A month later, just before Suyu’s seventeenth birthday, Qin Siyu really had managed to save fifty dollars.
He arranged the fifty dollars neatly in a box, ready to give them to his younger cousin.
The money itself wasn’t much to look at, all small bills and loose change. Qin Siyu had rolled the one-dollar bills into two bundles and wrapped two stacks of twenty-five-cent coins in paper. The only substantial amount was the ten dollars Aston had given him.
He also desperately wanted to cook Suyu a delicious birthday feast.
A Black friend in his class told him that he could wait outside an upscale restaurant just before closing. Sometimes expensive restaurants had excellent ingredients left over, and he might be able to get a little. Midrange or cheaper restaurants were no good, his friend explained. They had refrigerators now and didn’t throw things away. Only high-end restaurants still used fresh ingredients every day.
Anything they had left would be the fancy stuff. There might even be lobster!
Qin Siyu decided to try his luck.
What if he really managed to get a lobster?
Suyu would be beside herself with happiness. What a wonderful seventeenth birthday that would be.
She had been under far too much pressure lately.
Lobster on her seventeenth birthday. Just imagining it made Qin Siyu smile on Lin Suyu’s behalf.
He cycled to Le Petit Paris. There were only a handful of upscale restaurants in Berkeley.
He rode a bicycle everywhere. For several months he’d borrowed other people’s, but just a few days ago, after setting aside the fifty dollars, he’d finally bought one of his own. It was secondhand, and the seat chafed terribly. He had thought he could simply pad it with a towel because the bicycle was cheap. But the towel slid back and forth and made matters worse, so he could only endure it. His rides often lasted an hour or two. Even to get home to San Francisco, he usually cycled to the ferry and cycled again after disembarking. The seat had rubbed calluses onto his backside.
Several people were already waiting for the restaurant to close, packed close together. They didn’t dare gather right in front of the entrance, afraid of “contaminating” the fine establishment and provoking the manager into driving them away.
Qin Siyu joined them.
Several people studied him. A Chinese face was an extraordinary sight here. Chinatown was almost self-governing. Although its residents were gradually venturing outside and no longer depended entirely on the Chinatown tongs, Chinese faces remained a rarity in places like this.
Inside the restaurant, every light was bright and the fireplace glowed warmly. Elegantly dressed men and women sat at tables, conversing to music and occasionally raising their glasses in a toast. Dishes emerged leisurely from the kitchen. Nobody was in a hurry; everyone was enjoying themselves. Outside the windows, dozens of people stood in the freezing wind, watching and waiting to scavenge whatever the kitchen had left after dinner. Inside and outside seemed like different worlds.
At last, the restaurant closed!
Qin Siyu rushed toward its entrance with everyone else, gazing expectantly into the bright interior and waiting for a chef to throw them the leftover ingredients.
He’d arrived early, so he stood in the second row. Two white men were in front of him, and he poked his head through the gap between them.
Coming down the steps, Aston saw Qin Siyu yet again.
…Strange.
His fair face stood out too much among the Black people.
His black hair stood out too much among the white people.
Somehow, Aston could always pick him out at a glance.
Qin Siyu was crowded among the people, waiting for something.
Everyone was watching the entrance, so they all saw Aston when he came out.
Outside, poor people waited in cold darkness for whatever ingredients the restaurant might discard that evening. Inside, amid brilliant lights and splendid furnishings, a wealthy young man was having a wool overcoat draped over his shoulders by the restaurant’s white manager. He descended the steps unhurriedly, looking for his driver.
Light fell across Aston’s back as he looked down from above.
The waiting crowd had long since grown numb to such contrasts. But Aston’s eyes met Qin Siyu’s at once.
Qin Siyu froze for a second, then offered a small smile by way of greeting.
He wasn’t embarrassed or inclined to leave. He simply craned his neck toward the interior and continued waiting for food with everyone else.
Aston descended the steps, regarded him for a while, and finally asked, “What are you doing?”
“Waiting for food.” Qin Siyu smiled openly. “Fancy restaurants throw away leftover ingredients every night. We might get some.”
“You…” Aston hesitated. “Can you usually not afford to eat?”
“I’m all right, actually.” Qin Siyu’s lips curved again. “But today’s – oh, you met her. Lin Suyu, my partner at the dance marathon. It’s her very important seventeenth birthday! I want to cook her a feast to celebrate her becoming an adult. Selling those things the other night… that was really to save a little toward her tuition. She – ”
Qin Siyu’s eyes shone. “She’s brilliant! Yale has shown interest in admitting her!”
In that era, private universities in the eastern United States largely favored men and white applicants. Women accounted for only around ten percent of admissions, and most were graduate students in supposedly “women’s” fields, such as education, while law was generally regarded as a man’s profession. Asian students were so few as to be virtually nonexistent, perhaps one or two each year. Yet Suyu had attracted interest from Yale.
Suyu had no intention of turning Yale down because of such discrimination. Yale Law was the finest and the most difficult. It could help her achieve her ambitions.
Aston lowered his lashes toward Qin Siyu again and adjusted the warm front collar of his wool coat with one finger.
Lin Suyu?
He remembered her.
Qin Siyu’s girlfriend.
He certainly treated his girlfriend well.
During the dance marathon he’d held her up with the last of his strength.
She’d had her hair permed, too. Poor, but clearly cherished.
He’d tucked chocolate into his clothes during the competition, hoping to bring some back to her.
In the middle of the night he’d shamelessly hawked condoms outside bars, making his pitch customer by customer to save toward her tuition at an East Coast university.
Now he was jostling with the crowd outside a French restaurant, hoping to take home discarded ingredients and celebrate his girlfriend’s birthday –
Aston experienced a very strange feeling.
When someone treated another person wholeheartedly, giving them everything they had without holding a single thing back… how did it feel to be the one receiving that devotion?
He wasn’t sure anyone in the world would ever treat him that way.
His surname was Aston, yet he couldn’t identify a single person whose love for him was unquestionably sincere.
Imagine that. He was actually puzzling over the “love” of poor people.
Why would someone give another person everything? he wondered.
“A few people here were saying,” Qin Siyu went on, glancing inside again with a smile, “that they’ve had lobster quite often lately.”
Aston’s eyes remained unmoved.
“You’ve…” Qin Siyu asked, sounding almost nervous, “you’ve eaten lobster before, right? Is it really so much better than prawns? Do you cook it the same way?”
He was trying to get lobster for his girlfriend?
Aston lowered his gaze. Faced with Qin Siyu’s hopeful expression, he replied with inexplicable coolness, “It’s nothing special. I’m tired of eating it.”
Qin Siyu paused, then offered a perfectly sincere judgment: “That’s a good thing.”
There wasn’t a trace of envy in him. Aston was taken aback for a second himself.
Just then, a chef finally came out. At the sight of Aston, his face immediately twisted into a fawning smile. “Sir, you haven’t left? Has your car not arrived? Sir, about your reserved table, are there any other instructions? Would you like the arrangement changed next time? Sir – ”
Aston gave him a cool glance, turned, and walked away.
Though left standing there, the chef still called ingratiatingly, “We look forward to seeing you again.”
Only then did Qin Siyu discover that some patrons of high-end restaurants even had tables reserved exclusively for them.
Once Aston was some distance away, the chef went back to the steps, surveyed the crowd, and suddenly shouted at the top of his lungs, “Bread!!!”
Cheers erupted. Countless hands reached into the air and waved back and forth, resembling the feelers of some enormous creature moving through the darkness.
Qin Siyu was just another of those feelers.
The chef reached into a basket, took out half a loaf, and tossed it into the crowd.
The crowd instantly surged. People jumped to catch the bread, hands clawing and grasping in midair, until one hand finally caught it and disappeared back into the throng.
The chef tossed more bread in different directions. Every throw set off another scramble.
Aston had never witnessed anything like it. He was genuinely shocked.
When the bread was gone, the chef shouted, “Veg!!!”
More cheers. This time, however, the chef handed most of the vegetables to people at the front. There were potatoes, mushrooms, strips of carrot, and more. Everyone fortunate enough to receive something pocketed it with delight.
People in the second row stretched their arms out too, hoping for a little. Qin Siyu rose onto his toes to look, but made no attempt to take any.
He could still afford vegetables. Better to leave those for someone else.
Finally, the chef shouted, “Beef!!!”
Beef!
The main event had arrived!
Excitement peaked. People at the back began pushing forward, setting the crowd swaying and surging like waves. Those in front suspected the chef might throw the beef farther out, so they pushed backward, trying to leave themselves room to lunge either way. The entire crowd descended into chaos.
The chef held a tin tray topped with the wire rack he normally used for draining blood from meat.
He took his tongs, picked up a piece, surveyed the crowd, and sent it flying several paces away with a whoosh.
Once again people lunged after it, struggling to seize it.
The commotion was far fiercer than over the bread. Shouts rang out from within the crowd.
Among those scrambling for meat were several women who fought just as fiercely as anyone else. They shoved and swayed with the throng, eyes fixed on the food, hands raised as they cried, “Over here! Over here! I have four children!!!”
Unable to resist the crush, Qin Siyu was shoved toward the back.
Then came a second piece of meat.
And a third.
When the fourth came, the chef wasn’t even looking Qin Siyu’s way. Someone to his right sprang up to catch it, and although their fingertips clearly brushed it, they failed to grasp it. Smack! Their hands knocked the meat across toward Qin Siyu instead!
Everything happened too quickly. Before he could react, the meat landed right at his feet.
“???” Qin Siyu stared. “!!!”
What the heck?
Like a merganser duck diving beneath the water, he ducked his shoulders and plunged down between the bodies with a swish.
The air down there smelled dreadful.
He knew he had to be quick. Everyone else would want to pick it up too.
Sure enough, the people around him all turned in his direction!
Qin Siyu shielded himself with his head and both hands against the people crowding him, searching for the meat. Every time someone tried to reach down through the crush, he blocked them.
Because the meat had fallen at his feet!
Several people slapped his hands or hit his arms, but he couldn’t afford to care. He darted his hands back into position each time, spreading his fingers like claws to keep everyone away.
He had to look for the beef and fend off other people at the same time.
He was nearly fainting.
Was somebody kicking his backside? He couldn’t worry about that either.
Where was the meat?
It was so dark.
He couldn’t see anything.
…Wait, there it was.
From where he stood, Aston saw Qin Siyu dive into the crowd and disappear among the forest of legs, his black hair vanishing in an instant. He didn’t come back up for ages.
At last Qin Siyu got his hands on the beef. He struggled up through the tangle of legs, gasping for air. Between the suffocating press and the panic, he’d almost stopped breathing.
He gripped the steak, feeling the delicate, silky texture of first-rate beef beneath his fingers.
Qin Siyu wrapped the meat in a sheet of greaseproof paper. When he looked back toward the entrance, the chef had disappeared and the manager was locking the restaurant doors. He asked someone nearby, “No lobster today?”
The person snapped at his greed. “They don’t have lobster every day! How much meat do you want?!”
Qin Siyu smiled. “When you’re lucky, you can’t help wanting a little more.”
Still, Qin Siyu thought, securing a piece of excellent beef was pretty wonderful too.
What could he make with it?
He squeezed out of the crush. As the crowd gradually dispersed, a little boy began to cry.
He wept so bitterly that his mother stood beside him at a loss, trying again and again to comfort him. “It’s all right. Be brave! You’re a big boy now. You must be brave!”
But the boy just kept crying.
Qin Siyu watched them.
He had noticed the pair earlier.
The mother had a boy of about seven in tow. She had been trying to scavenge some food while protecting her belly, because she was carrying another child.
After waiting a full half hour outside the restaurant and coming away with nothing, of course the little boy felt miserable. Qin Siyu watched them for a few seconds, opened his greaseproof paper, and broke his piece of beef in two. He handed half to the mother and son, still wrapped in half the paper, and smiled gently at the child. “Your meat. Enjoy your dinner.”
The little boy stopped crying at once. His eyes widened as he stared at the meat.
“Thank you, thank you.” The white woman seemed astonished, but accepted it without a moment’s hesitation.
Now they had beef as well.
Qin Siyu wrapped the remaining half of his steak and prepared to return to school.
On the way, a white man tried to steal his meat, cursing and reaching for it.
Qin Siyu snatched it back and guarded it fiercely. “Get lost!” he roared.
Aston was actually still standing by the roadside, frowning toward the crowd.
His gaze passed over the beef. He himself had just ordered a cleaner, finer cut of meat. What Qin Siyu carried was only kitchen scraps, and it had fallen on the ground besides. Yet that piece of meat seemed to possess some special attraction. Aston continued watching it quietly.
“They ran out of lobster today.” Qin Siyu smiled. “But there was some steak left, and I managed to get a piece. Suyu should be happy with that too.”
Aston merely nodded coolly and said, as though indifferent, “Probably.”
Qin Siyu’s hair was sticking up from crouching to retrieve the meat. “I’m going to make a beef clay-pot stew. Tomorrow I’ll buy tofu, greens, glass noodles… We still have some scallions and ginger at home. It’ll smell wonderful when it’s done.”
Aston stared at him.
What did that taste like?
He had never eaten it.
He had never been inside a Chinese restaurant.
The idea of Qin Siyu making this “beef pot” for his girlfriend gave Aston that peculiar feeling again.
Did he want to taste it?
He could simply have his butler buy some.
Yet that didn’t seem to be quite what he wanted.
Unsure what to say, he asked casually, “What is it?”
“A Cantonese soup. The meat turns tender and the broth becomes wonderfully fragrant,” Qin Siyu explained. “You have to simmer it for at least six hours. First I’ll wash the meat, blanch it, and cut it into thin slices. I’ll add scallions and ginger to the water to remove that gamey smell. I don’t like the smell American meat has. Then I’ll heat some oil in an iron wok and stir-fry the slices – ”
Even after all that explanation, Aston clearly understood nothing. He looked at Qin Siyu without expression.
Oh, never mind.
Aston looked at him and suddenly said, “Sean, your hair’s sticking up.”
“Huh?” Qin Siyu was taken aback.
His hands had become greasy and smelly from wrapping the beef, so he held the paper parcel in one hand and turned the other arm outward. Tilting his head, he rubbed his hair with the outside of his forearm, trying to flatten it.
He rubbed one side, then the other.
Scrubbing his hair with the outside of his arm, he looked like a cat.
Except for the way he rolled his eyes upward, trying to see the top of his own head.
Naturally, it didn’t help much. Aston sighed, took a hand out of his coat pocket, and casually smoothed Qin Siyu’s hair twice, flattening the stray tufts.
Qin Siyu: “…”
In this economy, it had been ages since he’d paid attention to his appearance.
He couldn’t afford to look respectable. How could people struggling as they were possibly keep up appearances?
But it was strange. Here was someone actually helping him look just a little more presentable.
As though he were being turned back into a human being, instead of a mouse or something else.
“Thanks.” Qin Siyu looked at the ground, raised his eyes again, and smiled. “I’ll head back, then. See you another day?”
Aston nodded. “Mm.”
Qin Siyu ran off with his paper-wrapped parcel.
Night had fallen thickly around them.
* * *
The next day was Suyu’s birthday. Qin Siyu rose early to prepare the ingredients for his beef stew.
In the afternoon, he picked up his things, took the gift money in its red envelope, and went to his uncle’s house to see Lin Suyu.
Suyu was thrilled, though a faint sadness lingered beneath her excitement.
“Suyu,” Qin Siyu said at six o’clock, handing his cousin the money he’d earned, “it’s only been two months, and I’ve already saved fifty dollars. Really, we’ll definitely get you to Yale.”
His cousin burst into tears.
Qin Siyu added, “We’re definitely going to be lawyers.”
She cried even harder.
When the two families gathered around the table to share the beef stew, its aroma filled the room.
Lin Xiangmei exclaimed, “Where did you buy such good meat?”
“Leftover ingredients from a fancy restaurant.” Qin Siyu smiled faintly and picked up the ladle. He served his cousin first, filling her bowl with plenty of beef. Next came his mother, then his father, his uncle and aunt. Only after everyone else had been served did he fill a bowl for himself.
“Brother!” Suyu cried. “You didn’t put a single piece of meat in your own bowl!”
Qin Siyu glanced down, then smiled at his cousin. “I don’t mind.”
“No!” she exclaimed, fishing two pieces out of her bowl and dropping them into his.
“Ha ha.” Warmth spread through his chest. “Then I’d better taste some of this beef too.”
This time he didn’t refuse. He lifted his chopsticks, carefully picked up a piece, blew on it, and put it into his mouth.
Fresh and tender. Fine-textured.
Nothing tough or chewy, nothing that needed tearing apart.
It practically melted in his mouth.
So fragrant.
Even the little beads of fat were just right, and the entire pot gave off an irresistible aroma.
As he chewed the beef, Qin Siyu suddenly remembered the previous night’s scene.
That man had emerged from the restaurant, the manager carefully draping an overcoat around him. Standing on the steps with his hands in his pockets, looking down, he’d been outlined by the lights behind him, like someone from another world.
And there were all those earlier encounters.
Qin Siyu had found Aston’s gold watch.
Qin Siyu had competed; Aston had watched.
Qin Siyu had sold things; Aston had bought them.
As Qin Siyu savored the beef, finally discovering what meat from a first-class restaurant tasted like, he inexplicably felt as though the gulf between them had narrowed a little.
As though he had come a little closer to that man.
He knew it was an illusion. Finding his own thought of being “a little closer” ridiculous, he lifted a second piece of beef to his mouth and laughed softly.
In truth, a vast chasm separated them. They could never be friends.