“This old woman is my beloved’s little sister!

I am not proud to admit what I did next,

but realized that in the disguise of a potential buyer,

there was a chance to finally get the truth.

So I asked if she had grown up in the house.

She said Yes.

Brothers or sisters?

She paused for a moment,

then nodded, Older sister.

She sensed my anxiety. . . .

Would I like some chrysanthemum tea?

It must have been lonely for her there, Weng,

because near the sink: one set of dishes, one bowl,

one pair of chopsticks, one glass, one teacup.

Silence has many forms, eh?

But I gritted my teeth, kept lying,
told her I was from Shanghai.

She didn’t say anything, so I asked if she had ever been there.

She said once, last year with the company she worked for.

‘You never lived there?’ I asked. ‘You never moved
away from the house?’