“I’ve already told you what I can,” Granny said patiently.

Come on! said Ting-Yan, inside her head. Hurry up!

“What do you mean by unexpected forms?” the customer said.

Ting-Yan rolled her eyes, though no one saw her.

“I hope you made your wishes clearly and without ambiguity,” said Granny Kwok. “The gods can be capricious.”

Mary, Tin Hau, and God in Heaven! Come on!

“What does that mean, capricious?” said the customer.

Finally, it was Ting-Yan’s turn. Her heart raced with excitement and fear.

“General curse or specific curse?” Granny Kwok asked. She wore a pantsuit in brightly patterned fabric, flashier and more contemporary than Ting-Yan’s traditional garb. Several of her teeth were missing, though one of ones that remained was capped in gold. Her face was spattered with liver spots. Her eyes shone bright and lively.

“Specific curse,” Ting-Yan said.

“It’ll cost you more,” said Granny Kwok.

“How much?” Ting-Yan asked.

Granny Kwok named an exorbitant amount. Ting-Yan, well raised as a bargainer by her mother, Kwan Siu-Wai, argued and quibbled, but the granny stood her ground. She could smell desperation and determination. And she knew her worth and insisted on her price.

Ting-Yan made to leave.

Granny Kwok said, “Fine, why don’t you go to Granny Chan’s stall. See if anything works out for you ever!”

Ting-Yan saw that her ruse was not going to work. She sighed. She handed the old woman the sum requested. “You drive a hard bargain, Granny Kwok.”

Once she’d been paid, Granny Kwok’s demeanour shifted. Her broad face went soft, and a tone that conveyed genuine concern entered her voice. “What sorrow brings you here today, daughter?”

Ting-Yan poured it out, her long and patient love for Tak-Wing since they were little children, the days of kite-flying together, or combing the beach for shells, the sunsets, the hand-holding, the longing gazes. The laughter too, the harmless pranks, the windup tin chicken she had put in his suitcase. And then the trip to Berlin, the sudden coldness, the appearance of that glossy Emily Mah Wai-Yee. By the time she told the tale of last night’s dinner and the presence of the newlyweds when she arrived at the Cheungs’ house in Tai Hang, she was a bawling, howling mess, drenched in self-pity. Water gushed from her eyes and nose. She horked up a great wad of snot. She coughed, and then she spat on the ground.

“We will fix it, child,” Granny Kwok said kindly. “We will fix it.”

Ting-Yan mustered a small smile through her tears.

“You have to be sure, though,” Granny Kwok said, “because it will require a serious curse.” Her eyes grew wide and gentle.

“I’m sure,” Ting-Yan sniffled.

“In all honesty, I advise you against it,” said Granny Kwok.

“I want them to suffer.”

“Okay,” said Granny Kwok. Her eyes narrowed. “I’ll warn you, though, my curses are very effective.”

“Good,” said Ting-Yan. “I should hope so.”