Jiang Xun sat up on the gymnastics mat and stared at his phone screen, his brow slowly tightening.
Maybe he was cooking in the kitchen and hadn't heard it. Maybe he was chopping wood in the yard, too far away. Maybe there was a problem with the phone line.
The village had only just had telephone lines installed, and it was so remote that a disconnected line wasn't impossible.
He tucked his phone back into his pocket, leaned against the wall for twenty minutes, then dialed again.
Still no answer.
When Duan Qizhao came looking for him after training, Jiang Xun was sitting cross-legged on the mat, looking unwell, his phone clenched tightly in his hand. The screen was lit, and his call history showed a whole row of outgoing calls to the same number.
"What's wrong?"
"No one's picking up." Jiang Xun pressed his lips together. "Maybe he's busy."
For once, Duan Qizhao held his tongue. He hooked an arm around Jiang Xun's shoulders and dragged him toward the cafeteria. "Come on, come on. They've got extra fried chicken drumsticks tonight. If we're late, there won't even be crumbs left."
Jiang Xun went with him, ate his drumstick, and drank his chicken soup, but not a single one of Duan Qizhao's corny jokes registered.
Duan Qizhao noticed and swallowed every teasing remark on the tip of his tongue.
The next day was Saturday.
Jiang Changping had set the date for the family reunion banquet half a month earlier.
Two hundred invitations had gone out. The Jiang family's banquet hall had been closed off for decorating three days in advance, with flowers flown in from the Netherlands, custom-made brocade tablecloths with subtle woven patterns, and pale gold silk ribbons tied to the back of every chair.
The guest list