“You really do,” he said, softer this time, and I could tell he didn’t have to reach far to look at me like I was the hoisin sauce to his duck. It made my heart both soar and sink.

“Thank you,” I repeated, trying to match his tone but my voice coming out squeaky.

My mom narrowed her eyes at us, and even though there was no way in hell she could figure out what was really going on here, I started to sweat down under.

Instinctively, to distract them, I said, “My quarter went really well.”

When my father’s eyebrows lifted, I revised it to “My semester,” because they still hadn’t figured out that UChicago was on a quarter system, even though I had tried to explain it multiple times.

“All As?” my mother asked, not looking up from her food.

“Yes.” I had worked my ass off to do it, too.

My father nodded at me.

I knew this was how it always went—I had to offer my good news unprompted, and they didn’t know how to be nice, normal humans about it—but even after nineteen years of practice, disappointment still shot through me. Suddenly my achievement felt less triumphant.

Was this their plan? To make me ask more of myself because nothing was ever enough? Probably not—they were likely just incapable of reacting any other way.

And then, as always, it got worse.

“I was a straight-A student at Táidà, and I was shūjuàn jiǎng,” my father bragged, not looking up from his plate. As if I had any clue what that last thing was.

Andrew’s knee jerked and bumped into mine. I glanced at him, and though he had a smile on his face, his masseter muscle was clenched, making his jawline and temple flex.

“That’s great, Bā,” I said robotically, my questioning eyes not leaving Andrew.

“I was also number seven in my dental school cl—”

Andrew abruptly stood, grabbing his water in the process and raising it. “Jing-Jing, I am in awe of you. What an amazing achievement, getting all As.” He lifted the glass in a sharp movement, some liquid splashing over the side. He ignored it. “Gōngxí.”

Everyone sat frozen, including me.

“You interrupted my dad” were the words that chose to come out of my lips. Mainly because I couldn’t say, Get your shit together and focus on the mission! Unless this was part of it?

Andrew turned to my father. “I’m sorry, Shǔshú. I just felt like we hadn’t appreciated Jing-Jing’s accomplishment enough.”

Andrew sat back down. This time the silence was so thick with tension everyone else stopped breathing too.

We all inhaled our food, trying to speed up our escape from this squirmy, claustrophobic atmosphere.

I guess I should amend: all of us but Andrew, who was on the clock despite how he had acted ten minutes ago.