Ying Yue believes she may actually become altogether invisible whenever she holds her breath.

Nobody has ever indicated otherwise.

Ying Yue cannot speak Chinese. But she can understand it. Bits of it, at least. Although nothing ever really sticks with Ying Yue. She is ferociously innocent. She is so innocent that sometimes she forgets that she is a person and believes, instead, that she is a small, insignificant white feather – a little piece of fluff – drifting gently – in an infinitely descending circle – down,

down,

down, to the ground.

Does that make any sense? If something is infinitely descending can it ever actually reach the ground? Wouldn’t the ground – its presence, its absence – be immaterial?

Ying Yue’s not sure that even Wang Shu knows that her only daughter can’t speak Chinese. Nobody on earth is more Chinese than Wang Shu, or more proud of being Chinese than Wang Shu. Every follicle and mole and pore on Wang Shu’s body is Chinese. Wang Shu sweats green tea.

Or maybe Wang Shu does know. Maybe Wang Shu does know that her only daughter doesn’t speak Chinese. Maybe Wang Shu never actually wanted Ying Yue to learn. To maintain a sense of distance.

What an extraordinarily interesting and yet strangely complicated/disturbing thought that is.

Fei Hung – Ying Yue’s wonderful younger brother (Ying Yue was just a failed try-out for a boy) – can speak Chinese. Fei Hung is the Golden Child. Everything about Fei Hung is perfect. Fei Hung actually means ‘bright future’. Fei Hung actually means ‘a swan-goose soaring high in the sky’.

Although …

Argh. Forget it.

Charles must be fifty-odd years old, Avigail surmises (Charles is actually forty years old). Charles makes beautiful bespoke teddy bears for a living. Avigail still can’t entirely come to terms with this notion. It seems like such a silly and improbable way to spend your time. Pointless. Facile. And Charles … There is nothing cute or quaint about Charles. He is uncomfortably tall and pale and his dark hair is long and centre-parted. It hangs in straight flaps either side of his face. And the T-shirts! Avigail doesn’t think for a second that Charles is really a fan of Alanis Morissette, but during her last visit he was wearing a shirt that read: It’s like 10,000 knives when all you need is a spoon.

Malc (the prospective buyer) had benignly referenced the T-shirt when they were first introduced and it had instantly set off some kind of neurotic response in Charles. He had promptly let slip about the burglary. And the knife (did he do it all on purpose? Had he planned it? Was he actually a self-sabotager? One of those self-sabotagers who doesn’t even know – who isn’t even aware – that they are self-sabotaging? Avigail has bumped up against her fair share of self-sabotagers in her life and is certainly in no hurry to make the acquaintance of another).

Nobody has even mentioned the T-shirt this time around, though (since Charles isn’t wearing it, and since they have literally only just stepped in through the front door), yet Charles has still felt compelled to mention the burglary. Already! Avigail suspects that Charles will always mention the burglary from now on during viewings. Out of sheer habit.