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Of what happened next, Anyu remembered little.

She was screaming, rolling on the street where rickshaws and carriages squeaked by; no one approached her, no one except Confucius, who had mysteriously reappeared and carried her to his bicycle.

He rode like a madman and took her to a place that smelled of choking herbs.

In her dazed state, she heard an old man talking, then he fed her a spoonful of bitter liquid, and then he was cleaning her wound and bandaging her hand, and then the blissful fog of peace enveloped her.

She was conscious, but then she wasn’t. She struggled to stay awake, to make sense of what had happened, and she desperately wanted to ask—was this a nightmare?

Confucius said something, but she couldn’t understand it.

He didn’t abandon her, after all, and for that, she was grateful.

But her whole arm felt dead, and as hard as she tried, she couldn’t see well.

When she closed her eyes, she could envision, vividly, Mr. Du’s big ears, the pistol, and her pinkie exploding.

In utter disbelief, she looked at the stub covered with strips of white cloth, the stub where her finger should have been.

How could she still become a jeweler, with nine fingers?

Later, Confucius took her back to the shop and gave her a matchbox filled with pills, which contained opium, he said, very effective in alleviating pain.

Aunt Katya, yawning, opened the door for her.

Anyu shuffled across the dim showroom and entered the kitchen, her right arm stiff.

The workshop was shut. Isaac was giving instructions, his voice indistinct.

In the dark kitchen without a candle, she sat. Exhausted.

She needed to go to sleep, but she could hardly gather her strength to climb the stairs. Resting her head on the dining table, she closed her eyes and passed out.

When she awoke, she felt better, though she could still barely lift her arm, but there was no pain, thanks to Confucius’s pill.

Slowly, Anyu made her way to the stairs, climbed up, and entered the attic.

The two aunts were snoring on their bed; Esther, wearing her cotton nightgown, was reading D.

H. Lawrence’s Sons and Lovers , a book she’d been reading since Anyu moved in.

“Where did you go?” Esther put down the book by the table lamp, her elongated shadow tracking across the termite-bitten floor.

“You don’t want to know.”

Anyu sat on the edge of her sleeping mat. Near her pillow was a sheaf of papers with her jewelry sketches. Would she be able to draw with nine fingers?

“Did you get it?”

“Not yet. I need a few more days. Does your father know it’s missing?”

“No. I counted and packed everything. No one knows.”

“That’s good.”

“What’s wrong with your hand?”

Anyu gazed at her finger bandaged expertly with ointment and clean strips of cloth. “I got shot.”

“You got shot?” Esther came over. Lifting Anyu’s hand, she examined the bandages. “What happened?”

“I lost my pinkie.”

Slowly, Anyu recounted her search, her capture.

Esther inhaled deeply. “I didn’t know you’d risk your life like that. You really shouldn’t have. You’re lucky to be alive.”

“I know where the necklace is. Mr. Du gave it to his mistress. I heard it from his men. I’m going to get it back.”

Esther shook her head. “Look, I appreciate your help, but this is too dangerous.”

“I have a plan.”

“Forget your plan, Anyu.”

“I have to. I promised.”

“Are you always so stubborn?”

“Let me get the necklace, Esther, I’m sorry for what happened. I shouldn’t have said anything about Samuel. I feel responsible. This is the least I can do. I’ll get the necklace back so you’ll forgive me.”

Esther opened her mouth, and her perfectly symmetrical face was imbued with something Anyu had never seen before—a look of compassion, of affection, and she looked so lovely, like a goddess.

Had she been drawing, she would have produced a memorable piece, but depleted of her strength, Anyu shut her eyes to get some sleep.

Anyu slept for two days. Sometimes, she awoke to Esther’s voice.

The young woman had placed some food and water by her side.

Sometimes, Anyu awoke to silence, bathed in pain and sweat.

I must heal fast, she willed herself. She had so much to do: retrieve the missing necklace, sell a piece of jewelry at the counter—her three-month deadline was approaching.

After four long days, Anyu could feel strength return to her body. She doubled the dose of the pills and began to work on her disguise—under no circumstances should she leave a trail for Mr. Du to trace back to the Mandelburgs’ shop.

With some difficulty, she piled up her long braid on her head and put on a long cotton tunic.

Then she slipped into the bedroom Isaac shared with Samuel and the uncle, searching for some men’s accessories.

She took Isaac’s bowler hat, the brown leather bag that he often carried when he went out for meetings, and his work gloves, which she had seen him wear while hammering the metal plates—they were large enough to fit her bandaged hand.

In the showroom, Esther was speaking to two older women. Anyu slipped out, holding the bag with her good left hand, heading toward Mr. Du’s mistress’s house.

This time, she would retrieve the necklace alone.

There were four two-story gray-brick houses with terra-cotta tile roofs on Fuxing Road near the cinema, all lavish homes. Anyu knocked on each door until she finally found Miss Liao’s home, the walled compound. A servant with rheumy eyes opened the door, looking at her suspiciously.

“Greetings.” She tipped the bowler hat she’d borrowed from Isaac. “I’m a jeweler, sent by my master to work for Miss Liao. I’m here to take her measurement for her necklace.”

“She doesn’t expect a jeweler today.”

“You want to ask her? I’m a jeweler,” she said again.

The servant looked skeptical but ushered her in.

Anyu entered the courtyard, then an elegantly decorated reception room. It was late afternoon; the air vibrated with women’s laughter and jazz music from a gramophone. Miss Liao was hosting a game in the back of the house, the servant explained. It would take a while.

Finally, Miss Liao came. She was beautiful, wearing a silk robe with poppies and long pants, a peony tucked in her hair. She had an egg-shaped face with a sharp chin, her black eyes flashing naughtiness.

“A jeweler, you said? Who’s your master?”

Her voice was sweet like a child’s, and the way she swayed her hips and undulated her arms reminded Anyu of folk dancers from a traveling troupe, but Miss Liao was more glamorous and attractive. “The House of Bellefeuille.”

“Oh, that Frenchman. Why is he not coming himself?”

“He’s under the weather. I’m new. I like to know the client’s preferences and taste in jewelry before I create my design. It’s my goal to elevate your stardom as a prominent singer in the city with my creation.”

She giggled. “He knows how to talk, that Frenchman. You, too. I must have the days mixed up. I thought the appointment was next week. I’m in the middle of a mahjong game. Could you wait?”

Anyu hesitated. “I do have other clients to visit.”

Miss Liao frowned. “Your other clients? Are they recommended by Mr. Du?”

“I can’t discuss that, Miss Liao.”

She pouted. “Mr. Du said he was going to come here today. Is he coming?”

Mr. Du was coming?

“Fine. I’ll talk to him when he’s here. What do you want to know? I need to go back to the mahjong game soon.”

Staying calm, Anyu said, “In general, I’ll ask some questions about your interests and get to know your taste. Since you need to get back to your game, we can save some time if you show me your favorite jewelry so I can get an idea about your preference. What do you say?”

“Fine with me.” Miss Liao gestured to her servant to retrieve her jewelry box.

Out of the corner of her eye, Anyu watched the servant go down the hallway at the end of the room and then climb up a staircase; less than five minutes later, the servant returned with a lacquered jewelry box.

The bedroom couldn’t have been too far away, she deduced.

When the mistress opened the box, on top of the cluster of gold and diamond accessories was the snowflake necklace.

Calmly, Anyu asked her to put on each necklace and sketched them on her paper with her wounded hand, ignoring the ache.

After a few drawings, Anyu said that was enough and Miss Liao’s servant returned the jewelry box upstairs.

To kill time, Anyu pretended to carefully study her sketches and finally, when the servant returned, she stood to take her leave.

Remembering how Mother dealt with her clients, Anyu gave the mistress a bow.

“I’ll have your design ready for you shortly. ”

Miss Liao shrugged and went to play her game, and the servant ushered Anyu out to the courtyard. At the front door, Anyu said, “I’m sorry. It seems I must have forgotten my sketchbook in the reception room. Would you mind fetching it for me? It might have fallen behind the sofa. I’ll wait here.”

The servant was not pleased, but she turned around. Anyu gave her some time to get into the empty reception room and then dashed back and slunk into the hallway. At the end of the hallway with a moon-shaped entrance was a flight of stairs. She ran up and raced inside the mistress’s bedroom.

The jewelry box was on the nightstand; she opened it, dug into the diamond rings and pins, and took only the snowflake necklace, nothing else. When she came downstairs, she could hear the voices of Mr. Du and his men in the reception room.