When Lian got back to the flat that evening, she ate standing up in the kitchen, a bowl of soup noodles from a small restaurant around the corner and a handful of dried fruit. She had bought vegetables, a block of tofu, and two eggs. She would use what was in the pantry very carefully. She understood how to be frugal. It was the only way she knew how to live.

Her mother had taken secretarial work in Peking with an American company. Lian now realized her mother’s English and typing skills must’ve earned her a relatively good wage. Yet they’d always rented cheap rooms and her mother’s only good clothes were the ones she wore to work, plain and modest. People said her mother spoke English with an American accent. Lian circled a few names on the list that seemed American. The American Baptist Mission camp. Yale University Mission. The American Society of Friends Mission. She would try those first. She should’ve thought of this sooner.

She sat up in bed and studied the list more closely, trying to remember the tidbits her mother had mentioned of her early years, the mission school that had educated her, giving her a way out of poverty. But her mother had never talked much about her past. When Lian thought about it, her mother had always lived under a veil of secrecy, even when they’d been happy.

Chapter 32

After Shao came out of his fever and delirium, he still needed a few days of rest, good food, and more antibiotics before he felt confident enough to make the trip to Shanghai. He stood at the prow of the freighter as it lurched its way through the waves, the muddy yellow stream of the Yangtze River merging with Hangchow Bay’s darker waters. They were nearing the mouth of the Yangtze River and the wharves of Shanghai. He wore clothing borrowed from his brother’s closet, a warm, fur-lined coat over a woolen sweater. A year ago, they’d been the same size. Now he was so thin he could’ve worn another padded tunic underneath and it would still have been loose. Shao leaned against the railing, ignoring the cold wind that scoured his face.

Before they left Wen-chou, his brother’s mistress had come into the room while Sparrow packed their bags for the journey to Shanghai. He still couldn’t believe that she had stayed behind in Wen-chou while Tienming was in Shanghai. His brother must be thoroughly infatuated to indulge her preference of remaining in Wen-chou.

“I have a letter for your brother,” she said, holding out an envelope to Shao. “Would you please give this to him?”

“Of course,” he said. “I’m sure he’ll be glad to hear from you. I’m sure he misses you.”