‘Not necessarily — I don’t want to put her in danger again — but I’d like to know how she is doing. She’s not someone just anyone can easily get information about, but you might know …’

‘The wife of a politician, did you say? I’m going to bet she was an ojou-sama,’ Yoshioka said. ‘Why don’t you tell me her name? I’ll ask my contacts.’

‘I don’t have her real name.’

‘Just give me whatever information you do have. What about the husband?’

‘His name is Kazuhiro Katou.’

‘Ah.’ Yoshioka was silent for a moment. ‘The Katou family, eh? I’m sure I can find something.’

‘I really appreciate it, but please be careful. These people are dangerous.’

The older man sneered. ‘I did a few years as a crime correspondent. I’ve played with fire. No big deal.’

‘Like eating the expired wagashi in the pantry?’

They both laughed, recalling one occasion when Yoshioka had to go to the hospital because of a terrible stomach ache. He had stubbornly finished up a box of Fujiwara confectionery past its sell-by date. A client had sent it as a gift, but somehow the bag had lain unclaimed and unopened for more than a month.

Shoji turned to Yoshioka. ‘I’m sorry to impose on you. I should do this on my own, but I don’t know how. I feel so useless.’

‘What are you talking about?’ Yoshioka said, nudging him. ‘It’s perfectly fine to ask for help. It doesn’t mean you’re weak. It shows that you’re wise and brave. You don’t need to do everything alone.’

‘Uh-huh.’

The conversation ended there, and the office was once again still. Distant chatter from the construction site nearby filled in the gap. A man shouted that lunch break was over.

‘I’m going to leave soon,’ Yoshioka eventually said. ‘You should go home too.’

Soon, the workers’ voices vanished, swallowed by noises from heavy machinery.

•

Shoji stared at the scene in front of him. Cardboard boxes stacked on top of each other filled the living room. Hardly any space left to walk.

Liyun came out of the kitchen and greeted him cheerfully. ‘You’re back. I’ve made dinner. I cooked some Peranakan food. I hope you like it, but if you prefer to stick to Japanese cuisine, let me know.’

Shoji walked past her into the spare bedroom. All his stuff was gone, replaced with a futon, a coffee table, and some cushions. She’d even put up a white curtain patterned with tiny roses, which looked oddly similar to one in the apartment he used to share with Jin.

‘What is this?’ he asked in a flat tone.