I saw the part of the grass that Drew and my family had been dumped on post-party and I suddenly wanted to laugh. There wasn’t anything to demarcate the specific spot, but I knew the exact location regardless. The amount of adrenaline that had been coursing through me at the time made me remember precisely how far we had been from the door, from the koi pond, and from the out-of-bloom peonies, which triangulated to one specific spot.

This can’t go worse than that night, I told myself.

After a few deep breaths—ironically, they were similar to Lamaze techniques I’d once seen on TV—I exited the car and made my way up the steps in one swift breath, rapping on the door before I’d processed all the moves I’d just made.

Mrs. Kuo opened the door, and relief rushed through me, since she was the one I’d come to see. I was braced, ready in case she slammed the door, but she let it hang, neither shutting me out nor letting me in.

“What do you want, Jing-Jing?” she asked in a tired tone.

“Kuo Ǎyí, I came to apologize.” When she didn’t respond, I added, “Please.”

She hesitated, looked around the foyer—I had no idea what for—then sighed. Still without opening the door further, she turned and walked into the study on the left, which had floor-to-ceiling bookcases filled with wǔxiá novels, Chinese scholarly texts, and biographies of tech moguls.

I followed her and settled into the closest antique chair—square, dark brown wood, and carved with Chinese characters.

I waited a beat, instinct telling me she was going to offer me tea or snacks, but she widened her eyes to ask me, Well? and then added a waving hand when I still hadn’t spoken a second later.

“I’m sorry for how everything devolved that day,” I said. “I’m sorry I embarrassed you, and I’m sorry I ruined your party.” Those things I did mean. Mostly. Though, honestly, it was hard to separate those feelings from my anger at what she and her family had done.

The next part, on the other hand, I not only didn’t mean, but in order to get it out without gagging, I had to channel every tip Drew had given me last night when I’d texted him my plan. Memorize the words and repeat them beforehand until they have no meaning. That way, when you say them, you don’t even have to be present. If that doesn’t work, pretend it’s a joke and you’re deadpanning right now. And if that still doesn’t work, take a few breaths and remind yourself you can barf later.

“I knew I wasn’t good enough for Hongbo,” I said evenly. “So I lied and told everyone I was pregnant for his sake, and yours, and Kuo Shǔshú’s.”