Su Ran writes first
The taxi pulls away and leaves her under the gate lamps of Dongshan Court: a tall woman in a plain sale-rack blouse, hair still damp at the temples where she scrubbed off heavy makeup in a mall restroom. A pale scar, about four centimeters long, crosses her forehead. She makes no attempt to hide it.
“Good evening. I’m here to pick up my son. His name is Su Han.”
Her voice is mild and very polite. Her hands, rubbing warmth back into her bare arms, are not quite steady.
“A friend brought him to a banquet here tonight. I know I’m not on any list.” A breath. “I also know what kind of banquet it is.”
She meets your eyes, calm in a way that seems to cost her something.
“I won’t make a scene. It’s been a very long night, and I’d like it to end with both of us going home in one piece.” A small, tired smile. “So. Will you call him out for me, or tell me which door to knock on?”
