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On the day of Mrs. Brown’s party, Isaac and Anyu took a taxi to her mansion.

When it stopped at two stone sculptures of prancing dogs, Anyu got out.

In front of her was a palatial two-story English neoclassical building with a wrought-iron gate, where four policemen stood.

Isaac showed them his invitation, and they were waved in.

Walking down the meandering path in the garden with Isaac, Anyu studied the crescent balcony on the second floor, the massive lawn with lush foliage and flowers, the glimmering electric garden lamps, and the black Rolls-Royce sedans with chauffeurs in double-breasted ocher liveries.

They stopped in front of a towering black metal door, where a white-haired doorman dressed in a sleek coat and leather boots ushered them in.

Anyu had been prepared to see the grandeur of Mrs. Brown’s mansion, but still, she was amazed.

In her plain shirt and pants, she looked like a maid.

The spacious ballroom bloomed like a verdant summer from a fantasy land: the floor was covered with jade-shaded carpet in a pattern of floating white clouds, the walls were painted in soft emerald green, the pastel wainscoting was brushed with gold, and a massive chandelier sparkled with crystal leaf-shaped lampshades.

Under the chandelier, the men were clad in black top hats and tails, their lapels gleaming with gold pins, their wrists flashing diamond watches.

Women wore long evening dresses adorned with lush sable wraps to ward off the late-spring chill.

They all seemed at ease, gliding between white marble columns, their jewelry glowing in the light.

“Why would people wear snake jewelry, Mr. Mandelburg?” Anyu studied the women’s adornments with interest. A panther brooch, a parrot barrette, a snake bracelet, filigree earrings set in platinum, Art Deco necklaces with bejeweled pendants.

“The snake represented everlasting, undying love in the Victorian era. Prince Albert gifted Queen Victoria an emerald snake ring and started a trend. It’s a popular motif in Europe.”

Anyu shook her head. “I wouldn’t associate the snake with romantic passions. Snakes don’t evoke auspicious sentiments in Chinese culture.” But she understood. Symbolism.

A man wearing round black-rimmed glasses, Mrs. Brown’s secretary, told Isaac she would see him once she finished her meeting. Isaac thanked him.

“Where’s Mrs. Brown?” Anyu asked.

“There.” Isaac gestured to a plump lady in a shimmering ivy-green dress sitting on a velvet sofa across from them.

Anyu gave her a good look. The woman appeared to be in her thirties.

The most impressive feature about her was not her round cheeks, her bluish-green eyes with the saturated colors of highly prized emeralds, or her cloud-shaped blond hair, but rather her Edwardian diamond tiara.

Anyu had never seen a tiara crafted to such perfection, with intricate branches and leaves adorned with numerous large, high-quality diamonds; she could identify at least thirty rose-cut diamonds in high brilliance.

Even at a distance, the radiance of the tiara, bursting with dispersion and fluorescence, glowed in the room.

Mrs. Brown was thirty-seven years old, a widow who had lived in Shanghai since 1915, when her then-husband established his business in China.

After his fatal fall from a mountain during an expedition, Mrs. Brown had taken over his business.

She was knowledgeable in Russian, French, and Chinese, which she learned so her lapidaries wouldn’t cheat her, she had said.

As Anyu and Isaac approached, she was speaking to a Chinese couple: a young woman in a black dress embroidered with orchids and a man in a military uniform decorated with pins and medals.

They looked familiar. Anyu stared, and then she remembered she had seen them in the newspapers.

Generalissimo Chiang Kai-shek and his fiancée, Soong Mei-ling.

Surrounding Mrs. Brown were eight men wearing black fedoras—bodyguards. In fact, as Anyu inspected the ballroom, she found more guards in black shirts and hats, scattered discreetly.

“Would you like to know the elite of Shanghai? There’s Mr. Morris, the man who’s smoking a cigar,” Isaac said.

Henry Morris, a good friend of Mrs. Brown’s, was also the owner of a few newspapers in the French Concession and the Canidrome dog track; his home was located on a lot that measured sixty thousand square meters.

“And there is the British diplomat, Mr. James, and an Italian consul, Mr. Romano.”

“I would never be able to remember their names.”

“You might want to. They could be your clients,” Isaac said.

“Clients.”

“A master jeweler has to establish a devoted client base who inspires and fosters his creation. And you’ll know this: a good jeweler makes jewelry, but a master jeweler builds relationships.” Isaac took two champagne flutes from a server’s tray and gave one to her.

She hadn’t tried alcohol before, but everyone was holding a flute, so she accepted it. A good jeweler makes jewelry, but a master jeweler builds relationships.

Isaac continued discreetly pointing out the men to her, diplomats, tycoons, successful businessmen, collectors, scions of wealthy families, and jewelers—Americans looking for job opportunities in Shanghai.

Then Anyu caught several English phrases among the noise of the conversation.

She turned her head. Near her was an Italian man wearing a striking ring with a clear, faceted Pigeon’s Blood ruby encircled by brilliant-cut diamonds; a Hungarian architect with a beard shaped like wings; a pink-faced British naval officer; and a man standing with legs spread apart like a pair of pliers—the president of an American oil company. They were talking about Fabergé eggs.

“I’ll pay one hundred thousand US dollars for a piece. Where are they?” the American said.

“Spirited out of the storeroom ... No one knows ... Eight. Yes. I hear eight of them are missing, but I could be wrong, and the report could also be deliberately misleading,” the British naval officer said.

She took a few steps closer to listen better.

“Dead? No, not dead ... The workmaster fled ... with his eggs ... Yes, someone saw him ...” Their voices were swallowed by a bout of women’s laughter.

“Yes, yes. I do know his name. Isaac Umansky ... I’m sure of it.”

“A Jew? Did anyone get him?”

“Jews. I hear they amassed many treasures ...”

“No ... I don’t have his photo. I don’t know what he looks like ...”

Isaac returned his flute and took another one, his hands shaking. He must have heard, too.

“How did they know?” Anyu whispered.

Isaac shot her a look that made her instantly regret what she had said. She glanced at the well-dressed people, hoping no one had overheard her. Had her landlord gossiped about the egg? Who else had he talked to?

Isaac looked unperturbed, but he didn’t speak a word after that.

Finally, the Chinese couple stood and left Mrs. Brown’s sofa, and Anyu wove through the crowd with Isaac. Before they came any closer, one of the bodyguards asked Isaac to turn over his pockets.

“There’s no need to search him. It’s Isaac.

Come, Isaac.” Mrs. Brown extended her ungloved right hand for Isaac to kiss.

The British woman had a pleasant, husky voice and the bearing of eminence that made people lean over and heed every word she uttered.

“I’m pleased to see you, darling. It’s not often that you come to my party. How are you?”

“I’m well. Thank you, Mrs. Brown,” Isaac said. “It’s so kind of you to meet us. I’m grateful for your time.”

“You’re my distinguished guest. I shall always have time for you, darling.”

“Mrs. Brown, you are too kind. Please allow me to introduce my apprentice to you. Anyu.” Isaac smiled—perhaps it was an illusion, but Anyu thought he looked nervous.

The British woman turned to her, the brilliance of the tiara lighting up her bluish-green eyes. She didn’t speak, studying Anyu’s face, her clothing, and her gloved hands.

“It’s my honor to meet you, Mrs. Brown,” Anyu said.

“If you don’t mind, Isaac,” the lady said. “Could we speak in private?”

That was it? She had only had one sentence to exchange with her. After all these weeks’ expectations, Anyu was not willing to leave yet. “Excuse me, Mrs. Brown. Is the generalissimo looking for a wedding ring?”

Both Mrs. Brown and Isaac looked startled.

“Yes, but how did you know?” the lady studied her, more carefully this time.

“I read the newspaper. It said he had been engaged to Miss Soong. I assumed they’d be married soon.”

Mrs. Brown handed her champagne flute to one of her bodyguards. “You are rather perceptive. Your assumption is accurate. He is looking for a wedding ring for his fiancée, and I made some suggestions to him. He’ll find one that appeals to his taste.”

“I’m sure he will,” Anyu said.

“Now, here’s something else you might wish to know, Isaac. The generalissimo also plans to pamper his fiancée with a brooch as a wedding gift.”

“A brooch,” Isaac said.

“I proposed that they serve as the judges of our annual jewelry competition. They’ve agreed to take on the duty of viewing the submissions and choosing the winner.”

“This is fantastic news.”

Anyu seized the chance. “Mrs. Brown, if you don’t mind, may I ask for a favor? I hear the deadline for submitting designs for the competition has passed. Will you make an exception to accept one more submission? This is still at the early stage of preparation.”

The lady raised her eyebrows. “No one has dared ask me for a favor before. Little girl, on whose behalf are you requesting?”

“The House of Mandelburg.”

“So you decided to compete, after all, Isaac?”

He nodded. “If it’s agreeable to you.”

“Very well, Isaac. For you, I’d make an exception. Your house will be added to the list of competitors. However, I hope you can forgive me, one submission is all I will accept.” She raised her hand.

Their time was up. Anyu rose with Isaac and went to stand by a marble column near a staircase as other guests took their seats.

“She’s a frigid woman,” Anyu said.

“Perhaps.”

“I don’t think she likes me.”

“That’s because she’s British.”

“Why is that?”

“I might be wrong. The Brits have mastered many skills, but expressing affection is not one of them. Something to do with their weather.”

“Like the Russians?”

Isaac chuckled. “Like the Russians.”

“I’d like to compete.”

“I figured. Wasn’t this the reason you requested to see Mrs. Brown? Now you have your wish.”

“You remember your promise?” Anyu said in a low voice.

“I do. But as your mentor, Anyu, I’d like to warn you: The prospect of winning is, sadly, very slim, for a novice designer. It will be a fierce competition.”

“I know.”

“I think you might also want to know that the House of Bellefeuille has been the winner for five consecutive years, and the House of Clemente and House of Frost and Satin also have famed jewelers. These three houses possess enormous wealth and a high level of sophistication in crafting jewelry. To beat their creation would take ingenuity, skill, and luck.”

“Monsieur Bellefeuille was the winner? Is he here?”

Isaac shook his head. “He and Mrs. Brown are sworn enemies.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“If you insist on competing, then go ahead. Craft your piece.”

“Would you craft a piece, too?”

“Mrs. Brown said one design from us. Her wish must be respected.”

“We can create two and choose one. If my design is better than yours, you’ll submit mine.”

Isaac laughed. He finished the champagne in one gulp. “If your design is better than mine.”

The soiree was in full swing, but Anyu, her heart soaring with joy, couldn’t waste a minute more at the ballroom.

“We have to go home,” she said.

When she left Mrs. Brown’s mansion, she had already visualized a dozen designs featuring animals and birds that were meaningful to Chinese culture.