“He didn’t set out to break the law in China. Besides, you agreed that he would be treated unfairly in China, that the laws there are wrong.”

“Yes, but why should I help someone who can’t even stand Chinese people?”

“Swee Hua, that is ridiculous. Alfred loves China and Chinese people. What you heard in the hearing was just an expression of his political viewpoint. Why do you think Alfred writes what he does? In the hope that people back in China will listen and change their ways.”

“That is not what he said.”

“Listen, wouldn’t you say anything to save your life. Why are you abandoning your friend now?”

Alfred finally spoke up, and Mother shot short phrases at him in Mandarin, slammed her hand onto the table, and then collapsed into a chair. Alfred replied, his voice choked, tears streaming down his face. Shouts and pleas went back and forth for a few minutes.

“Swee Hua, please. What is going on?” asked Auntie Miriam.

“Let me think about it, Miriam, okay? I have heard his explanation. Give me a few days,” Mother finally said.

A few days later, Mother shared a piece of nian gao that she’d made and began to tell me about Alfred. “I’d forgotten about these until Alfred told me he had a craving. They remind me of my childhood, and I want you to know the taste, too.” The dense cake was moist, warm, and sweet.

“I couldn’t stand to listen to Alfred talk about us that way. I know he wasn’t talking about me, but we’re all Chinese. If he talks like that, others will, too. We are not what he says, Lily.”

My mouth was full of nian gao, so I just looked at her, the warmth of the pastry comforting me as Mother’s unease ran up my back like a shiver.

“But I don’t think I could live with myself if I didn’t help. What will happen to him? He is still one of our own.”

Mother took a sip of her coffee. “Miriam is right. Alfred was desperate at the time. He seems remorseful. He told me he didn’t plan to say those things, that it just came out. I should forgive him, right?” Mother didn’t wait for me to respond and picked up the phone to call Auntie Miriam.

Despite Father’s objections, Mother translated for Auntie Miriam as they sent Alfred into hiding. It was like Alfred had entered an afterlife, and my mother was Meng Po, the lady of forgetfulness, whose task is to make sure that the souls who are ready for reincarnation do not remember their previous lives or they’ll stay in hell. She was leading Alfred to the underworld, readying his soul for rebirth.

Alfred left my life as swiftly as he’d entered it. Like a joyful dream, or like a tornado that whirled into town leaving widespread damage behind. We never mentioned Alfred’s name again, partly to protect him, but also because it was too painful.