"Calm down," Li Wei said, stepping in front of Don Quixote to block him. "If you rush over there this late at night, the only things you'll get are a restraining order from the New York Police Department and a tour of a jail cell on Thanksgiving. You'll accomplish nothing. Plus, if you hurt her, you could lose your visitation rights for good."
"Then what am I supposed to do?" Don Quixote demanded, fuming with impotent rage. "I can't just let her keep bleeding me dry, can I?"
"Tomorrow morning, on Thanksgiving, I'm going with Anya—the Russian girl—to see the Macy's parade," Li Wei said, patting Don Quixote's shoulder. "After the parade, around noon, we'll go pick up your daughter."
"You?" Don Quixote said, stunned. "You have a plan?"
Li Wei recalled his talent for eloquent speech, which he hadn't used in a long while. He smiled. "Trust me. I have a way."
...
「The next morning, on Thanksgiving Day.」
Anya examined her body in the full-length mirror.
