“I’m the one who is in your debt, Miss Hu,” he said, “for looking after my son all the way from Shangtan to Wen-chou. You’re a good friend, and not just to this Yee Meirong.”

“You should thank Sparrow,” she said, standing up. “She’s the one who looked after both of us, I’m embarrassed to admit.”

“Where are you staying, Miss Hu?” Mr. Liu said. “How can I contact you if there’s news?”

She didn’t want him to know she was using Mrs. Deng’s flat. Not until Shao was back in Shanghai and could vouch for her right to be there.

“I’m staying with friends,” she said. “But I can come by every week. Every Thursday? But I don’t want to bother you if there’s no need. Perhaps you could leave a message with your clerk downstairs if there’s news.”

IT WAS WELL past noon by the time Lian found Mrs. Deng’s flat, on the third floor of a building near the western end of Connaught Road in the International Settlement. The street was a busy mix of apartments, restaurants, and shops.

“I only lived in that apartment for a week before coming to Wen-chou,” Mrs. Deng had said when she handed over the key. “But it’s clean and there’s food in the pantry. Rice, flour, cooking oil.”

The Star’s sister had come down to Earth as soon as Sparrow, Lian, and Shao decided they’d go to Wen-chou. She found Liu Tienming in Shanghai and put herself in his path.

“That was quick work, Sister,” Sparrow said.

“What incredible luck,” Lian said, “that Shao’s brother found you an apartment so quickly. And at a time like this when rooms in Shanghai are so scarce.”

“That wasn’t luck. The Lius own property all over the city,” Mrs. Deng said, “and this apartment is one of them. I believe someone’s mistress lived there years ago and it’s been empty since. So Liu Tienming reserved it for my use whenever we’re in Shanghai. He doesn’t like hotels.”

Lian couldn’t fathom such wealth. To own property that didn’t need to earn its keep. To have a flat sitting empty, casually available for the convenience of a mistress. To have servants who arrived at a moment’s notice to clean rooms and stock the pantry. Mrs. Deng urged Lian to use whatever was there.

“I won’t be returning to Shanghai,” she said, waving off Lian’s protests.

There was an elevator in the lobby but a nanny was herding several children in. To avoid their inquisitive eyes, Lian took the stairs to Mrs. Deng’s flat. Mrs. Deng. What else could she call the Star’s sister? It felt strange enough addressing a celestial being as “Sparrow” but that was what the Star said to call her. It was her name in this life, she’d said.