Theophilus and Hannah are at their friend Mei's flat after school. By the door there is a small altar, and on it two fresh oranges.
Mei's family has set up a small altar by the door: a wooden tablet with her grandmother's name on it, a photograph, a joss stick, and two fresh oranges. Theophilus says, "Those oranges look like they were bought this morning." That is all he says.
Over tea he asks Mei, "Who looks after the altar? Do the oranges get changed every day?" Mei says her father does it, every morning before work, and has since her grandmother died. The oranges are for Ah Ma. "So she isn't hungry."
Hannah asks what Mei's grandmother was like, and listens for a long time. Then she asks, gently, whether Mei thinks her grandmother is really there, in the tablet. Mei says part of her is. The family believes the spirit divides, and one part comes home to the tablet. Hannah says the care in it is obvious, and that the duty underneath it, honouring your parents, is one she shares. Her Bible puts it among the Ten Commandments.
Mei asks what Christians do instead. Hannah asks if she really wants to know, and Mei says yes. Hannah tells her that she believes the dead cannot receive anything from us any more, and that this makes honouring parents harder, not easier: "It means the time to do it is while they're still in the room." She adds that Christians believe the one debt nobody could pay for their parents, or for themselves, has already been paid.
They finish their tea and go home. Nothing is settled, and nothing is meant to be.
The conversation stops here on purpose. It is not an argument to be won.