Andy hung suspended in an abyss of his own making. The body cradled against his chest was heavy and cold, the coarse noose loosened from around the neck bunching up at angle. How did they get here? Only two weeks ago his mother was all brusque and businesslike, proficiently moving boxes into his new college dorm and persistently reminding him to eat and to call her if he needed anything.

But he hadn’t called and the call had come. He hadn't been there for her and there she’d been. Dangling. For God knows how long. Too late when cut down to respond to his clumsy attempts at revival. Well past the point of resuscitation by the point the paramedics arrived. Then came his siblings and law enforcement and the coroner and the funeral director and relatives and family friends and the therapist and it was just so easy to stop and surrender to inertia.

A sharp rapping at the door jolted Andy awake. Laboriously, he rolled out of bed, wondering what emergency could be occurring this late at night so close to the last day of the exam. He opened the door to an old man dressed in servant browns.

“Chief Examiner Ma requests your presence,” the man informed.

It was only two days ago that he had switched the packet contents. Has his subterfuge already been discovered? Apprehensive, Andy followed the servant down a series of stone pathways he now knew led to the central administrative buildings. They made their way to a facade he’d seen many times in passing but never entered: a set of thick wooden doors illuminated by large lanterns, flanked by a pair of stone lions.

He was escorted up the stairs, past the guards, across the threshold and into a formal reception room amply lit by oil lamps. The room was modest but elegantly furnished, the focal point a lacquered wood table covered in an assortment of small dessert plates, surrounded by cushioned high-backed chairs.

A man stood to one side, next to a wall of shelves stuffed full of books and scrolls, an open manuscript in hand. He was tall, middle-aged, dressed in dark blue robes with a badge of cranes embroidered across his chest. Salt and pepper hair tucked beneath a winged black gauze cap and a broad silk sash wrapped around his waist, embellished by a hanging jade pendant.

The man looked up with a soft, gentle expression. Deep brown eyes crinkled into laugh lines at the edges. Dimples formed upon trimly bearded cheeks. His smile was warm and welcoming, and he seemed genuinely pleased to see him. Even so, Andy’s heart lurched when he heard the doors close behind.

“Come in, sit,” Lord Ma said, and his voice was steady and kind. He set the manuscript aside and gestured to the table laden with mooncakes, sweet rice balls, candied fruits and nuts, honey cakes, and other sweet pastries. “Yi City is supposed to have the best desserts in the province. So I got a little bit of everything.”

Andy nervously glanced back, only to find the servant had gone. They were alone in the room.

“There’s no need to be like that,” Lord Ma assured soothingly, taking a step closer. “I’m not angry at you. I’m not…” He stopped and shut his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers and sighed deeply, as if pained. “I am wounded, truly. Didn't I beseech you to keep our bond a secret? Didn't I warn you no one would understand? That if you spoke out your defiance would only bring misfortune? Now they’re pitting us against each other.” He opened his eyes and dropped his arm. “But I’m not angry. I can’t… I can’t ever stay angry with you for long.” He stepped closer and laid a hand on Andy’s shoulder. “I have endured so much these past few weeks, but I forgive you. I accept you at your barest nature,” he declared solemnly.

Andy stiffened, simultaneously affected and flummoxed. “Lord Ma, you–”

“Why so formal?” the man inquired, sounding surprised. “Aren’t I your Fenmian any longer? Aren’t you my Dehua?” He leaned in, grinning cheerfully, “But this is no occasion to discuss such heavy matters. Time is short and fleeting. Let us celebrate your birthday and enjoy each other's company while we can.” He moved his hand to Andy’s lower back and ushered him to a chair, taking the seat beside him.

“My poor boy, you look so haggard,” Lord Ma commented, as he stole an appraising glance while pouring tea from a blue tea set. He made a sound of admonishment. “You have not been taking care of yourself. Here, eat something. I bought your favorite, shoutao bao.” Grabbing one of Andy’s wrists, he pressed a peach-shaped bun into his palm. “How is your sleep? Are you still having nightmares?”

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“Nightmares?” Andy echoed.

“Now will you listen to my words?” the man asked with a tinge of reproach, his large hands remaining cupped around Andy’s own. “Your clan leader’s journey was hers to travel, and her spirit would not want you to carry this weight. Some hardships are beyond human control, no matter how dutiful we are. The bonds of family are sacred, but they do not give us power over each other’s choices.”

He lifted one hand only to set it against Andy’s shoulder blade. “Embracing one’s sorrow is how we honor those we’ve lost. The intensity of your pain reflects the depth of your love. But grief is an ocean that can drown us, and even the most powerful need time to regain their strength. You never meant to hurt your kin, simply to protect yourself at your weakest. It is how you heal. It takes courage to carry sorrow alone, and those who love you will understand that it was part of your path.”

Andy did listen to his words, hanging onto every statement as his mind churned incessantly, revising understanding of past events based on new information provided. Even though similar sentiments have previously been uttered, this was the first time he considered them willingly. And so, despite present circumstances, despite finally piecing together what had happened to Mr. Liu, Andy cried.

“She never said she cared,” his middle sister had remarked, over a plate of greasy, over-seasoned chicken lo mein at the food court mall. “But grandma did. Waipo resented her so much for leaving she disowned her.” Cindy, flower-on-the-wall Cindy, inner-depths filled with secrets Cindy. First to leave the nest after graduating high school to pursue her big city dreams. Currently back in town and treating her baby brother to some shitty Chinese food and some even shittier family drama.

“I found out from those weekly overseas catch-up calls. You know, the ones we’re supposed to stay off the landline for? Back when we were kids there was a day where Sandy and Wendy were fighting over a Barbie doll or some shit, you were nowhere to be found, and I got bored, so I picked up the upstairs phone. I heard mom’s voice, then dead air. Then mom’s voice again, carrying on like a normal conversation. Keeping the ether updated about all our milestones and achievements.” She picked at her noodles, momentarily caught up in the memory. “It was…unsettling, to say the least. And every call I eavesdropped on after that was the same so I eventually stopped.”

Cindy gazed at him meaningfully. “You mind her,” she bade. “She is not well. She hasn't been for a while now.”

For the first time Andy cried, wailed, mourned the loss of his mother, and strong arms enveloped him, cradling his head against a stable, stalwart chest. It was at once comforting and revolting. He tried to push away but soon gave up, too raw and touch-starved to care.

When his sobs finally subsided, Lord Ma released him. “Forgiveness, even toward oneself, is a sign of strength,” the man advised. A moment later a wry smile quirked one side of his face. He added, with a slight shake of his head, “I just said this was no occasion to discuss heavy matters, and yet I’ve gone and done exactly that.” Heaving a self-deprecating sigh, he stood up and strolled to a side table. Came back with a silk-wrapped bundle which he placed before Andy. “A gift for you,” he explained. “No need to be polite.”

With tears still fresh on his cheeks, Andy set aside the peach bun to untie the intricate knots above the slim rectangular package. As he worked, Lord Ma spoke quietly near his ear: “Unfortunately, Lady Ma happened upon it earlier. I hope she didn't ruin the surprise.”

Smooth red folds slid aside to reveal a book, titled The Cut Sleeve. Affirming beyond doubt the nature of their relationship.

“Peruse it,” Lord Ma instructed, nibbling on a golden pastry. “You’re staying late tonight.”

Andy felt like he was going to be sick. Anger roiled in the pit of his stomach, gradually mounting as he thought of the clerk coming to the conclusion that their bond was one based on control. He had tried to leave, tried to escape his situation only to find himself barred in on all sides by those who professed to be his found family, and the rest of the world out of reach. Confidants manipulated him, made him doubt his memory, question his instincts, assume guilt and responsibility. Abused his mental state to the point where, by the time Shuangyi arrived, he saw relief only in release.

“Dehua,” Lord Ma croaked abruptly. “Something’s wrong.”

Andy looked up and was shocked to find the man’s lips swollen, face flushed, hands clutching at his throat. “Call… someone…”

As he stumbled around Andy slowly stood, glancing at the half-eaten layered glutinous rice cake dropped on the floor. He hesitantly shifted from side to side, but remained rooted in place.

Seeing his refusal, Lord Ma’s eyes bulged within inflamed lids. The man clumsily lunged at him, falling into a collapse. On his hands and knees, struggling and wheezing, he started crawling towards the front door instead. Andy moved to keep pace beside him, ready to leap forward if necessary. However, he needn’t have bothered–the man sunk to the floor nowhere near salvation, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. A few minutes after that, he stopped moving entirely.