Mr and Mrs Su are finishing their breakfast when the telephone rings. Neither moves to pick it up at first. Not many people know their number; fewer use it. Their son Jian, now in his second year at college, calls them once a month to report his wellbeing. He spends most of his holidays with his friends’ families, not offering even the most superficial excuses. Mr and Mrs Su do not have the heart to complain or to remind Jian of their wish to see him more often. Their two-bedroom flat, small and cramped as it is, is filled with Beibei’s screaming when she is not napping, and the foul smell when she dirties the sheets. Jian has grown up sleeping in a cot in the foyer and hiding from his friends the existence of an elder sister born with severe mental retardation. Mr and Mrs Su sensed their son’s elation when he finally moved into the college dormitory. They have held on to the secret wish that after Beibei dies—she is not destined for longevity, after all—they will reclaim their lost son, though neither says anything to the other, both ashamed by the mere thought of the wish.
The ringing stops for a short moment and starts again. Mr Su walks to the telephone and puts a hand on the receiver. “Do you want to take it?” he asks his wife.
“So early, it must be Mr Fong,” Mrs Su says.
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