MALANG, Indonesia 1941

TAN KWEE SENG made his fortune in the clove and sugar trade, and had recently expanded into property development. In his early forties, he was considered one of Malang’s most influential Chinese businessmen. Charismatic and forward-thinking, he often hosted community events and was involved in local politics, representing the interests of the ever-expanding Chinese business community.

Tan’s fortune had reached the point where his long-cherished dream could become a reality. He had acquired a prized corner parcel of land on Ijen Boulevard, an elegant address favoured by Malang’s elite. At the intersection of two roads, the site offered the perfect canvas for a residence that could be both admired and remembered. The boulevard itself was a showcase of refined architecture and Dutch influence, lined with stately homes that spoke of wealth and ambition. The boulevard had been planted with a long line of palm raja ‘royal palms’ along both sides of the main thoroughfare. Mass planted bougainvillea beds in the centre of the boulevard gave the destination the feeling of being a street within a park, or a park within a street.

Tan felt both pride and a sense of responsibility to honor the location. He knew precisely what he wanted. His vision had been shaped by years of contemplation. It would be a home of elegance, worthy of his family and the boulevard. He described his grand home in intricate detail to the architect seated across the table from him. “It will be a two-story structure with whitewashed walls, shuttered windows, and a broad wrap-around veranda supported by classic columns. The roof will be clad in terracotta tiles. Inside, we’ll require high ceilings to keep the house cool.”

The architect was silent, but attentive, writing notes as his client continued with his detailed list of requirements. “The floors must be polished teak, except in the central hall which will have Peranakan tiles with an ancestral altar.” Tan explained his East meets West themes, a blend of Chinese heritage with antique rosewood furniture alongside European touches like chandeliers, oil paintings, and a grand piano. The architect knew this house wasn’t just a home; it was a financial statement. It would host business meetings, formal dinners, and cultural events. It needed to be large enough to accommodate extended family and guests, with a separate kitchen block and servants’ quarters discreetly positioned at the rear.

Tan would require a security pavilion at the front of his property that would be a miniature version of the grand home, and provide shade for the security staff who would protect his family. All of this was assumed knowledge the architect knew from living in Malang. He understood the different layers of society and how important it was for Tan to demonstrate his position within the city. Tan explained to the architect that he admired the elegance of colonial Dutch design; the symmetry, the soaring ceilings, and the stately shutters gracing every building of significance in Malang. To him, these buildings were more than beautiful. They projected status; and he wished for his home to speak of status. The architect, who had maintained a respectful silence while making detailed notes, promised to return in four weeks with preliminary drawings

When they met again, Tan was visibly overwhelmed. The architect’s vision not only met his expectations, it surpassed them. The drawings were exquisite, breathtakingly beautiful. His dream was realised in flawless drawings, superbly coloured to bring the images to life. The architect proposed a formal tropical garden with neatly clipped hedges and flowers hanging from a shaded pergola where seats were drawn and teacups sat on a table. Tan could even see goldfish in the pond. No detail had been spared. It was as if the home already existed and his heart soared as he studied the drawings.

Though no formal fee had yet been discussed, the architect had trusted Tan’s honourable reputation and poured considerable time into the designs. That trust was well placed. Tan, deeply impressed and moved by the architect’s work, expressed his sincere gratitude and immediately commissioned a full set of architectural plans to guide the builders. That evening Tan sat with his family and with great excitement showed them the home that would soon be theirs. His wife and two children listened as he explained the details and all the ways this home would make them comfortable and happy.

Everyone agreed that No. 9 Ijen Boulevard would be magnificent. The next morning Tan had an idea. While he had paid the architect for his initial design and agreed the payment terms for the full set of drawings, he wanted to give him a gift to acknowledge his personal gratitude for how the man had so perfectly brought his dreams to life. For this he knew who to turn to. The delicate chime of the brass doorbell signaled Tan’s arrival at Toko Emas Tian Hock, the most respected jeweller in Malang. As the heavy teakwood door swung shut behind him, a faint wisp of sandalwood incense wafted through and Tan breathed in the fragrance. The shop was dimly lit but elegant, its glass cases gleaming with neatly arranged jade pendants, gold bangles, and a selection of ornate cufflinks.

Behind the long mahogany counter stood Lim Tian Hock, dressed in a refined, traditional dark blue robe, buttoned high at the neck and falling to the ankle, its fabric shimmering subtly in the light. By contrast, Tan wore a tailored cream linen suit from Surabaya, with a crisply starched shirt and a cane in hand, a nod to European fashion blended with colonial affluence. As Tan approached, both men acknowledged each other with practiced familiarity. Lim inclined his head slightly, bringing one hand over a loosely formed fist in a restrained gongshou, while Tan responded with the same gesture before extending his hand.

Their hands met briefly, firm, respectful, and unhurried before they separated again, the exchange neither overly formal nor casual, but precisely balanced, as befitted men of standing who had long navigated both Chinese custom, colonial business convention and the bonds of family friendship. A quiet understanding passed between them. Each man had performed the correct etiquette without excess, honouring both tradition and the practical language of commerce in a changing world.

“Ah Seng,” Lim greeted softly, his voice calm and precise. “It is always an honour to have you in my humble shop. Tan responded with a low chuckle, his voice richer and more forceful. “Ah Hock, the honour is always mine. Their eyes met with the mutual understanding of long acquaintance. Friends and businessmen of shared heritage and status, they were engaging not just in trade, but in a ritual of trust and tradition.

Lim gestured toward the lacquered stools near the back of the shop, and within moments, jasmine tea was placed on the table in delicate porcelain cups, each hand-painted with pale pink lotus blossoms floating across a celadon green glaze. The scent of the tea mingled with the lingering sandalwood incense, wrapping the room in calm. The two men sipped in unhurried quiet, their conversation beginning with inquiries about each other’s families, before turning to the recent completion of the Balai Kota Malang. Located at Alun- Alun Tugu, the Malang City Hall had quickly become a civic jewel. Its neoclassical symmetry, softened by architectural features such as wide eaves and open colonnades, formed a fusion of European grandeur and local sensibility.

When a thoughtful pause settled over their conversation, Tan gently set his teacup down and leaned forward. He had come with purpose. “I need a gift,” he said, “something of real meaning. A token of gratitude for the architect who is bringing my dream house to life." Lim nodded, absorbing the request. He lowered his head, fingers steepled, and then looked up. “Does the architect have a wife?” he asked. “Yes,” Tan replied, smiling. “She left Amsterdam to begin a new life with him here. I understand the tropical heat has been hard for her health.”

Lim rose without another word and disappeared into a side chamber. A few minutes later, he returned, carrying an ornate lacquered tray on which lay a selection of exquisite jewellery. One by one, he lifted each piece, describing its symbolism, the artisan who had crafted it, and the story behind its design. But Tan’s gaze had already found its destination. There, at the centre of the tray, was a golden lotus flower pendant. Its petals were gracefully layered, delicately etched with filigree, and encrusted with tiny golden seed pearls that caught the light like morning dew. The chain was a fine weave of gold, made to rest lightly against the skin. As Lim held it up, he explained that it had been created by a master craftsman in Yogyakarta, whose family had passed down the technique for three generations.

Tan nodded slowly. It was perfect. With a smile of quiet satisfaction, he asked Lim to wrap the necklace for presentation. Lim bowed gently and retreated to the rear of the shop. He selected an ornate lacquered box, black with mother-of-pearl inlay in the shape of a blooming lotus. Inside, he lined the box with crimson silk and nestled the necklace in its folds. He then wrapped the box in handmade rice paper, and sealed it with a gold wax stamp bearing the mark of his shop.