IN THE SPACE OF a few hours, Granny Ng was made an official member of the village and given her own blue tent, just like the others had. Over a hundred tents dotted the southeastern side of Hong Kong Park like giant petals from outer space. That’s how they’d once seemed to her back in the days when she still lived with her son and daughter-in-law. Back then, she would take her morning stroll around the turtle pond with Maru, her daughter-in-law’s shi’itsu. She’d occasionally look over to that strange blue sight, and whenever she saw people moving among the tents, she would turn away, embarrassed for staring. She had never given much thought to why people lived that way. Then one morning, a middle-aged woman with a sleek black bob and a pink tracksuit stopped her at the turtle pond. The woman said she’d noticed her walking her dog there in the mornings, and asked if she was all right. She had her hand on Granny Ng’s arm and a concerned, hopeful look on her face. Granny Ng had to admit that she was feeling hungry, having only had a few crackers for breakfast. The woman—she introduced herself as Kitty—seemed well-spoken and polite, so Granny Ng was surprised when, after answering a few questions about her home life, her new acquaintance led her toward the mass of blue tents. They stopped at an awning at the southern perimeter of the tents where a short, silver-bearded man was stirring a pot of soup on a camp stove.

“Uncle Chow, this is Granny Ng,” said Kitty. “Her son and daughter-in-law want to kick her out of her apartment and put her in an old people’s home at the end of the month. She doesn’t want to go.”

Granny felt her cheeks warm with embarrassment. The silver-bearded man tasted a spoonful of the soup and nodded slowly, though it wasn’t clear if it was to himself or to Kitty. He turned abruptly, wiped his hands on the front of his overalls, and invited Granny Ng to sit on one of the plastic children’s stools dotted around the outdoor kitchen.

“Granny, take the weight off your feet. Ah Kitty, give her some of this soup, will you?” He brought over another stool and sat facing her. “Well, Granny, I’m sorry to hear your son doesn’t want to take care of you. This kind of thing is getting more and more common these days.”

Granny Ng blinked at the bowl of beef soup in her hands and nodded.

“But the fact is that you still have somewhere to stay, true? None of the people here can say the same.”

Kitty looked concerned. “Tell him, Granny Ng. Tell Uncle Chow what you told me.”