Chapter 23: The Long Table

The banquet hall had a hundred and ten chairs and thirty-two people left in it.

The grandmother looked at the round tables standing apart and made a noise of deep disgust.

"No," she said. "Push them together."

"Nainai, they're heavy," Anning said.

"There are eleven bus drivers."

It took six minutes.

When the drivers had finished, the round tables stood in one long line down the red carpet, with the gold lanterns swaying above them.

The cloths had been pulled straight and the gold place cards swept into a bin.

The hotel manager hovered by the door, wringing his hands.

"Madam," he said, "the kitchen has prepared for a hundred and ten."

"Then they will serve a hundred and ten dishes to thirty-two," said the grandmother. "And pork belly will be taken away. Whole fish only."

The manager went away.

The old woman lowered herself into the chair at the head with her cane across her knees and took command.

"You," she said to the dispatcher. "Sit by the tea seller. You two will argue about the weather and enjoy it."

They did.

"Locksmith. Beside Shuhua. She owes you a coat, you owe her a lock."

"It's the other way round," said Shuhua.

"Then you will both be embarrassed. Good."

"Haoran, here. Anning, here. Anning, do not cry into the soup again."

"I wasn't."

"You were. Sit."

The mechanic who had caught Gao's fist was put beside Haoran.

Haoran shook his hand for a long time and could not seem to let go.

At last there were only two places left, in the middle of the long table, side by side, with a clear view of the head.

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