It was another beautiful evening. Actually, every evening had been beautiful since I’d met Dora. I am still afraid to say her Chinese name, but she doesn’t mind being called Dora. I sometimes call her “Dear” but she doesn’t seem to notice. Never mind. A rose is as beautiful, called by any other name. I met her 2 months ago, and the dull streets of Wuxi came alive. She was everything I wanted. Docile, elegant, beautiful. Could a man want more?
Until that fateful evening, when a stranger suddenly took out his knife and spoke very fast Chinese. Before my hand reached for the wallet, her hand reached for his. In the flash of the moment, I was gaping at the bleeding neck of the mugger.
‘A woman must be able to do everything from tying a diaper to hacking a head,’ she quoted another Chinese proverb for me.
