Page 69 of From Beijing, With Love

Twenty-four hours ago, he was drinking his feelings in Beijing because he thought he’d never see Yang again. And now he was standing outside Yang’s family home in Xi’an, waiting to meet every branch of Yang’s family tree. The idea should be downright terrifying, but shockingly, it wasn’t.

“I … don’t even know what’s going on. That’s the thing with my family. They are like this overbearing force that sweeps up everything in their path.” Yang raked a hand through his black hair, his words tumbling out in rapid succession. “Every single one of them thinks they know what’s best. No is not even in their vocabulary—”

“Breathe.” Daniel put a hand on Yang’s shoulder. Other than when Yang was stuck on the Python code, Daniel had never seen him this stressed out. What was more surprising than a stressed-out Yang was how unsettlingly calm Daniel was feeling. Maybe he had used up all his anxiety on the car ride. “It’ll be okay. I’ll be there with you.”

Surprise flickered across Yang’s face, mixed with hope. He shook his head. “I can’t make you do that. Not after the day you already had.”

“But I want to.” Daniel smiled, because he knew Yang needed it. “Unless you don’t want me there.”

Something fleeted over Yang’s face, settling into a slow smile that made Daniel’s heart go all gooey. “Of course I want you there, but …” Yang’s eyes darted to the car and back. “My family don’t know about me …”

“I promise not to propose to you mid-dinner,” Daniel said. Yang’s cheeks reddened, and it was kind of adorable. Lowering his voice, Daniel added, “I’ll be careful, okay?”

“Do you really want to have dinner with a bunch of people you don’t know?” Yang asked, brows raised. “Who are loud, pushy, and have no sense of personal boundaries?”

“Sounds fun,” Daniel said, accepting the challenge. He might be in over his head, but Yang needed him there and he would at least try.

“You are a bad liar.” Yang grinned, his frown lines easing and his dimples resurfacing. He sounded a lot more like his usual self. Taking a step closer, close enough for Daniel to smell his clean scent, Yang whispered, “Thank you. It means a lot.”

Yang’s words, however simple, made Daniel brave. Like he could do anything.

CHAPTER THIRTYDaniel

The apartment building was six stories high and made out of concrete walls and steel doors. Unlike the historical Old Town they’d passed by in the car, the neighborhood was utilitarian—function over looks.

Mingfu yelled into the intercom, and the deadbolt unlatched with a metallic clank. It took a moment for the motion-sensing light to flicker on, illuminating the musky lobby made up of a wall of mailboxes and the staircase. They stopped on the second floor. Daniel hung back (definitely not hiding behind Poppy) as the door swung open, revealing a woman with permed black hair. Her apron was smudged with flour, and she brandished a rolling pin in one hand.

“Yangyang!” The woman’s voice boomed through the staircase.

“That’s my nickname,” Yang mumbled when his eyes met Daniel’s, looking embarrassed. “And this is my auntie. She’s the oldest of my dad’s sisters. You can call her Dagu.”

“Hello!” Dagu waved at Daniel and Poppy. While Poppy beamed a smile back in return, Daniel, for some unfathomable reason, half waved and half bowed.

With its wall calendar and crocheted doilies, the apartment seemed to belong to another era. A wooden ceiling fan whirled in lazy circles. Underneath it, a group of women were crowded around a wooden table. Yang introduced them as Dagu, Ergu, Sangu, and Xiaogu.

“Gu means auntie. Dagu is big auntie, meaning the oldest. Ergu is second auntie, Sangu is third auntie, and Xiaogu is small auntie,” Poppy whispered to Daniel.

After the initial hellos were served with beaming smiles, the aunties resumed their work.

“Looks like we’re making our own dinner.” Poppy nodded toward the flour-dusted tabletop and the makeshift assembly line formed by the aunties, at the end of which sat platefuls of uncooked dumplings.

Jiaozi. Daniel reminded himself of Yang’s lesson from Beijing.

“You don’t have to help,” Yang jumped in, flustered. “You are guests. Do you want to take a seat and just watch TV for a while?”

Daniel smiled. “What’s the fun in that?” The idea of sitting idle while everyone else prepared dinner didn’t sit well with him. Besides, he loved cooking. His cooking journey had started from less-than-savory beginnings after he witnessed two rats the size of Chihuahuas waltz into his favorite neighborhood café, and since then it had grown into an obsession. “Can I wash my hands first?”

Yang led them to the small kitchen overlooking the street. Every available inch of the counter was taken up by something—appliances, pots, pans, empty plates stacked haphazardly in a pile.

“Sorry about the mess.” Yang picked up the stack of plates in an attempt to tidy up, except there was nowhere to put them, so he just held them in his hands.

“Stop stressing. It’s going to be okay.” Daniel took the stack of plates from Yang and set them back down. He laughed at the role reversal.

“What’s so funny?” Yang frowned, his eyes still fixed on the plates.

“Sorry, it’s just that I’m always the stressed-out one.”

“That’s not true, babe.” Poppy washed her hands at the sink. “There was that one time in uni. What year was it?”