Without a car to take them home, Cheung, Yim-Fong, and Tak-Tam had stayed the night at Wong Nai Chung, sleeping up in the loft above the regular bedrooms. Now Cheung climbed down the ladder to the kitchen. “I understand why you want to stay, Ma.”

His mother was on to him. “Don’t you play white man games with me, clever boy,” she said. “I’ve been studying their methods since before you were born. You can’t trick me into leaving my home.”

“The village is not as safe as it once was,” Yim-Fong said. “There’s a war in China. Refugees are coming over the border.”

“There are bandits among them,” Tak-Tam added. “And you and Auntie Hok-Yee are alone here.”

Hok-Yee nodded. She would never abandon her mother, but she’d have been happy to leave this damp and haunted village.

“Clever boy married a clever wife,” said Cheung’s mother. “But you can’t pry me from my home. This is my natal village. My family was strong here. So strong that when your father married me, he came to this village. The usual custom is for the woman to move to the man’s village, you know.”

“Of course I know!” said Cheung. The food smelled too good not to eat. He dipped his spoon into the bowl and slurped down a first hot, salty sip of congee.

His mother continued as though Tak-Tam were not there. “Tak-Tam is marrying into his wife’s family rather than the other way around.”

“Ma,” said Hok-Yee, “don’t embarrass him.” She scooped up a large spoonful of egg and plopped it onto Tak-Tam’s plate.

“My own father did it,” said Cheung, “so it’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“That’s different,” said his mother. “Your father was a refugee. And didn’t your old mother give you a good childhood here? Wong Nai Chung was one of the largest and strongest villages on Hong Kong Island before the Qing sold us out. Before those foreign devils came.”

“But they did come,” said Cheung, digging into the dish of bean thread noodles, white radish, and dried shrimp. “Times have changed. We have to get with the times if we want to live.”

“Hmph. My family survived the Punti–Hakka Wars here. We can survive a few stupid ghost people.”

“If the village had remained placed as it was and all of the villagers had stayed, then perhaps you could have,” said Yim-Fong. “But almost everyone moved to Tai Hang a hundred years ago. How many families remained? Three? And two of those three have since moved to Tai Hang. Now you and Hok-Yee are the last. I know you are attached to your home, but it’s not safe anymore.”

“I’m attached to this place too, Ma,” said Cheung. “But I’m afraid for you. Please come.”

“Ungrateful child,” said his old mother.