For all his life, Frank had been at war with the willows. They sprouted in and around the stream, clogged the irrigation ditches, and choked off the water flow. His land, a narrow plain between ... [+]
Melanie waved at the reporter when he stepped into the coffee shop. Sipping her jasmine tea, she took in his lean frame. He looked so much younger, unmasked.
"Thank you again for speaking with me, Ms. Holly."
Taking the seat across from her, the reporter folded his long legs under the table. His forehead was unlined, his jawline still soft.
"You can call me Melanie, Mr. Shi Jian." She set aside her cup and shook his hand. Her warm hand pulled him closer. "Did I say that right?" She raised her voice over the sound of the espresso machine while turning her good ear to him.
"Ye