With the meatball one, she took the time to dip it in shāchá sauce before chomping down. After another groan she concluded, “Okay, I take back what I said; I guess I just never met the right fish ball before.” She paused. “It’s different when it’s right, isn’t it?”

“Totally.”

She couldn’t meet my gaze, but I found that even more endearing. I was seemingly the first person she’d felt this way about. And, well, she was my first too.

Drew CHAPTER 41 BETWEEN A SHÍTÓU AND A HARD PLACE

“I ate waaaay too much,” I said. We had gotten a fourth order of lamb, because, duh.

She groaned. “Me too. But it was worth it.”

“I should’ve left more room,” I complained as I slurped up the last of my glass noodles. “But I can’t not eat these—they’re my favorite part of hot pot.” They soaked up the aromatic soup and summed up the meal in one perfect, flavorful bite.

The check came, and we fought like good children of Chinese immigrants—meaning we tussled, but, unlike our parents, we kept it verbal, no one caused harm to others while rushing their credit card to the server first, and no one had called the restaurant in advance to prepay.

“Is this just instinct?” I asked as we both threw cards on top of the receipt. I grabbed hers and pushed it back into her hand. She started to resist, but then we dissolved into giggles as a play fight broke out (one that mimicked our candy-cane duel from the other night).

After a minute she paused, and the card went limp in her hand. “You know, sometimes I have these weird, vaguely Asian instincts I can’t explain. Like when I’m at a buffet, I have to eat until I’m so stuffed I can’t move—”

“And you have to eat the most expensive dishes, right?” I added.

“Steak or sashimi all the way,” she said with a laugh. “And I overthink every purchase and don’t buy things I need because of my urge to—”

“Shěng qián,” I supplied.

She nodded. “Yup. Saving money trumps everything else. Well, almost everything.” She poked my card with hers again. “Everything except fighting for the check and renting boyfriends, apparently.”

I pushed her card away. “Well, give in to your shěng qián instincts for dinner. Besides, look.” I flipped the check over so she could see how cheap it had been (yay, holes in the wall!). “And,” I added, “I feel so guilty I’m on the clock right now. I’ve been meaning to tell you—I want to return a chunk of the money you’re paying.”