Mid-Autumn Festival dinner with my new family comes too quickly.
I’m a nervous mess. After all, I will be coming face-to-face with my grandmother, who has masterminded this family reunion. And then there’s my grandfather—who knows I’m coming but might not even want me there.
My palms grow itchy with sweat as the housekeeper leads me upstairs to the rooftop patio. We emerge into a glassed-off sunroom filled with ceramic urns and lounge chairs. Blinking in wonder, I look out to the rooftop patio. Patio is definitely not the right word. There are stone fountains in the shape of lions with water pouring out of their mouths, flowering potted trees, miniature pagodas, and stone bridges. It’s like the Summer Palace up here.
Alyssa is running toward me from one of the manicured paths. She flings open the French doors. “Gemma! Come on—we’re having dinner on the east patio so we can see the moon rise from the east.”
“Your patio has a patio?” I tease her. “That’s a whole new level of fancy.”
“Joke all you want, but wait until you see the view of the city.”
We step onto the stone path between potted trees, and I see what she means. Tall skyscrapers soar into the evening sky, and a twinkling lightscape sweeps the horizon. “Wow!” I breathe in awe.
“See?” she says smugly.
She tucks her arm into the crook of mine and leads me along the path. “Gong Gong knows you’re here. He’s under strict orders from my po po and mother to behave. It will all be OK.”
The tinkle of water from stone fountains and the city below us almost distracted me from what awaits me, but my nervousness comes back at Alyssa’s words. I’d believe her more if her arm weren’t trembling. “As long as I don’t bring up my mother, right?” Guilt worms into me even though I’m planning to call my parents when they wake up in a few hours. It will be the morning of Mid-Autumn Festival for them. Meanwhile, here I am on the night of Mid-Autumn Festival—about to meet Mom’s estranged family without her.
“That’s up to you,” Alyssa surprises me by saying. “I’m done trying to tiptoe around my gong gong.”
My eyebrows rise. “Does that mean you’re going to tell him about Mimi?”
“No.” Her mouth twists. “Mom won’t let him kick me out of the family, but Gong Gong will be . . . unpleasant. He’s all about his standing in the government, and there’s still that whole feud with Mimi’s family.” She pauses to reflect. “Maybe I’ll tell Po Po about Mimi. I already told my dad on WeChat.”
“How did that go?”
“My dad told me to be discreet,” she says dryly, “and I promised not to post pictures on Weibo of Mimi and me making out, so I guess we’re cool. He says we’ll talk more when he gets back from his business trip.”
I don’t get to ask more questions because we’ve crossed a stone bridge and reached the east patio.
There’s still a little time before moonrise, but red lanterns have been hung all around the raised wooden patio. Their glow provides all the light I need to see three people sitting around a rectangular teak table on yellow silk-cushioned chairs.
My aunt sits facing us. An older elegant woman in a long black dress who must be my grandmother sits across from her. An elderly man with white bushy eyebrows sits at the head of the table. My grandfather. The one who disowned my mother and betrayed Eric and Mimi’s grandfather. Nausea sweeps over me.
Then my grandmother turns around and smiles gently at me. “Wai sun nu, ni hui jia la.”
Her words hit me right in the heart. Granddaughter, you’ve come home. “What do I call you?” I ask, but her forehead wrinkles. Maybe she doesn’t speak English. I repeat the question in Chinese.
Confusion fades from her face, and she responds in Chinese. “Jiao wo Po Po.” Her smile wobbles.
Call me Po Po. A hot core of emotion wells up in me.
My grandfather slowly gets to his feet. “Welcome,” he says in accented English.
It’s a mild night in mid-September, so there’s no reason for the goose bumps rising coldly on my skin. My whole time in Beijing, I’ve pushed my way through obstacles, searching for answers about my past. I’ve finally reached the man who has been responsible for every dead end, every blocked question. But now that I’m here, I have just one question. “Is my mother welcome here too? Because I can’t stay if she’s not welcome.”
A tense silence falls over the patio. Alyssa gives my arm a heartfelt squeeze of support.
“Lao Gong, ni da ying wo,” my po po says. Husband, you promised me.
My aunt raises blazing eyes to her father. “Yes, you promised us both that Lei could come home.”
My grandfather’s bushy eyebrows draw down over his sharp eyes as he peers at us all. “Fine,” he says at last. “It’s been long enough.”
A little half-assed, but I’ll take it. My exasperation at my grandfather is mixed with relief. I would never claim a home that didn’t welcome my mother.
“Will you join us, Gemma?” my aunt asks.
Not trusting my voice, I nod and sit next to my po po. This is my family now. And soon, I’ll call my mother and tell her that it is hers again as well.
Alyssa sits beside me and grabs my hand. She’s bouncing up and down, squeezing my hand so hard that it’s cutting off my circulation, but I can’t fault her for her enthusiasm.
A servant brings out a tray of rolled-up towels and uses tongs to give me one. It’s warm and scented with roses. I accept with thanks but am confused about what to do with it. I peek at Alyssa to see her wiping her hands with the towel.
She winks at me. “You’re going to make some joke about how fancy this is, aren’t you?”
“No,” I say dryly, “because then you’ll send a box of these rose-scented towels to my hotel room tomorrow. But seriously, thank you for everything. I just wish there was something I could do for you.”
Alyssa looks at me in surprise. “You don’t need to thank me for anything! This is as much yours as it is mine, remember? You’re my family.”
Fondness for my cousin swells up in me. “I can’t believe I’m leaving in a month. I’ll miss you.” I never thought I’d be so sad at the thought of leaving Alyssa. It seems like just yesterday that I was being mobbed by her fans and cursing her name.
Her face falls. “I don’t know how I’ll be able to face another family dinner without anyone my age to talk to.”
Maybe there is something I can do for her. After all, this whole Romeo and Juliet thing must be getting old for Alyssa and Mimi. Patting her on the shoulder, I say, “I hear you.” Then I turn to the adults. “I was wondering if I could ask for a favor.”
My aunt translates for my po po, and once Po Po understands my question, she agrees at once before asking what the favor is.
My grandfather is more cautious. “What favor?”
My heart beats faster. “I met some friends in the city, and I was wondering if we could invite them and their parents over for dinner sometime.”
Alyssa kicks me under the table. Hard.
Don’t worry, I try to telecommunicate to her. I’ve got this. After a second, she gives me a slow nod. Alyssa’s putting her trust in me. I’d better not blow this.
My aunt’s mouth falls open and then snaps shut. She knows what I’m up to. Her gaze swivels to Alyssa and then back to me. My palms grow wet. According to Eric, it’s my aunt and his grandmother who’ve continued the feud through their high-society snubs. Accepting Mimi is one thing—but will my aunt accept the whole family? At last she says, “That’s an excellent idea.”
My grandfather shrugs. “Shi ni de jia,” he says to my aunt. It’s your house.
“Great.” Mentally, I crack my knuckles. Time to put those acting chops to good use. As innocently as I can manage, I say, “Their names are Eric and Mimi Liu. When should I invite them?”
My grandfather pins me with a glare. “The Liu family?!”
I pretend I don’t notice his outraged reaction. “I met Eric when I was sightseeing at the Forbidden City. He thought I was Alyssa!” I laugh. “Isn’t that funny? Anyway, we hit it off.” My request will make more sense if my grandfather thinks Eric and I are romantically involved. . . . Wait, that’s actually true. Well, I’m a better actor when I’m not outright lying. “I’d love to invite him and his sister over. I guess Eric already knows our family?” I lean back and watch my grandfather squirm.
My aunt leaps into the breach. “I would love to have your friends and their family over to my house.” She holds my grandfather’s gaze as she stresses the part about it being her house.
Way to go, Yi Ma!
Po Po asks for a translation, and my aunt starts catching her up.
Alyssa’s eyes are bright with hope and a dash of mischief. “Gemma won’t be in Beijing for much longer. The least we could do is invite her friends over before she leaves.”
My grandfather has had enough. He bursts into Chinese. The gist of it is: “Over my dead body! You’re all ganging up against me! What kind of trick is this?”
Well, it was worth a shot. My heart drops, but what did I think was going to happen? One dinner invitation wasn’t going to mend a decades-long feud anyway.
Alyssa leans over and whispers, “Thanks for trying.”
My aunt’s face is grim as she finishes her translation of the conversation for Po Po. Hopefully, she’ll say something to support us.
Then Po Po bangs her hand on the table and glares at my grandfather. “Gou la!” Enough. She starts speaking rapid Chinese—too fast for me to follow, so Alyssa translates for me. “This feud has gone on long enough. We were all friends once, and Peng is dead now. I will not continue the war with his children or grandchildren. That war is in the past, and I will not allow it to damage our granddaughter’s happiness.” Po Po’s gaze shifts to Alyssa when she says the last part. Alyssa falters and barely manages to finish translating.
I remember then what Alyssa had said about her grandmother. Po Po follows me on Weibo. The images of Mimi in the background of Alyssa’s Weibo posts. Holy shit. My grandmother knows about Mimi.
“Jing tian wan shang, wo men qing Liu jia,” Po Po says. It’s a good thing that I know enough Chinese to understand that Po Po said that she will invite the Liu family over tonight. Because Alyssa is apparently too shocked to translate it for me.
My grandfather gapes at my grandmother, but he doesn’t argue with her.
“It’s settled then,” my aunt says. “We will welcome Gemma’s friends to our home tonight. After all, this is Zhong Qiu Jie—Mid-Autumn Festival. A time for reconnection and—” Suddenly, all the air seems to whoosh right out of her. “Family,” she finishes weakly, her gaze frozen on something in the distance over my shoulder. Everyone turns to look.
It’s my mother.