“I do,” she said. “When I was making the arrangements to have your granny cremated, I had to produce documents to show I was family. They wouldn’t do it otherwise. So what do you think they did with your grandfather’s body? Buried it? Dumped it? That’s illegal. The only thing they could have done is snuck it back.”

“They kidnapped him—that’s illegal too, isn’t it? Why risk bringing him back?”

“Our building is mostly empty. If they brought him to our door at night, no one would see.”

“So you’ve been hoping one day you’ll open the door, and he’ll be there.”

“Not me, but that’s what your granny was waiting for,” said Auntie. “I understand now—that’s why she refused to move away.”

“Yeah, right. She couldn’t wait for him to die.”

“We don’t always know what we want. I’d thought all along that I would leave here, find somewhere bigger, with a room of my own. But now … I feel like I should stay. Your grandfather’s story isn’t done yet.” She was crying again.

“That’s enough.”

She’d hit on a truth: our waiting hadn’t ended just because Granny was dead. We were waiting for something else, though I wasn’t sure if it was Granddad’s return. Like Auntie, I didn’t believe it was all over. Not that there were any mysteries left to unravel—we knew everything there was to know—but something was hanging over our emotions.

We didn’t say any more. Auntie kept weeping as I pulled a dish of fried peanuts towards me and devoured them by the handful.

Since then, Auntie’s been scared to be alone. I even have to keep her company while she’s cooking. She doesn’t let me go out at night—I have to sit with her on the couch, watching some boring TV serial and eating watermelon. She’ll be sweating nonstop, knitting a thick cardigan. She needs to do something with her hands to feel less anxious. I think she’s going through the change, and she’s burning up all the desire left in her body. Like a furnace about to be decommissioned getting hotter as it uses the last of its coal. Menopause hit her right after Granny’s death, as if to slot her into the “old woman” role that had now opened up. She’s also inherited Granny’s traits—she’s becoming twisted, domineering, suspicious of everyone. Of course no one can help ageing, but this seems particularly cruel. She might still be a virgin. A lifetime’s worth of blood, shed in vain.

Li Jiaqi

Is it cold in here? A few drinks will warm us up. I’m not great at holding my liquor, I’ll get drunk in no time. Don’t worry, I won’t talk nonsense. My mind actually gets clearer. Alcohol helps me remember. You know what I mean? A lamp shining into a dark, dusty corner.