Chapter 24 - Fool's 8 Treasures

Background color
Font
Font size
Line height

Chapter 24

I wish I hadn't told Fang about my smelly, leftover lo mein. Now he must think I'm a poor street urchin who has never had a good meal. The driver takes us to Ren He Guan on Zhaojiabang Road, and I'm practically cowering into my leather seat. I'm reasonably sure you can start an international incident by wearing jeans to a Michelin Star restaurant.

"I come here all the time. My brother likes it. He doesn't have fancy taste," Fang explains like he's embarrassed he isn't taking me somewhere better. What was I supposed to be expecting? Ultraviolet? Da Vittorio? I ate my dinner last night standing by a street stall ripping squid tentacles off a stick with my teeth. Stepping inside this Michelin-starred establishment, I am relieved that I see other customers dressed casually.

Fang's brother, Qing, is already there, along with his wife. They are waiting by a partially open side door while Qing is smoking a cigarette. He puts it out when he sees us.

"You finally made time for us!" Qing exclaims and hugs his younger brother. Looking at the two of them, I see the resemblance. Qing also has that incredible facial structure and strong jaw, though Fang has deviously playful eyes. Whereas Qing looks like the kind of guy who is always mouth agape and filled with wide-eyed wonder at the world, Fang looks like he has a secret that he can't wait to tell you, if only you could get close enough for him to whisper it to you.

Fang's eyes are the features that have captivated a nation and earned him five billion views on his last hit alone. Heck, that's more people than in this entire country. "And who is this měi rén?" Qing asks as he nudges his wife at the sight of me. 

Měi rén means beautiful woman, and I blush more than I should at the compliment. No one has ever called me that before. Although now that I think about it, I'm sure that compliment rolls off a native Shanghainese guy's tongue at the sight of a younger woman the way "Auntie" does when he encounters an older woman.

He couldn't possibly think that I'm beautiful compared to the usual rotation of beautiful women that Fang brings around his family. Could he?

"This is Sara," Fang says and wraps his arm around my shoulders. Thanks, Fang; now there are even more hints that we are dating. The paparazzi will probably have a field day. Then again, as I look around, I don't see any sign of flashing cell phone cameras. Could it be? We finally escaped the sidewalk paparazzi?

Why was he still acting lovey-dovey with me if not to make his ex-girlfriend jealous when these pictures hit the morning papers?

"Sara is one of the doctors in training at the hospital."

"I can tell already that I'm going to like her better than all the other girls you've dated."

"Already? You haven't even spoken to the poor thing," Qing's wife interjects with a laugh. She has kind eyes with just a hint of wrinkles. She's much shorter than me. I feel the need to slouch when standing next to her so that I can inhabit the role of the younger, more helpless friend. "Come with me, Sara. Tell us everything about yourself. How did you meet my brother-in-law? Where are you staying? Do you have any family here in Shanghai?"

"I'm from New York," I offer in my best Shanghainese mixed with just a touch of reflexive Mandarin. Although I speak Shanghainese more fluently than Mandarin, whenever I am in a situation where I feel like I should sound formal, I immediately reach for the Mandarin instead. It's like my brain is incapable of getting used to the fact that I can speak Shanghainese to strangers. Either way, her questions baffle me. I struggle to think of how to answer the rest of her questions without coming across like a six-year-old.

"New York? When did you move here to Shanghai?"

"Just two weeks ago."

"Really?" She asks and glances back at Fang with a raised eyebrow. "Do you even have a permanent place to stay here yet?"

"I'm staying with relatives," I say with a gulp. Fang's family is suspicious now. They're wondering if he is seriously dating a girl who isn't even serious about living in Shanghai for the rest of her life. How do I break it to them that I'm only here for the summer? I start to feel like I've been caught in the middle of a sex tourism ruse, except I'm the flighty American here to sample the native goods.

"She's just a friend," Fang says, coming to my rescue. "I invited her to dinner because she hasn't seen anything outside the hospital yet."

"Oh," Qing replies and pats his brother on the back. Their attention shifts from me to Fang now. I think they're starting to understand that Fang is in no way serious about me, and they're just going to have to tolerate a stranger at their family dinner table tonight. "Take her to the top of Dongfang Míngzhuta. If I knew you were bringing a friend from abroad here, we could have booked a dinner up there instead."

"No, no, this is perfect," I insist. I don't want to be even more trouble than I was already causing by intruding on their family dinner. Now I'm even more nervous than I was before. Mandarin simply won't do anymore. I am blabbering on and on in my native language and hope they understand English. Doesn't everyone these days? "I love this place. Is that a waitress wearing a qipao? It's so . . . so romantic."

Bad choice of words! Not romantic! No, I need to stop insinuating this is a date. Why did I have to use that word? My mind is still in shock regarding the wearing diamonds on my shoes. It hasn't even started to process that on my arm; I have an even bigger slab of semiprecious eye candy.

"Are you feeling okay?" Fang leans in within whispering distance. I realize that I'm talking too fast. My voice is squeaking like I'm giving a presentation while naked to an auditorium full of Hamptons girls who spent the last two weeks at soul cycle instead of stuffing their faces full of Jian bing.

"Just nervous. I've never done this before."

"Done what?"

"Sit down and speak to people in Chinese who are not my relatives."

"Oh," Fang laughs like I'm adorable. "We'll get you a drink. That will help."

I am not the drinking type, but I decide that tonight cannot possibly get more surreal. We are seated in a back room for VIPs. The room is spacious but intimate. I don't know what I'm doing here.

Fortunately, Fang and Qing immediately begin talking about Qing's recent job search. Fang offers to call in some connections, and Qing adamantly refuses, and not in a typical way of refusing to be polite. Qing's red in the face as he shoved Fang's arm away. He insists he won't accept any help. 

Qing's wife, Rushi, orders dinner while the two boys are fighting. She speaks to me in a calm, lively tone and hardly looks up at the two of them. I assume that nothing is out of the ordinary by her demeanor, and this is a typical Yao family dinner.

When the waitress comes back, Rushi orders the eel bamboo shoots, the squirrel mandarin fish, crab fried rice, and finally the braised pork belly. She insists I have to try the pork belly while I'm in Shanghai. I hope she's not picking the sweet dishes to accommodate me because they assume Americans want all their foods dunked in ketchup and covered with cheese.

"The babao rice is very good here," she continues. "They make it with eight fruits. Would you like to try it?"

I nod even though I think she's ordering way too much food. I'm so antsy now that I've completely lost my appetite. It doesn't help that I don't know where I am. Is there even a subway stop nearby? The sun has set, and it's dark outside. I wonder how I will get home in one piece. I wonder what will happen if I don't show up for our classes tomorrow. Maybe Calvin will think I took a flight back to New York rather than to face him.

Qing's phone buzzes. It's their parents calling in from Beijing. Qing answers and starts the video conference. He hands me the phone to hold up so that he and his wife can be in the video. The husband and wife sandwich Fang between them.

I'm not insulted. I don't want to be included in that call anyway. At least this confirms that I'm only here in a medical capacity. This isn't a date. I'm here to help Fang stay on his feet and away from the ledge of the nearest skyscraper.

"Hái zi men, it's been so long since we've seen the two of you together," Fang's parents exclaim from the video chat. "Where have you been lately?" Before Fang can come up with an answer, his mother chips in.

"And what have you been up to, Qing? When are you going to give us grandchildren? Did I tell you I had a dream that you two had twin boys? One of them looked just like Fang when he was a baby, same dark eyebrows, same smile."

"Mom only says that because Fang's her favorite," Qing muses and sips his tea. "If you want a grandchild who looks like Fang, why not ask him to make them for you?"

"Fang is too busy with his career to settle down. Am I right, son?" Fang's mother asks with a slight raise of her eyebrow like she's hoping that Fang would tell her otherwise. "He's so hardworking he has no time for a family. Didn't they give you that award for that movie you made recently, the one with the spy?"

"If Fang's good at one thing, it is at pāi mǎ pì," Qing interjects, happily teasing his younger brother. "Yes, mother, he's going to win a Golden Rooster award for having the most pretend-girlfriends."

I chuckle at that. I can hardly imagine someone as difficult as Fang, flattering anyone, even his mother, never mind stroking a horse's bottom like the saying describes. I almost drop the phone as a waiter brushes past me to refill Qing's teacup.

"Is there someone we can't see?" Fang's mother asks as I struggle to steady the phone. Finally, I manage to prop the phone up using an overturned saucer. "Is it your mysterious girlfriend, Liyuan?"

"No," Fang snaps. "She and I are over."

"Over? Already? Son, you need to stop sampling a new girl every other weekend. What did you do to this one? Is there an actress left that you haven't dated?"

"Nothing!" Fang retorts and practically pouts in anger. He reaches over and forces me into the screen. I gulp and wave. His parents don't look especially pleased. They must be thinking, oh no, look at her messy hair, unmade up face. She didn't put in any effort to meet his parents.

"This is Sara. She's not an actress. She's studying to be a nurse, or — er — a doctor."

"A doctor?" His mother exclaims. "Well, that is certainly out of the ordinary for you, son."

Fang's father nudges her in the side. "Maybe he's finally developing a responsible side. Very good, she looks more. . . . serious than your other ones."

I'm sure serious is being used as a euphemism for plain. Then again, I'm not offended. I'm not a made-up movie star or singer with a glam squad following my every move. Heck, if I had a team of Dior specialists following my every move, I'll also shoot rainbows out of my butt like all of Fang's ex-girlfriends.

"What's your name?" Fang's mother asks me. "Where is your family from? Do you like pumpkin cakes? I will make a dozen for you when Fang brings you to meet me in person. All those actresses are always watching their weight. I can't wait to have a daughter-in-law with an appetite."

"Okay, that's enough," Fang reaches for the button to end the call. "You're embarrassing me, mom. And also, you already have a daughter-in-law you can cook for, or did you forget Qing is already married?"

"That's different," Fang's mother says with a laugh. "You are the one I worry about. Qing can take of himself."

"Goodbye," Fang insists and hangs up. After he does, Qing chuckles and pats him on the back.

"Stop it with the sour face. They want to make sure you're taken care of."

"Why would I need a woman for that when I have you, brother?" Fang jokes. "You check on me when I'm sick, take care of my taxes, and you even pick up my medication. What can a woman possibly provide in addition to that?"

"Are you going to sit there and take that from him?" Rushi asks and puts her arm around me in a sisterly fashion. "You should insist that he buys you a drink to make up for that remark."

"Why don't you guys take a walk?" Qing asks as he flips through his phone. "We should check in with the nanny to make sure Xiao Ling is okay."

"Yes, Xiao Ling can be grumpy when strangers walk her," Rushi adds with a chuckle at her husband's concern. "When can I bring her around your apartment again, Fang? Your doorman is such a wonderful uncle to our Ling-Ling. He always saves pig ears for her."

"Why is Ling Ling eating scraps of Fang's doorman's lunch?" Qing demands, his voice suddenly heightening with suspicion. "Don't we have enough dog food at home? We buy that dog food from Norway made with actual salmon!"

Fang sighs and gets up from the table. He motions for me to follow him in the direction of the bar before we witness the ensuing fight. 

You are reading the story above: TeenFic.Net