But the vehicle lunged forward like a leopard. Tears coursed down my cheeks as Mito, waving wildly, was lifted up by his father and everyone else vanished from sight like a mirage….

I wiped my tears as a sigh escaped between my lips. A few years from now this would all seem but a distant dream. Even if I did have the chance to come back, would these people still be here? As a young man, would Mito still remember the Chinese woman who’d doted on him like his own mother when he was a small child? I turned my eyes forward as I hardened my spirit for the journey ahead.


Since by now I’d become used to being on my own, I’d developed swift hands and a quick mind. So in the space of six hours, I accomplished all—taking the train to Urumqi, the plane to Beijing, and a taxi to the city; checking into a one-hundred-renminbi-a-day hotel near Wangfu Jing, which was situated pretty much at the center of everything; and settling into my room.

Sitting on the bed, I pulled out my wad of bills from my purse and counted—fifteen thousand and fifty-five plus change. I was happily relieved that I still had so much left. Now I felt entitled to watch TV, eat all my favorite dishes in the hotel restaurant, and lie in bed for one, or even two, days before I made an appointment with the lawyer Lo.

I went to the bathroom for a shower, humming happily when the hot water kissed my bare skin. After that, I wrapped my body in a thick towel, sat down on the sofa, and turned on the TV—a luxury I had been deprived of since my arrival in China (the one with the snowing screen didn’t count). Although a syrupy, tear-jerking soap opera was on, I ignored my brain’s better judgment and left my eyes glued to the screen till its very end.

Afterward, I hated myself for having wasted time.

As I was feeling anxious and lonely, Alex’s image appeared in my mind. Would I see him again soon, or not for a very long time? I had no idea. It all depended on how long, or complicated, my meetings with the lawyer and my aunt would be. I put on my dress, then went down to reception and asked the girl at the counter to dial Alex’s apartment in New York.

After many tries, she told me that there was no answer.

Then I remembered another number Alex had given me and handed it to the girl. But I had no idea if it was Donna’s or Frank’s where each lived with their new spouse.

After ten minutes, the call finally went through and the receptionist handed me the receiver.

“Hello?”

It was a woman’s voice, but to my relief not Donna’s. After I told her who I was and that I wanted to talk to Alex, she spoke in accented English. “Miss Lin, Alex’s parents asked me if you call, tell you not to worry about their son. He will be fine.”

“What do you mean that he will be fine? Is he still sick or not?”

“I don’t know.”

“All right, thanks. May I know whom I’m talking to?”

“Maria, the housekeeper.”

I knew it was futile to ask, but I did anyway. “Maria, where am I calling now?”

“Mrs. Donna Adler’s apartment.”

“Thanks. Is she there? Can I talk to her?”

“No, she’s away.”

I knew she was told not to give me more information about Alex. “All right, thanks a lot, Maria. If you have a chance to see Alex, please tell him I called and that I’ll contact him again. Also, tell him not to worry about me, I’m fine.”

“I will.”

After I hung up, I was left feeling uneasy. Was Alex OK? Maria was so evasive that I actually had no idea about his status. Back in my room, I wrote a letter to Alex, then went back down to the lobby and dropped it into the mailbox. I was worried but could think of nothing more I could do to reach him. So I tried to focus entirely on completing my tasks and getting my three million dollars.

* * *

The next morning, feeling tired and empty inside, I went down to the hotel restaurant and devoured a big breakfast of congee, pickled vegetables, salted egg, peanuts, steamed pork buns, and hot tea. After that, I went back to my room, took up my journal, and wrote for a while, then worked on organizing the pictures taken during the trip. I caressed Alex’s face and hair on the glossy photos, feeling sad. Then I lay back on the bed and drifted in and out of sleep.

When I woke up, it was already six-thirty in the evening. I was hungry again, so I called room service and ordered drunken chicken, steamed fish with ginger and scallion, and Tsingtao beer. I couldn’t eat so much, but I wanted to feel abundant and spoiled, since now Alex was no longer there to spoil me.

After dinner, I started to imagine all the possible scenarios of my upcoming meeting with Lo and Mindy Madison. I’d come this far, but when I thought about it, the whole thing still seemed extremely strange. What if it was a scam—maybe my “aunt” didn’t even exist and I would never get my three million dollars.


Two days later in the afternoon, I was in the law firm sitting across from Mr. Lo, Mindy Madison’s lawyer, whom I’d met when I’d first arrived in Beijing six months ago. Like last time, Lo spoke the obligatory meaningless greetings in his cold, officious lawyerly tone. Then I gave him my journals documented with my routes, descriptions of my deeds, and pictures. After that, with no further ado, he plunged into business.

“Miss Lin, it’ll take me some time to read the accounts of your journey before I present them to Miss Madison. After all necessary verifications, we’ll proceed to the next step, and your meeting with her will be arranged accordingly. Please wait for my call at the hotel, and I will come pick you up and take you to see her.”

“Actually, I thought I’d be meeting her today.”

“I’ll let you know when it’s the appropriate time to see Miss Madison.” His tone was quite definite and his expression ominous.

What else could I do but agree?

* * *

Two days later, Mr. Lo called and told me that a meeting with Mindy Madison had been arranged for early afternoon. When I asked where, his answer was an annoying, “You’ll find out soon enough.”

To my surprise, the car took us outside Beijing city into an area I did not recognize. I wondered, was my aunt so rich that she lived in a villa in the suburbs? I tried to probe, but Lo stubbornly evaded my questions. Totally absorbed in reading my journal and stacks of other documents, he ignored my efforts to make conversation, polite or otherwise.

Almost two hours later, the car finally pulled to a stop in front of an immense, dilapidated gray building that did not at all resemble a luxury villa. We got out and I followed Lo for five minutes before we reached the building, in front of which, to my surprise, stood several scowling guards. We walked between two uniformed men holding submachine guns and found ourselves in a cavernous lobby. Here we were asked to show our identity documents. I noticed that when Lo handed over his identity card there was an envelope that disappeared quickly as the guard took his papers.

It was then that I realized what this place was.

A prison.

I turned to Lo, my voice shrill and frightened. “Why did you take me here?! I want to leave!”

He put his hand under my elbow and gave it a hard squeeze. “Calm down, Miss Lin, I’m taking you where you need to go.”

“What do I have to do with a prison?”

“This is where Miss Madison lives.”

“What?!”

The guard, tall with a pockmarked face, cast me a threatening look. “Lower your voice!”

The guard led us to a desk, where another guard asked us to write down our names, the name of the person we were there to see, and the time of visit. Judging from Lo’s ease in dealing with the guards, I figured he must be a frequent visitor. One who was generous with hundred-renminbi bills, cigarettes, liquor. Next, a third guard led us along to a dim, seemingly endless corridor lined with dingy cells inhabited by lifeless, ghostlike prisoners. A few went up to the bars to stare at us with dead fish eyes. What crimes had these people committed, I wondered as my wobbly feet followed Lo’s down this passage through hell.

Finally Lo and the guard stopped at a cell, and the guard called out, “Hey, you have a visitor!” Then he lifted a heavy bunch of keys clattering in a big metal ring, picked one out, opened the gate, and let us in. After quickly slamming the door behind us with a loud bang, he walked away.

The cell had a small window high in the wall, as if heaven were winking at hell. A woman was sitting on a cot next to a stained toilet, her emaciated face void of emotion. Lo signaled for me to sit down on a stool across from her, then sat himself.

He and the woman exchanged nods. The prisoner and I scrutinized each other like two hungry beasts wanting to tear each other apart but unable to decide if it was a good idea.

Finally Lo broke the silence. “Miss Madison, there’s not a lot of time, so please talk to Miss Lily Lin.”

She didn’t respond. Her eyes, round and hollow in her ghastly face, now studied me in a different way—like a mother her firstborn.

A long, awkward silence fell over the tiny cell.

It was the first time I realized talking could be so daunting.

Or silence.

The lawyer turned to me. “Miss Lin, why don’t you talk first.”

I studied this Mindy Madison, my supposed aunt, who was so emaciated that she resembled an anorexic mummy. The only feature that brought her back to life from mummyhood was her large, haunting eyes—tinted windows through which horror stories were desperately waiting to spill. Besides weight, she had also lost hair, for I could see large bald spots on her scalp. Her body, beneath her loose, gray prison outfit, seemed to have forgotten its claim to exist. Dark and bony like a black chicken’s claws, her fingers were nervously wringing a dirty rag.

I could only say that this barely human visage must have witnessed shocking mysteries, horrible nightmares, unspeakable sufferings.

I leaned close to Lo and whispered, “So she’s my aunt?”

She looked so far beyond normal that I couldn’t even tell if she was Chinese, especially with her foreign last name. She might have been British, American, Italian, Uyghur, or Mongol for all I could tell.

I clicked my tongue nervously in the smelly, suffocating prison air. “How do I know she’s even related to me, let alone that she’s my aunt?”

Lo cast me a dirty look. “Miss Lin, show some respect here.”

I answered in a heated whisper. “But to whom? I don’t even know her!”

“To your mother.”

This time I tittered nervously like a bad comedian. “You mean… my aunt?” I asked, feeling completely confused—and very scared. What the hell was going on here?

“Miss Madison is your mother.”

“No, she’s not. My mother died two years ago.” I tried my best not to lose my focus.

“Your mother is now right in front of your eyes.”

“What do you mean, and what the hell is all this about?!” Now I tried not to lose my mind.

Total silence.

Suddenly the lips moved on the mask of death. “I am your mother.”

My heart almost shot out from my mouth. It took a few seconds before I could gather myself to respond. “Please, lady, don’t be ridiculous. I don’t know who you are. I’m not even sure if you’re really my aunt. My mother never mentioned one in her entire life!”

Ignoring my rude, vehement exclamation, she reached to touch my hand.

My hand jumped back like a big dog scratched by a small cat. “How dare you!”

“You used to like it when you were very little.”

“Damn you!” I yelled, then turned to Lo. “Can you explain what this is all about? Or I’ll leave right now!”

The ghost woman wiped away a tear.

Her lawyer waved a hand. “Then listen.”

“I’m waiting. Go ahead.”

“Mindy Madison, or Cai Mindi, and your mother, Cai Mayfong, are sisters….”

“No, they are not! My mother didn’t have a sister!” Now I really felt I was losing my sanity. Was I in a prison—or a mental hospital?

He cast me a stern look. “Calm down and listen, will you?”

I pointed at the resurrected mummy. “If she really is my aunt, or my mother as you two claim, then why don’t you let her tell her story?”

Lo cast a worried look at Madison. “Your mother is not feeling well today, so I’ll do the talking.”

“Then why don’t we end this meeting now?”