Page 103 of The Girl with a Thousand Faces
He shakes his head. “I am sorry for all you have lost, but life is not an abacus where we get to balance the accounts. Humans simply carry on, looking for good when we can find it, and enduring our difficulties when we cannot.”
“For you, maybe, but I don’t accept that anymore.”
The waiter returns, putting down the elegant little tray with its tiny sandwiches and cakes. He flutters around annoyingly, making a fuss of it all while the two of you sit in awkward silence, before eventually leaving.
When he is gone, you say in a low voice, “You were right about one thing. You don’t understand. I am not doing this to ‘balance’ any universal books. Those can never be balanced. One death doesn’t cancel out another. Mei Chi’s pain doesn’t pay for mine. Karma is not an exchange system, and I know that keenly.”
He spreads his hands. “Then why? Why not rest, move on, forget yourself, have a new life?”
“Because I need my pain to mean something.” You take a cake and bite into it, but his words have soured your appetite; the cream and sponge tastes of ashes. “I can’t bear that my death was meaningless, or that those who made me suffer have never had to face what they’ve done. I don’t want or need them to make amends, because that is impossible. I only want them to understand the pain they’ve caused. Is that so much to ask?”
“It is and it isn’t.” He sighs. “I can see your mind is made up, Siu Yin.”
“Correct.” You chew through the remainder of the cake slice with wooden efficiency.
He studies his hands, seems to be thinking, then nods slowly. “In that case… in that case, I have news you may wish to hear.”
A flutter in your stolen stomach. “What news?”
“I found her,” Wing Yun says, simply. “You asked me to look for your motherand your aunt, so I did. Can’t help with Mei Chi, but I did locate your mother, a few years ago.”
Shoot to your feet, tense as wire. “Where?”
“She’s in a government-run old folks’ home. It can wait till after you’ve eaten—”
“I don’t care about cake.” You fish out some bills and toss them on the table. “Take me there right now. Please?”
32ALL THAT REMAINS
One year ago…
The Joyous Residential Home, as its sign proclaims itself, is full of loud echoes, but very little joy. In the crowded games room, chairs scrape continually on a cheap linoleum floor, accompanied by the endless clacking of mahjong tiles. Most people are smoking, including the staff, and the furniture reeks of tobacco. Underneath that stench, the sharp scent of bleach cuts through. Those who aren’t gambling slump tiredly on folding chairs, staring in the middle distance.
“I’d rather be dead than end up here,” you say to Wing Yun, without thinking.
“Then you’ve already got your wish, Lady Ghost,” he says, and rings the little bell on the reception desk. One of the nurses skulks over. “Excuse me, miss, but we are looking for Sung Daiyu. I’ve visited before, if you recall.”
The utterance of that name sends a quiver through your body.
“Ah! We are so glad you are here. We have been trying to reach her relatives, but not had any success. Have you found one of her family members?”
Wing Yun looks at you.
“I think I’m the only one,” you say, a little numbly. “Most died in the war.”
“I understand,” she says, with courteous sympathy. “This is very auspicious timing, in that case. I am glad you could make it.”
“What do you mean?”
“Mrs. Sung has been ill for a long time. She had two strokes earlier this year, and has been very frail for weeks. She has recently stopped eating. I’m sorry, but we do not expect her to live much longer.”
You have no idea how to respond to that. Too many things are colliding in your head.
Eventually you settle on, “I see. In that case, I would love to see her as soon as possible.”
There are a few forms to sign, some explanations to go through. A few lies about being second cousins or a grandniece, something along those lines. In truth, no one probes very deeply. They’re probably hoping you’ll agree to take Daiyu away and lighten their workload.
Eventually, they bring you to a small bedroom down one of the corridors.
