Page 105 of The Girl with a Thousand Faces
Daiyu remains where she is, slumped against the pillows, head tilted forward and resting on her chest. Her wrists limp in your grasp.
“Sung Daiyu?” Give her a slight shake. “Mami? Mami,what would you have told me?”
Her head tips back, eyes sightless and mouth slack. There is no pulse at the wrist, no rise and fall of the chest.
Mami is gone.
All the things you wanted to say, shout, or thrash out with her, die in that instant, dissipating alongside her spirit. Always, your mother has denied you—first her love and affection, then her help. Finally, she has denied you any closure or meaningful answers. Even in the last, her heart is a door fixed shut, which you may never enter or even attempt to knock at.
There will never be a chance to tell her who you were and what happened after she left you to drown, let alone demand an apology. No reunion, no resolution. No good ending, not even a bittersweet one.
The realization is agony.
You are nothing more than a lonely ghost girl in a stolen body, holding a frail and faded corpse.
Later that day, when it’s all over, you and Wing Yun are both seated in a cha chaan teng around the corner, drinking tea and smoking while the city tramples past in all directions.
“I’m sorry about your mother,” he says, eventually.
“All things are transient,” you quote, tiredly. “Everything single moment we are undergoing birth and death.”
You find yourself wondering, for the first time in years, where your father’s body ended up. It’s not a question you ask yourself often, because there are no happy answers to it. Even so, you wish you knew.
Wing Yun lights another cigarette and says, “What will you do now?”
“Arrange for a burial.” The last thing you want is Mami returning as a ghost, with unfinished business. A good funeral and an honest priest will help with that. “There is nothing else Icando.”
“Did she have a lead for your, uh…”
“My auntie?” That’s how you’re referring to Mei Chi, since it’s factually true. “No. She said her daughter is dead. And Mei Chi had been in that body.”
“Do you believe her?”
“I don’t know? She seemed convinced, though it was hard to work out what she meant. Her words were very confused.” A helpless shrug. “I will say that I have never found any trace of my aunt, whenever I looked. Even you, searching all these years for me, have only found my mother. I must admit, the odds are not in Mei Chi’s favor. It is more likely that she died during the war, especially if she stayed in Hong Kong.”
“There’s one other possibility which is worth considering,” he says. “I believe your mother mentioned something about… the city of ghosts?”
“Did she?” You frown, sifting your memory. She said so much jumbled nonsense. “I suppose so. What about it?”
“I’ve heard some of the old folks use that term. They’re not referring to the underworld, but a place in Hong Kong. A city within a city.”
The penny drops. “Wait. Do you mean that district in Kowloon? The Walled City, with all the crazy triad people?” The place Kit Ling wanted to knock down and pave over.
“Before you get too excited, I’ve looked there before,” he says. “They did take a census in Kowloon Walled City, sometime after the war. Of sorts. There were a few Mei Chis, and many Chens, but no one with that exact name who was anywhere near the right age.”
“Oh,” you say, a little crestfallen. Then you straighten again. “Perhaps she changed her name? Lied about her age?” Or changed her body. All of those might be possible. All options add complication, too.
“Could be,” he agrees. “How would you find her, though, if she had? What if shewasthere, like your mother claimed, and she’s moved on or died since then?”
“I don’t know, but it is still a place to start, and that’s more than I had before today.” Reach across the table and squeeze his hand briefly. “Thank you, again.”
“What for?” he says, surprised. As if he can’t see the many favors he’s performed on your behalf.
“For your loyalty and friendship. For keeping your promise and always advocating for me, even when I was locked up. For never treating me as a monster. And now you casually give me the only lead I have for the woman I seek.”
“Well, I am glad to have been of some use,” Wing Yun says, quietly. “Makes me feel like I’ve paid some of my debt.”
“There is no debt,” you insist. “Not with you. If anything, the debt goes the other way.”
