“The parts you’d expect,” Cheuk-Kwan said. “Tourist areas, the British neighborhoods, you know. And that’s not even the biggest problem anymore. The water shortage is getting worse by the day.”
Tinseng grimaced. “Sounds like we’ve got our work cut out for us when we get home,” he said, with the same unbreakable spirit he’d always shown, no matter the problem. He sounded ready to roll up his sleeves and wade into the rubble right then. His mood hit those who had stayed behind like a sunbeam breaking free of the clouds. Yukying, Cheuk-Kwan, and Laurence all exchanged looks, and Yukying knew they were all thinking the same thing: No matter how Tinseng might get under their skin, he’d been deeply, terribly missed.
Chiboon was talking about Gibraltar when she drifted back. “You’ll all come with me, right? My editor gave me a checklist for each stop, as though I couldn’t write about that boring rock in my sleep.”
“Aww, but Yukying and I are excited for Gibraltar, aren’t we, jiejie?” Tinseng said. “I want to see those monkeys steal someone’s glasses off their face.”
“You and monkeys, that’s the real family reunion,” Cheuk-Kwan quipped, and earned himself a punch in the arm.
“Would you take notes for me, then?” Chiboon asked Tinseng.
“Only if you finally tell me that secret about Dean Martin.”
“No deal. I’ll . . . buy your drinks for an entire night.”
“With how much he drinks?”
“A whole night,” Chiboon insisted.
“Done,” Tinseng agreed. They shook on it, to the amusement of the rest of the table.
“You’re the best, both of you,” Chiboon gushed.
“That’s half-true,” Cheuk-Kwan told Laurence, who pressed his lips together in an effort not to laugh.
“And what are you contributing to Chiboon’s research?” Tinseng crossed his arms and looked his brother up and down. “Ten tips for single men on cruises? How to not look desperate while sitting alone at the bar?”
“You’re single,” Cheuk-Kwan said pointedly. Tinseng stammered, caught out. Laurence sent a baleful look to Yukying, pleading with her to intervene.
“Which port is everyone looking forward to the most?” she asked the room.
“Barcelona,” Laurence answered.
“Naples for me,” Cheuk-Kwan said.
“Why’s that?”
“Because it means we only have a single plane ride until we’re home.”
Everyone groaned and shouted abuse in Cheuk-Kwan’s direction. As he defended himself loudly, Yukying asked quietly across the table, “What about you, Shan Dao? Which port are you most excited for?”
“Villefranche. But I, too, look forward to reaching Hong Kong.”
“How long are you planning to visit Hong Kong?” Chiboon asked.
Shan Dao looked over at Tinseng, then back to Chiboon. “The timeline is currently . . . flexible.”
Yukying and Cheuk-Kwan exchanged raised eyebrows, and Yukying quickly jumped on the opportunity to ask, “Where are you planning to stay? We live in King’s Park and have plenty of room. We’ve already asked Tinseng, though he hasn’t given us an answer yet . . .”
“Tinseng mentioned he was still deciding,” Shan Dao’s voice sounded strangled. “I have a room at a hotel. It is sufficie—”
“A room at a hotel?” Cheuk-Kwan turned to Tinseng. “You’re going to let him stay at a hotel?”
“Nonsense,” Yukying agreed. “You have to stay with us. We have more rooms than we know what to do with.”
Tinseng shook his head. “J–Shan Dao is his own man—”
“The hotel is temporary,” Shan Dao insisted. “It will likely only be for a few days until I find a room to rent.”
“See? He’s made up his mind,” Tinseng said. “Besides, he might not even stay in Hong Kong that long. He wants to go back to China and teach there. Soak in his presence now; we might never see him again if Shan Dao gets his way, ha-ha.”
Tinseng’s forced laughter fell into the stunned silence with a thud. Shan Dao looked down at his hands. Cheuk-Kwan stared at his sister in disbelief, but Yukying didn’t know where to start.
“Tell us about your new position, Tinseng,” Chiboon said for want of anything polite to say about the trainwreck in front of them.
“Adjunct for now, but it could lead to tenure.” Tinseng preened a little. “One physics lecture, but they mostly have me teaching French to first years.”
“Weren’t you tutoring Chinese and English in Paris?” Cheuk-Kwan narrowed his eyes. “How does someone go from a language tutor to physics professor?”
“I don’t know, Cheuk-Kwan. I did get a degree in it. Or don’t you remember those years? All the science books I used to carry around? Besides, how does a doctor grow such a large private practice yet still have such shit bedside manners?”
“Some patients need to be put under,” Cheuk-Kwan hissed.
“Scary. When we get back, I’m ripping up the floorboards of your office—I bet you have jars of eyes and fingernails under there.”
“Ahh, I’ve missed this,” Chiboon said, leaning back. “Haven’t you missed this, Laurence?”
“Like a toothache,” Laurence muttered, and Chiboon chuckled. But Yukying had missed this, the sniping and talking over each other and the laughter and the yelling—all the familiar noise of love.
