Your mother burned incense to a Fox spirit, it said. Don’t you remember?

My mother had been fond of telling stories about Fox spirits. “Are you a good spirit or an evil one?”

She gave a small bark of disdain. How can you tell whether anyone is truly good or evil? I’ve been a Fox for hundreds of years and from what I’ve seen it takes generations before consequences truly run their course.

This answer made no sense to me, but her next suggestion did. Go to that girl. She’ll give you something to eat.

“My mother said not to let anyone know I was here,” I said, but my words of protest were feeble. The hollowness in my stomach mattered more.

In response, the Fox nudged me toward the door.

CLOSER, THE GIRL’S eyes were the first thing I noticed. Her looks were unremarkable, smooth flat features on a plain face. But her eyes were large and deep-set, solemn and serene.

She spoke first. “The neighbors outside said they’ve heard crying for the last two nights since the Fong family moved away. They say it’s the ghost of a concubine who committed suicide. Have you seen such a ghost?”

I shook my head. My mother had never mentioned any ghost.

“You were the one crying, weren’t you?” she said. “I thought so. I knew there was someone here when I saw those plum pits. They were still damp.”

“Have you seen my mother?” The question tumbled out, more important than food.

“Who’s your mother?”

“Her name is Mama.” What other name could she have? The girl looked at me, as if expecting more. “She went away with everyone else. But she’s coming back.”

“Why didn’t you go away with her?” the girl asked.

I had asked myself this question for days and could only look away, unable to answer.

“What’s your name?”

“Jialing.”

“My family name is Yang,” she said. “Yang Anjuin. What’s your family name?”

“Zhu. I think.” How could I have been uncertain of my own name? My mother had never made a family name seem important. She only ever called me Jialing. My little Ling-ling, she sometimes teased, like the sound of a bell.

“Let’s go talk to my grandmother, Jialing.”

Anjuin held her hand out and I took it. My fingers were cold and rather sticky, but Anjuin’s grip was firm, and her eyes as she looked down were clear and kind. My wariness dissolved, and when she squeezed my hand, I squeezed back.

As we left, I heard a rustle in the bamboos. A small note of caution from Fox sounded in my mind, warning me not to mention anything about a Fox spirit to anyone.

And behave yourself, the voice added. Be good and make it easier for them to let you stay.

Also by Janie Chang

Dragon Springs Road

Three Souls

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