Page 17 of He Is My Bride
Grandmother Linming asked Hanjun questions about his time in the States and made sure he knew he’d been missed. Hanjun answered her questions in his usual style, succinctly but politely. It seemed the whole family was used to this; suppose Hanjun had always been the quiet type .
Tea arrived along with a three-tiered silver tray, holding tiny sandwiches and macarons, scones, and other little pastries.
Li Ying tried to recall what he’d read on etiquette and stirred his tea up and down, not in circles, and he definitely didn’t drink with the spoon in the cup, certainly didn’t replace the spoon on the table, but on the saucer instead.
Where else was the spoon supposed to be or not to be…?
Li Ying subtly peeked at what people in the other tables were doing.
He couldn’t copy the Wus, because it turned out their tea was served in traditional Chinese style after all: a kettle was provided, and each guest had a lidded cup for brewing the tea for themselves, and they poured and drank it from small earless cups. No spoon action.
Li Ying vacillated between putting his pinky up and putting it down, but seeing as no one else was holding theirs up like in British parodies, he held his down too. He thought he’d nailed it.
Alright, can I get married now?
“So, Missy Li.” Wu Yiheng addressed Li Ying—of course just as he’d put a whole mini sandwich into his mouth.
Li Ying tried to chew and swallow as fast as possible, daintily covering his mouth with his hand while Wu Yiheng finished his question to him:
“What did your family think about you coming to the mainland?”
He took the offensive to press Li Ying with the hard questions; Li Ying guessed where the conversation was going next, but he was prepared.
“They were happy for me,” Li Ying answered once he had managed to swallow his slider.
“And what does your family do?” Wu Yiheng followed.
“My foster father is the founder and owner of a cyber security business, which my foster mother is the CEO of. ”
“‘Foster?’ What about your real parents?” Grandmother Linming asked with brows raised, but her question seemed genuine, with no hidden jabs.
Li Ying gathered himself, keeping a smile, and answered, “Unfortunately, I don’t know my real parents.”
Grandmother Linming seemed sympathetic towards him, but she didn’t seem to know what to say. Li Ying hurried to continue:
“I was taken in by my foster father, who knew my mother in college. He raised me along with his own children, whom I think of as my brother and sister. I still love them all very much, but they’re not actively involved with my life now that I’m an adult.”
“And who are the Lis?” Wu Yiheng pressed.
“Li is my mother’s family name. She had come to the States to study in her youth, and that’s how she met my father, or so I have been told. Unfortunately they were unable to raise me, but I had a good childhood with my foster family.”
“Missy Li has quite an adventurous history,” Wu Yiheng said.
“Not at all.” Li Ying denied. Seriously, old man, you’re putting me through the wringer.
“My childhood and youth were quite ordinary. I attended a private school until college, played with other children in our neighborhood in Brooklyn Heights, and played the flute in the school wind ensemble.” I’m hitting you back with my full hand, Wu Yiheng; this is what I have.
This is what your nephew chose. What ’s your next move ?
“You play the flute? What kind of flute?” Grandmother Linming seemed delighted, and Li Ying jumped at the opportunity to get past Wu Yiheng and right to the matriarch.
“Western concert flute.”
“I would love to hear you play,” Grandmother Linming said.
“Unfortunately, I didn’t take my flute with me. Perhaps next time?” Please, Grandma Wang…
“Oh, that’s too bad.”
Damn it. She didn’t seem ready to endorse Li Ying sticking around for a ‘next time.’ Yet.
“Our Hanjun is musical too, Hanrong as well,” Grandmother Linming said.
“Mm, I play the piano,” Hanrong said, “Hanjun plays the violin.”
“Wow! How come I never heard you play?” Li Ying asked Hanjun.
“Not much time to play nowadays,” Hanjun said.
“He used to play in a youth orchestra,” Grandmother Linming said proudly.
It seemed to alleviate the awkwardness at the table to talk about the many pedigrees of the Wus, instead of dancing around Li Ying’s suspiciously mysterious background.
“Can you play for me sometime?” Li Ying asked Hanjun, putting his hands together and looking up at him with a face Hanjun couldn’t say no to.
“I will,” Hanjun promised, and Li Ying beamed at him.
“Do you play often?” Li Ying asked Cousin Hanrong, wanting to be polite and keep up the conversation with him.
They talked about music for a while. It seemed the Wus were avid patrons of the arts.
The way they discussed the arts and culture left Li Ying in the dust, but he was glad those flute lessons were paying off when he could at least keep up with the conversation about music.
Even if Li Ying had barely had the mind to focus on his lessons back in the day.
Wu Yiheng eventually moved the conversation to business between himself, Hanjun, and Hanrong.
He didn’t seem interested in inquiring about Li Ying’s foster family.
At first this seemed like a boon, as Li Ying didn’t have to start dishing out the half-truths about how they didn’t want to be involved in his marriage prospects, but soon Li Ying became worried; why wasn’t Wu Yiheng more interested in him?
Tea was soon running out, and so was Li Ying’s time to make his moves .
They moved up the three-tiered silver tray onto the sweet pastries.
Li Ying tried eating the cream-bursting profiterole daintily to not mess up his lipstick, but managed to get some cream at the corner of his mouth anyway.
He carefully dabbed it off with a napkin, feeling himself clumsier than he ought to be when simply trying to eat.
Grandmother Linming praised the pastry chef and lamented that such delicacies were hard to reproduce at home.
“I’m more of a traditional home cook, and I fear it’s too late for me to learn how to make fancy pastries.”
“Auntie cooks?” Li Ying sought to rejoin the conversation when he saw his opening.
“I used to cook more for my sons and grandsons.” She looked softly upon her son Wu Yiheng, whose face remained stern and impassioned, or as Li Ying liked to call it, his resting bitch face. Li Ying honestly now saw where Hanjun had gotten it from.
Grandmother Linming went on, “Now, with everyone living in their own places and being so busy all the time, I mostly cook for myself.”
Li Ying pursued the topic, hoping to find common ground, “What kind of cooking does Auntie do? I really enjoy both Chinese and Western cooking myself.”
“You know how to cook?” Grandmother Linming asked Li Ying.
“I learned from my Grandma. Uh, I always called her Grandma, although we’re not blood-related.
She is the mother of my foster father. My siblings and I used to spend a lot of time in the kitchen with her, so I picked up a few things.
Grandma was born here on the mainland, and she taught me all the traditional recipes she knew.
My favorite was her Dan Dan noodles. I think I’m pretty good at making them myself. ”
“You like spice?” Grandmother Linming asked.
“Yes! But Junjun can never handle my Sichuanese cooking, so I tone it down for his sake.” Li Ying laughed, rubbing Hanjun’s arm in tease .
Hanjun had tensed. Li Ying had just called him by his nickname so casually in front of everyone.
But why not, Hanjun thought; they had been dating and living together for a while, after all. He resumed sipping his tea while his cheeks grew pink.
“Oh, I know,” Grandmother Linming said. “I originally learned to cook Sichuan style from my mother, but the local cuisine in Shanghai is not so spicy, and the Wus aren’t used to it. You should come over to my place some day and we could cook together.”
Yes, a chance to win Grandma Wang over! Li Ying rejoiced. “I would love to!”
Wu Yiheng put his teacup down as if as an interjection. “Being so clever,” he said, picking up a pastry consisting of a tiny shortbread crust filled with pastry cream and pieces of fresh fruit, “does Missy Li know what that’s called in English?” Wu Yiheng was looking at him oddly.
Li Ying blinked in confusion. “Uh, ‘ tart ?’ ” he said in English.
“Hm.” Wu Yiheng bit into the fruity pastry, still staring Li Ying down.
…Oh, oh! Mister! Li Ying wanted to laugh out loud. You got me! Bravo, you bastard !
Li Ying smirked at Wu Yiheng, meeting his eyes head-on.
No one else seemed to get their little bilingual wordplay, so the two of them just stared each other down.
Li Ying was forced to break eye contact when Hanrong asked him the next innocuous, conversational question, perhaps sensing the rising tension and wanting to intervene.
Wu Hanrong, you really are the MVP of this table , Li Ying thought.
They finished their tea. Wu Yiheng let his black credit card go in and out of the table on a silver plate, and then they rose to leave.
“It was nice meeting you, Li Ying,” Grandmother Linming said .
“It was nice meeting you too, Auntie Wang! Let’s make time to cook together.”
“Certainly. And thank you for the cookies.”
“Oh, it was nothing, just something small to represent my hometown.”
“Bye, Miss Li , it was nice to see you again,” Hanrong said, and they shared a mutually understanding smile: ‘good job.’
All Wu Yiheng said was, “Goodbye”, but Li Ying wouldn’t have that.
“It was nice to meet you too, Mister Wu. See you again soon!” You’re not getting rid of me that easily, old man.
They parted ways, Wu Yiheng taking his mother to his car to drive her home, and Hanrong and Hanjun were left waiting for their rides.
“Thanks for the opening, Wu Hanrong,” Li Ying said to him, “when you asked me about the medical school.”
Hanrong smiled knowingly. “Uncle Yiheng can be stern, but I hope you had a pleasant time.”