Tianran takes two film photos out of her wallet.
Their edges have turned yellow.
One is me in short hair and a long white dress, slightly shrugging; another a selfie of me and grandpa under the tree, sunlight through the leaves onto our hair.
It's been 9 years since she collected these two photos; 6 years since she stopped working at our home.
A twinge in my nose. I look away when taking these two photos from her callused hands.
The hands I rub and put cream on. The callus takes over no matter how much I try to remove it.
She's two years older than me.
I'm slim; she's slimmer.
2014, the day after Lantern Festival, the day she first came to us.
My mom was hiring a live-in housemaid.
Four came before Tianran.
Each stayed for a few months; all good at housekeeping; less so at taking care of grandpa.
I'd say hello and goodbye to them; nothing else.
Tianran is the worst at housekeeping, forever confused with my mom's devices and requests.
But for grandpa, an eccentric 90-year-old, she's an angel.
My grandpa is difficult.
Stubborn, short-tempered, almost impossible to please.
I'm difficult too.
I'd often pity my grandma who has to bear with him.
Complain to my mom who takes his side no matter what.
Fight with him.
Our confrontations ceased only after he got a cerebral infarction at 93.
The cerebral infarction took away his bad temper and pride.
I'd sometimes miss our fights. But honestly I enjoy a baby-like grandpa more.
He was born to an extremely rich family; one of the four richest in the region.
The Cultural Revolution took that. His parents' family never reclaimed any of it.
He raised four kids afterwards on almost nothing.
My mom's his youngest and his favorite.
She makes him worry nothing into his old age. She gives him everything the revolution took — the good food, the clean house, the someone-at-your-service.
It doesn't help much with his traumas.
I used to think the vicissitudes made him impossible to deal with.
Forever temperamental, he shouts at almost everyone.
Especially at his wife, children and grandchildren.
Some bear with him for the short time of contact anyway;
Some avoid him;
I'm the only person who fights with him.
Tianran is the only person who genuinely enjoys staying with him.
Tianran was not born into a well-to-do family.
No more schooling after 14.
Two younger brothers, one on drugs; another going to Latin America to work at a Chinese restaurant at a young age.
Before coming to us, she did all kinds of jobs.
At textile mills, restaurants, hotels etc.
But never at someone's home.
She laughs at everything.
Not mild smiling.
Laughing, bursting out laughing. Gum exposed, waist bent, one hand against her mouth, the other waving.
Funnier than whatever she finds funny.
When she breaks my mom's new machines,
When she hears my mom's awkward English pronunciation,
When she cleans grandpa's shits,
When he talks nonsense to her and she talks nonsense back,
When she finds out my secrets,
And even when she watches horror movies with me…
Her silly laughing is pervasive.
And addictive.
Many times I'd tell her my secret only to see her laugh.
And she ends up knowing all my secrets.
She's not laughing only when grandma is dying, which almost gives her a heart attack.
She worked at our home for almost six years.
I was not home when she left.
My mom is pissed off by all the messes she created in those six years.
But she's heartbroken when Tianran decides to leave.
I'm not heartbroken; I just do not feel like going home when she's gone.
I'm not heartbroken because I know she leaves for a life she's passionate about.
To become a Buddhist nun.
Not only passionate, she's serious about it.
Five years into her nun-hood, she's as clear about what she wants as the day she left us and the day she shaved her head.
I guess my mom's heartbroken because she thinks Tianran chooses the Buddhist community over us.
Because she believes she knows what's good for her future and she's willing to pay for that.
And also because she wants to have her around.
Fine, if Tianran continues to break her stuff; fine, if she never manages to clean the flat to her standard; fine if she cooks nothing special; fine if she laughs at her bad English pronunciation…
All is fine, as long as Tianran stays.
She's more addicted to Tianran than me without admitting it.
Tianran texted me three days ago.
"Can I come and stay with you for a while. Would it be convenient?"
"Of course. You don't ask for convenience or anything when going home."
"Okay."
"Let mom buy the train ticket for you."
"Okay."
"I will pick you up at the train station with KeKe. You haven't met him."
"Okay."
It's been five years since she left. We didn't meet and would text only a few times every year.
She's in a nun's robe, grey, long and smelly, waiting for us in Beijing's winter night, wind that bites.
When she gets in the car, my chest gets tight.
KeKe's driving, quiet.
She sits at the rear seat, quiet.
I'm mostly quiet too, not trying to start a conversation.
Something is wrong.
I'm sure that nothing is wrong only when KeKe drops us and I immediately hear her absurd laughs.
"I'm still getting used to it."
"What?"
"You know, it's just so weird."
She laughs so much that she almost chokes herself.
"What's so weird?"
"You have a husband now. How weird!"
"Okay, I hear you. Dumbhead."
"You know when my sister gets a husband, I also find it weird."
"You're going to like KeKe. Don't you find him look like a Buddhist bodhisattva?"
"Oh yes, he does! But still, how weird you get a husband."
She keeps repeating herself and keeps laughing.
I immediately realize she's now beside me and that I still miss her and that I can never get enough of her absurd laughs.
My mom said hello.
Nothing else.
Nothing else yet.
No how are you doing; no why coming back now; no what's next.
All those questions she must have been so eager to ask Tianran.
Surprise, she holds them back.
I really appreciate her holding back.
I shared my bed with Tianran.
We used to share one bed a lot. I'd always crawl into hers when I don't want to sleep alone.
She's happy that we still share one bed regardless of me having a husband now.
And same as before, I go all naked.
We talked a little about her monastery life. First in East China, then in Qinghai-Tibetan regions.
I heard her breathing become heavy.
I wish the night could become a bit longer.
Feb 7, 2026