“I didn’t know you had grown children.” Dr. Wong was startled. “From your first wife?”
Sai Ma pressed her lips into a thin line.
“His first wife is still in China,” Gu Ma supplied. “She’s built like an ox. Nothing like our fragile Seet Ling here.”
“Yut Ying is so pretty,” remarked Mrs. Wong. She smiled at me. “We say your stepmother is the prettiest woman in Happy Valley. In a few years she’ll have competition from you!”
Maybe it was the light flickering, but Sai Ma’s smile seemed to cinch the slightest bit tighter.
“You should have told me Pok Mun’s older children would be here.” Dr. Wong reached into his pocket. “Luckily I always carry extra red envelopes.”
“Thank you.” I peeled open the envelope. A five-dollar coin!
“Yut Ying,” said Mrs. Leung. Her brows knotted together, a bowstring ready to fire. “It’s rude to open your lai see in front of your elders.”
I didn’t know what I’d done to merit her dislike. “Sorry.”
“Let children be children,” said Sai Ma, coming to my defense. She offered me a dried persimmon slice. “Here, you haven’t tried one.”
Back in Tunglam, it was tradition for Mama to give me first pick of our persimmon tree on my birthday. She’d say, halfseriously, that if the fruit was sweet, so too would be my year ahead.
I accepted the dried fruit, wondering if Sai Ma knew it was my birthday.
“Don’t get addicted,” she teased. “I only have one box left until I make more.”
“Will you show me how to make them?” I asked. “Persimmons are my favorite fruit.”
“One day. You have good taste, they’re my favorite, too.” Sai Ma tossed my ponytail, a smile affixed to her face. “Lily, stop reading.”
When my sister didn’t reply, Sai Ma plucked the book from her hand. “Will you stop reading? You’re going to wear even thicker glasses at this rate, and you’re only eight years old. Have a slice of persimmon, it’s sweet. Good for your yeet hay, too—look at all these new rashes on your skin.”
“I don’t want any.”
“Eat the peel, then. It’s the most nutritious part.”
“Persimmons make me feel ill.”
“Your mother worked hard to grow these fruits for you,” said Baba. “You should at least take a bite.”
“Tingting grew them,” Lily corrected. “Mama only told her what to do. And I’ve read that eating too many persimmons is bad for your stomach. Perhaps that’s why Baba and Gu Ma have runny stools so often.”
My aunt gasped, and Sai Ma’s smile grew strained. If there was one thing that irked her, it was losing face in front of her friends.
“My weak stomach’s given me the opportunity to get to know Dr. Wong better,” said Baba with a ghost of his old charm. “That po chai yuen you recommended last time has done wonders. Even my sister takes it now.”
“Did I tell you, I know the family that produces it?” said Dr. Wong. “They’re considering moving production to Hong Kong.”
“Everyone wants to move to Hong Kong these days.”
“Must we talk about politics?” asked Sai Ma. “It gives me a headache.”
“You heard our little Seet Ling,” said Gu Ma, ushering her guests into the dining room. “No politics, but plenty of eating!”
Sai Ma stayed behind, waiting until Dr. Wong and his wife were out of earshot before she rebuked Lily, “Did you have to open your mouth like that? Look at Yut Ying. She’s such a demure and obedient girl, why can’t you be more like her?”
Lily stared at her feet. “I’m sorry, Mama.”
Next, Sai Ma turned to my brother and me. “It was generous of Dr. Wong to give you lai see. Why don’t you give them to me for safekeeping?”
