17
Tongheng
1987
Tongheng met Kuan-yin at Dong Feng diner near Qingniwa Bridge. He had barely slept the night before, and even now, the anxiety that had weighed on him all week continued to clamp around his throat.
‘What time’s the car coming?’ he asked, flattening his hair.
‘Not until six this evening,’ she said. ‘Father tried to schedule it for earlier, but the driver was booked out for the entire day. Another official wanted him on hand to tour some locomotive factories.’ She filled his plate with a fluffy mantou, salted duck eggs and sliced turnip.
‘I shouldn’t eat,’ he said. ‘Saving room for my mother’s cooking.’ He tried to sell it with a smile.
She studied his face. ‘No,’ she said. ‘You’re nervous.’
‘I’m never nervous,’ he said.
‘I know,’ she said, picking up the mantou a
