didn’t. He put it off, waiting. Then his uncles and his father went away for the night, and he realized he wanted to hear the news alone. So he was here. Because often, in China, being in a crowd was being alone.
It was time. He saw the story’s introduction. First there was a slick preamble about the Cultural Games, with a montage of traditional performers and martial artists and chefs, and then there was a similar profile of the contemporary arts festival that was scheduled to take place at the same time. Finally they cut to the press conference. There was the committee. He recognized them.
Sam rose from his stool. He was about to move over and raise the volume when something semi-miraculous happened — a young man seated closer got up and did it first. As the sound went up, the announcer was reading names, and photos of the ten contestants were spilling across the bottom of the screen. There was Sam. He sat back on his stool, taut and quiet, waiting, his mind saying, Yes. Yes.
The panel’s senior member, a quiet, block-faced man, gave a carefully written, flowery little speech that culminated in his raising his voice to an abrupt and unaccustomed shout as he called out the name of the first winner.
Pan Jun. His face, enlarged, detached from the other nine, floated to the top.
Well, Sam thought, still strong inside, he knew this. Ever since the day he and Uncle Jiang went to visit the Master of the Nets, when he saw Pan Jun and found out he was the son of the minister; ever since then it had been clear. He wet his lips. They were like paper.
Another flowery buildup, and then a second shout — Yao Weiguo. Yao’s face detached and rose to the top, taking its place beside Pan Jun’s.
Sam felt he was in a bubble of agonized silence. But I cooked a great meal. He stared at the screen. How could I lose? You loved it. All six of you. But then they cut away from the panel and went on with the news. Obviously, Yao’s meal had been better. That was it. Simple.
He turned away on his stool. The sound was lowered again. He took his glass and drained off what was left, grateful he was alone, grateful no one knew him. He paid the bartender. Now he just wanted to leave. He should go home.
Outside, the air cleared him somewhat. He stood staring over the dark water, hands in his pockets. He remembered the story he’d been told, how in past centuries young scholars who had failed the imperial examinations drowned themselves in this lake. Some people claimed to see their ghosts. Was it just his defeat and his dark imaginings, or could he feel them tonight? He stood quiet, watching, turned away from the voices and the sounds of laughter drifting from the string of lights and restaurants behind him, focusing on the water, which he imagined to be filled with souls. Was it real or only a feeling? He didn’t know, but he liked the fact that he felt these things here. Back home he had never had this sense of the past. Maybe it was natural. This was where half of him originated.
He felt a pang for his father and his uncles. He was in the river of life with them. It was time to talk. They were probably waiting for him to make the call. He took out his phone, dialing Uncle Jiang’s number. “First Uncle,” he said, when he heard Jiang’s voice.
“I know, my son, I heard,” said Jiang softly. “My heart is too bitter to bear words.”
“I thought I had a chance, truly.”
“You did!” said Jiang. “Come now. Here. Your Baba.” Sam waited while the phone was passed to Liang Yeh.
“I’m sorry,” his father said.
“Wo yiyang,” said Sam, Me too.
“I told your mother. She cried.”
This made Sam feel blanketed in sadness. “I wish you didn’t have to tell her,” he said, and even as the words slipped out he knew they were not really what he meant; he meant he wished he had not failed, that his father had had good news to give her.
“I tell her everything,” Liang Yeh said, surprised.
“I know, Baba. It’s okay.” It was not his father’s fault. He had lost, that was all. It had been between him and Yao, and Yao had won. Sam felt his head throbbing. Yao was a great cook. That was all there was to