I walked over to Tang Hui. “I’m sorry. Nothing happened.”

“I didn’t go through your things,” he said. “Your bag fell over. But it doesn’t matter. I’m going.” He opened a drawer and grabbed his sweaters. A packet of mothballs rolled out and landed at his feet. Its scent had faded, lost in our mundane days, but we hadn’t got rid of it. Now he picked it up and put it in the trash.

“You said you’d never leave me,” I muttered.

“Yes, I’m going back on my word. While I still can. Or is it too late? I can’t tell.”

“I always knew you would walk out on me.”

“I believe you when you say nothing happened last night, but at the same time, a lot of things must have happened. You always see the darker side of life, so what’s happening now can’t come as a surprise.”

He closed his suitcase and set it by the wall. “Are you going to tell me you found a new clue about your father’s past, so you had to meet up with someone from long ago?”

“It’s not like that. Last night was the end.”

“That’s the only way you can feel alive, am I right? The rest of the time, you’re a walking corpse.”

“Please stop. It’s all over, Tang Hui.”

“Do you know what I think of your life, Jiaqi? You insist on occupying a history that doesn’t belong to you. It’s a form of escape, because you can’t deal with your actual life. You don’t know why you exist, so you hide in your father’s era. You feed on that generation’s scars. Like a vulture. You pick up scraps of his life, and piece them into a love story featuring him and Wang Luhan. A shame it’s all imaginary, Jiaqi. Do you even know what love is?”

I stood motionless. Cold air seemed to rise from my feet.

“I just don’t understand.” He shook his head, picked up his umbrella and suitcase, and walked out. The window rattled as he slammed the door, then silence resumed.

Some time after this, Peixuan came back to China and I moved in with her. Grandpa began to reappear in our conversations, and also in our silences. Then Peixuan left, while I stayed on in the apartment another two months. Mom kept phoning and urging me to go back to the white mansion. Her repeated pleas merged into a single summons that grew clearer and clearer. I realized my journey of retracing Dad’s steps was nearing its end, and decided to come back here to see Grandpa.

Was Yin Zheng right? Does confessing and pointing out sin purify the soul? I don’t know. Still, it’s a ray of hope, and I hope Grandpa will see the light before he departs. But that’s his business, and no one can force him to do it, or do it for him. Which means I’m only here as a witness. All I can do is wait.