“Jade, don’t tell even me where your secret hiding place is! Be careful around your neighbors and friends. That’s just for you and Aunt Dani to know.” JungHo berated her, and a sweet smile warmed her face.
“But, JungHo, you are my family. You’ve been bringing us good rice for months. I trust you.” She grinned, and little crinkles appeared under her eyes. It made her look her age—she was thirty-three, and more than twenty years had passed since he first saw her. And yet he thought she looked beautiful now in her waning, perhaps even more so than when she was a young courtesan in full bloom. Even the shadows on her face drew him in.
“Just hang in there. This can’t last forever. Japan greatly underestimated how big a country China is. The world has turned its back on them after what happened in Nanjing. Rape, fire, killing pregnant women . . . What they did to us, they now do to the Chinese. Our Independence Army and the Chinese troops have already joined forces in Manchuria. My mentor says Japan cannot win this war,” he said. Jade nodded firmly, as if her assent would help that prediction come to pass.
“Actually, that’s what I came to tell you.” He took his hat by the brim and turned it around in a circle. The air in the room was heavy, like a fourth drink. The second hand of the clock ticked away the silence to the beating of his heart.
“I was chosen to go to Shanghai on a mission,” he said, almost like an afterthought. But it was hard—much harder than he’d anticipated—to feign nonchalance.
Among the many things he’d never learned how to do, letting go was the most difficult. But he resolved to do what he’d always done: act first and think later. To gain courage, he raised the heels of his hands and pressed them into his eyes a few times.
“I’m not going to be back for many months,” he said. They both heard more clearly what was not being said—that he was likely not going to come back at all. A mutual understanding overtook them. The ticking of the clock slowed and then disappeared into oblivion, and JungHo felt satisfied that sitting here together in sorrow was the just compensation for all his years of waiting. It was hot and humid and death lingered in the dark corners of the room like purple shadows of a long summer sun.
“I’d been waiting for years for my mentor to entrust me with a mission,” he said with a faint smile. “But now that the time has come, I feel a little—a bit sad.”
“Oh JungHo, I’m so worried for you,” Jade said, discreetly sponging her eyes with a finger. She was determined to seem brave, so JungHo pretended not to notice.
“You have been my only friend these past years, with Luna in America and Lotus missing . . . I don’t know what I’ll do when you’re gone.” She sighed, then rushed to the kitchen, shouting, “Will you at least stay for dinner? I will cook something.”
JungHo stayed in the sitting room while Jade busied herself with preparing the barley he’d brought. Dani was sleeping, so she left a bowl of porridge next to her cot before setting the table for JungHo and herself. The soldiers had taken away Dani’s polished bronze bowls, spoons, and chopsticks, so Jade had to make do with wooden bowls and utensils that not even her maids would have used before the war. Watching her fuss over the dishes, JungHo imagined that they were married and that this was just one of their ordinary meals in their ordinary lives. The fantasy was so pleasant that he couldn’t help but say it aloud.
“Jade, it’s as though you’re my wife fixing me dinner.” The moment he heard the words, he was terrified of repulsing her. But surprisingly, she smiled.
“It’s hard being a bachelor. A man needs a woman’s touch.” She crinkled her eyes, pushing a bowl of radish kimchi closer to him. “Eat.”
They chewed slowly to prolong the light dinner, talking of the war and Dani’s illness.
“One of our comrades is a doctor. Before I leave, I’ll drop by his clinic and ask him to visit Aunt Dani,” he said, putting down his spoon.
“All I ever do is cause you trouble and ask for help.” Jade knit her brows. “I’ve done nothing for you.”
“There was never any need for you to do something for me,” he said with a shy smile. That was the truth. At some indiscernible point—years ago already—JungHo had given up the idea that she could love him the way he loved her. It had happened without him even realizing, which was probably for the best. He’d made all the most important turns in his life based on a wish that was long gone, but to go back was impossible. And what good would it do to deny his past? Somewhere inside him flickered the intuition that this happened to all people to varying degrees, and that helped him make peace with his lot. But what she said next blew apart that peace with the force of a summer storm.
“Would you like to spend the night?” she asked.
*
SHE WOKE UP WITH his arms tightly wound around her body. Even deep in sleep, he didn’t seem to want to let her go. There was a trace of a smile on his lips.
Had this been HanChol, she would have stroked his hair and kissed him in his sleep. With JungHo, she had only the deep desire to be alone again. She didn’t regret asking him to spend the night. It was right that she should give what meant so much to him, which cost her so little. And yet, she felt so uncomfortable in his arms that her best efforts to stay still were in vain.
“You’re awake already,” JungHo whispered through half-closed lids.
“Keep sleeping. I’ll fix some breakfast.” She started to rise, but he pulled her back.
“I’d rather hold you a bit longer. And I want to talk to you.”
She was even more uncomfortable now that the room was becoming lighter and she was still naked next to him, but she stayed.
“Jade, you know how I feel about you,” he began, his eyes now wide. “I have loved you for a very long time. More than you know. Do you remember the day when you were in a parade, all dressed up in costume? That’s when I first saw you. Even then, as young as I was, I felt like my life would change.”