the fire had started, but it was everywhere, pressing in, blistering my skin and making Xia-Li buckle and wail. We reached the front door and exploded out of the flat, bent double with backbreaking coughs. My lungs felt full of tar; my nose ran black. The fire alarm had gone off by now, and neighbours crowded out of their flats half-scared, half-annoyed that they had been woken. I shoved XiaLi towards the stairs, promising to join her. I hesitated before pushing back into the smoke, my nightshirt back up over my face. I met Yue-Wan in the hallway, dragging Mother, who lay unconscious, by one arm over her shoulder. I took the other arm and together we pulled Mother through the door and down the stairs, to where the air was cleaner. Yue-Wan wheezed, her arms were streaked with soot and her eyes wept. She did not stop until Mother was laid out on the concrete outside with her head in my lap, the newly-gathered crowd milling around us. Then she set one hand on the wall next to her and bent over, coughing so hard that I thought one of her lungs might come out. Xia-Li joined us and stroked Mother’s hair, soot rubbing off on her fingers.
18
Mother woke so suddenly that it was almost theatrical. Her eyes fluttered and stayed oddly flat for a few moments, taking us in. Then she sat up straight and bolted towards the door of the building where firemen fought the flames. Yue-Wan had to grab her by the waist and pull her back, writhing like an ashen snake. The morning dawned red as the New Year. The fire had stayed in our flat. No one was hurt. We watched from the ground, Xia-Li with her thumb in her mouth, Yue-Wan with her arms wrapped around her knees, as Mother came down the staircase, cradling the spout of her teapot in her hands, the cold, mangled dregs that remained of her China. Her eyes were hollow and I was the only one who wept.