“They got married, you numbskull!” said Yim-Fong.

“You were struggling so hard to make a decision, Ba,” said Tak-Wing, “so I did it for you. Emily’s father was going to marry her off to some ugly rich guy from Singapore. It would have been such a waste.”

“You’re kidding me,” said Cheung.

“Do you see me kidding?” said Tak-Wing.

The reality of the situation slowly dawned on Cheung. “You shame me like this in front of my friend? You humiliate his lovely daughter?”

“Aw, Ba, don’t be like that. Emily and I are happy! Isn’t that what you want for your favourite son?”

“You are not my favourite son.”

“Ba, come on. It was always going to be Emily and me. Ting-Yan will get over it. You know, Tak-Tam is really into her. You should give him to your friend.”

“Please have the humility to remove yourself from my house.”

“But I live here.”

“You only live here because I bought you this dead ghost house!”

“But—”

“Out!” said Cheung. “Now. I never want to see your dog demon face again.”

“You better go,” said Yim-Fong to Tak-Wing. “Come back later when your father has calmed down.”

“Where am I supposed to go?”

Cheung had a broom in his hand. He raised it above Tak-Wing’s head. “The nerve of you!”

“Just go for a walk,” said Yim-Fong.

“And don’t come back!” Cheung yelled.

Tak-Wing took Emily’s hand and they strolled past the main pillars of the house and out into the gathering storm.

Cheung slumped onto one of the chairs that surrounded the old wooden dining table and dropped his head into his hands.

Captain Lee, Siu-Wai, and Ting-Yan came out from the back then. Tak-Tam was with them also.

“Maybe we should just go back to Chek Keng,” said Lee.

“Nonsense,” said Cheung. “There’s a typhoon coming.”

“I made a lot of food,” said Yim-Fong. “Just stay. We don’t have to talk about it. We can sort it out later.”

“I’ve brought you too much hardship already, I think,” Lee said.

“Not at all, Brother,” Cheung said. “If anything, it’s the other way around. My idiot son has brought trouble to you. You can’t travel now anyway. You better stay for the night.”

True to her word, Yim-Fong had cooked a solid dinner in spite of the shortages. Now, she took the shrimp Granny Tang had given Captain Lee, and fried them typhoon-shelter style, with garlic, ginger, fresh chilies, and Shaoxing wine. She laid out the dishes—two kinds of stir-fried greens, a large steamed rock cod brought down earlier that morning by Siu-Wai, minced pork steamed with salted duck egg, large-head bean sprouts, and a big pan of homemade turnip cake.

The storm broke for real. Water gushed down the nullah on the street outside.

“Maybe you should go look for them,” Yim-Fong said.