The kitchen was bustling with activity, steam rising in the air as the servants hurried about, preparing dinner. There were cheese puddings, Christmas ham, and everything that should be there, and even some things that shouldn't.
"Alright, turn the heat down to the lowest setting and let it simmer for 20 minutes," said the grandmother, holding a baby only a few months old, after tasting the soup with a spoon.
Though she was only half Chinese, Grandma looked and behaved like a quintessential Oriental woman. Despite the countless traces of time on her face, her gentle and graceful demeanor remained unmistakable.
"Grandma, are you making vegetable soup again?" Catherine asked in Mandarin, standing behind her.
"Oh, it's Xueyi! Have your dad and the others arrived?" Grandma responded in Mandarin, slightly surprised but delighted to see the little girl.
Although Catherine felt a bit uncomfortable being called by her Chinese name—since it always reminded her of her gender—she still smiled and said, "We just arrived. I came to see you, and of course, Susu."
She made funny faces at the baby in Grandma's arms, making the once quiet baby suddenly happy and babbling, reaching out to grab Catherine.
"It seems Susu still likes you a lot. Do you want to hold her?" Grandma switched to English, smiling.
"Can I?" The girl blinked, trying to appear calm, though her eyes were filled with undisguised longing.
Grandma bent down and handed the baby girl to her. Catherine immediately took her and couldn't resist giving Susu a big kiss on her cheek. In both her past and present life, she loved children, especially babies. Their chubby faces were irresistibly cute and playing with them was a joy. However, taking care of them was another matter. So, to be precise, she loved playing with kids.
"Grandma, I noticed the plum blossom stakes in the garden seem much shorter. Did Grandpa ask for that?" Catherine asked while playing with Susu.
"Yes, he always asks me to stop practicing, but after all these years, how could I give it up? We eventually compromised; I lowered the stakes to a height he could accept," Grandma said with a smile, one that showed she understood her husband's thoughts well.
Catherine shrugged, not planning to say more. But then Grandma, still smiling, asked, "I suppose you haven't continued practicing, have you?"
The little girl choked and coughed a few times. She glanced at Grandma cautiously, who was still smiling without any apparent ulterior motive. So, she reluctantly admitted, "No, I haven't kept up with it."
Practicing martial arts was indeed tough. Even holding the horse stance was unbearable for her. It wasn't as fun as playing an instrument. Initially, she pestered Grandma to learn Wing Chun to fulfill a martial arts dream common to many boys in her previous life. But once she started, she realized how painful it was. Despite her mental preparation, theory couldn't match the actual experience. Plus, being a girl now, she quickly gave up after a few attempts.
So far, she had memorized the Wing Chun forms well enough to perform them decently, but they were completely powerless, just showy moves.
"If you can't keep it up, don't practice. It's tough for a girl to train in this. If it's just for self-defense, I can teach you a simplified version of Wing Chun when you're older," Grandma said unexpectedly. This made Catherine feel very frustrated. She was sure Grandma's Wing Chun was a hundred times better than those instructors from her past life. What a pity.
But how Grandma had learned Wing Chun was something Catherine always wanted to know. Grandma didn't like to talk about it, and the family didn't bring it up much either. All she knew was that Grandma's maiden name was Li and she had a brother in New York's Chinatown with whom she was quite close. However, since Catherine lived on the West Coast most of the time, she never had much chance to inquire.
Lost in thought, Catherine suddenly felt a sharp pain on her forehead. Playful Susu was cheerfully pulling her hair. She laughed and made a face at the babbling baby, then bid Grandma goodbye and slipped out of the kitchen with Susu in her arms.
**********
Christmas Eve was very pleasant. What could be more delightful than having dinner with family? And the best part was that the most worrying thing didn't happen—her father managed to control himself well, or rather, both her father and grandpa controlled themselves well. They didn't talk much to each other.
Even though the family atmosphere was good, Catherine still had her own frustrations, like the gift packages under the Christmas tree or accompanying Grandpa to the Jewish temple after dinner to report the good news to the old man up there and hand out candy to the choir.
As for the former, she didn't think there would be anything she really wanted in those gift packages. Probably tomorrow morning, Santa Claus would stuff a set of Barbie dolls or a teddy bear into her stocking, but definitely not Transformers or remote-controlled cars.
As for the latter, Grandpa was a devout Jew. Strangely, he never imposed his faith on his wife or children, which was unusual among Jews. Every year after Christmas dinner, if his wife and children wanted to accompany him to the synagogue, they did. If not, it was fine. Even Vincent couldn't say anything about this. However, whenever Catherine spent Christmas in New York, she would always accompany him. After all, the little girl could never say no to anyone.
"God is fair, Catherine. If He gives you something, He will certainly take something else from you." Grandpa said this to her as they walked out of the church.
"Yes, I know." The little girl nodded, indicating her understanding. She had heard this kind of talk countless times in movies in her previous life.
"Do you like making movies, Cathy?" Grandpa suddenly asked, then sat down on a bench by the street, seemingly a bit tired.
"Grandpa, it's too cold here. We should go back." The little girl looked at the street, where heaps of snow had been shoveled aside but not yet melted.
"It's alright, dear. This bit of cold won't defeat me." Grandpa smiled, then asked seriously again, "Cathy, do you like making movies?"
The little girl scratched her head through her hat. She roughly understood what Grandpa wanted to say. Honestly, she had no answer, at least not now. Did she like making movies? Of course. But what if she had to keep doing it? She believed that while she still needed some honing, she would be as good as any Hollywood actress in the future. However, the issue was that she would be an actress. Women were always treated more harshly everywhere, and there was an unavoidable issue. But she wasn't willing to give up either.
"Dear Grandpa, I don't think I can give you an answer. Maybe I need more time," Catherine sighed, sitting down next to him. "I just wrote another script and submitted it to Warner. They invited me to act in it, and I... accepted."
"Really? You're indeed a genius, Cathy," Grandpa said, smiling.
The little girl stuck out her tongue sheepishly, then heard Grandpa say, "I don't need an answer now, Cathy. But I hope you think about it seriously. If I hadn't been so stubborn back then, maybe Vincent wouldn't have left home and still doesn't want to talk to me much."
The look of regret and sorrow on Grandpa's face shocked Catherine. It was the first time she heard him mention that incident. She wanted to ask more, but Grandpa, realizing he had said too much, quickly changed the subject: "Alright, let's go back." He patted the girl's head, adding, "Remember what I said, Cathy. If God gives you something..."
"He will certainly take something else from me. Yes, I know," Catherine quickly responded. She understood why Grandpa was reminding her. But how did he know that God had already taken away the most important thing from her? Catherine glanced back at the distant, still-glowing Jewish synagogue and sighed softly.
At this moment, a voice called out, "Mr. Kleist, is that you?"
Both the girl and the old man turned toward the voice. A family of three was standing at the corner. The one who spoke was a middle-aged man, nearly forty. Grandpa recognized him at once and waved, "It's me, Evner. Merry Christmas."
"Merry Christmas, Mr. Kleist. You just recovered, so you shouldn't be sitting in such a damp place." Evner walked over with his wife and daughter.
"What? Grandpa was sick recently?" Catherine jumped up and asked.
"Alright, dear, it's nothing. Old people always get sick," Grandpa raised a hand and said.
"But why didn't anyone tell us?!" The little girl put her hands on her hips, somewhat angry, and looked at Evner, "Mr. Evner, what's going on?"
"Alright, Cathy. Evner is my personal doctor, not yours. Besides, it wasn't anything serious," Grandpa said, somewhat helplessly.
"No, Grandpa, that's just an excuse. I'm sure you went to Mr. Evner's house, so Grandma probably didn't know either. Alright, we're going back right now!" The little girl insisted, pulling Grandpa along.
Seeing no other option, Grandpa had to stand up. After greeting Evner, he let the girl drag him forward. Evner, amused, shrugged and watched the two walk away.
"Dad, is that girl Mr. Kleist's granddaughter?" His ten-year-old daughter suddenly asked.
"Yes, why?" Evner asked.
"Nothing, it's just that she seems familiar," the girl muttered, her eyes fixed on the departing figures.
As if sensing her gaze, the other girl turned and glanced back. Their eyes met briefly before breaking contact. Though it was just a glance, the instinct told her they might meet again someday.