01-23-2025, 07:08 PM
The Halia restaurant of the Singapore Botanic Gardens had been closed to accommodate her visit. Tourism curtailed in the winter months, but the heat and humidity would remain long into the coming rains. Jia Xin sat with legs demurely crossed, nursing an iced glass of teh peng. An array of sweet treats had been left in an elaborate arrangement on one of the tables, decorated with expensive and rare blooms, and beyond that stood two women with folded hands and downcast eyes, ready to serve if required. Security was not absent, merely discrete. After some pleasantries Jia Xin had dismissed the garden manager, citing a need to enjoy the air and beauty of his wonderful gardens in solitude. The tips of his ears pinked with the charm of her order, but if he found it rude (and it was unlikely that he did) he was not about to argue with a Kao.
She’d spent the afternoon engaging effortlessly with the crowds which gathered to seek a glimpse of her presence while she was led through her public tour, pausing to pose for photos, and filming the segments that would form her own edits of the occasion. The tropical gardens were ranked amongst Asia’s top tourist attractions, but their links with the Kao family were blooded far deeper than popularity. Cultivation of rubber extraction techniques here in the early twentieth century had led to domination of the global latex trade, and the Kaos were ever the roads upon which such wealth travelled.
Today the orchid house had been as beautiful as always, filled with the rarest specimens and newest experimental hybrids for which they were world renowned. Jia Xin greeted and encouraged with charisma and interest. The expertise here was why Singapore was known as the Garden City, so the Kao’s continued patronage was no surprise. Such was the prestige that diplomacy was often awarded visiting dignitaries or celebrities in the form of a named orchid, and today Jia Xin’s publicised visit had been to accept the newest bloom to be bred and named in honour of the Kao family. It was exquisite, as were its predecessors.
“Moscow?” Liyana repeated. Her cousin was leaning on the restaurant’s railing, looking out into the lush tropics of the surrounding garden. The chimes of a small waterfall sounded distant, and the scent of the flowers was nothing short of heavenly. “You know that’s where they sent Zixin. There’s no way Yeye will let you go there while he’s on business.”
Behind the shade of her sunglasses, Jia Xin’s attention moved over to where she stood. Ice clinked as she sipped her tea, sharp with a suffusion of ginger. The gesture obscured the sly twitch of her smile. Of course, Liy wasn’t wrong. While the Kaos carefully and quietly expanded their territories, the bold and unexpected descent of Singapore's nominal princess would spook all the existing powers into attention with her interest. Jia Xin’s tours were no small things after all; she travelled light in neither people, nor in possessions. If Moscow did not yet understand the invading power, they soon would, with a display like that.
But she had no interest in stepping on her brother’s toes, nor in defying their Yeye – at least in the spirit of his wishes.
Liyana shot a look over her shoulder, then turned fully at whatever she perceived of Jia Xin’s expression. Suspicion clouded her features before she folded her arms, lips pursed together in resignation. All as quick as that. No one ever really argued with Jia Xin, least of all little cousin Liya. Only her father or grandfather might truly rein in her desires, and it rarely happened. Not even her own beloved brother had that power unconditionally, though he might like to think he did. But that was exactly why she had no intention of informing any of them of her plans.
“Just think how hideously cold it will be there, Jiji!” Liy said in disgust. Which, to her credit, having implored whilst surrounded by the beautiful tropics of their home, still decadently warm even in November, was another very good point made. Not that it was a worry Liyana needed to concern herself with, since whatever Jia Xin's normal habits, she wasn’t coming.
“I won’t be gone long enough for anyone to notice, and you’ll help me make sure it stays that way.” Jia Xin stood, setting aside her glass and lifting the sunglasses atop her head. She took her cousin’s shoulders in gentle persuasion. Not that the battle was not already won. Her lips already found themselves plumped in a mischievously triumphant smirk, and the cunning was aglow in her dark eyes.
Liyana only sighed, releasing her arms from their defensive fold across her chest. “You can’t seriously be thinking of going there alone. At least tell me why!”
“Singapore is just so quiet without Zixin,” she said with a smile. “I miss my brother, that’s all.”
It was too dismissive to be the only truth, and they both knew it. In fact she intended to see Zixin not at all, though Liyana didn't need to know that. She'd be back in the Garden City before he ever realised she'd been right under his nose.
She’d spent the afternoon engaging effortlessly with the crowds which gathered to seek a glimpse of her presence while she was led through her public tour, pausing to pose for photos, and filming the segments that would form her own edits of the occasion. The tropical gardens were ranked amongst Asia’s top tourist attractions, but their links with the Kao family were blooded far deeper than popularity. Cultivation of rubber extraction techniques here in the early twentieth century had led to domination of the global latex trade, and the Kaos were ever the roads upon which such wealth travelled.
Today the orchid house had been as beautiful as always, filled with the rarest specimens and newest experimental hybrids for which they were world renowned. Jia Xin greeted and encouraged with charisma and interest. The expertise here was why Singapore was known as the Garden City, so the Kao’s continued patronage was no surprise. Such was the prestige that diplomacy was often awarded visiting dignitaries or celebrities in the form of a named orchid, and today Jia Xin’s publicised visit had been to accept the newest bloom to be bred and named in honour of the Kao family. It was exquisite, as were its predecessors.
“Moscow?” Liyana repeated. Her cousin was leaning on the restaurant’s railing, looking out into the lush tropics of the surrounding garden. The chimes of a small waterfall sounded distant, and the scent of the flowers was nothing short of heavenly. “You know that’s where they sent Zixin. There’s no way Yeye will let you go there while he’s on business.”
Behind the shade of her sunglasses, Jia Xin’s attention moved over to where she stood. Ice clinked as she sipped her tea, sharp with a suffusion of ginger. The gesture obscured the sly twitch of her smile. Of course, Liy wasn’t wrong. While the Kaos carefully and quietly expanded their territories, the bold and unexpected descent of Singapore's nominal princess would spook all the existing powers into attention with her interest. Jia Xin’s tours were no small things after all; she travelled light in neither people, nor in possessions. If Moscow did not yet understand the invading power, they soon would, with a display like that.
But she had no interest in stepping on her brother’s toes, nor in defying their Yeye – at least in the spirit of his wishes.
Liyana shot a look over her shoulder, then turned fully at whatever she perceived of Jia Xin’s expression. Suspicion clouded her features before she folded her arms, lips pursed together in resignation. All as quick as that. No one ever really argued with Jia Xin, least of all little cousin Liya. Only her father or grandfather might truly rein in her desires, and it rarely happened. Not even her own beloved brother had that power unconditionally, though he might like to think he did. But that was exactly why she had no intention of informing any of them of her plans.
“Just think how hideously cold it will be there, Jiji!” Liy said in disgust. Which, to her credit, having implored whilst surrounded by the beautiful tropics of their home, still decadently warm even in November, was another very good point made. Not that it was a worry Liyana needed to concern herself with, since whatever Jia Xin's normal habits, she wasn’t coming.
“I won’t be gone long enough for anyone to notice, and you’ll help me make sure it stays that way.” Jia Xin stood, setting aside her glass and lifting the sunglasses atop her head. She took her cousin’s shoulders in gentle persuasion. Not that the battle was not already won. Her lips already found themselves plumped in a mischievously triumphant smirk, and the cunning was aglow in her dark eyes.
Liyana only sighed, releasing her arms from their defensive fold across her chest. “You can’t seriously be thinking of going there alone. At least tell me why!”
“Singapore is just so quiet without Zixin,” she said with a smile. “I miss my brother, that’s all.”
It was too dismissive to be the only truth, and they both knew it. In fact she intended to see Zixin not at all, though Liyana didn't need to know that. She'd be back in the Garden City before he ever realised she'd been right under his nose.
![[Image: jia-xin-banner-scaled.jpg]](https://thefirstage.org/wp-content/uploads/2025/01/jia-xin-banner-scaled.jpg)