Page 55 of From Beijing, With Love

Yang let out a sigh. “I think it’s a hot pot restaurant.”

He had been to every single one of Meiwen’s birthdays since they were old enough to call themselves adults and the formula never changed: shift one at a trendy bar, shift two at a trendier club. Thanks to the number of people at shift one, Yang usually got away with bringing Meiwen a photogenic drink, squeezing in for a selfie, and quietly slipping out. Yang had never even entertained the idea of going to shift two.

“I could just go back to the hotel—”

“No, stay,” Yang said. There was no way he’d send Daniel back alone after he’d dragged him all the way to Sanlitun. “It’s just dinner. We need to eat anyway. But if you don’t mind, they don’t know that I’m … And we are …”

“Friends.” Daniel’s reassuring smile made Yang feel grateful, relieved, and guilty all at the same time.

Unsurprisingly, Meiwen had booked a private dining room. The room carried forward the same organic luxury aesthetic of the restaurant—gold-threaded marble tabletops and bamboo walls, plus a retractable skylight and two dedicated servers.

The meal was already in full swing. The hot pot bubbled in the middle of the table, and every available surface was covered with plates of fresh ingredients waiting to be cooked.

“Sorry I’m late,” Yang said in Mandarin, interrupting the merry flow. Eight pairs of eyes snapped up to him, then to Daniel, who lingered behind him. Forcing a smile, he soldiered on. “I hope it’s okay that I brought a friend.”

No one made a sound as they waited for the birthday girl’s reaction. In a red dress that commanded all the attention, Meiwen arched a manicured brow and studied Daniel for three full seconds before extending her hand. With perfect English and a sweet lilt, she said, “Meiwen. Nice to meet you.”

“Daniel. Sorry to crash your birthday,” Daniel said with an apologetic smile as he shook her hand. From his tote bag, he pulled out a white tin with blue flowers on it. “Happy birthday. A small gift from Amsterdam. These are stroopwafels. One of the only Dutch foods that non-Dutch people actually like.”

“I’ve known Yang since we were babies and he has never gotten me a gift, so I like you better already,” Meiwen said, a smile blooming on her round face. She flicked her shiny black hair over her shoulder and motioned with a manicured finger for an extra place setting. “Are you from Dr. Ellis’s lab?” Meiwen asked after Daniel settled into his chair.

Daniel looked to Yang.

“No, he’s just here visiting a friend. I was his tour guide,” Yang said, and watched Meiwen’s brows lift like he had said something ridiculous. Maybe if he weren’t such a misanthrope, it would have been more believable that he’d befriended a tourist. He would have let Meiwen assume that Daniel was one of his UK collaborators if not for the fact that almost everyone at the table was from Tsinghua. He searched for a more plausible explanation. “I—”

“You are still doing that? With one year left in your PhD?” Meiwen asked, her eyes wide. Yang was glad that was where her thoughts went.

“Believe it or not, some of us have to work for a living,” Jack said from the next seat over while draping an arm around her. Jack was from Yang’s lab, one year ahead in the PhD marathon. His dissertation was set for the fall. “Not all of us have the luxury of not taking on a part-time job.”

“A couple of hours a week working for your dad’s friend hardly counts,” Meiwen said, leaning into his arm with a smile on her lips.

After a round of introductions, everyone resumed their chatters in Mandarin. There wasn’t an empty plate on the table, but there was no shortage of empty bottles.

“Beer?” Yang nudged Daniel, who was sandwiched between him and his lab mate Ping, looking lost amongst the raucous Mandarin conversations. Before Yang could signal the server, two emerald bottles were plunked down in front of them.

“I got you, Li Yang,” Jack said, calling Yang by his full name like he always had in all the years they had known each other. They were friendly but not friends, as Dr. Sun liked his lab hierarchical and competitive. When Yang joined Dr. Sun’s lab, Jack was already a sophomore with a publication under his belt, putting him squarely ahead of Yang on the lab ladder. But Yang liked to think that he had caught up in recent years, especially after his last paper.

“You guys are behind. Better catch up.” Jack rested one hand on each of their shoulders. Daniel’s eyes darted to Jack’s hand, and Yang considered batting it away on Daniel’s behalf but held back.

“Your English is really good,” Daniel said, taking the beer and shrugging off Jack’s hand in the process, smoother than Yang would have been.

“Better than mine?” Meiwen pursed her cherry-red lips.

“Absolutely not.” Daniel flashed Meiwen a smile. Yang could tell that Daniel was winning over Meiwen—Yang’s oldest and pickiest friend—and he was secretly in awe.

“I did my undergrad in the States. Could have stayed for grad school, but when the Harvard of China makes you an offer, you take it,” Jack said with a hearty laugh. “I was never going to settle down in America anyway, not with my parents in Shanghai. Besides, I got to meet this one.” He winked at Meiwen.

“Oh, awesome. I thought your accent sounded American. Well, I’m Canadian.” Daniel went from shrugging off Jack’s hand to looking at him like a kindred spirit. Yang didn’t get it. Canada and America weren’t even the same country.

“But you are part Chinese, no?” Ping interjected from the other side of Daniel, and Yang felt Daniel tense at the question.

“I … am. From my dad’s side,” Daniel said with a weary smile, like he was afraid of what was to come.

“Knew it. My sis is doing this single-mother-by-choice thing and got a white sperm donor. Blond. Blue eyes. Russian … Swedish? Whatever,” Ping said, gesticulating with his beer, his face red from the booze. Then he took out his phone. “I keep telling her there’s no way the kid will have blue eyes, because … science …” He half laughed and half hiccupped. “Can I have a photo? As proof.”

“No,” Daniel and Yang said in unison, one less forcefully than the other.

“What is he, a zoo animal?” Jack cut both of them off. His reprimand, delivered with a laugh, was echoed by a round of cheers at the table. Yang had forgotten how much this lot lived for the drama, and Jack was good at being the leading man. “And close your mouth when you chew.”