Rich People Problems-Kwan 2017 (WWT)

John of Jerusalem, various decorations from Malay royals—but one medal stood out: an
eight-point Maltese cross made of pewter, and at its center was a large amethyst.
“What did Dr. Young receive this medal for?” Ah Ling asked, holding up the
translucent gemstone to the light.
“Oh, that wasn’t his. This was given to me after the war by the queen. Don’t bother to
polish that,” Su Yi answered.
“How come I never knew you were honored by the queen?”
Su Yi huffed dismissively. “It wasn’t very significant to me. Why would I care what the
Queen of England thinks? The British abandoned us during World War II. Instead of
sending more troops to defend the colony that helped to make them rich, they retreated
like cowards and wouldn’t even leave us with real weapons. So many young men—my
cousins, my half brothers—died trying to hold back the Japanese.”
Ah Ling nodded her head gravely. “So what did you get this medal for?”
Su Yi gave her a wry smile. “One night during the height of the occupation, I got
careless. I was in the Botanic Gardens with a small group of friends, and none of us
should have been there. The island was under curfew, and the gardens were locked up in
the evenings—they were especially out of bounds. A patrol of Kempeitai—the vicious
Japanese military police—came out of nowhere and surprised us. Now, a few of my
friends couldn’t risk getting caught by the Japanese—they were already on the wanted
list—so I let them flee and allowed myself to be caught. I had protection papers, you see.
Our family friend Lim Boon Keng had gotten me a special badge that was marked
‘Overseas Chinese Liaison Officer,’ and this meant that I could go about the island
unmolested by the soldiers.
“But these soldiers didn’t buy my story—I told them that we were all just good friends
out on a lark, but they still arrested me and took me to their commanding officer. When I
saw I was being taken to a certain house on Dalvey Estate, I remember getting very
anxious—this colonel was known for his brutality. He once shot a young boy on the
street just because the boy didn’t salute him in the correct manner. And here I was about
to face him after committing a big offense.
“When we got to the front door, some soldiers were coming out carrying a body that
was covered by a bloody sheet. I thought it was all over for me then, that I was about to
be raped or shot, or maybe both. My heart was racing a mile a minute. They dragged me
into this sitting room, where I came upon the most unexpected sight. The colonel was this
tall, elegant man sitting at the grand piano playing Beethoven. I stood there just
watching him perform the entire piece, and when he had finished, for some reason I
decided to speak first, something you were never supposed to do. I said to him, ‘The
Piano Concerto No. 5 in E-flat major is one of my favorites.’
“The colonel turned and gave me this piercing stare and said in perfect English, ‘You’re
familiar with this piece? You know the piano? Play something for me.’
“He got up from the stool, and I sat down at the piano absolutely petrified, knowing
what I chose to play could mean the difference between life and death. So I took a deep