“His name is Xu Zhongyi, born on the first day of the tenth lunar month in 1938. He went abroad in March 1966, when he was 28. My daughter-in-law is called Cui Yiru, two years younger than Zhongyi, born on the fifth day of the sixth lunar month in 1940. When they left the country, they took my young grandson Xu Changle with them – Lele was only 5 years old…”

Xia Xiaolan calculated in her mind – leaving in March 1966, it had been exactly 20 years now.

The once youthful Xu Zhongyi would now be middle-aged, and Grandmother Yu’s sweet little grandson would be 25.

“I remember you saying Uncle Xu reached San Francisco and sent back a letter?”

Grandmother Yu stood up, “Wait, I’ve always carried this letter with me, kept it in good condition.”

Grandmother Yu went to her room and brought out a yellow envelope.

Xia Xiaolan checked the postmark – September 19, 1966, indeed sent from San Francisco.

The letter was sent within the first year after Xu Zhongyi left with his wife and child, showing they wrote home as soon as they settled. Grandmother Yu indicated she could open and read it. The letter was quite long, beginning with news of their safe arrival in America and plans to settle in San Francisco.

He mentioned being an unfilial son, having to sell the antiques they’d brought from home to establish themselves in America.

However, he and Cui Yiru would quickly find work in America. Within a year at most, once he obtained resident status, he would return to bring his parents over.

“The letter was sent in 1966, but when did you receive it…”

Grandmother Yu’s expression darkened, “Shortly after the three of them left, the situation in China changed. This letter sent directly to me would never have reached me – it was confiscated. It took a long time before a friend risked bringing it to me, already October 1968 by then.”

Grandmother Yu remembered clearly – people were ransacking her home and humiliating them, making life unbearable for her and her husband.

One evening, an old friend brought them the letter, which became their lifeline in desperate times.

Knowing Xu Zhongyi had safely reached America with his wife and child, and promising to return for her and her husband – the hope of family reunion right there before them – naturally kindled hope in Grandmother Yu and her husband.

“The antiques Zhongyi took abroad were all from the Yu family, good pieces left to our branch before the family left China. Even in 1960s America, they would fetch a considerable sum!”

Xia Xiaolan continued: “America is a money-driven society. With money, obtaining legal status would be natural.”

Poor people sneaking into capitalist countries were called “illegal immigrants,” breaking the law.

Wealthy people going there were called “investors” – bringing money with them, they were certainly welcome.

How hard could it be for rich people to get American green cards?

“But was this the only letter you received from Uncle Xu? Are you certain it’s his handwriting?”

Grandmother Yu nodded:

“Nonsense, wouldn’t I recognize my own son’s writing? Zhongyi not only took the antiques from my maiden family but neither he nor Yiru was illiterate. Zhongyi knew English and German, and Yiru had studied piano for many years. Once they got their status, finding work in America would be easy. Later, no more letters came. Your Uncle Xu’s health failed, and he left me behind, closing his eyes forever.”

Some had suggested that Xu Zhongyi’s silence meant something had happened to them in America.

How could Grandmother Yu believe that?

She needed to see them alive, or see their bodies if dead!

Xia Xiaolan understood: “Perhaps during those years when China was closed off, communication was cut off. If Uncle Xu tries to return, would he look for you in that small courtyard in Shangdu? My aunt’s sister-in-law lives there now, and we’ve notified the neighborhood committee. Maybe before I even find them abroad, Uncle Xu will return home searching for family!”

Speaking of communication being cut off during the Cultural Revolution – it had been seven years since Reform and Opening Up, and even Chinese students could now study in America. George, that American, had been bouncing around China – coming back from America shouldn’t be difficult…

Xia Xiaolan felt something wasn’t right – most likely something uncontrollable had happened, but Grandmother Yu was sustained by this belief now. She couldn’t let the old lady lose hope.

She had to keep encouraging Grandmother Yu.

Such a shrewd person as Grandmother Yu – either she didn’t hear the doubt, or subconsciously only wanted to hear what she wished to hear:

“You’re right. What if Zhongyi finds his way back? That’s what I’ve been thinking, which is why I’ve kept that house. Zhongyi left that house when he went abroad.”

That explained why she could give Xia Xiaolan the small building at Erqi Square, but not the house where she lived – this was Grandmother Yu’s persistence.

Xia Xiaolan continued agreeing with Grandmother Yu for a while.

She obtained a photo of Xu Zhongyi and Cui Yiru from Grandmother Yu, plus a family portrait taken at a photo studio when her grandson Xu Changle was born, showing all five family members.

Grandmother Yu was probably only in her forties then, standing straight with bright eyes. Her face in the photo was fuller – completely different from now.

“You were really beautiful when you were young.”

Grandmother Yu snorted, not appreciating Xia Xiaolan’s flattery: “Just that? That was already when times were hard!”

In her youth, the Yu family owned “half the city” in Shangdu – those were truly grand days.

Back then she had gold and antiques left by family, but didn’t dare use them in China. The family lived quite frugally. But as long as the family was together, even going from silk and jade to simple meals was happiness.

Grandmother Yu didn’t regret getting her son’s family out when she heard rumors. The Yu family had bad class status, her husband’s Xu family had bad status, and her daughter-in-law Cui Yiru – what good status could a family that could afford years of piano lessons have?

Staying would have made them all targets of criticism.

Her fair-skinned grandson had just turned 5 – he might not have survived staying in China.

Going abroad at least offered hope, even if the journey was difficult… Grandmother Yu hadn’t expected the Cultural Revolution would last so many years, cutting off all communication between abroad and home.

Realizing her flattery had missed the mark, Xia Xiaolan quickly returned to business: “Do you remember what antiques Uncle Xu took with him? If they moved from San Francisco, those sold antiques might still be circulating among American collectors. Perhaps we could investigate from that angle.”

This was indeed one approach.

Nobody took photos of antiques back then, so Grandmother Yu could only rely on memory, writing Xia Xiaolan a list of what Xu Zhongyi took, describing their appearance, dynasty, and style.

“For going abroad, they couldn’t take large pieces, just these small valuable items. Besides these, there was only a box of ‘big yellow fish’… Ah, I wonder how much hardship Zhongyi’s family endured abroad!”

Xia Xiaolan blinked, “You’re not talking about the edible yellow croaker, are you?”

What hardship?

A box of gold bars!

One ‘big yellow fish’ meant ten taels of gold – how much would a whole box weigh?!