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There was a large volume lying open on the table, a musty smell emanating from its leaves. Young Lillie closed the book so that he could read the title on the spine: it was an English book – one volume of the Encyclopedia Britannica . Young Lillie put the book down and looked questioningly at the child. Then he asked, ‘Are you reading this?’
    Duckling nodded.
    ‘Can you understand it?’
    Duckling nodded again.
    ‘Did Mr Auslander teach you?’
    He nodded again.
    ‘You don’t say anything: is this because you are mute?’ As Young Lillie spoke, he realized that his tone of voice was more aggressive than he had intended, as if he were blaming the child. ‘If you are then nod your head twice. If you are not, then say so.’ Because he was afraid that the child might not understand Chinese, Young Lillie repeated what he had said in English.
    Duckling walked over to the stove, put the sweet potato that he had just finished chopping into the water and replied in English that he was not a mute.
    Young Lillie asked him again if he could speak Chinese and Duckling replied – in Chinese – that he could.
    Young Lillie laughed and said, ‘Your Chinese is as bad as my English. Did you learn it from Mr Auslander?’
    Duckling nodded again.
    Young Lillie said, ‘Don’t nod.’
    Duckling said, ‘Fine.’
    Young Lillie said, ‘It is many years since I last used my English and it is terribly rusty. In the future we had better speak Chinese together.’
    Duckling said in Chinese, ‘Fine.’
    Young Lillie walked over to the table, sat down in the director’s chair and lit a cigarette. He asked, ‘How old are you?’
    ‘Twelve.’
    ‘Apart from getting you to read these books, did Mr Auslander teach you anything else?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘You mean that Mr Auslander never taught you how to interpret dreams? He was famous for that.’
    ‘He taught me that.’
    ‘Are you any good?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘I had a dream last night. Would you interpret it for me?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘Why not?’
    ‘Because I only interpret my own dreams.’
    ‘Well, why don’t you tell me what kind of things you dream about . . . ’
    ‘I dream about all sorts of things.’
    ‘Have you seen me in your dreams?’
    ‘I have.’
    ‘Do you know who I am?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Who?’
    ‘You are a member of the eighth generation of the Rong family to live here and you were born in 1883. You are the twenty-first in your generation. Your name is Rong Xiaolai and your style name is Dongqian, and your soubriquet is Zeshi. People call you ‘Young Lillie’. You are the son of the founder of N University, Old Lillie. You graduated from the mathematics department at N University in 1906; in 1912 you went to the United States to study, and obtained a Master’s degree from MIT. In 1926 you returned to your Alma Mater to teach and you have been there ever since. You are now the vice-chancellor of N University and a full professor in the department of mathematics.’
    ‘You know a lot about me.’
    ‘I know a lot about all the members of the Rong family.’
    ‘Did Mr Auslander teach you?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Did he teach you anything else?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘Do you go to school?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘Would you like to go to school?’
    ‘I don’t know; I have never really thought about it.’
    The water in the pot had now come to the boil again and filled the room with its warmth – that and the smell of cooking. The old man stood up with the intention of going out into the garden. The child thought that he was leaving and called out to him to wait a moment. He said that Mr Auslander had left something for him. As he spoke, he walked in the direction of the bed. He pulled a paper parcel out from underneath the bed and handed it to him with the words: ‘Daddy told me that when you came, I was to give this to you.’
    ‘Daddy?’ The old man thought for a moment. ‘You mean Mr Auslander?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘What is this?’ The old man picked up the