At breakneck speed we reach Chengdu, where Lanying leads us through a maze of back alleys to what must be her house. A bleak, slated roof curves over a stark gray wall. A heavy, yet simple iron gate opens with a tired groan to where an empty, whitewashed courtyard awaits.
There’re no welcoming blossoms cascading from balconies, no fresh vines rising on pillars, no intricate carvings adorning the woodwork—there are only lanky shadows hastening from corners to take over our horses as we dismount. As flamboyant as Lanying’s appearance is, the exterior of her house seems sober to me.
“I thought for sure they wouldn’t accept her invitation,” Norbu says under his breath. “I mean, they’re not fond of her, are they?” He hauls his bag over a shoulder. “But then again, our elder never refuses an
