was still completely immersed in his conversation with Michael, ignoring me. Michael squeezed my hand from time to time to show that he hadn’t forgotten me.

When he finished talking to Michael, Fulton finally smiled down at me. “You enjoying the reception so far?” He didn’t say my name; maybe he’d already forgotten it.

“Yes. I’m impressed; I’ve never been to anything so grand,” I said, swallowing the following words: or so pompous.

We exchanged some more abstract social babble. I listened and responded, yet was aware that his words were directed mainly toward Michael. I sensed a strong affinity between the two, forming a glass wall through which I could only be a spectator peeking in. Suddenly I decided that I didn’t like Professor Fulton, no matter how important he was in the art circle and to Michael. Maybe it was jealousy; I didn’t feel that I’d ever have a place in this world of the rich and powerful.

Finally Michael said to Fulton, “Meng Ning is also a painter. She learned Buddhist ink painting from a very influential nun in Hong Kong.”

Now the professor’s face glowed slightly. “Oh, please tell me more.”

Eager to draw his attention to me, I pushed away any vestige of Confucian modesty and plunged on to tell him about Yi Kong: how her temple had become the most influential in the colony; how she had acquired a priceless collection of Buddhist art from all over China; how she was now building a multimillion-dollar museum in cooperation with the Hong Kong government.