Incensed by Ed Lin

the night market, so people like to start there.
    Sometimes it’s a pain in the ass to maintain history for the sake of tourism. I’ll go along with it, though, because I like having money.
    I handed several lit joss sticks to Mei-ling.
    â€œBow three times to Mazu,” I told her.
    â€œI know what to do,” she said as she proved it. As I paid my respects to the Mother Ancestor, another one of Mazu’s many aspects, I heard Mei-ling mutter, “This whole thing is stupid, anyway.”
    My hands shook as I planted my sticks in the ash-strewn urn.
    â€œDon’t ever call it stupid,” I warned her. “If people find comfort in something without hurting anyone, it’s not stupid. How would you like it if I told you your singing’s stupid?”
    â€œYou’ve already told me my singing’s stupid.”
    â€œAnd it was a hurtful and wrong thing to say, right?”
    She slapped my arm. “You’re so annoying!” she said, her mouth curling into a playful frown. “I can’t believe I came to the night market with you.”
    â€œIf you think I’m bad, you should meet the guys I work with.”
    Dwayne’s blood-splattered arms worked like hairy pistons as he cut up organs destined for skewers. As Mei-ling and I approached Unknown Pleasures he glanced up and immediately adjusted his body language to bulk up his arms.
    â€œDwayne, this is my cousin, Mei-ling,” I said and made a point to emphasize every word of, “She is sixteen years old.” It was a warning for him to watch his language, but Mei-ling was the one I should have warned.
    â€œHello, Dwayne,” she said. “Are you a mountain person?”
    I tensed up at the use of the phrase as Dwayne put down his knives and crossed his arms. At best, “mountain person” was outdated. At worst, it was plain racist.
    But I knew Dwayne. A pretty girl who was related to his employer could never offend him. “Please call me an ‘original inhabitant,’” he said with gleaming eyes. “Many people prefer that term. We didn’t all live in the mountains.”
    â€œOh, sure,” she said. “I’m sorry.”
    Dwayne made sounds like he was cooing to a baby. “Don’t worry. It’s all just words, anyway.” He rubbed his nose roughly with the back of his right hand.
    Frankie the Cat, subtle as ever, appeared out of nowhere and presented himself to Mei-ling before I had a chance to. “I’m Frankie,” he said. “You must be Big Eye’s kid.”
    â€œYes, he’s my dad.”
    Frankie face softened. He gazed across the years. “The last time I saw you, you must have been about a year old.”
    â€œBut this is my first time in Taipei.”
    Frankie nodded. “Yes, I believe it is.”
    I was dumbstruck. “Hey, Frankie.”
    â€œYeah?”
    â€œYou’ve met my cousin before?”
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œWhen did you meet her?”
    â€œI was down in Taichung briefly with some old acquaintances.”
    â€œWhy didn’t you tell me I had a cousin?”
    â€œIt wasn’t my business to tell you. It wasn’t my business to know, either, but I couldn’t help that. Now you know, so I guess Big Eye’s back in touch with you.”
    He turned and went back to his station. Sometimes I forget how attuned Frankie is to the heidaoren and all their misdeeds. As a political prisoner on Green Island, he was treated the same as the flat-out criminals—like shit. By the time Frankie was released, he had brothers for life who would kill for him.
    â€œHe knows my dad,” Mei-ling said slowly.
    â€œFrankie knows a lot of things.” I wondered what else he was holding close to his vest.
    â€œWell, what are we gonna do now?”
    â€œMei-ling,” I said. “I have to help set up. If you walk around, you won’t get lost, will you?”
    â€œShe’s a big