“How about we start with the simplest task first? Let’s prepare our answers for when your family barrages us with questions. What do you think of me?”

“You?”

“Yes. Say your mother asked how you fell in love. What would you say you like the most about me?”

“Nothing.”

He could have at least pretended to give it some thought. There was zero hesitation in that delivery, and he stared me right in the eye, too. Bold, loud, and annoying- God truly knows not only how to test me, but how to best me as well. What do I even do here?

“What kind of boyfriend says that to his lover?”

“You expect your boyfriend to lie to you?” That ship sailed a long time ago, Zhulong. Has he forgotten our entire relationship is a lie? “In that case, let’s reverse the roles. What would you say was alluring about me, sir Karma?”

Unlike Zhulong, I don’t have to rely on lies or indecent behavior to give my boyfriend a compliment.

“Money.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re rich. I like that in a man.” He frowns, and as much as he says I’m the one with a violent tendency, it looks like he’s about to break that cup in half if he keeps squeezing it so tight. “See? Even someone like myself can find something to like about you!” I’m better than you - that’s my thinly veiled insult for the night. He’s smart enough to pick up on it, which makes my job not only easier, but more enjoyable.

“I can’t stand you…” he grumbles, but all I hear is a wounded puppy growling after running face-first into a wall.

“Yeah, well,” I stick out my middle finger as most Victorian women would raise their pinky while they sip their tea, and take a sip of my own drink. “-the feeling is mutual.”

I guess that’s as close as we’ll get to being boyfriends.

But if we can -at the bare minimum- share a drink without killing each other by the end of this contract, then I’d consider that a job well done.

“It…” I’ve given up on him, so I’m only barely paying attention, but he forces me to turn his way again once he goes dead silent. “-it doesn’t taste like milk.”

Oh. He actually drank it. Was it because he got distracted arguing or because he had a sudden burst of adrenaline? All the anger that was so clear on his face washed away, and all it took was a little honey?

“Do you strictly drink non-plant based milk?”

“This is… plant-based?”

“Yes? Have you never had plant-based milk?”

“I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

What?

What does he mean he’s never heard of plant-based milk?

“I told you it was oat-milk.”

“I must have misunderstood. I was so sure you said ‘goat-milk’.”

There’s no way rich people don’t buy soy milk or almond milk, right? Perhaps they don’t go shopping in regular stores. Am I supposed to believe they get their delivery straight from a local farm like some bougie royals? He scans the inside of the cup for a while. Right now, he doesn’t look like a prosecutor or an annoying client. His eyes are searching the cup for clues like a curious kid.

“...It’s delicious.” I didn’t think he could speak without disdain in his voice, but he’s not so intolerable when he’s relaxed. I carefully extend my index finger so I don’t drop my cup and point at the menu. His eyes follow my lead.

“And it’s only two bucks.”

“Pardon?”

“Well, not for that cup. A whole pack of oatmilk is usually two to three bucks.”

“........Why is it so cheap?” Cheap? Does he not realize that’s a bit of a premium? Regular milk is usually a bit cheaper on a tight budget.

“I dunno. Ask the milk-flower God or something.” I spot my usual waiter at the corner of my eye and wave her over. There’s the person I’ve been hoping to see all night! “Sabrina, one second. I have a favor to ask.” She excuses herself from her table and rushes over to my side. I lean in close so I can whisper once she’s by my side. I can say it out loud, but I don’t want my pomeranian to throw a fit, so I’m hiding it for now.

“Sure. Right away?” she asks once I’ve told her what to do, and I shake my head.

“When we leave, if you wouldn’t mind,” I’m about to pull out my card when I stop abruptly and grab a fifty dollar bill instead. “-here. You can keep the change.” He’s already seen my legal name, but I’m not letting him catch my pin number. 

“Mom will never let me take this kind of money from y-!” I raise my pointing finger and place it over my lips to remind her to be quiet.

“Then, don’t tell your mom. Didn’t you start taking online-classes to become a registered nurse? Finish your ADN and get some books with the remaining money to aim for that nursing diploma.”

“But…”

“I mean, if you’re not going to take it, I might as well use it to light my cigarette- I hear these bills are pretty flammable.” Zhulong looks at me like I’m crazy. 

Why are you taking me seriously, stupid? Wasn’t it obvious that I was joking just to make her accept the tip? Nevermind. I can’t even light a cigarette because I never left to buy a new pack.

“N-No, it’s okay! I’ll take it!” I hand her the bill with a wide grin and give her a pat on the shoulder.

“Good~!” I didn’t expect to trick both of them with that stunt. Does he live in a world where people light up money carelessly without batting an eye? I know he’s rich, but I didn’t think people actually did things like that with money. It sounds like something that would only happen in Hollywood movies. 

“Do you want something to eat? We don’t have much left, but we can make you a traditional hotpot to share with your client.” Zhulong gives me a look as if to say ‘how does she know I’m your client?’ And I don’t know how to tell him that if he were really my boyfriend he’d be littered in bitemarks and bruises. 

“No need. I’m sure he’d prefer something a bit more simple, like a sandwich, right?” I remind myself not to use the word ‘complicated’ but it seems as if his attention has shifted to my favorite waitress.

“Hotpot sounds good.” This defiant little…

“Then, I’ll bring it over!” she’s about to leave when she leans down to whisper something in my ear.

“Is he single?” Ah, why must I suffer? It’s always the straights that bring me the most joy and the most suffering. I reach for her nose and pinch her until she backs off with a frown.

“Do you see a single book anywhere? Focus on your studies, young lady.” I can’t say ‘he’s way too old for you’ without letting Zhulong know she’s interested in him. She rolls her eyes at me and pouts, but I can tell she’ll likely try to make a move on him if I show up with him again in the future.

I need to protect the straights from themselves sometimes.

“Okay, okay, I’ll go!” I raise two fingers and point them at my eyes, and then point them at her. She notices and glares at me as she makes her way into the kitchen. Now that we’re alone again, I can’t help but ask my little, spiteful pomeranian just what he's thinking. Is he certain he can handle food from a common establishment?

“I thought hotpot would be too lowbrow for you.” It doesn’t look like he’s taken offense to my statement. Dare I say he actually looks somewhat excited?

“Hotpot was originally served to emperors during the Qing dynasty. Since then, hotpot has been considered a symbol of noble status in China.” I guess I have to eat my words on that one. Incredibly ironic of me to use the word ‘lowbrow’ when he comes at me like a wikipedia article. How does he even know that? Wait, his name- is it Chinese? I thought I heard someone mention he was from Korea.

This is something I should know since I’m supposed to act like his boyfriend, but I’m not sure if he’d be willing to disclose his place of birth. Would that be insensitive to ask? Since a lot of the people on this island are immigrants, they don’t really enjoy being asked where they’re from by nosy Americans. They come to the island frequently for leisure in the wealthy areas, but they still have to cross paths with many different ethnicities to enjoy the beach. Even if he’s from a wealthy family, it’s just poor etiquette to bring it up when he’s likely been asked the same thing hundreds of times. I’ll just look up the information online to spare him the nonsense. I’d probably be annoyed too if people asked me where I was from if I knew my place of birth. All I know is that I’m not American. At least, that’s what I was told growing up. Didn’t bother me, but my sensitivities shouldn’t be projected onto Zhulong. The people here face enough dirty looks as-is. I wouldn’t doubt the rich people in his area still look down on him for his heritage as well.

They just hide it for their own benefit.

“Ready~!” That was quick. Actually, now that I’m looking at it, I take back what I said. The dish seems pretty complex, but why is it served on a burner? All the vegetables and meats look raw, too. Is it meant to finish cooking in front of us? Sabrina lays out our chopsticks and places two bowls on either side of us. One is empty, and the other is filled with rice. She finishes serving by placing a small array of dipping-sauces between us. What this display of convoluted food jenga has shown me is that I shouldn’t use words without knowing exactly what it is I’m using them for. She turns a switch and brings the broth to a rapid boil before she lowers the heat and clasps her hands together with a smile.

“Enjoy your meal~!” I almost grab her arm and plead for her to explain how I’m supposed to approach this dish, only for Zhulong to grab the tongs and flip some of the thinly sliced meat like he knows what he’s doing. I give up on asking questions and simply choose to observe him for the time being. How difficult can it be? I don’t think I’ve ever used chopsticks before, so that’ll be a challenge.

Unless…

He might laugh at me for it, but I’m too hungry to be embarrassed. I pull out the spoon from my hot drink and set it next to the rice. I’ll just grab the ladle, pour myself a serving and eat it as I would a soup once it cooks a bit longer.

It seems like most of the meats and veggies have already finished cooking since Zhulong is putting some on his plate. I try to analyze just how he’s using those chopsticks, but his fingers move too fast for me to get a good look.

“The taste,” Zhulong covers his lips with his fingertips, and I tilt my head to check just what it is he had a taste of. Looks like he dipped the meat in some of the sauce, too. For a man that didn’t believe a bit of honey and cinnamon was safe to consume, he’s oddly at peace with trying new things now. He’s way too quiet given how talkative he is, so I (perhaps against my better judgement) prompt him to talk.

“Is it not up to your fancy standards?”

“It tastes different.” I’d normally take this as an insult, but he looks somewhat pleased as he aims for another bite. I forgot, he must be starving after waiting around all day. Although, I can’t say he’s enjoying it purely out of hunger. It looks like he’s confident he’ll enjoy the rest of it, too.

“Is the owner Korean?” I shrug at his question.

“I’m not sure. I never asked.” She doesn’t look Korean, but then again, I can’t judge a book by its cover. I don’t exactly look like any nationality either. Maybe I’m just not competent at guessing where people are from. I wouldn’t have thought Zhulong was Korean unless I’d been told so outright either.

“This is jeongol. I can tell by the broth,” Is that something different from hotpot? Would I look like an uncultured idiot if I just looked it up online right now? I tear my eyes away from my phone for a moment and catch the faintest hint of a smile on my client’s face. 

"It's perfect.”

“......” I don’t know why, but I slip my phone back into my pocket and reach for my empty bowl to pour myself a serving. 

I’ve never actually had hotpot before, so I’m unfamiliar with its usual taste. I’m sure it tastes delicious because the owner is a great chef, but I won’t be able to compare it to anything. Zhulong’s silent appreciation has piqued my curiosity. He’s eating the meat without batting an eye, so I’ll just assume it’s safe. When I’ve finished pouring myself a bowl, I take a spoonful of broth so I can get a hint of what it tastes like.

What a horrible mistake.

“Ack-!” Is he inhuman? This is way too spicy!

Is this how I die? Sabrina and Zhulong murder me with spicy hotpot and live happily ever after? I can already hear the devil laugh as I slip one foot into the afterlife.

“Why are you drinking the broth?” Is that not what you do with broth? Who would possibly be able to drink something this spicy? I put the bowl down and cover my mouth with both hands. God, it hurts. What did I ever do to deserve this?

Yes, I punched Zhulong, but that was yesterday. 

And he deserved it.

“I don’t know? Why does it taste like the fifth layer of hell?” My tongue is burning up. How long is it going to last? This feels like medieval torture.

“Try to stick to the meat. It looks like you’re sensitive to strong spices.” I probably should have asked before I put my foot in my mouth and then lit it on fire. Zhulong reaches for a napkin to wipe up the excess liquid that’s splattered over the table, but stops when he meets my eyes.

“Are you crying?” I frown and slam my fist against his hand, and he pulls back immediately.

“It hurts, jackass! I’m not crying on purpose!”

“Here,” he reaches for another napkin and holds it out for me. “-don’t rub your eyes. Let the tissue do the work.” 

“.......” 

“Ah, and have some milk. It helps dull strong spices.”

I’m not happy with him right now, but I’d be an idiot to turn my nose up at a kind gesture. Great, now I’m wiping away tears of shock and horror because I don’t know how to handle spicy food. I take a sip of my drink, and while it tastes weird mixed with the aftertaste of broth, it absolutely works wonders. Is it the fat content that helps, or the B12? I’m still in pain, but it doesn’t feel like I’ll pass away anymore. This heavenly drink not only tastes good, but it wards off evil tastes, too.

“Better?” I find it odd that he doesn’t laugh at me or rub it in my face, but I’d rather not dwell on it. 

One thing’s for certain…

I can never come back to this establishment ever again. 

I feel so incredibly humiliated. Looks like both Zhulong and the food he likes share something in common with one another.

Both should come with instructions.