“He could help.”
“Could he? Would he? I think I remember his friends saying homosexuality was simply the product of trauma under capitalism. Or was it fascism? They could never agree,” he explained to Jinzhao.
Yukying pursed her lips. “That was a long time ago. He doesn’t have those friends anymore, and he doesn’t think that way, A-Seng.”
“How do you know that?”
“You should tell him about this,” she insisted instead of answering his question. “He might surprise you.”
Tinseng’s laugh was harsh and dry, tinder eager to light. He was losing his grip on the mask of the brother Yukying knew; he saw the confusion and worry in her face. He shook his head.
“You see the best in everyone, jiejie.”
“He loves you. He wants what’s best for you. We both do. We just want to see you happy.” She lowered her voice. “He would understand, and he would help. And if Grodescu sends what he has to someone, Cheuk-Kwan should know before that happens.”
Tinseng sucked his teeth and wished his sister weren’t so nice. “I’ll think about it. But for now, please keep this to yourself?”
Yukying nodded. “Of course.”
For a moment the only noise was the ship’s engines. Then Yukying picked up her head and asked, “What do you plan to do next?”
“Next? Uh.” Tinseng thought through what he’d do if this lie was the truth and found it very similar to his actual situation. “We need to find out where he’s hiding the photos. It could be in the briefcase he carries sometimes. I searched his room yesterday before I came to the beach but didn’t find anything.”
Yukying blinked, shocked. “That was dangerous, Tinseng.”
“It had to be done,” he said with a shrug. “And now we have to find a way to figure out if it’s on him.”
“His wife might have some idea where he keeps things,” Yukying said. “I’ve talked to her a few times now. I could say it’s because of . . . well, I’d think of something.”
“No, no, no,” he said, shaking his head against the idea.
“But I think she trusts me,” she said. “What harm is there in asking? We’re on the ship all day and most of tomorrow besides the stop in Gibraltar. Why don’t we use the time wisely?”
Tinseng felt himself unraveling a little. Jinzhao must have sensed it, because he returned his gaze from where it had been far away, and said, “Your brother worries for you. The worst thing he could experience is being responsible for you getting hurt.”
It was just like Mei Jinzhao to gather everything in Tinseng’s heart and express it as concisely as possible. When Jinzhao said it, it sounded true and immutable, which was exactly how it felt to Tinseng. He couldn’t imagine what he would do if anything happened to Yukying, but he knew he wouldn’t want to survive it.
“Shan Dao speaks so eloquently,” Tinseng said, staring at his lifeline. Jinzhao met the stare, a little misty around the eyes.
“Shan Dao,” Yukying’s gentle voice pulled them back, “it sounds like you might be part of this family someday.”
“I hope so,” Jinzhao said.
Tinseng’s head whipped around—that was news to him. But Yukying just nodded as if she’d expected that answer.
“Well, then. You should know we have always taken care of each other, no matter what.” Yukying took Tinseng’s hand. “Family helps each other and stands by each other’s side. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for Tinseng. Knowing that in my heart means I can do anything.”
That old catchphrase of their parents—the sentiment that had gotten his adoptive mother killed—should be something he hated. He’d read the text so many times as punishment that he still knew it by heart. He should hate to hear it, but the words never failed to make him shiver, as though feeling their power for the very first time. The idea had been written on his sinew and muscle, growing as he’d grown; not what he was born with but what he was made from.
“You’re right,” he said quietly. He didn’t look at Jinzhao, who would be upset; he could deal with that later. Instead, he said more loudly, “Of course you’re right!” He pulled her into an embrace and declared, “You’ve never been wrong, ever, not a single time.”
“That’s not true, you silly boy.” She hugged him back tightly. “Thank you, A-Seng,” she murmured in his ear, words just for him. “Thank you for letting me help.”
Tinseng closed his eyes and rested his forehead on her shoulder, and tried not to think of everything that could happen to this woman in his arms, all because of him.
Once they’d agreed to a plan and Yukying left, Tinseng collapsed back into his chair, exhausted. Yukying had never been the impulsive one or the one with the temper. But she’d seen just as much destruction, he realized. Not as much death, maybe, but perhaps more devastation: Over the last few days, as she’d shared stories about families she’d helped, she’d been careful to only share happy endings. But sometimes the silences spoke for her. In all the time he’d known her, he couldn’t think of a time when her kindness had really wavered. For the first time, he wondered how exhausting that must be. He was angry, so angry, that she’d taken this risk. But wasn’t she doing exactly what he would have done? Wouldn’t that be too hypocritical, even for him, to deny her the right to action?
He sighed as he sat back with his cigarette and wished that just one time his plans would turn out the way he wanted.
Jinzhao had been quiet since Tinseng agreed to let Yukying help, withdrawing in on himself. Tinseng had ignored it, but now his time had run out. His head dropped back against the chair’s back.
“What happened to doing it my way?” he asked the ceiling. “You wanted me to tell her no? After how determined she was to help yesterday? Trailing you, dancing with Grodescu. She was already thinking of befriending Mrs. Grodescu; she would have done it with or without our permission.” He rolled his head to peer at Jinzhao. “Better to have it in our control, trust me.”
“She believes this is for you.”
“You think she wouldn’t do the same for you? Didn’t you hear her before? You’re practically family. You’re going to love the dinners,” he snickered. “Besides, it’s okay to help those you love.”
“Even if it violates her principles?”
“Some principles are more important than others,” he said slowly, knowing they weren’t talking about Yukying anymore. “Her first priority is to her family. She loves me, and to her, that’s more important than lying to a stranger.”
“What about lying to her husband?” Jinzhao pushed.
“It won’t come to that.”
“What about lying to the authorities?”