The driver took him straight to the train station. It was a long ride, two transfers, a box of bland rice crackers, and more stares than he cared for.
Most of the countryside blurred past his window like a painting left out in the rain, and by the time the train finally pulled into the station in the city, the heat had settled over everything like a second skin.
Cheongsam stepped out, stiff and weary, then found a trolley boy to help him carry his suitcase out to the road.
His directions were vague, but the envelope in his pocket guided him to a rickety bus, then another taxi, and finally, to the looming gates of the Gu family house.
He stood there for a moment, taking it in.
The place hadn't changed much, same stone lions at the gate, same paint peeling from the upstairs shutters. But it felt smaller now. It used to look bigger when he saw younger.
He knocked.
But no one answered, the door clicked opened and he strolled in.
