Kapitel 4: FAMILY HONOUR
'ROYAL PALM HOTEL. How can I help you?' As she dealt with the customer request, Xian Mei wondered, not for the first time, what she was doing here. She hated living a lie, hated being out on a limb, and most of all, she hated the fact that her life currently seemed to have no direction. She had been told that she was doing 'important work for her country', but what was so important about observing the habits of a bunch of wealthy western tourists? Banoi wasn't exactly the front line, and being a receptionist on the desk of a luxury hotel in the middle of nowhere, far from her family and friends, was a long way from how she had envisaged honoring the memory of her father.
Xian Mei still remembered that terrible night in October 1999 as if it were yesterday. She had been twelve at the time, at home with her mother, Jiao, her homework spread out on the kitchen table of their sixth-floor apartment in Beijing. She had been trying to finish early because her grandmother, Li, was coming to visit. When the front-door buzzer sounded, Xian Mei had at first assumed her grandmother had arrived early. Jiao, who had been preparing mutton dumplings for supper, raised her eyebrows good-humouredly at Xian Mei and strolled out into the hallway, drying her hands on a cloth. When she answered the buzzer, Xian Mei had been surprised, and initially a little relieved, to hear a man's voice crackling from the intercom. Her first thought had been that she might have time to finish her homework before her grandmother arrived after all. She had no way of knowing at that moment that her homework would never get finished, that the mutton dumplings her mother had been preparing so lovingly would never get eaten, and that her life, and that of her mother's, would never be the same again.
The visitor was her father's friend and partner, Detective Sergeant Paul Ho. Many a time Paul and his pretty wife Huan had been guests at her parents' house, and their evenings together were full of laughter and good fun, and often – for the adults – a little too much wine. Xian Mei liked Paul, not only because he was full of jokes and compliments, but also because he often brought her a little present – a bow for her hair, a pocket-doll for her collection, a money box in the shape of a fat smiling cat.
Paul did not bring her a present on this evening, however. Nor was he full of jokes and laughter. It had been raining, and when he turned up on their doorstep, he had water running down his face and dripping off his jacket. He mumbled an apology, but Jiao told him not to worry. She fetched a towel, and as he dried his hair and face, she asked him in a hushed voice – almost as if she was afraid of the answer – what was wrong.
Looking back, what Xian Mei now particularly remembered about that evening was the strange and uncomfortable tension that accompanied Paul's arrival. It was almost as if it clung to him, a kind of darkness that caused her stomach to tighten, her mouth to dry up, the ends of her fingers to tingle unpleasantly. She felt it as soon as he stepped through the door. It was so strong that it drew her, almost unwillingly, from the kitchen. She felt as though Paul was a magnet and she was a shred of metal being dragged helplessly towards him. She sidled into the hallway but held on to the edge of the door, the only way of anchoring herself. Paul glanced up and saw her standing there, peering almost fearfully at him, and his eyes filled with such sadness and pity that it terrified her.
'Can we talk privately?' he asked Jiao.
Jiao flinched and clenched her fists, as if his words had punctured her like a flurry of arrows, but she nodded. She glanced briefly at Xian Mei, who was shocked to see that her mother looked as frightened as she herself felt. As Jiao ushered Paul towards the lounge, Xian Mei stepped forward. Though her mouth was dry, she forced herself to speak.
'What's happened to my father?'
Once again, Paul turned those desperately sad eyes on her. Usually so confident, at that moment, he looked lost, uncertain what to say. Jiao saved him from having to say anything by stepping in front of him.
'Go back into the kitchen and finish your homework,' she muttered almost angrily.
'But—' Xian Mei began.
'No arguments! Just do as I say. Your grandmother will be here soon.'
Jiao all but pushed Paul into the lounge and closed the door. Xian Mei retreated into the kitchen, but she didn't finish her homework. Instead, she sat cross-legged in the open kitchen doorway, listening. She heard Paul speaking, but his voice was too low and muffled for her to make out the words. Then he fell silent, and there was a pause that seemed to Xian Mei to stretch out forever. And then – suddenly, shockingly – her mother cried out. It was a harsh sound, the kind you might expect to hear from someone who had been stabbed through the heart. It made Xian Mei jump, then wrap her arms around herself protectively. But although the cry was bad, the sound that followed was much, much worse. Xian Mei had never heard her mother weep before, but now she began not just to weep but to wail, almost to scream. It was an awful, heart-rending sound; to Xian Mei, it seemed to encapsulate all the despair and misery that existed in the world. Frightened by the intensity of her mother's grief, she clapped her hands to her ears and squeezed her eyes tight shut. If she had any doubts before, the noises her mother was making now had confirmed without question that whatever had happened tonight was the very worst thing ever.
The rest of the evening seemed to pass in a terrible, murky fog. When the door to the lounge finally opened, it wasn't Jiao who emerged, but Paul Ho.
Wöchentlicher Energiestatus
-- Power-
Rangliste 
-- Power-
Stein