Marlowe

Lions, six of them, were sitting around me on hot concrete. In the distance, buildings touched the sky – unfamiliar buildings, not Hong Kong buildings. I placed my hand on the back of the closest male; his hair was coarse beneath my skin. My body was tight, still. Both afraid and mesmerised, I did not move. Goosebumps rose like a rash up the sides of my arms. Suddenly, I felt cold.

The lion stood, positioned himself, then urinated on the side of my body. The warmth was soothing. I reached for him, unafraid now. His animal breath was close and hot as I leaned in to touch his mane. The lion placed his paw on my chest, slowly pushing the air from my lungs. He lowered his head to my navel. A low and steady growl rumbled at the base of his throat and then his teeth sank into my hip. Pain pierced my belly and shot through to the base of my thighs.

I opened my eyes. Another cramp gripped me and I clutched my abdomen.

‘Are you okay?’ Susan placed her hand on my shoulder.

‘Fine.’ I stood. My seat was marked with blood. Immediately my cheeks felt hot.

‘Oh dear.’ Harper pointed. ‘You’ve got your period.’

‘Shh,’ I hissed before frantically rubbing the spot on my seat until my hands burned, but the thing about blood is it always stains.

Harper removed the oxygen tube from under her nose and told me it might make me feel better if I tried it. Immediately, I reached over to fix it back on, but Susan got there first, swiftly placing the tube back in place.

I wrapped the arms of my jumper around my waist. ‘I won’t be long. Will you be all right, Harper?’

‘Yes, I will be fine. Susan is a kind lady who knows how to help me.’

As she spoke, her chest rose and fell heavily, carrying air through her lungs as if it were filled with stones.

Another cramp rippled through my belly. You have too much yīn in your belly, Wài Pó whispered, not enough yáng. This is no good for childbirth. Just as well, I thought, as I shoved two Panadol in my mouth.

As I walked down the aisle, I passed Mr Zhāng. He was drinking a whisky and reading the in-flight magazine. His eyes were like black orbs. When I looked at them, I felt like I was walking through empty tunnels that led nowhere. He seemed so casual, so carefree, sitting there. I wondered what he had done with our deposit, along with the money he’d collected from the three other sick ‘clients’ who were seated in the rows behind him. There were two men who looked to be in their late fifties and one woman. Their presence made me feel both comforted and on edge.

In a small bathroom cubicle that reeked of lemon air freshener, I cleaned myself. The lighting was dim, and the walls vibrated with the drone of the engine. I placed the toilet lid down, disinfected it with a soapy tissue and sat. Arms wrapped tightly around my waist, I found myself rocking back and forth. Only in this strange kind of silence did I realise how thin I had become, how loose my shirt was, how my jeans slid down my hips. I left the bathroom and headed straight for the galley.

I asked for a snack, and the flight attendant gave me a packet of Pop-Pan crackers which I ate quickly, leaving nothing but a tiny morsel of seaweed and a few crumbs in the foil wrapper.

‘Nĭ hěn è!’

I turned. An old lady was telling me I was very hungry in Chinese. She then asked if I was from Shanghai.

I shook my head and smiled sheepishly at the lady, then hurried back down the aisle to my seat.

For years I had avoided speaking in my mother’s mother tongue; the memories it evoked were too raw. But I knew that Bì Yù couldn’t be with us every minute of the day, and although Harper could speak, I didn’t want her getting too involved, so for Harper’s sake I would have to try. The shiny red corner of a Chinese–English dictionary stuck out of my handbag, a reluctant purchase from the bookstore in the departures lounge. I drew it out and opened the cover. I had the sensation that I had opened a door as Mum’s voice came spilling out in Chinese. I could hear her singing folk songs, reading me the stories that were read to her as a child. I could hear her whispering that she loved me.

The pilot announced our descent to Shanghai Pudong airport.

‘Zhōng Guó,’ I mouthed. China. I turned to check Harper, but Susan was already tending to her.

A young woman who sat in the row next to mine, peeled an orange with her thumb, its zest flavoured the stale air. Next to her was a small boy who could have easily been her son.

I flipped through the pages. ‘Chéng zi.’ Orange.

I recalled how Mum used to peel oranges for me as a child.

With a heavy thud, the plane touched down. The tyres screeched along the tarmac.

‘Wǒ mén huí jiā le,’ the young woman said to the boy. ‘We’ve come home.’

‘Jiā,’ I repeated.

‘Wǒ mén huí jiā le.’ The little boy grabbed another segment of orange from his mother.

‘Jiā,’ I said again, a little louder this time.

Harper turned towards me. Breathlessly she said: ‘It’s nice to hear you speak.’ She took my hand in hers.

Suddenly, the woman looked at me and smiled. ‘Where are you from?’ she asked.

I froze. ‘England.’

The woman tilted her head to one side. ‘Eh?’

I remembered what my mother had taught me. ‘Yīng Guó.’ It was only half a lie.

We followed Mr Zhāng through the arrivals hall. There were security guards in every corner, watching. Harper’s wheelchair squeaked incessantly, drawing unwanted attention. I tried to ignore the narrowed eyes staring at her. Was it fear I could read on their faces? Or was it pity? Even though they were gawking at her and not at me, I felt exposed. If this was what I was feeling, I couldn’t imagine what must be going through her mind. Did she notice? I put my hand on her shoulder and gave it a quick squeeze, something Dad would do.

The three other clients of Mr Zhāng were able to walk and they followed behind us, talking jovially as if part of a holiday tour group. Chinese words rolled around their tongues like hot food, always moving never lingering. I wished desperately they would just be quiet.

‘I don’t want to be in this thing.’ Harper folded her arms squarely across her chest. ‘Wheelchairs are for old, old, old people.’

A skinny man walked up close to her, too close, staring without blinking. The crowd pushed him on, but his head remained turned in her direction.

‘He likes my outfit,’ Harper announced.

I gripped the handles, pushing faster. I no longer felt exposed and vulnerable; now I was downright irritated. ‘Nearly there,’ I said.

Outside the arrivals hall, the air was thick with cigarette smoke. Cold wind grazed the side of my face. I adjusted the scarf around Harper’s neck, then tightened my own.

‘It’s very important to stay warm, Harper. It’s colder here than in Hong Kong.’

At the pick-up zone, a cacophony of car horns was blasting. Harper placed her hands over her ears. I too felt assaulted by the noise.

‘Biǎo meì!’ Sister cousins!

Bì Yù was standing next to her little red Honda, waving.

I had told her that we would make our own way to her apartment. I’d wanted to avoid introducing her to Mr Zhāng until it was absolutely necessary.

Harper called to her and waved excitedly. I looked at Mr Zhāng and then back at Bì Yù. Frowning, he said something that I didn’t understand in rough Chinese.

Bì Yù ran towards us, smiling. Her apple cheeks were framed by shoulder-length black hair, with a streak of electric blue. As her gaze moved from me to Harper, her face tightened and dropped. She kneeled in front of Harper, so that they were at eye level, and put a palm on my sister’s cheek.

‘I’ve missed you,’ Harper said. She patted the blue streak in Bì Yù’s hair and laughed.

Bì Yù’s smile was strained now. She seemed at a loss for words.

‘I like your necklace.’ Harper, who was never at a loss, filled the silence, touching Bì Yù’s turquoise beads.

A white van pulled up beside Mr Zhāng. The other clients got in. Mr Zhāng turned to us and spoke rapidly. He was making shooing movements towards Bì Yù. ‘That’s not very nice,’ Harper muttered.

Bì Yù looked at him and then at me. ‘Marlowe, who is this man? He says I can’t come with you. Where are you going?’

‘We’re going back to your house Bì Yù and I don’t think that we should invite him.’ Harper pointed at Mr Zhāng.

I pulled Bì Yù to one side and whispered: ‘His name is Mr Zhāng. He’s arranging Harper’s transplant.’

Her eyes widened. ‘Him?’

‘Yes. Why?’

‘I was expecting a doctor.’ I could see her mind ticking as she glanced at Mr Zhāng.

‘He’s taking us to see one.’

‘Now? It is so late.’ She spoke to him in rapid Chinese.

He shook his head violently and said something back.

Bì Yù’s forehead creased.

I took out my wallet, and discreetly pulled out a hundred-dollar bill.

‘Please tell him you’ll be very discreet if he lets you accompany us.’

She did as I asked.

Mr Zhāng spat his toothpick out and took the money.

‘He says I am to follow him in my car.’ She looked at me, her face troubled. ‘We’re going to the Shanghai Middle Hospital and are to meet him in the lobby.’

We were quiet on the drive to the hospital. My cousin gripped the steering wheel tightly and glanced frequently at the rear-view mirror. I followed her gaze to Harper, who sat in the back seat listening to music on the radio.

Outside my window, cars zipped past at high speed.

‘Bì Yù, let me explain,’ I said.

‘Later,’ she replied, looking once more at Harper. ‘Let’s talk later.’ I turned to look out the window. Shanghai grew more and more unfamiliar to me with each visit. There were more buildings than I remembered, and they were taller and closer together. Billboards along the side of the road advertised luxury cars, cigarettes and real estate.

I turned back to face Bì Yù. ‘You know I would never do anything to hurt Harper,’ I whispered. ‘I’m doing this to save her life.’

When the car stopped at a red light, she looked over at me and shook her head. The expression on her face said, We are not children anymore.

Bì Yù double-parked in the street outside the hospital. It had begun to hail, pebbles of ice pounding the roof and smacking against the windows. Harper had her hands over her ears.

‘You guys get out here,’ my cousin said. ‘I’ll go find a park and meet you inside.’

Harper peered out the window. ‘This looks like a strange place to live,’ she said.

‘I don’t live here,’ Bì Yù said. ‘This is the hospital.’

I turned to look at my sister.

She looked back at me, wounded. ‘You promised, Marlowe. You promised no more hospitals.’

I couldn’t bear to see the pain and confusion on her face. ‘Let’s go,’ I said, reaching for the door.

‘I don’t want to go in there.’ Harper’s arms were crossed. ‘You said that we were here to visit Bì Yù. You promised no hospitals. You lied. Lying is hurtful and mean and horrid. Sisters don’t lie to each other.’ Shame made my cheeks burn. I got out of the car and walked around to the other side to open Harper’s door. The hail had stopped as quickly as it had started, but the air felt damp and cold. I couldn’t let it sink into Harper’s weak lungs.

‘Well,’ I said, trying not to let my frustration show, ‘let’s just get out of the car now and then we can discuss what to do next. We can’t stay here any longer. We’re causing a traffic jam.’

A car behind us sounded its horn but Harper just sat there, refusing to move.

Come on, Harper. Don’t do this now.

‘Go on, Harper,’ Bì Yù said. ‘I’ll meet you in there soon.’ How did she always manage to sound so calm?

A second car began to honk, but Harper still wouldn’t budge.

‘Kǎo hóng shǔ!’

I turned. At the entrance of the hospital was a man selling xiāo yè – late-night snacks. I saw Harper’s childhood favourites: steaming hot yams. Wài Pó would have called this a gift from heaven.

I ran over to the stall. The smoky air was thick and sweet above the man’s stove. I quickly purchased the yams and raced back to the car. Luckily, a place by the kerb had freed up further along the road, and Bì Yù had quickly claimed it.

Harper stuck her nose into the warm bag and inhaled.

‘Lying is bad,’ she said softly. ‘I am hurt in my heart that you did that.’

‘I’m really sorry, Harper.’

Bì Yù said quietly, ‘This is a drop-off area. We can’t stay here for too long.’

I nodded. ‘Come on, Harper,’ I said. ‘Let’s go.’

‘I think I will try one yam first.’ Harper reached into the bag. ‘Ouch, hot. We have to wait for it to cool.’

Damn it, Harper. I snatched a steaming yam from the bag and blew on it furiously, trying to ignore the heat that seared through my fingertips. As I handed it to her, a man in a uniform tapped on Bì Yù’s window. He pointed to his watch and gestured to say that she had to move on.

Harper inspected the yam. ‘What’s this bit?’ She pointed to a small fleck of black in the orange flesh.

I closed my eyes and swallowed hard, resisting the urge to shout.

‘That’s just the way it is; it’s part of the yam.’ I reached over and removed the fleck.

Harper chewed slowly. ‘Yum. This is very nice.’ She nodded. ‘I’m still a bit mad at you about the hospital, Marlowe, but I have decided to let it go.’ She sat up and held out her hand for me to take. ‘Let’s go now.’

The Shanghai Middle Hospital reminded me of a large shopping mall. Although the shops had closed for the night, the lobby was dotted with makeshift stalls selling items such as wheelchairs and walking sticks.

Mr Zhāng was nowhere to be seen.

After Bì Yù parked the car, she joined us inside. We walked fast. I pushed Harper in her chair. We passed what looked like a closed pharmacy. Its windows were covered with bars.

I looked at Bì Yù for help. She bit her lip.

‘It’s a big hospital; there are four wings. Perhaps we’re in the wrong one?’

I thought about the deposit I had paid Mr Zhāng. What if he had run off with it? Was it possible this whole thing was a sham? Adrenaline surged through my body, making the tips of my fingers and toes prickle.

With Bì Yù leading the way, we headed down a wide corridor, hoping to find another lobby.

‘Where are we going?’ Harper asked.

‘Me and Bì Yù just want to see a doctor to ask him if he can make you feel better.’

Harper didn’t respond. Her silence made me uneasy. I didn’t like the person I was becoming.

Eventually, she turned to look at me. I stopped pushing her wheelchair and kneeled down.

‘What is it?’ I asked.

She pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose then took my hand.

‘I tell you what.’ She patted my hand gently, like she knew exactly what was going on. ‘I think I will be all right with seeing the doctor here for a little while, because I think I can look at this with my writer’s eyes and get some inspiration for my story.’

I exhaled. Harper was looking at me sympathetically, as if she felt sorry for me.

‘But, Marlowe, I don’t want to talk about the things we talked about in Hong Kong? No transplants. I want to keep my heart that is in love with Louis, okay?’

‘Okay.’ I looked away.

We began moving again, Bì Yù striding ahead.

‘You sure we’re going the right way?’ I called.

She turned and shook her head, then approached a man in a white lab coat. He pointed to a corridor that led off to the right. We raced through it and soon enough, we were in another lobby, with cherry wood floors and marble walls.

‘There.’ Bì Yù pointed to Mr Zhāng, who was standing with a nurse and the three other patients.

I felt limp with relief.

‘Him?’ Harper shook her head. ‘Why do we need to see him again?’

‘He’s helping us get you in to see the doctor, Harper.’

When Mr Zhāng saw us, he immediately addressed Bì Yù in a torrent of Chinese. Harper looked at Mr Zhāng and shook her head. ‘So rude,’ she said under her breath.

‘What’s he saying?’

Bì Yù frowned. ‘He says we can’t accompany Harper to see the doctor.’

‘What? No way!’ I tightened my grip on the handles of the wheelchair. ‘Tell him we can’t leave her because she has Down syndrome.’

‘Up syndrome,’ Harper corrected me. ‘And I can go places myself. I don’t need you to follow. I’m not a baby anymore, you know.’

Words flew back and forth in Chinese.

Finally Bì Yù told me that he’d agreed to let me accompany Harper, but that she would have to wait behind.

‘Fān yù yuán,’ I said firmly, pointing at Bì Yù.

They both looked at me blankly.

‘Do you mean interpreter?’ Bì Yù asked. ‘Fān yì yuán? I’ve already told him that.’

‘I’ve changed my mind.’ Harper got up from her wheelchair. ‘I would like to go back to Bì Yù’s house now.’

I shook my head wearily. ‘Harper, you said you’d stay.’

‘No, I’ve had enough.’ She dropped her empty paper bag, tottered forward a few steps, then collapsed.

Harper was helped onto a gurney by white-clad nurses. They wheeled her through double doors into a long room lined with beds. Harper was borne away to a recovery area while Bì Yù and I were instructed to sit in a waiting room nearby.

The room was completely bare, other than a white table with matching chairs.

‘When we get home,’ Bì Yù said, ‘we need to have a serious talk.’

I nodded, anxiety swimming in my belly.

She looked around. There were no windows, not even a sign on the wall. ‘I get a weird vibe about this place.’

Me too, I wanted to reply, but I was too scared to admit it. What have I done?

The door opened abruptly and Mr Zhāng entered with a stony-faced nurse. He addressed Bì Yù, his tone firm, like he was issuing instructions.

‘He says if anyone asks, we have to tell them Harper is being treated for an infection, nothing more.’ Bì Yù shook her head as Mr Zhāng continued speaking. Translating rapidly, she told me that all consultations were to take place in private with the doctor. We would meet him tomorrow at 3 pm at the Red Lantern Hotel. They would run more tests on Harper tonight. All further testing would need to be paid for in cash.

‘Ask him when the surgery will take place,’ I urged.

She relayed my question.

Mr Zhāng was silent for a few seconds. He ran his tongue over his yellow teeth then muttered something in Chinese.

‘He says we’ll find out tomorrow and to bring the rest of the money then.’

Mr Zhāng turned to leave.

‘Where the hell is he going?’ I asked.

Bì Yù shrugged.

‘Wait!’ I shouted.

Mr Zhāng turned to glare at me. The corner of his left eye twitched. ‘Quietly!’ he growled in English.

‘Tell him I won’t leave until I know when my sister will be getting her heart and lung transplants.’

As Bì Yù spoke, her voice was shaking.

I watched helplessly as he left the room without acknowledging what Bì Yù had said. I had no idea if he was coming back.

After twenty long minutes, Mr Zhāng returned. He smiled and began to speak, more slowly this time.

Bì Yù started to say something in reply, but Mr Zhāng cut her off.

‘Bì Yù, tell me what’s going on.’

She turned to look at me. ‘Harper can have a heart and lung transplant on Thursday.’

‘Really?’ My voice rose in excitement. ‘She can have the surgery that soon?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well, tell him thank you.’ I smiled at him. ‘Thank you!’ Who cared if he was slimy? He was saving my sister’s life

But Bì Yù grabbed me by the shoulder.

‘Hold on, Marlowe – he says he wants you to pay the remaining money. How much did you pay him already?’

‘Don’t worry about it. I… we’re going to save Harper’s life.’

She became very still. I struggled to read the expression on her face.

‘He says not to be late for the appointment at the hotel tomorrow.’ Before she could say anything more, a nurse entered and said a few words. My cousin stood so I did too. The nurse led us to a room where Harper was sitting up in bed drinking an apple juice. She told us Harper was ready to return home.

‘I’m feeling a bit better now,’ Harper announced. ‘Let’s go. It’s late and I’m very tired.’

She was seated back in her wheelchair and we were led out of the hospital via a different route. We passed several wards lined with beds, all occupied.

‘There’s a lot of people here,’ Bì Yù muttered under her breath. ‘Are they all transplant patients?’ She asked the nurse in Chinese, and the woman replied with a simple, ‘Yes.’

‘A lot of people here have broken hearts,’ Harper said.

As we left the building and walked towards the car, Bì Yù put her hand on my arm. ‘Marlowe,’ she said softly, ‘this isn’t right. You have to tell your dad what you’re doing.’

‘No,’ I said. ‘That’s not an option.’

‘Then talk to my dad,’ she pleaded.

‘We’ve already discussed this,’ I snapped. ‘No one can know.’

Bì Yù glanced at Harper to make sure she wasn’t listening then whispered in my ear, ‘It’s common belief among Chinese that one must be buried with their organs intact, for the afterlife. You know that, don’t you?’

I nodded, unable to look her in the eye.

‘So where are all these organs coming from? There were so many transplant patients in there.’

I shrugged. I couldn’t tell her the truth.

Harper spoke up. ‘All this whispering,’ she said. ‘I just don’t like it.’

Bì Yù’s apartment was on the seventeenth floor of a new building opposite Zhōngshān Park, one of Uncle Bĭng Wén’s new developments. The walls smelled vaguely of fresh paint, the floorboards of varnish.

She showed me to my room and then went to settle Harper in the other spare bedroom.

I started to unpack, shifting piles of neatly folded clothes from our suitcase to the dresser drawers.

After a few minutes, I noticed Bì Yù standing in the doorway, a large duffel bag at her feet.

‘Never again.’

I undid the zipper and the musty smell of money wafted out. The notes were soft against my fingertips.

‘They asked what I was doing with all that money.’

‘What did you say?’

‘I was helping my cousin pay for her university tuition fees.’

‘Thank you.’ I didn’t know what else to say.

‘Harper’s asleep. I’ve made us some tea.’

‘Do you have somewhere safe to store the money?’

‘Shanghai is a safe place. Plus this building is secure. I’d just put it in your room somewhere.’

Why was she so relaxed? I wanted her to be more concerned.

‘Come for tea, we need to talk.’ She left without shutting the door behind her.

The room was small; there weren’t many places to hide things safely. There was the small wardrobe, a single bed and a bedside table. That was it. I opened the duffel bag, lifted up the mattress, then poured the bills from the bag over the base of the bed. It was a clichéd place to hide the cash, but I had no other option.

I left the room, gripping the locket at my chest.

In the room opposite mine, Harper was asleep. I walked over quietly to check on her, adjusting the oxygen tube under her nose.

‘Not long now,’ I murmured.

I watched her breathing. Her lips were curved in a smile as she slept. I envied her serenity.

In the living room, I sat on the floor in front of the sofa and Bì Yù sat behind me. She ran her hands through my hair and started braiding just like Mum taught us to do when we were small.

‘You’re not telling me everything.’

Damn Bì Yù. It was so hard to lie to her. And I didn’t like doing it. I needed her to understand what I was doing, to accept it.

I turned to face her, wanting to tell her everything, but I didn’t know where to start.

‘How do they get the organs so quickly, Marlowe?’ she prompted me. ‘And why do they cost so much?’

I answered her questions as simply as I could, recounting what Anita had told me and then the research I had done on Dad’s computer.

She was very quiet, then, nudging me to turn around, she took my hair in her hands once more and continued braiding. When she was done, she put her arms around me and drew me close.

‘Thank you for telling me the truth,’ she said.

To my surprise, she didn’t sound angry, and she didn’t try to talk me out of it. The relief was overwhelming.

‘Does Olly know about this?’

‘Most of it…’

She bit her lip. ‘I don’t like the hospital and I certainly don’t like Mr Zhāng, but I’ll do everything I can to help.’ She tightened her grip around my shoulders. ‘Whatever it takes to save Harper.’

For a moment, it was as if I could smell Mum’s perfume close by, like a warm breeze carrying the sweet scent of jasmine.

Overcome, I pulled away from her embrace and stood up.

‘I’m thirsty,’ I said as I headed towards the kitchen. ‘Where do you keep your glasses?’

‘In the cupboard to the left of the stove… Marlowe?’

I stopped and turned. ‘Yes?’

‘There were just so many people in the transplant ward.’

Not this again.

‘That’s a lot of prisoners to execute…’

‘I suppose.’ I shrugged.

‘I didn’t know the government executed that many people. And the wait time is so short. How can the demand be met so quickly?’

I would not think about this anymore. I entered the kitchen. With its black-and-white decor and clean lines, it looked trendy and arty, just like Bì Yù. As I reached for the cupboard, something on a nearby shelf caught my eye. Behind handmade mugs, a vase of dried flowers and several cookbooks, I saw a pink Minnie Mouse flask. Minnie’s red skirt with white polka dots had faded with age. I took the flask from the shelf. It seemed so small.

Outside, the occasional explosion of fireworks sounded in the sky as people across Shanghai continued their Chinese New Year celebrations. It was early morning and I longed to be watching the fireworks, but I was stuck in a smelly hospital, staring at Harper from the doorway of her room. She had just returned from surgery; her tiny chest was covered in bandages and there were tubes running everywhere. Her face was the same colour as the snow that lined the streets below. Poor little Harper. Was she in a lot of pain? I wanted to ask, but the words froze in my throat.

Mum, Dad, Wài Pó, Uncle Bĭng Wén and Aunt Lĭ Nà crowded around her bed, but Bì Yù and I stood in the doorway holding hands. My little sister looked so still, so lifeless, that it scared me. Bì Yù must have felt the same way, because she was gripping my hand as tightly as I held hers.

Mum turned to face us. ‘There’s nothing to be frightened of, girls. Even though she’s just had major surgery, Harper will be okay. We just have to be gentle with her.’ As she moved slowly around the bed, I thought that Mum looked very thin and tired. A small hole in the back of her tights ran down the middle of her calf.

She stroked Harper’s forehead.

Dad turned towards us. ‘Come on, girls.’ He beckoned us closer, but I couldn’t move.

‘Bì Yù, gùo lái,’ Uncle Bĭng Wén ordered.

My cousin took a deep breath and let go of my hand.

She marched bravely to Harper’s side.

As I watched, she bent over to place an ear to Harper’s chest. Straightening, she turned to face me and smiled. ‘I can hear her heartbeat.’

Quickly, I went to her side. Harper lay sleeping, breathing heavily. I was itching to wake her up, to tickle her – anything to get a response.

Mum stepped closer and put her hand on my shoulder. ‘We have to let her rest now, darling.’

The next morning, my parents and Wài Pó returned to the hospital, leaving me at home with my aunt, uncle and cousin.

‘Why can’t Harper come home?’ I asked.

‘She needs to stay in hospital until she gets better, darling,’ Uncle explained.

‘I have an idea,’ Bì Yù said as we played in her room. ‘The hospital is only giving Harper western medicine. Let’s make her some Chinese medicine too, so she can get better twice as fast.’

We went down to the kitchen and gathered everything we could find that looked medicinal: goji berries, chrysanthemum flowers, ginger, ginkgo, cinnamon.

‘Now we have to boil it up into a tea,’ said Bì Yù.

When we were done, we poured the concoction into a pink Minnie Mouse flask, ready to be delivered to Harper.

My dad returned home for lunch, leaving Mum and Wài Pó at the hospital, and that afternoon he took me back to visit my sister. I carried a backpack with some of Harper’s toys and put the flask in too.

When a doctor came to talk to the adults, I saw my opportunity. While they were distracted, I took the Minnie Mouse flask from my backpack and began pouring the medicine into Harper’s half-open mouth.

To my horror, she immediately started to gasp and wheeze.

‘Mā ma, come quick!’

The adults turned. When Mum saw the brown liquid streaming from Harper’s mouth, she screamed. ‘What is it? What have you done?’

‘I gave her some medicine,’ I said, ‘to help her get better more quickly.’

The doctor, meanwhile, had rolled Harper onto her side. ‘Quick,’ he was saying to Dad, ‘press the emergency call button.’

As Wài Pó ushered me from the room, I was still clutching Bì Yù’s flask.

Glancing over my shoulder, I saw my little sister heaving and choking.

I wasn’t allowed to visit Harper in the Shanghai hospital again.