“No, Chen Zumu. I can see where he is.”
JuPing nodded.
“President Connor should have a proposal for you, Chen JieMin. More than one, actually, from which to choose. It is up to you, however, to decide your path. No one else has your gift. They cannot determine your path for you. You must be clear on this.”
“I understand, Chen Zumu.”
“Very well, Chen JieMin. And if there are any problems – with anyone – you are to refer them to me.”
“I understand, Chen Zumu.”
The same young woman who had taken them to Chen Zumu – Chen ChaoLi – showed them through the apartment building to an apartment door on the eighth floor.
“You should have the lock for this door in your heads-up display,” she said.
JieMin looked, and there it was. He pushed the virtual button with his finger, and heard the door unlatch. ChaoLi opened the door and led them in.
It was a one-room efficiency apartment, the sort a young person would have when they first moved out from their family. There was a small kitchenette, a table with two chairs, a bed in the corner, and a living room grouping of a sofa and two chairs with a low table in the center.
The room was high enough in the building that the view to the east was over the market and workshop buildings to the ocean five miles away.
After growing up in a family of nine in a tiny four-room house in Chagu, it was a mansion to JieMin.
“Who do I share this with?” he asked ChaoLi.
She laughed, a sound like tiny bells.
“This is your apartment. You do not share it with anyone, Chen JieMin. Your dabo has a family apartment on the other side of the hallway, one door down. Let me show you.”
ChaoLi led them out into the hallway, and down one door. No one was home now, at mid-day, but JieMin at least knew where it was. He would pay his respects this evening.
“JieMin, I just received a message the truck is ready to leave. I must go back to Chagu. Will you be OK here?”
“Yes, Muqin. I have everything I need.”
“Oh, I will miss you so much,” FangYan said, hugging him.
“You can visit, though, Muqin. When the truck comes. We can have lunch together.”
“I will do that, JieMin. And now I must go.”
FangYan left with ChaoLi, who showed her the way back out of the building.
JieMin went into his apartment and sat in an armchair, staring out the window and incorporating all he had seen.
Getting Settled, Getting Around
It was late in the afternoon when JieMin’s stomach grumbled. He had eaten breakfast at home, and a light lunch in the truck on the way to Arcadia City, but it was nearing dinner time.
JieMin did not want to show up at his relatives apartment at supper time, not having yet stopped by to pay his respects. Instead he went down the elevator, out of the apartment building, and across Market Street to the family’s restaurant. He had never been to a restaurant before, but Chen Zumu had said he might eat here.
“Yes, may I help you?” the hostess asked.
Taking him for a child, she looked around for his family.
“I would like to eat dinner,” JieMin said.
“One for dinner?”
“Yes, please.”
She led him to a small table for two.
“Is this OK?”
“Yes, this is fine.”
She put a card down on the table and was about to leave, but he felt remiss in not introducing himself.
“I am Chen JieMin,” he said.
“I am Chen FangLi,” she said. “We are relatives.”
“We are Chen,” he agreed.
She nodded.
“Have a wonderful dinner.”
“Thank you.”
JieMin sat down at the table and looked curiously at the card. It was a listing of dozens of different food dishes. He did a quick search in his heads-up display. Ah. A menu. That is what it was called. Apparently he could have anything on this long list. At home, one simply ate what was put on the table.
How did one decide what one wanted to eat? How was one to know what one might like and not like?
JieMin decided to take a long-term approach to the problem. Since he would probably be eating here a lot, he decided to simply eat the things on the menu in order each time he came, determining his favorites in that way.
There were soups, appetizers, and dinners, and he was hungry, so he decided to get the first one of each.
“My name is LiGang,” a young man said. “I will be your server. Have you decided what you would like?”
“My name is Chen JieMin,” JieMin said. “I would like these three things, please. The first soup, the first appetizer, and the first entree.”
“That is a lot of food for one person. Do you want those in single portions?”
“Yes. Enough for one, please.”
“Excellent. And would you like tea?”
“Yes, please.”
“Very good. I’ll be right back with your tea.”
While he waited, JieMin did a search for etiquette at a restaurant. He was surprised that he was expected to do nothing but order, eat, and pay. He did not help buss his own dishes or any of the minor things he associated with eating from at home.
Oops. There was one thing JieMin did not expect. There was a custom to pay a little extra for the waiter. The amount varied, but fifteen percent was the recommended minimum if service had been satisfactory. He decided to always tip twenty percent, so as not to be at the minimum, and because it was easier to calculate anyway. He checked, and he could set his account to do that automatically whenever he paid, so he set it.
The food came in stages, and it was indeed
