Mr. Yi was in a bathrobe drinking Scotch. He seemed angry.

“What are you doing here?”

“I was worried about you, Mr. Yi.”

“About me? Well, it’s not the best time. . . .”

“May I come in?” Weng said.

“No.”

“Please?”

“What do you want to come in for?”

“To talk about Golden Helper.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Yes, I just want to come in.”

“Bad timing.”

“Well, at least let me come in and make you some tea.”

“Maybe tomorrow, Fun Weng,

we can meet at the hotel on Goldfish Lane.”

“I’d like to come in now, if that’s okay.”

“I’m busy!” Mr. Yi snapped. “Why now?”

Weng glanced down at Mr. Yi’s velvet slippers. “Because the
ghost of your father appeared in the backseat of my car and
begged that I come over and save you from a childless life of
loneliness and depression.”

Mr. Yi just stared at him.

“Do you believe in ghosts, Mr. Yi?”