Page 12 of From Beijing, With Love

“You are drunk,” Yang said, his voice so cold it sprouted icicles. “How many of these have you had?” He brought the empty shot glass up to his nose and winced.

“A couple …” Daniel did the mental math. “It’s strong.” And kind of gross.

“Well, one hundred proof will do that,” Yang said, glancing over the empties on the table that had magically and embarrassingly doubled since Daniel last checked. They could not all be his. “So, you’ve discovered baijiu.”

“Bye what?” Daniel held a hand up to his mouth to stifle a bout of giggles.

“Baijiu. You know, it’s only the national alcohol of the country you are in,” Yang said with a smirk as he handed Daniel his wallet.

“I knew that.” Daniel wasn’t about to admit it, but he knew embarrassingly little about the country he was in. His dad’s stance had been that Daniel should just “be a good little Canadian” and fit in the way he had never been able to. Perhaps he was bestowing the gift of not having to be othered to his half-Chinese kid. And after his dad was gone, it had just been easier not to think about his Chinese roots altogether.

Daniel shook his head to ward off the gloom edging in. He wasn’t doing this. Lifting up his wallet and beaming his best smile at Yang, he said, “Thanks for this. Stay for a drink, on me? As a thank-you.”

“You already thanked me.”

“Then another thank-you.”

After what seemed like an eternity, Yang sank into the plastic chair next to him. When the server sauntered over, Yang spoke to her in Mandarin. The server smiled as she stole a glance at Daniel.

“What did you order?”

“Nothing for me and water for you,” Yang said.

“You’ve been trying to feed me water all day,” Daniel said as the server returned with the world’s largest glass of water.

“I wonder why?” Yang leaned in closer, like he had a secret to share.

“Why?” Daniel asked, his heart doing a little hop in his chest.

“Because it’s forty degrees outside and I don’t want the news headline to read ‘American tourist dies of dehydration.’ It’s bad for the economy.”

Right, of course. Yang was the unwilling tour guide, trying his best to be professional, while Daniel continued to be a complete mess of a human being.

Sitting up straighter, Daniel had a sober moment.

Clearing his throat, as if that somehow made him more proper, Daniel went on, “Thanks for the wallet. I got it from here. I’ll be sure to let the tour company know that you’ve gone above and beyond.”

“Thank you,” Yang said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. His face twitched in a way that suggested he was either annoyed or offended. Or both. It was probably both. What was Daniel supposed to do? He couldn’t seem to make this grumpy man happy, not that he cared.

Okay, maybe he cared a little.

Yang pushed the untouched glass of water closer to Daniel.

“Thanks for your concern about my … hydration, but I’ll just settle up and head back, if that’s fine with you,” Daniel said. He, too, could be sarcastic. He pushed himself up to leave, because he was entitled to a dramatic exit, but the sudden change in elevation set his head spinning.

“It’s not fine with me.” Yang leaned back in his chair, looking up at the still-standing Daniel with amusement, as if he knew Daniel wasn’t going to make it far on his own. “Drink the whole glass, then we can go.”

“You are very bossy, you know,” Daniel said as he sat back down (his choice). He took a sip of water. “What happened to customer-is-always-right?”

Yang made a show of checking his watch, the smirk never leaving his lips. “It’s half past ten. You stopped being my customer about five hours ago.”

The bar dimmed suddenly, as if now was the time for mood lighting. Daniel was in no mood.

“Well, the headlines won’t read ‘American tourist dies of dehydration,’ ” Daniel said as he took a comically long sip of the water, sobering up a little. He pointed to himself. “Not American.”

Yang tilted his head to the side. “What are you, then?”

“Canadian, which is not the same. Geographically … Culturally …” Daniel ticked the words off his fingers, then he lost his train of thought. “We just apologize a lot more. Anyway, that’s the short answer to your question.”