Just before dawn, when the sky was gray but with pinkish streaks brushing the horizon, the ticket inspector came past. “Harbin,” he announced, pointing out the window at a station that was just coming into view. Nicole was barely awake and Val had to support her with one arm while dragging their suitcase with the other. Outside the station the road was empty. There was nothing that remotely resembled a taxi stand, and the only person in sight was an old man sleeping in a rickshaw decorated with gaudy plastic flowers. Val cleared her throat, but he didn’t stir.

“Excuse me?” she said out loud, and he sat up, stretching and yawning. She handed him the letter her mother had sent, on which her address was written in Chinese characters.

The man nodded and said something incomprehensible, then brushed down the plastic-covered passenger seat and indicated that they should climb in. Val lifted Nicole in first, then put their case on the floor and squeezed in after her. The driver mounted the bicycle in front and began to cycle, the contours of his calf muscles standing out.

This is it, Val thought. She was about to be reunited with the woman who had given birth to her.

The driver pulled up outside a single-story shack with weathered wooden walls and a tiled roof. Was this the place? Val wasn’t sure, but she climbed down and went to knock on the flimsy door. It was opened straightaway by a stooped older woman. Was this her mother? She didn’t think so. The woman seemed to be expecting her, though, and motioned for them to come inside.

Val put down her suitcase as the woman led her toward a back room. There, lying on a mat on the floor, covered only by a sheet, was her mom. Ha Suran was paper-thin and frail-looking, but instantly recognizable.

Val gave a cry and ran to her.

Chapter 30

Harbin, June 1974

AS THEY HUGGED, VAL COULD FEEL HER MOTHER’S shoulder blades jutting through her loose nightgown.

“Valerie,” Ha Suran whispered into her hair, shaking with emotion. She didn’t let go for a long time, and when Val eventually drew back, she saw that her mother’s skin and eyes were a bright, unnatural yellow. It must be jaundice. Why did she have jaundice? It seemed too soon to ask what was wrong with her.

“This is your granddaughter.” Val beckoned Nicole to join them.

Nicole crouched and whispered, “Hello, Grandma,” and Ha Suran touched her arm and smiled but did not seem to have the strength to talk.

Val sat on the floor, holding her mom’s hand, and began to describe their journey. Some chickens trotted into the room, pecking at the dirt floor, and Nicole screeched in excitement.

“Look, Mommy! They’ve got chickens for pets!”