The fragrance of steamed rice drifted into the room, the kitchen staff already busy with breakfast. Most of his classmates were still sleeping but a few had tied up their bedrolls and were gone. Shao decided to take a walk around the property. He pulled his coat on and noticed a button had come loose. He pulled the button off and put it in his pocket. He’d have Sparrow sew it back on for him.

The estate felt curiously and pleasantly familiar. His father had taken him once to the outskirts of Shanghai where the Liu family’s real estate firm owned an entire street lined with old-fashioned courtyard homes much like this one. The courtyard homes were soon to be demolished, making way for more fashionable foreign-style villas. Shao had tagged along behind his father and the architect as they inspected each of the properties. It was one of the few times he’d had his father to himself. Wandering around this old house brought back pleasant memories.

A bamboo garden flourished in one of the courtyards. Some grew thick canes striped in green and yellow, others stood only knee-high, their leaves as dainty as ferns. Weeds pushed up between paving stones. Another year of neglect and the courtyard would look like a wilderness.

A movement between the trees and he realized someone else was in the courtyard. Wang Jenmei, her voluptuous figure a contrast to the austere elegance of bamboo. If he’d known, Shao would’ve avoided this courtyard, but now it was too late. She had seen him and flashed a smile, one that invited him to join her. A smile that seemed to imply he was entering her domain.

“The floor too uncomfortable for sleeping?” she said. She lifted one shapely eyebrow, giving her words a slightly mocking intent.

“Not at all,” Shao said, “there’s just no point in oversleeping. I wanted to take a look around this old place.”

“There’s estates like this all over China, Shao,” Jenmei said, waving her hand at the surrounding houses. “High walls protecting fine homes meant to house generations of a single family. Rather like yours, I’d guess.”

“My great-grandfather built eight houses side by side on the same street,” Shao said, “for his sons and grandsons and their families. I suppose that counts as one estate for one family.”

“My family’s home is three hundred years old,” she said. “Three hundred years of ancestors under the same roof, same town, same street. Unlike your family, however, my grandfather and his sons lack ambition. Our wealth flows out the door, never in.”

“But obviously they believed in giving you an education,” Shao said, hoping to end the conversation. He’d made enough small talk to be polite. But she put a hand on his arm, stopping him from leaving.