“You’re going to miss Chris Patten’s departure from Government House. Ah, never mind. You can just watch it later,” Great-Aunt Violet says.

The air conditioner blows so cold that Ophelia rustles around in her bag for a shawl. Outside, it’s still raining, and the air is dense with mist that presses against the restaurant windows.

Are you trying to kill me, making me talk about such personal things? I know in your world you let it all hang out—that’s emigration for you, empty you of all your natural instincts. They should call it empty-gration! But I’m not dead yet! I saw Happy Together. I know about Jenny Shimizu too. And that funny Korean American girl, what’s her name, Margaret Cho. Just because I’m quiet doesn’t mean I don’t know. And don’t forget, I was a doctor throughout my working years. I know about the AIDS crisis and the new antiretroviral cocktails.

Out in the countryside, when women wanted to live together, they had ways of doing so, through a tradition of women’s houses. They declared their intentions and had a ceremony for themselves in which they combed their own hair in a single braid. A lot of the cooks who work in Hong Kong come from the county that upholds that tradition.

Anyway, as for me, I just didn’t think about it. When I was young, all I thought about was my sister and my father. And my dead mother, of course, whom I missed terribly. It was a full-time job running around after Emily. She was so rebellious and she knew how to rebel. I guess you could say there was a script for her—a very new one, but a script. Whereas for me, not so much. Or not yet. Maybe there is a script for you, Feelie? But who am I to advise you what to do? Things in my time were so different. Hong Kong has changed and keeps changing so fast! Every generation is a new country.

When I met Ting-Yan, I just watched her and didn’t know why. I wasn’t interested in boys, and boys weren’t interested in me. I had enough to do. And then one day, when the worst of the war was over, we were together at Old Mah’s house, raising Raymond and Macy. I won’t tell you if it was sexy or not, because that’s none of your business. I guess there is a bit of the uptight Victorian in me, especially compared to you. I grew up in old Queen Vicky’s shadow, after all. What do you want from me? Eat your conchs while they are still hot!