Tak-Wing had been promised to Ting-Yan since they were little. That was how it was done in the old days. Cheung and Lee were good friends, and their children liked each other and were of comparable age, so they had betrothed them young, with the understanding that the bond between the families would deepen over the years and the generations. As children, playing together aboard the Oolong, or on shore at Lee’s village of Chek Keng or Cheung’s adopted village of Tai Hang, they had been happy. They’d swum and fished together, played Rock Paper Scissors, Finger War, and Paper Fortune Teller. At Chek Keng, they’d harvested vegetables together and waded through the flooded rice paddies in bare feet. They’d sat on the deck of the Oolong for hours while it was docked at the Causeway Bay Typhoon Shelter and watched the big freighters lumber by, the red-sailed junks swoop and dip, the fishing boats sway, and the little sampans jog among them. They’d eaten sticky rice wraps together on that deck, held hands and watched the sun go down over Lantau Island in spectacular pinks and purples. Often Tak-Tam was with them, the cute little brother, pestering them to explain a game or share their packet of dried squid more equitably. Tak-Wing had truly adored Ting-Yan, and she had adored him in turn. While he was packing for Berlin, she had hidden a tin windup chicken in his suitcase so he would have something to play with and laugh about while he was away from her.

But when he came back, he was different: prideful, and at the same time, oddly aloof. He didn’t tell Ting-Yan to go away, but he didn’t treat her as an equal anymore either. She realized pretty quickly that his feelings had changed, and she was hurt, but she still loved him and continued to hang around. It had affected Cheung’s relationship with Lee. He thought that maybe, if the children married, things would go back to the way they had been. It was a gamble, though, because while the situation might improve, it might also continue to worsen over the course of a lifetime. And then both lives would be ruined. And now Tak-Wing was infatuated with that awful, spoiled Emily Mah. Surely it would blow over. Surely it would pass. Anyway, according to tradition, it was the father’s decision. Though no good father likes to force such a decision against the child’s will. Still, Cheung felt responsible for the outcome, and he was concerned about it.

“What are you thinking about?” said Lee, offering a cigarette from a shiny red-and-gold package.

Cheung accepted. Lee struck a match, and Cheung leaned in to catch the flame. “Nothing at all, Brother,” he lied.

Lee lit his own cigarette and took a deep, contented inhale.