“So . . .” Margaret was anxious to pick up their conversation from the car. “You’re still living with your aunt and uncle?”

“No. Just my uncle. My aunt died before I came to Beijing. I did not know her. My uncle has never really got over the loss of her.”

Margaret watched Li carefully, and helped herself from the bowls that he had just visited. The food was delicious, but within minutes a mild burning sensation in her mouth had turned into a searing heat. She gasped for breath. “My God, it’s hot!” And she grabbed her beer, draining nearly half the glass in a single draught. She looked up and saw a smile playing about Li’s lips.

“Sichuan food,” he said, “is always spicy. It is good, yes?”

She was having hot flushes now, her face, she was sure, a bright pink, perspiration breaking out across her forehead. Her eyes narrowed. “You brought me here on purpose, didn’t you? You’re trying to burn the mouth off me.”

Li’s smugness infuriated her further. “This is the cuisine of my home,” he said. “I thought you would be interested to try it. I did not realise your soft American palate would be so . . . sensitive.”

She glared at him. “You’re a complete bastard, Li Yan, you know that?”

He felt a thrill of pleasure, not only from the sound of his name on her lips, but from the fact that she had remembered it. She took another gulp of beer and he took pity on her. “No, no.” He took the glass from her. “Drinking will not help.” He took a sachet of sugar from his pocket and passed it to her. “This will help.”

“Sugar.”

“Sure. It will stop the burning.”

Still suspicious, she opened the sachet and emptied its contents into her mouth. Miraculously, as it melted, so did the heat in the sweetness. “It does,” she said with surprise.

Li smiled. “Spicy and sweet. And therein you have the balance of opposites. Yin and yang. As in feng shui.”

“I thought you didn’t know anything about feng shui,” Margaret said suspiciously.

“Not of its practice. But I understand the principles.” He filled his mouth with more spicy food.

“How can you do that?” Margaret asked. “Doesn’t it burn you, too?”

“I am used to it. And if you will eat some more now, you will find it does not burn so much and you will taste the flavours. And always take some noodles with each mouthful.”

Hesitantly, she followed his advice, and to her amazement the food did not seem quite as hot as it had. But she proceeded more cautiously now, sipping frequently at her beer. “So where did you learn to speak such good English? At school?”