Natalie Tan's Book of Luck and Fortune(77)

Hope coursed through me. The goddess might be transformed. I continued to pick at the exposed edges, stripping away the old skin, excavating the treasure long buried. Soon the discarded pile of peelings rivaled the size of my cat, and the goddess was revealed in her true form: golden, regal, and restored.

Acting on the same childish impulse one had when confronted by a pile of leaves, I leaned forward and blew on the mound. The dark shavings took the shape of tiny birds, soaring for a few inches before crumbling into gold dust. Delighted, I puffed my cheeks, expanded my lungs, then expelled my breath so that the rest of the pile took flight. A mass migration of miniature birds launched into the air, wings flapping, swirling into the space before disintegrating into specks of gold.

My joyous laughter signaled the rejuvenation.



* * *





?My father was with Ma-ma now—his spirit at peace, and I knew they were both happy because they were together. Love was a powerful force. It made me think of Daniel.

My father had told me that time was the deciding factor. Over the years, love grew stronger while infatuation faded. Baba believed that Daniel would return and forgive me. Older Shen also encouraged me to pursue him.

There was still no response from Daniel.

I needed to find out for myself if he didn’t want to see me again.

Tomorrow, I’d cook dumplings and deliver them to his work after my meeting with Old Wu.

Once the restaurant was open, perhaps that would prove to Daniel I’d changed and was putting down roots. Otherwise, what reason would he have to believe my apology? Words weren’t as convincing as acts when it came to promises.

Exhaustion crept in, weighing down my limbs. I hadn’t realized how little sleep I’d had and how much had happened in the past few days. After sending a quick message to Celia, I settled onto the couch to binge-watch old musicals, where I ended up drifting into a long, deep slumber.

My dreams were happy that day. There were no demons or darkness. Instead, I pictured myself in the kitchen cooking with Laolao while Ma-ma and Baba and the cat danced to the music in the living room. The apartment overflowed with laughter and family. All of us under one roof.



* * *





?I awoke to the beautiful voice of the erhu. It was faint, so faint that I thought I was still in a dream. I slipped off the sofa and followed my siren call.

The song of the erhu grew in strength, rising and falling, striking into familiar notes of “Sono andati?” I closed my eyes and followed the source while losing myself in the music. My feet found their way to Ma-ma’s bedroom.

I didn’t step across the threshold. My fingers touched the wooden doorframe, anchoring me, as I waited for the phantom song to end. The finality of the last note lingered in the air, giving way to silence that ushered in an overwhelming sense of loss.

Stepping inside, I opened my eyes. Something tickled my bare feet. Through the open window, sunlight bathed the room, illuminating a mountain of feathers from every hue of the rainbow: hundreds of them in all shapes and sizes littering the floor. I picked up a bright canary one, reveling in its sunny color. Another was as long as my forearm, snowy white, belonging to a swan. The largest was from an ostrich.

The shelves, where Ma-ma had kept her flock, were empty.

Ma-ma and her birds were free.

Baba was free.

And I was free.





Chapter Twenty-nine





My meetings with Old Wu at his restaurant were set weekly at nine in the morning.

I brought my homework for my first official meeting. My mentor waited for me at his special table. A pot of jasmine tea along with a platter of steamed chili turnip cakes populated the glass lazy Susan. He gestured for me to take a seat and spun the rotating disk so the teapot and the dish faced me.

I poured myself a cup of tea and helped myself to a modest portion. Rings of red chilies and sprinkles of minced green onion decorated the plump turnip cubes. I squeezed my chopsticks and took a nibble. The spiciness of the chilies complemented the creaminess of the turnip.

“The renovations are going well?” he asked.

The concert of hammering and sawing downstairs in my restaurant was soothing. The cat didn’t mind it either. She spent her time playing the game of tapping parts of the floor where the sound came from. The scent of cut lumber replaced the permeating smoke. Progress brought hope and new life to the scarred space.

“Yes, Lao Shi. Almost all of the damage has been cleaned up. I ordered the new gas stove and industrial fryer you recommended, and they should be delivered next week.”

Old Wu sipped his tea. “Have you given a thought about your seating plan? Do you want three tables or four?”

“Actually, two.” I brought out a sheet of paper from my laptop bag with a drawing of the restaurant’s layout. I placed the paper on the lazy Susan and spun it toward him. “I’d rather maximize the seats at the counter and make room for a bathroom.”

He picked up the design and studied it. “Ah, there is space then. It’s a better layout than before.”

“I found a way to incorporate it into the existing budget.”

Old Wu smiled. “Good, that was my next question.”

“How did Laolao manage all this? I’m thankful for the funding, but she started with nothing.”

“She bartered. Your grandmother’s skill in the kitchen was matched only by her negotiation tactics. She made shrewd deals with the shopkeepers at the market and her suppliers for the lowest prices. Pair that with her cooking, and she became profitable in a short amount of time.”