The main music hall was inspired by both those at the Boston Symphony and Vienna’s Musikverein. The rear wall was dominated by a majestic pipe organ, custom-made in Austria by Rieger Orgelbau. Yet, although the hall was steeped in history, leading acousticians had been employed to enhance the hall’s classic shape through computer modeling and sound wave tracking. Precisely angled and textured surfaces introduced subtle, yet dynamic adjustments to the tone.

Furthermore, rather than follow a more subdued European palette, Mr. Tso had chosen a brighter, more auspicious red and gold color scheme. Gryphons and cherubs were replaced with Imperial dragons, phoenixes, and qilin.

And in place of marble caryatids of maidens and muses, jadeite pillars embodied the form of the benevolent Kuan Yin.

Soon Mr. Tso would allow the first photographers and journalists inside. They would stand under the arching ceilings and marvel at the luxurious materials. They would reference the economic and cultural might of China and XPIB. They would gasp at the Leonida Stradivarius.

And, most of all, they would wonder how much all this cost.

Of course they would ask such things. But they would all miss the point, wouldn’t they?

For now, Mr. Tso glanced at his priceless violin, in his beautiful new hall. These were more than things. These were vessels to be launched into time, beyond mere West and East, to bring myths and gods to the world to come.

It was the night before the Golden Friendship Violin Competition.

Aunty Floresta and Edwin were making cake donuts. Unlike the alchemy of yeast donuts, cake donuts were supposedly straightforward, provided one used fresh ingredients and clean oil. However, neither of them was completely satisfied with the current recipe.

One day, they were going to address this. In fact, they would have been discussing this now, were something else not on their minds.

“Aunty, where’s Shirley?”

“She’s with the captain.”

“Still?”

Floresta nodded.

“Is she okay? Mother, I mean. She’s not okay, is she?”

Floresta shook her head.

“No, she’s not.”

Floresta had not seen Lanny smile since the night she found out about Shizuka. When Lan had returned that morning in November, the first thing she did was clear the workshop and issue urgent yet inexplicable orders.

“Someone help Aunty Floresta with the fryers! Shirley, overhaul the runabout! Edwin, inventory the storeroom! And, Windee, when are you going to install the graviton emitters?”

“I already installed the graviton emitters,” Windee had said.

“Just do what I said. That’s an order!”

Windee had cried.

“Mother?” Shirley asked.

“Just go.”

And Lan then climbed up into the donut and said that she would complete the stargate herself.

The next day, Lan had apologized to the crew. But her smile had never returned. Outside of meals and her work shifts at the counter, Lanny spent most of her time fidgeting with the stargate alone.