“Is that something you can help with?” your mother asked.

He eyed her. We both noticed. I saw your hands clench, as if you wanted to call upon the armor we had given our characters.

“I can help you with anything you like,” he said smoothly.

“Buy more pencils, then,” your mother said. “My sister cannot process all the messages you need if you keep giving her trash pencils.”

“I will do my best,” he said with a bow. Then he took your mother’s hand and kissed it. She let him. She even smiled.

You refused to speak to her for a while after that. You told me your mother only let him kiss her because of the power difference. You told me your father was going to come home soon. Both of our fathers. That the war could not last forever. That once our fathers were back, we would not need Mr. Gao’s protection.

You insisted all of this and more, even when I did not argue against you. Each time he came and made your mother laugh, you shot me a dark look, as if daring me to say something. Looking back, there was, indeed, a power imbalance, and your mother likely wanted to please him for our safety. But also, and I hope enough years have passed that I can say this without stirring anger in you, there was desire from your mother. She was so social, elegant, and charming, a woman made for flirting her way through the Shanghai elite, the kind of woman I wanted to be. And Mr. Gao could be handsome when his mood was light, when your mother made him smile. Instead, she was trapped inside with only us for company, your father missing, and no way to socialize without risking someone discovering that our fathers fought against our occupiers in provinces far away.

Mr. Gao kept his promise and bought more of our pencils, pencils that eventually made their way back to us to be Reforged. Compared to our neighbors, we became very well-off, though Mother hid our money, and we lived the same as always to not attract attention. Whenever Mr. Gao brought over a small bag of white rice, he would stay for dinner and sit beside your mother, who would touch his shoulder lightly whenever she rose from the table. He even gave my grandmother a shortwave radio to receive the news. She stopped complaining about his visits after that.