In the morning I found my mother sewing on a blouse she was making for Ling-an.

“How did you sleep?” she asked as I put water on.

“Strange dreams. I think it’s the jet lag. What’s going on in Cloud Lake Mansion?”

“On television?” She seemed dumbfounded by the question.

“Is that girl marrying the rich guy her father wants her to? And what about that soldier, did he come back?”

“I didn’t know you followed that show.”

“Ma, it moves so slowly I only need to walk by once a month when you’re watching to catch up. Did the politician’s wife have the baby yet?”

She blinked. “No, but she’s in the hospital, she’s having problems. And that pretty girl is a fool. She’ll marry that old man to make her father happy, instead of waiting for her soldier.”

“She probably will, but I’m surprised you don’t approve. Isn’t she being properly filial, doing that?”

“Of course. But if her father were a proper father he would care more about her happiness than making a good business alliance.”

“I guess he would. Do you want tea?”

“Yes,” my mother said, and added, “Thank you, Ling Wan-ju.”

I hit Canal Street, heading for Bright Hopes to see if Mr. Chen was ready to talk to me, but before I got close, my cell phone rang. When I answered, that bellowing tenor blasted my ear:

“Sondheim, Pacific Overtures. Chinsky! Come up here right away.”

“Now? But I was-”

“Whatever you’re doing, drop it. Something’s fishy, and I want to talk about it.”

“What is?”

“Come up here.”

“Just tell me-”

“Chinsky! Now!”