Chapter 21: The Old Woman in the Hollow

The hut smelled of dried herbs and old smoke, and it was cluttered in a way that suggested the old woman had been collecting things for longer than most of Hong Kong's buildings had been standing. Jars of pickled ginger sat beside stacks of yellowed papers, and a rusted iron kettle hung over a cold fireplace. The lantern she carried cast long, dancing shadows, and her face, lit from below, seemed...