王秀珍's kitchen is two metres by one metre forty. There is a stool, a gas bottle, and a window that looks onto the stairwell of building 8.
Ileana shut the door with her foot, because her hands were full with two plates.
She spoke German, slowly, the way she must have spoken to families for thirty-four years.
On the birth certificate there are two names: his, and that of a young woman who now works in Shenzhen. The mother signed a paper at the 公证处 in Yangpu, on 9 January. That paper is not worth much: it says she gives the child up, it does not say who takes her. The child has no 户口. She has no passport, Chinese or German. She is one year old, with two silver bangles and an empty file.