When I hear a faint knock, I drop the knife on top of the cabbage I’m chopping for dinner and shoot across the room. I fling the door open, expecting Mr. Xiang, but instead it’s Ming, giving me a hesitant half-smile.
The disappointment stings like a cut, and when Ming’s smile vanishes, I’m aware that it shows on my face. But I am pleased to see Ming. I quickly rearrange my expression. “What are you doing here? It’s so good to see you!” I gush as I pull him inside and shut the door.
He takes off his gloves, tucks them under his arm, and rubs his hands together to warm them. “My cousin brought me.” He looks over my head, sees Ma, and gives her a polite nod. “You sounded so strange last night.”
I feel a rush of tears springing up, the strain from the last few days about to spill out like an over-boiling pot.
Ma pushes up next to me. “Who’s this?”
I put my hands up to my face, unable to speak.
“I’m Ming.” He pastes a smile on his face. “Luli’s friend from Gujiao. We work together.” His voice falters, and I figure he’s anxious because as far as he knows, he’s Chun’s father.
Ma’s face falls. She goes back to the table and mechanically starts chopping again. Her lined face seems even more sagging and old than usual.
Ming lowers his voice. “Come outside. My cousin said he’ll find a place to wait in the village center. You can walk over with me.”
I hesitate, not wanting to leave in case Mr. Xiang shows up. But I nod and put my coat on. “I’m just going out for a minute,” I tell Ma. She doesn’t even look up.
Outside, the air is sharp and as raw as a slap, but the wind has died down. After the dimness of Ma’s house, my eyes take a minute to adjust to the white brightness of the sky. When they do, I sweep my gaze to both ends of the lane, hoping for any sign of Mr. Xiang. All the brick houses are closed up tight against the cold, red couplets are pasted on the doors and windows, and tattered firecracker refuse litters the ground. “I can’t go all the way to the village center with you,” I say to Ming. “Can we talk here?”
“I understand,” Ming answers, though he really doesn’t. He steps closer to me. The bulk of him in his coat takes some of the keenness out of the cold. “You sounded so awful on the phone last night. When you called me, I thought . . . I guess I hoped you forgave me.”
My heart squeezes. I want to explain the lie I told him, but my mind stumbles over where to start—how much to tell him about Yong, Yun, the baby sold, Mr. Xiang. He hasn’t even asked about Chun.
“I’m sorry for the way I talked to you about Yun,” Ming says. “At first I was mad when she got together with Yong, and I took that out on you. But now I don’t care. It’s you I care about.” He gazes at me softly. “You were so isolated in that orphanage, I’m afraid that you’re going to . . . get taken advantage of. Look at what happened to Yun.” He averts his eyes and sighs. He must be thinking that her situation—fired, with a baby—is his fault. “Not that you’re anything like Yun. It’s just that it’s . . . harder . . . more coldhearted outside.”
“But Ming, there was nothing but coldheartedness at the Institute. That’s why Yun is the way she is. I am different because I didn’t start out there like she did. That’s why I couldn’t give up on her.” Couldn’t, meaning I have now.
His head drops and he studies the ground. He rubs what’s left of a popper with his shoe. “Well, I’m sorry about Yun and me,” he mutters. “I wish it had never happened.”
He helped her get a position, helped both of us find jobs. I would probably be working in the Institute if he hadn’t helped us. I can’t wish it never happened. My stomach hurts. I have to tell him that I tricked him.
“You look so miserable.” He reaches a hand up to my face and strokes my cheek.
I feel like crying. “I’m the one who should be sorry.” I take a deep breath. “You may not be Chun’s father. Yun doesn’t know whether she’s yours or Yong’s. I told you that you were the father so you would help us. I’m so sorry I lied to you.”
He lets his hand fall to his side. “Shit!” I watch as the look on his face goes from confusion, to astonishment, to . . . relief?
He cracks an openmouthed grin. White puffs of breath come out of his mouth in the cold. “Ha! I’ll bet it isn’t mine. I’m sure Yun is lying about not knowing whose it is.” He flings his hand up in the air. “Luli, it’s fine! I don’t care! I don’t care about the baby. I came here for you.” He moves forward to close the gap between us, but I step back.
“What do you mean you don’t care about the baby? What if it is yours?”
“It’s not! You know Yun. But it doesn’t matter. If Yong’s ma wants it, she can keep it.”
It hits me again that not once has he asked about Chun. I’ve been so torn up about lying to him that I didn’t let it sink in. But now I’m beginning to see that he never had any feeling for Chun, even when he thought she was his. Chun isn’t related to me at all, yet I’d still do anything to protect her. Ming hasn’t been damaged the way Yun has. He’s got no excuse for being this—this—coldhearted.
“Come back to Gujiao with me,” Ming says. “My cousin is waiting with the car. You’ve done so much for Yun already, more than she deserves. Now you can put all this behind you and we can be together.” He reaches his hands out to me.
I put my own hands behind my back.
He cocks his head at me. “Luli?”
A week ago I wanted so badly to be with him, to hear him tell me that he cared for me. But now all I can think is that I’m needed here, and he will never understand why.
I back away, slowly shaking my head. “You can go home now. Don’t worry about me anymore. I’ll be fine.”
Confusion sweeps back across his face, along with something harder. “What? I came all the way out here and you’re sending me away, just like that? After everything I’ve done for you?”
I bite my lip. “That’s exactly why I’m asking you to leave. I’m grateful for all your help, but I can’t take any more favors from you. I have to handle things on my own now.”
My feelings are churning in a way I can’t describe, but I turn and walk back inside, knowing I won’t be sorry.