Juliette suddenly paused. Where Roma swerved around the woman by the canal scrubbing at her laundry, Juliette’s gaze latched on to the soap suds running along the concrete and into the water. The woman paid no attention, crouched over her task. The soap suds approached the edge . . .
Juliette dove toward the canal, her knees scraping the ground and her hand closing around the small string of pearls just as they fell over the edge, saving the jewelry before it could be washed into the water. The woman gave a cry of surprise, startled by Juliette’s quick rescue.
“I gather that this isn’t something you intended to toss into the canal,” Juliette said, holding out the soapy pearls.
The woman blinked, realizing what had happened. She gasped, dropping her laundry and waving her hands around with fervor. “Goodness, you are heaven sent! I must have left it in one of the pockets.”
Juliette offered a small, amused smile, dropping the string back into the woman’s hand. “Not heaven sent; I can just spot pearls from two miles away.”
There came the sound of someone clearing their throat, and Juliette looked up to find Roma waiting, brow quirked to ask why she was lingering and chatting. The woman, however, was still turned to Juliette, the crow’s feet of her eyes crinkling deeper in kindness.
“Who are your parents? I’ll bring some luóbosī cake over later as a thank-you.”
Juliette scrambled for an answer. Roma, overhearing the offer, cleared his throat again to urge Juliette to hurry up and extricate herself.
“Oh,” Juliette said carefully. “I’m . . . I’m not from around here.”
She didn’t know why she was being so delicate around the subject. She could have easily said that they had come in from Shanghai. But there was something entirely too genuine about the woman’s offer, something untainted by the usual give-and-take exchange of the city. Juliette didn’t want to ruin it. She didn’t want to pop the illusion.
“Oh?” the woman said. “But you look familiar.”
Juliette pulled her coat tighter around herself, then nudged a loose lock of hair behind her ear. She stood up, trying to signal to an impatient Roma that she was trying to wrap this up.
“I drop in sometimes,” Juliette lied. “To see . . . my grandmother.”
“Ah,” the woman said, nodding. She turned her head out toward the water, closing her eyes for the wind to blow against her face. “It is a peaceful place to retire, isn’t it?”
Yes, Juliette thought without hesitation. Peace—that was the all-consuming sensation making the township sound different to her ear and the air smell different to her nose. It was unlike anything she had ever known.
“Dorogaya,” Roma prompted suddenly. The only reason was to avoid using her name, Juliette knew. He was playing along with the little act Juliette had put on for the woman, but her gaze jerked up anyway, her heart rabbiting in her chest. She wished he wouldn’t throw the word around like that. It used to mean something. It used to be sacred—moya dorogaya, I love you, I love you whispered against her lips.
“I must go,” Juliette told the woman, taking her leave. She surged a few steps ahead of Roma, not wanting him to see her expression until she had a handle on herself. She would have continued forward aimlessly if Roma hadn’t called out again.
“Slow down. It’s this way.”
Juliette turned around, seeing Roma point across a narrow bridge. As he started to climb, Juliette only stood by the canal, watching the water run languidly beneath the short structure.
“I kept them, you know.”
Roma stopped at the top of the bridge. “What?”
All the pearls and diamonds. All the bracelets he had picked for her later in their relationship and that one necklace when they were fifteen—the first gift he had given before he kissed her on the rooftop of that jazz club. She kept them all, took them in a box with her to New York, even though she said she wouldn’t.
“Did you say something?” Roma prompted again.
Juliette shook her head. It was for the best that Roma hadn’t heard her. What was the point of telling him any of that? This place was making her sentimental.
“Juliette,” Roma chided when she remained yet unmoving. “A word of warning that if you fall into the water from there, I will not be coming to your rescue. Come on.”
“I’m a better swimmer than you are anyway,” Juliette shot back darkly, clutching her fists and finally starting her climb. The stone under her feet seemed to sink in and shift around. Once they were on flat ground again, Roma ducked his head to avoid a shop sign and stepped into an alley, his eyes tracing the markings along the wall; Juliette simply trusted that he was navigating correctly, more concerned with where she was stepping in case her shoes caught an uneven brick and she tripped.
They ventured deeper into the alleyway. Juliette tilted her head, listening while she walked. She was trying to decipher what was so strange about what she was hearing, until she realized it was because she could hear very little at all, and that was incredibly unusual. The walls on each side of the alley blocked out the hum and buzz of the townspeople around the canals. They boxed Roma and Juliette in, like every thin alley in this township was in its own bubble, like every twist and turn led into its own world.
“It got so quiet,” Juliette remarked.
Roma made a noise of agreement. “I hope we’re not going in the wrong direction,” he muttered. “This place is a labyrinth.”
But it was a beautiful labyrinth, one that felt not like a cage but rather an endless arena. Juliette reached out to brush the bumpy wall of the shop they passed, angling her shoulder to avoid thwacking a protruding alley pipe.
“Zhouzhuang has been standing since the Northern Song Dynasty,” she said absently. “Eight hundred long years.”
From the corner of her eye, she saw Roma nod. She thought that he would leave it at that, entertain her musings without much interest and think nothing more of it.
Only he replied, “It must feel safe.”
Juliette glanced at him properly. “Safe?”
“Don’t you think?” Roma shrugged. “There must be a certain comfort here. Cities can fall and countries can go to war, but this”—he raised his arms, gesturing at the rivers and the stone paths and the delicate ceiling tiles that decorated what were once temples—“this is forever.”
It was a nice thought. It was a thought Juliette wanted to believe in. But:
“This is a town within a city within a country that is always near war,” Juliette said quietly. “Nothing is forever.”
Roma shook his head. He looked visibly shaken, though Juliette was not certain if it was because of what she had said or because of what her words had incited within him. Before she had a chance to ask, Roma was already brushing it off. He cleared his throat. “They call this place the Venice of the East.”
Juliette scowled. “Just as they call Shanghai the Paris of the East,” she said. “When are we going to stop letting the colonizers pick the comparisons? Why don’t we ever call Paris the Shanghai of the West?”
A twitch pulled on Roma’s lips. It almost looked like a smile, but it was so fast that Juliette might have imagined it. They were emerging from the alley now, nearing an open square with a large bridge on its opposite end. Beyond the bridge, they would find their destination.