1 Chapter 1 - No Love Lost

'We are the kind of family that only ever comes together for two things, weddings and funerals, and even then we like to pick and choose. The more pompous members of the family will inevitably offend someone and some estranged and very drunk uncle will either start a punch up or make a scene involving the punch bowl. One thing I do know is, my father would never show up at my wedding to walk me down the aisle. However, as the only daughter who has not been estranged to the far side of the world; disowned and hurriedly written out of family history with an uncanny amount of red ink or died under mysterious circumstances, I am unfortunately obliged to attend his untimely but not entirely unwelcome funeral service.'

Zhao Yingyue (Selena, as known to everyone but her immediate family) eyed herself in the mirror and remarked that she didn't look like she was going to a funeral, in fact, she looked like she was going out clubbing at someone of the more sleazy clubs on the wrong side of town. She was a fairly tall young woman, standing a nearly half a head taller than most of her other female friends with distinctly large black eyes and long black hair. The funeral notice had specified a black dress-code with white accessories as a blend of both Chinese and Western cultures that had become a theme that ran through all recent family events of which she had attended none. The pile of stiff card invitations from all the events she had not attended had been used in a variety of creative ways to pass the time, including but not exclusively: being forced into paper airplanes, used as notepaper for phone messages and as very expensive fire kindling.

She had on a floor-length black dress which was cut low and exposed entirely too much skin for her conservative relatives to ever be comfortable with. The dress was made of a mesh-like material that when the light shone a certain way, the garment became see-through and revealed the lingerie she had on underneath. Yingyue sat down in front of the vanity, slipped on her killer stiletto heels and slid a white lily into her precarious up-do she had spent the best part of the morning wrestling her long black hair into, armed with a can of hairspray and a whole pack of hairpins. She sighed and stood up abruptly, dusted herself down before wrenching a white trench coat off of a hanger and marched out of the room with her head held high and jaw set with determination with every intention of getting the whole sordid and gaudy affair over and done with as soon as humanly possible, pay her non-existent respects and leave.

The black cab stopped behind a long like of sleek, black limos and, after tipping the driver handsomely, Yingyue stepped out into the cold drizzle and the bleak autumn afternoon. Even after donning the thick trench coat to save the more elderly relatives a trip to the hospital and the youngest relatives from being scarred for life, the biting chill of the harsh wind nipped at her bare ankles and she shuddered, drawing in the coat closer around her. Having lived most of her life in the humid climates of Southern China where the temperatures were never in the minus range, she was still not accustomed to the harsh British gales and storms, even after she had been forced to move to accompany her late father to the much colder UK for 'work'. She stared up at the ornate detailing on the exterior of the chapel's worn stone walls, not really paying attention as she was jostled by the crowd of empty faces that she didn't recognise and a sea of multicolour umbrellas towards the entrance of the chapel.

"Apologises miss, this event is invitation only, please produce an invitation or I'm afraid I must ask you to leave the premises."

Yingyue was stopped abruptly at the door by a doorman in such a ridiculous uniform, consisting of waistcoat, magenta dress shirt and a pair of pinstriped trousers in an alarming shade of puce, that she couldn't help but let out a snort of laughter. This only earned her a dirty look from the doorman, to which she responded with one raised eyebrow and a flick of her wrist. Yingyue hiked up the skirt of her dress and stepped elegantly over the braided rope into the chapel. Behind her, the shocked doorman scrambled to pick up the invitation which had been folded neatly into an origami cat. He was on the verge of chasing after the young delinquent when he noticed the name that was on the folded invitation.

ZHAO YINGYUE

The doorman closed his eyes and struggled to steady his breathing and keep his knees from shaking, thanking whichever great power had stopped him from chasing after her. Although his job was ludicrously well paid, it was not worth the trouble of the constant fear that any one of these high society names in attendance could ruin him without lifting a finger, not to mention the absolutely ridiculous uniform he was forced to wear.

The click-clack of Yingyue's heels on the ancient flagstones was mainly drowned out by the chatter of groups of relatives in various dialects of Chinese, broken, and fluent English as well as bits of various other languages thrown in the mix. The first thing that Yingyue noticed was the sheer amount of gaudy and 'Haute couture' hats perched on so many heads of second-cousins and estranged aunts. Her vacant stare and racing mind, unfortunately, did not help her balance and as the crowd behind her surged forward in a futile attempt to escape the drizzle-turned-downpour outside, she was snapped out of her stupor just in time to shoot her hands out to prevent her face from connecting to the cold flagstones. The next thing she knew she was crumpled in an undignified heap on the floor and the hubbub in the background had transformed into a stone-cold silence that felt like it was closing in on Yingyue.

She heaved a sigh and closed her eyes, taking deep breaths in and out as her instructor had drummed into her. This was going to be a long day.