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.

Seeing you yesterday, I suddenly understood that the destination of this journey wasn’t Grandpa, but being reunited with you. A lot of things will end here, but this is also a beginning. Our connection won’t be severed once Grandpa is gone. It will always be there, tight as ever. And after today, it will be completely in our hands.

The Morning After

The sky is bright and the wind has stopped rattling the window. Gray light fills the room. On the table are two empty wine bottles and two glasses. Li Jiaqi goes to the window and looks out.

“The snow’s not so heavy now,” she says.

“I should go,” says Cheng Gong, but he does not move.

Jiaqi looks into the distance. “I think I can see Dead Man’s Tower.”

“There was a fire a couple of years ago. It got burned down.”

“There aren’t any trees around there, how did the fire start?”

“Not sure. Kids setting off fireworks, I think.”

Cheng Gong goes to the window.

“Kids like it there,” says Jiaqi.

“All the bones were burned to ashes. Maybe that’s what they wanted—the dead people, I mean. To not leave any traces in this world.”

“Mm.”

They look out the window. Snow covers the jagged rocks of Central Gardens, the winding pathways, patiently wrapping everything in the world, softening its angles.

Jiaqi turns to Cheng Gong. “Your spirit intercom. What happened to it?”

“Can’t remember. I think it’s in one of the boxes on our balcony. Why?”

“Wanted to have a look,” she said. “Maybe it still works.”

Cheng Gong shrugs. “It never worked.”

“I remember once we were playing house, and when I sang a song, your granddad blinked. I thought I could use the spirit intercom to sing to him …”

The man in the bed stirs. As Jiaqi and Cheng Gong go over, he opens his eyes.

“Everyone’s here,” he mumbles.

Jiaqi looks at Cheng Gong. “Maybe you should fetch the pastor.”