This wasn’t a complete lie. Not long after their first conversation about the secret talker, Nini had asked one of her male admirers to tail Hongmei in hopes of spotting the secret talker. On a couple of occasions, he’d spotted a tall, thin woman hanging around. She hadn’t thought much about this clue, until now.

The secret talker said naturally she understood that she was definitely being spied on. She added, This has already become a tactic we mutually understand. Next, she continued with her solicitation, saying Hongmei ought to try loving a woman, because only another woman could take emotion as seriously as she did.

Hongmei said, Stop playing with me.

Five minutes later, she was back, saying, Weren’t two marriages enough for you? Even with your current husband, don’t you feel cheated? Why not try a woman? Otherwise you’ll never know what you’re missing.

Hongmei said, I’m going to make you reveal yourself.

The person was silent for a bit, then said, For the sake of a small clue, you’ve even missed your class—that wasn’t worth it.

Hongmei thought, So she even knows I skipped class. On the keyboard, though, she teased, No matter what, I like your style. Your hair is great too, and your outfit. Everything is so nice, not at all like a Peeping Tom. Then she remembered something else Nini’s spy had said: the tall woman had limped a little. She went on: Your way of walking is very bold, very distinctive. Why not just stand up straight and emerge from behind these beautiful words?

A long silence. Hongmei felt as if she and this other person were pugilists sparring in the dark, feeling their way, silently circling each other. Neither could afford a false move. Sure enough, the secret talker replied, asking Hongmei if she was treating everything she’d ever said as a joke. For instance, what about her long-lost daughter? She said that no matter what sort of demon Hongmei imagined she was, the daughter actually did exist. Like an unhealed wound, the daughter pained her from time to time.

In order to prove this, she sent a series of photographs. A girl growing from an infant to the age of ten, a sickly looking, sensitive child.