But Sparrow wasn’t listening to her. The conversation inside now held her attention, the words drifting out clearly to the balcony as both men’s voices grew louder in their enthusiasm.

“But that one word shen carries multiple meanings,” the doctor said, “making interpretation quite a problem.”

“But the poem must offer context,” Shao said, “to indicate whether shen means the human spirit, supernatural spirits, or something spiritual and unfathomable to human minds.”

Shao loved this sort of discussion, picking apart words and debating nuances of meaning. It was the most animated he’d been all evening. When he first arrived, Lian thought he looked as though he wished he were somewhere else.

“In this case, I feel the poet offers room for all three meanings,” the doctor said. “He’s asserting that the gap between humans and gods can be bridged through enlightenment. That mortals hold within us the capacity to advance, and as we advance with each reincarnation, we have the potential to achieve spiritual enlightenment, which in turn achieves immortality. Thus, a mortal can become an immortal, even a deity.”

Lian heard Sparrow’s small gasp. The Star’s eyes were fixed on the doctor as the two men finally began taking dishes to the kitchen. And from far away, up the street, the faintest echoes of a tune came to Lian’s ears. A tune she could finally name, “Pennies from Heaven.”

LIAN’S MOTHER EXCUSED herself from the party. She had to lie down.

“Your body is hard at work repairing damage,” Dr. Mao had said. “You need lots of sleep, lots of food. Go, go. No apologies necessary.”

Lian had noticed all evening how often Dr. Mao’s gaze rested on her mother’s face, how he leaned closer when speaking to her. And all evening, soft color had bloomed in her mother’s cheeks whenever he addressed her. She’d laughed at his jokes, her eyes bright and alert. But he was at least fifty, more than ten years older than her mother. With a plain, square face, he was not at all like her father, who had been as handsome as a film star. Her parents had been the most beautiful couple at any gathering.

Their guests left shortly after her mother went to bed, first Shao then Dr. Mao. Shao, to meet some friends at the Majestic Hotel. The doctor, because he had patients in the morning. They’d left half the dishes unwashed, a chore neglected when they’d become absorbed again in conversation. Lian shook her head and shrugged. She finished the washing up then sat at the dining table for a final cup of tea with Sparrow, who seemed preoccupied with her own thoughts.

“Shao seemed unhappy when he first arrived,” Lian said, clearing her throat. “But I suppose it’s because of his mother.”