"My son, you can't be gone!" Wu's voice cut through the clamor as they dragged a soggy girl from the riverbank.
"She's breathing!" someone shouted.
"Is that Su Shanshan?" an old woman asked.
"Don't call her that," Wu snapped. "My girl wouldn't—"
"She has a man's hand on her arm," a neighbor pointed. "Look at those bruises."
"She must have been with someone," Ma Hongmei said, smiling like a woman tasting victory. "Eloped, no doubt. Young love. Shame."
"Shut your mouth," Wu barked. She slapped the girl's face. The girl coughed and blinked, water streaming from lashes.
"Where's his head? Where's my son?" Wu's wail turned every head.
"Quiet!" someone ordered. "Let the midwife—"
"Don't press her!" a boy warned when the girl's ribs rattled. People made space, crowding in whispers and sharp looks.
My head felt wrong and too loud. My tongue was clumsy. My hands were small and heavy against a soaked cotton tunic.
"Who are you?" Wu demanded, leaning closer. Her breath smelled of garlic and vinegar.
"I—" The voice that came out was not the voice I expected. I could feel a mind inside me that remembered lectures on soil nitrogen, grafting methods, the right pruning angle for pear trees. I remembered a diploma in a city I had never seen. I remembered impatience for nonsense like this. But my body was fourteen, round-faced, and wrapped in a cheap floral tunic.
"My name
