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In her apartment, Anyu cleaned up Matthew, watched him wolf down the lotus seed soup she had prepared, and kept asking if he wanted more.

She enjoyed moments like this, feeding him.

The room was hot and humid, enveloped in a thick cocoon of heat, even though it was December.

Anyu fanned him with a large paper fan to keep him cool.

After eating, Matthew walked into the small space of her workshop and studied the cuttlebones she had sliced up.

He sat at her workbench, looking at ease. When he was younger, she had to warn him not to touch this or that, but now, she trusted him with every tool.

“What are you making?” he asked.

“A basket of flowers.”

“Is it done?”

“It is.”

He lifted the basket to the light; it was small, the size of a ring. “Why do you always carve I-M-A on your jewelry?”

“It’s my maker’s marks, my signature. It means ‘I am Anyu,’” she said. “But wait for a minute.” Holding the saw, she carved another letter.

“ I-M-A-M. ”

“The second M is you. You’ll be a great jeweler someday.

This will be our signature for the House of Mandelburg.

” She had often talked about Isaac with Matthew, the skills he taught her, and how he elevated her to being a master jeweler.

“And this”—she drew the double-headed eagle symbol right next to it—“is from a secret organization I belonged to. I can’t tell you more than that.

I’ve taken a vow to protect it. But you know about the Midnight Aurora. ”

He stuck out his tongue. “You always talk about that, but I don’t believe it. It’s just a stone.”

He used to believe, when he was younger. “It’s not simply a stone. It’s the Midnight Aurora.”

“Why would Grandfather give it to you if it was so powerful?”

She patted his back. “Sometimes there are answers we can’t understand; sometimes there are answers we refuse to understand. When you grow up, you’ll know.”

He shrugged. “Can I make my horseshoe crab pendant today?”

Horseshoe crabs were Matthew’s favorite sea creatures. Whenever they went to the beach, Matthew liked to play with them.

Anyu picked out her pen and a sketchbook from the row of tools lined up on the wall. “There you go. Precision is the key, don’t forget.”

He sat, his feet firmly on the ground, his head leaning forward. Quickly, he was lost in his drawing. For a ten-year-old, his concentration was remarkable.

When Esther arrived, it was almost midnight.

They had already finished dinner. These days, she worked at a counter at Lane Crawford selling jewelry.

She also helped out at Mr. Dearborn’s shop during the day; in the evenings she lounged at an exclusive club for upper-class women, which had marble staircases and polished teak-paneled rooms.

Esther took off her lace hat and sat on the small sofa, wearing a purple taffeta dress, looking apologetic but beautiful as always. She had been in a good mood these days, but not now. “Sorry I missed your dinner.”

Anyu gave her a cigarette. “That’s fine. Are you all right? Something is bothering you.”

“I don’t know how to tell you the news. I think I saw Kawashima.”

She had never wanted to hear her name again. “Are you sure?”

Esther puffed out a torrent of smoke. “There were Japanese soldiers in the department store today. She was wearing a man’s military uniform and carrying a sword. I will never forget her face.”

Anyu’s heart dropped. “Did she see you?”

“No.”

She breathed out. “Good. What was she doing?”

“She was speaking to a few salesmen at the counter. She was asking about jewelry stores on this island.”

She was still searching for her, for the Winter Egg.

But Anyu had been careful, lying low, staying away from jewelry’s limelight, doing only repair work.

She should remain unidentifiable among the sea of people on this island.

“I wonder, out of caution, if you’ll stay out of sight.

Maybe take a few days off from the store? ”

“The thing is, Anyu, I’ve been worried about life in Hong Kong for a while. You’ve heard the news.”

“But the radio says the British are well equipped and sufficiently armed.”

Esther shook her head. “The public is kept in the dark, I’m afraid, and the government wants to keep it that way.

The situation is dire. I’ve heard that, in the best-case scenario, the British are hoping to hold out for ninety days, and then they can’t do anything other than wait for rescue from the American Navy sailing from Hawaii. ”

Anyu had yet to learn of the British reliance on the Americans. “You think the attack is inevitable.”

Esther sighed. “Patrick says it’s not a matter of if; it’s a matter of when. Now, with the arrival of Kawashima, I think we need to look for a way out.”

“What way out?”

“I’ve talked to Patrick. We’ve contacted a friend to arrange a boat trip to Macau. Once the details are set, we will pack and leave. What do you say?”

Leave Hong Kong? Anyu looked around: the coal stove, the wicker basket she used for groceries, the bamboo mat she unfurled at night to sleep on, and the workshop in the closed space where Matthew was drawing.

She had not thought of leaving this nest, but wherever Esther went, she would follow. “Macau sounds nice.”

“Good. I’ll be back in ten days.”

“He’ll stay with me until you find the ferry. Sound good?” Anyu said.

Esther nodded. She held the cigarette between her fingers, watching the smoke slinking above the lamp. In the air hovered the smell of tobacco mixed with Esther’s floral fragrance and the acetone from the workshop.

“Anyu, I don’t know. I have a bad feeling about this war, about Hong Kong.”

“It’s going to be fine. We’ve been through worse.”

Esther gave a dry smile. “I’ve been thinking that life for someone like me has been rather tragic. For my entire life, I’ve been running from war. The war in Russia, the war in Shanghai, and now the war in Hong Kong. I can’t help but think my life is simply a sad interlude of an extended elegy.”

“You left Shanghai for me.”

“I’m glad we’re here with you, glad I have you.”

It was not often to hear words of affection from Esther. Anyu tapped her cigarette against Esther’s in a gesture of fondness. “And I have you,” Anyu said.

She could have said more, counting their miseries and sharing their victories.

But there was no need. Esther knew too well how she felt.

After all these years together, they were well attuned to each other’s thoughts, and the love between them needed not to be counted, or compared, or boasted about.

They were friends, sisters, family. Now and forever.

Esther smiled. “Do you remember I once told you not to stay with us because we were stateless Jews?”

“And I refused. All I wanted was to live with your family.”

“You were stubborn. You’re always so stubborn.”

Anyu took a long drag from her cigarette. “Have you wondered what your life would be like without me?”

“Are you blaming yourself for what happened to my family? No. It’s not you, Anyu. It’s because Father was a jeweler, it’s because of who we are. You have been our lucky charm. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be here today. I would be dead in Shanghai, along with my father and Samuel.”

Anyu’s thoughts drifted. “I miss them.”

“I miss them, too,” Esther said quietly.

All of them. Isaac, Samuel, Uncle David, and the aunts. And Confucius. And Mother.

Later, they went to the workshop, leaning against the doorpost, watching Matthew, his head bent, a wisp of gray soldering fumes kissing his forehead and wandering to the ceiling.

“Don’t worry. I’ll look after him,” Anyu said.

“I know you will.”

“You come back in ten days,” Anyu said.

Then they’d escape again. As they had done before.

After Esther left, Anyu kept Matthew busy.

As soon as he awoke, she fed him fruit, porridge, and eggs and walked with him to the ferry terminal, where they took a two-hour ride to the Tsing Shan Monastery, where Confucius’s ashes were enshrined.

They hiked the steep stone steps meandering through towering ancient Indian rubber trees with spiral trunks and glossy leaves, passed through the mountain gates, and visited Confucius’s grave.

“He’s the keeper of my secrets,” Anyu said. “Will you promise that you’ll pay respects to Confucius when you grow up?”

Matthew nodded.

Later, they meditated in the worship hall, and Anyu told him the tale of Reverend Pui To, a Zen master who was said to reside inside a chalet near the pagoda, and, of course, the stories of the Diamond of Life.

After they left the monastery, they spent the afternoon at the beach, walking along the long, endless shoreline.

Matthew hunted for horseshoe crabs, and his knowledge of the creature surprised her, as always.

The horseshoe crabs were the cousins of spiders and scorpions, he said, and they looked ferocious, with a long swordlike tail, their entire bodies covered with a hard shell with sharp spines and pointy ridges, but unlike the venomous scorpions and predatory spiders, horseshoe crabs were harmless, had rare blue blood, and were often defenseless when attacked.

“They only eat worms, clams, and mollusks. They have not changed their diet for ages, and their appearance has remained the same for millions of years. They are the oldest creatures on earth, older than dinosaurs.” He picked up a horseshoe crab and turned it upside down, its ten legs wiggling.

Some things were indeed eternal.

One day, they were playing at the beach again when Matthew looked up at the sky. “What’s that?”

Beyond the turquoise waves, near the shores of Kowloon, far on the horizon, a few birds circled, leaving black specks in the gray air. A blaze shot up, plumes of smoke ascending.

Anyu frowned, shielding her eyes from the sun. She couldn’t tell the precise location of the blaze, but it didn’t look like a drill or an accident.

“Let’s go home, Matthew.”