The Glint of the Luopan

Chapter 2

I

had smiled all the way back to the apartment, through all the crowds. I had barely gotten home when a text message reached me, Thanks for the nice jaw workout today. I used muscles I forgot I had. 😊

Jaw workout? So, he hadn't eaten in some time? Hadn't spoken in some time? I figured it was the second one.

Already, I had forgotten what his face looked like. This happened a lot to me. Words and sounds stayed with me, but faces became a blur when I didn't have them in front of me. Maybe it was part of the brain damage, but why had it affected such specific parts? I could barely remember Aunties' and Uncles' faces – let alone Dad's or his grandmother's, who I had contacted recently.

When I had decided to go on a search for my dad, it was natural to try to first contact the person who had always been closest to his heart. Maybe he had told his grandmother something that he had told no one else, I figured, the way some Buddhists whispered their secrets into holes in buildings or trees. They knew that these would neither ask questions nor reveal the secrets to anyone.

For a long time, I had wondered how to get in touch with her. My dad's parents were both dead already, and it was unlikely that there was any information on her on the internet.

Then, one day, the universe had given me what I interpreted as a cosmic pat on the back: While scrolling my favorite Chinese news site, I discovered a headline that said, 'Heart of old Shibati to be preserved as a relic for tourists'. Beneath it was a photo of an old woman with long white hair standing beside a pink doorframe. Beneath the photo were two sentences: 'Old woman's 'dream house' is now attracting visitors from all over the world. Chinese art critics describe it as an 'excavated jewel of postmodern art.'"

Feverishly, I had searched for the imprint that usually contained the mail address of the site operators. After some back-and-forth emailing, with me pretending to be an art historian, they had given me her contact details.

☯☯☯

A few days after our first date, Suresh and I went on a snow hike. It had been Suresh's idea. I figured that he wanted to know if I was tough enough to 'face the elements' or how much of a 'girly girl' I was. Apparently, a large part of me was still a 'girly girl', as I rather begrudgingly pulled out the knapsack from the depths of my wardrobe and refused to leave behind my lovely long bright scarf which made such a nice contrast to my black hair.

"You want to strangle someone with that?," he asked when we sat on the train, a fierce flash in his eye again and a cheeky tongue tip between his teeth.

"Yes, if someone doesn't behave today."

He chuckled. "I will try my best, Madam, unless nature gets me so excited that I can't contain myself and run all the way up to the peak."

"Like a mountain goat?"

"Yeah, I know, because of my goat beard, right?"

Actually, I had always liked goatees. It gave men a slightly ferocious look, without them losing their boyish quality. Boyish, he was. Yesterday, he had sent me an 'official invitation' to the trip via text message: My ladies and gentleman, welcome aboard! My name is Mr. Socio. I am your Captain today. Together with Vice Captain Mr. Brain and the whole crew, I'd like to make sure you have a pleasant trip.

This was the first time I heard of Mr. Socio and Mr. Brain, though, and I abstained from asking more questions. I suspected these were 'people' from his fantasy world who somehow trusted me enough to show themselves. I felt honored to be welcomed into someone's inner world so quickly. Plus, one felt less alone with all these additional people.