When You Wish Upon a Lantern


 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 VIKING
 An imprint of Penguin Random House LLC, New York
 
 
 
 First published in the United States of America by Viking,an imprint of Penguin Random House LLC, 2023
 Copyright © 2023 by Gloria Chao
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 Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available.
 Ebook ISBN 9780593464366
 Cover art © 2023 by Kat Tsai
 Cover design by Kaitlin Yang
 Design by Lily K. Qian, adapted for ebook by Andrew Wheatley
 This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
 The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
 pid_prh_6.0_142492537_c0_r0
 
 
 
 For Anthony. Because of you, my wishes found the light.
 And for those who believe in the magic of kindness.
 
 
 Note About Mandarin Words
 In this book, Mandarin words are spelled using the pinyin system. In Liya’s point of view, the lines above the vowels indicate the pitch contour of the voice:
 
 A straight line (ā), the first tone, is high and level, monotone.
 Second tone (á) rises in pitch.
 Third tone (ǎ) dips, then rises.
 Fourth tone (à) starts high and drops, producing a sharp sound.
 
 The tones of the Mandarin phrases in this book are depicted as pronounced in conversation in the author’s family’s accent. There may be some discrepancies with other accents and dialects.
 A pinyin umlaut (ü) is pronounced as follows: keep your tongue in the same position as when saying an “ee” sound as in “feed,” but then say “you.”
 There is also a glossary at the end of the book for definitions of the Mandarin words and phrases used.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 1
 Schloop
 LIYA
 If there was ever to be magic found on this Earth—this sometimes wretched, unremarkable Earth—it’s when I’m standing on the shore of Lake Michigan, the cold water dancing with my bare toes, and I’m looking at a lit-up sky. It’s not alight with stars or fireworks or a big, bright full moon, but lanterns. Paper lanterns with people’s wishes written on the side, carried into the never-ending dark night by a fire inside that matches the fire inside the sender’s heart. What could be more magical than a sky aglow with wishes and dreams?
 There are many names for this miniature hot-air balloon—sky lantern, tiāndēng (a.k.a. “sky light,” translated literally)—but my favorite is the one my family’s Chinatown shop, When You Wish Upon a Lantern, has coined for our community: wishing lanterns. Because to us, the wish you write on it is the most important part.
 Today is the first day of summer, June 21, and for the tenth year in a row, the Chicago Chinatown community has gathered at Promontory Point, a peninsula that juts out into the lake with big grassy areas, firepits, views of downtown, and large stone ledges leading down to the waves crashing against the shore. We’re here to celebrate a tradition started by my family’s little shop that could, which is fifty-one years old and responsible for two new holidays and many, many wishes being granted. In less than an hour, we will light up the sky.
 Currently, my parents are managing the table we’ve set up with lanterns for sale, lighters, and markers. As I approach them to help out, I notice an additional person nearby assisting the surrounding customers. And he knows how to manipulate the sometimes-finicky lanterns as well as I do.
 Kai Jiang.
 Oh no.
 His presence stops me cold. The shock of straight, unruly black hair that’s often falling into his eyes, the confident yet humble walk, the lean forearm muscles honed from hours of kneading dough in his family’s Chinatown bakery, Once Upon a Mooncake . . . all of that would be enough to stop anyone cold when they see him, but for me? I halt because I have quite the oh no history with him, which I attempt to put out of my mind as he gives me a brief, deliberate, right-left wave from several feet away. I try not to let the chilliness of his gesture freeze my insides, but it’s all I can think about.
 Before, we were childhood best friends, constantly playing together in the alley shared by our family’s neighboring businesses. Then, more recently, he started becoming Kai, as in Kai with the infectious laugh and defined arms and delicious buns (I’m talking about the breads he bakes, okay?). But before I could figure out what all that meant . . .
 I threw up on him. A few months ago. We were having a blast sipping boba tea at the café closest to our shops when he made me laugh so hard that I snorted a boba ball up into my nose (yes, I know, I’m cringing too). Schloop, out everything came. On the table, in my lap, on him. So much on him. I died a little that day. Afterward, I was so embarrassed I steered clear of him for a couple of weeks, even telling my parents I was sick so I wouldn’t have to go to our store and risk running into him. But I didn’t mean for it to last forever. Somehow the avoidance