A slow but beautiful story about a Chinese girl in London finding out about her heritage.
Every Qing Ming day after I was six Nainai told me the mirror story. She told me other stories at other times but only the mirror story on Qing Ming, the Day of the Dead, when we honour our ancestors. It was her way of remembering, I think, but I didn't appreciate that then. It wasn't my favourite story either: it was heavy, and boring at times, unlike her other ghost stories, which were magical and sometimes funny.