Chapter 47: The Empty Bowl's Song

Morning in Macau did not announce itself with birdsong or the soft patter of rain. It arrived with the clatter of metal shutters rolling up, the hiss of a pressure cooker, and a man in a stained tank top yelling at a delivery boy about the price of squid. Fong Siu-Bak sat on the edge of the hostel bed, his hands resting on his knees, and tried to remember what it felt like to be full. He couldn't....