I wanted a fake boyfriend, not a deep dive into all the things I wasn’t ready to face. I shrugged again, hoping he’d get the hint.

He leaned closer to me. “For the record, I like the version of you from the application, the one who stands up to gross Lamborghini-loving douchebags, not the one who feels like she has to be nice and smile for the world just because they said so.”

You’re the only one.

Our banh mis arrived and we dug in. Fried egg + crispy baguette + chili sauce = delicious enough to make me momentarily forget Hongbo, my parents, and Frankenbāo.

I had devoured mine, the yolk running every which way, and had just grabbed a piece of Andrew’s when the flurry of texts arrived from my mother.

Jing-Jing where are you?

Jing-Jing don’t be ridiculous.

Jing-Jing come home.

I need to talk to you right now!

I tried not to look at my phone each time it buzzed, but I couldn’t not read her messages either, like she had some spell on me—which, I guess, would actually make me feel better if it were true, because then I’d have an excuse for my masochistic behavior.

“We should go soon,” I said, licking the yolk dribbling down the side of my hand.

He nodded. “When you’re ready.”

Then we would never leave.

Even though I felt safe here, even though leaving was the last thing I wanted to do, I shoved the rest of the banh mi in my mouth and stood.

Chloe CHAPTER 8 BÀI TUŌ

My mother dragged me into the den the second I arrived home without even a hello to Andrew, who was not that far away and could probably hear us.

“Tiān āh, Jing-Jing! Bài tuō!”

I ignored her wailing as best as I could. She wasn’t really saying anything—just exasperated mutterings sprinkled with drama.

By her third “bài tuō,” Jing-Jing was sent back to the box I kept her in when I was outside this house. “Aiyah, Mǎmá, bài tuō yourself!”

She crossed her arms. “That Chinglish phrase doesn’t make any sense.”

“Just like you.” Her eyes glinted ominously. “I meant your logic, not your language,” I added quickly. Why was I always taking such care of her ego when she never returned the favor?

“How could you treat Hongbo like that, Jing-Jing? You might’ve ruined your chances!”

“His family just wants me because of my reputation,” I argued. “A reputation I didn’t ask for.”

“You’re the purest of them all!” she exclaimed, which both made me want to laugh and cry. It was one of her favorite things to say to me. “You should be honored! Don’t you know who he is, who his family is? Did I raise a fool? Beggars shouldn’t be choosing.”