Clang. Clink.
Plates and utensils clinked in the Fang house as Christina set the table for dinner. Steam rose from a big pot in the center. The rich smell made everyone's stomachs growl with hunger.
Arvin walked into the dining room last. He had just finished his evening meditation out in the backyard.
(Chinese) "Perfect timing," Fang Chou said. He pointed to the empty chair. "Christina made something special tonight."
Arvin sat down and bowed his head a little in thanks. The twins were already there. Jeremy fidgeted with his napkin. Cynthia sat straight and calm as always. Over the past ten days, the family had fallen into a comfortable routine. Arvin no longer felt like just a guest. He was starting to feel like part of the family.
Christina lifted the pot's lid. A cloud of fragrant steam filled the room. "Japanese curry," she announced with pride. She ladled the thick golden-brown sauce over piles of white rice.
Arvin looked at the dish on his plate with interest. The curry was thicker than he expected. It looked more like gravy than the thin soupy curries he knew from China. Chunks of carrots, potatoes, and beef nestled in the sauce. Their bright colors stood out against the gold.
(Chinese) "This looks delicious. I've never had Japanese curry before," Arvin said.
"Really?" Jeremy perked up. "It's one of Mom's specialties. She makes it about once a month."
After Cynthia translated, Arvin nodded. (Chinese) "In the mountains, we made curry differently. My great-grandfather taught me to use whatever game we caught. Pheasant, rabbit, sometimes wild boar if we were lucky." His fingers moved as if grinding spices. (Chinese) "We'd dry and grind our own spice mix. The consistency was much thinner, more like soup."
Fang Chou's eyes lit up as he translated. "That sounds fascinating. Was it spicy?"
(Chinese) "Very," Arvin replied with a small smile. (Chinese) "My great-grandfather believed spicy food built character."
Jeremy tilted his head after hearing the translation. "Hold on. Wild boar? But you said you can't eat pork because of your beliefs. Isn't boar like pork?"
Christina looked curious too. She leaned in while Cynthia translated the question back to Arvin.
Arvin paused. He set down his spoon. (Chinese) "You're right. I follow rules that avoid pork. But I only ate boar twice in all those years." He explained calmly. (Chinese) "The first time, I didn't know. My great-grandfather brought the meat without telling me what it was. I was young and just ate what he cooked."
Fang Chou translated. The family listened closely. Cynthia nodded as she followed along.
(Chinese) "The second time was in my fourth year on the mountain," Arvin continued. (Chinese) "Other meats were hard to find. Rabbits and pheasants were scarce that season. My choice was snake or boar. I picked boar to survive." He shrugged lightly. (Chinese) "It was an emergency. After that, I never ate it again. I only cooked it for my great-grandfather when he wanted it."
Christina's eyes softened after the translation. "That makes sense. Survival comes first in tough spots like that."
Jeremy whistled low. "Man, mountain life sounds rough. Snakes or boar? I'd probably starve."
Cynthia translated the comments. Arvin gave a modest smile. The talk shifted back to the curry in front of them.
Clink.
Christina's spoon tapped her plate. She leaned forward with interest. "Ask him how this compares," she told her husband. She was eager for Arvin's take on her cooking.
After Fang Chou translated, Arvin took his first bite. He closed his eyes for a moment to taste it fully. The curry was sweet, much sweeter than he thought it would be. A mild heat lingered on his tongue without burning. The beef was tender. It fell apart easily under his spoon.
(Chinese) "It's delicious," he said honestly. (Chinese) "The sweetness is a surprise. Our mountain curry was all heat and savory. This has apple in it, I think. And something else sweet."
"Honey," Christina confirmed once Fang Chou translated. "And yes, grated apple. It's the secret to good Japanese curry."
Jeremy watched the back-and-forth with a grin. "You can tell there's apple just from tasting? That's impressive."
Cynthia translated. Arvin shrugged. (Chinese) "When you cook with limited ingredients for years, you learn to pick out each flavor." He took another bite and savored the rich sauce. (Chinese) "The texture is perfect. Thick enough to coat the rice, but not too heavy."
Christina beamed at the compliment, even before the full translation came.
"Mom's been perfecting this recipe for years," Cynthia added. She spoke in both English and Chinese. "She learned it from Dad's mother."
The conversation flowed as they ate. Fang Chou and Cynthia handled the translations smoothly. Jeremy shared funny stories from school. Christina asked more about mountain cooking methods. Cynthia chipped in now and then. Her usual quiet side eased up in the warm family setting.
Plates got emptied and refilled. Arvin went for four helpings while the others stuck to one.
After that, Fang Chou brought up Arvin's English lessons.
(Chinese) "How are the lessons going?" he asked. He glanced between Arvin and Cynthia. (Chinese) "Any progress?"
Cynthia nodded and put down her spoon. "Actually, yes. We only started yesterday, but Arvin's picking it up fast."
"Really?" Christina looked surprised. "That's wonderful!"
Jeremy snorted with a laugh. "Faster than me with Chinese?"
"Much faster," Cynthia said. A hint of a smile showed on her face. "He's already making basic sentences."
Fang Chou translated the exchange. Arvin ducked his head at the praise. (Chinese) "Cynthia is a good teacher," he said modestly. (Chinese) "She's very patient."
"We should have him demonstrate after dinner," Jeremy suggested. His eyes brightened. "Let's see what he's learned so far."
Rustle. Flip.
The dining room got cleared. Dishes were washed and put away. Now the family gathered around the living room. Elementary English workbooks spread out across the surface. Cynthia sat beside Arvin. She kept her composed look as she flipped through pages of simple words and practice sentences.
(Chinese) "I still can't believe you've made this much progress in just one day". She pointed to a worksheet they had done that morning. "It took Jeremy months to learn basic Chinese phrases."
"Hey, I heard my name," Jeremy protested from across the table. "What are you saying about me?"
Cynthia's lips quirked up a bit. "Just talking about your language skills. Or the lack of them."
"Ouch," Jeremy clutched his chest like he was hurt. "Wounded by my own sister."
Christina laughed and settled into her chair. "Let's see what Arvin has learned."
Cynthia nodded and turned to Arvin. (Chinese) "Remember what we practiced? Start with the greeting."
Arvin straightened up. His face turned serious as he concentrated. "Good evening," he said carefully. His accent was thick, but the words came out clear. "My name is Arvin."
Christina clapped her hands together. She was delighted. "That's wonderful!"
Arvin felt encouraged and kept going with the phrases they had worked on. "I am from Indonesia. I am sixteen years old." Each word came out deliberately. His brow furrowed in focus.
"His pronunciation needs some work," Cynthia noted. "But his memory is impressive."
Fang Chou nodded with pride, like Arvin's success reflected on the whole family. "What else can he say?"
Cynthia looked through her notes. (Chinese) "Try the food phrases we learned this afternoon," she told Arvin.
Arvin nodded and thought for a moment. "I like to cook. The food is delicious." He paused, then added with careful stress, "Thank you for the meal."
Jeremy whistled in surprise. "Seriously? One day of lessons and he's making full sentences?" He turned to Cynthia. "Are you sure you're not the world's best language teacher?"
"It's not me," Cynthia replied. She shook her head. "Arvin just learns quickly."
After Cynthia translated, Arvin smiled a little. (Chinese) "Languages have always come easy to me. My grandmother taught me Javanese, a kind of regional language from the place where I live, along with Indonesian when I was young. Chinese was harder because of the tones and characters."
When Cynthia shared this, Jeremy leaned forward with interest. "So you're a genius in disguise, huh?"
Arvin looked confused until Cynthia explained. (Chinese) "No, not at all," he said. He shook his head. (Chinese) "English is easier for me than Chinese was. No tones, and some words are similar to my home language because some was borrowed from the Dutch, if I'm not wrong."
"I can relate," Christina said after the translation. "I've been married to Chou for twenty years and still can't speak more than a few Chinese phrases." She smiled ruefully. "The tones always get me."
"It's not just the tones," Fang Chou added. He patted his wife's hand gently. "Chinese characters are totally different from the Roman alphabet. At least English and Russian use similar writing systems."
Jeremy groaned. "Don't remind me about the characters. I still mix them up constantly."
"That's because you don't practice," Cynthia pointed out. Her tone was straightforward, not judging.
"True," Jeremy admitted with a sheepish grin. "But why bother when you're way better at it? Division of labor, sis. You handle the Chinese, I'll handle the history."
Arvin watched the sibling banter with interest as Cynthia translated. It reminded him of home. The easy jokes between brothers and sisters. The affectionate teasing around the dinner table with his own parents and grandparents.
(Chinese)"Let's try something new," Cynthia suggested.
She turned back to Arvin and spoke slowly in English. "Can you understand me when I speak like this?"
Arvin concentrated hard. His brow furrowed as he pieced together the sounds. After a moment, he nodded hesitantly. "Yes. Slow. Good."
Christina clapped again. She was genuinely impressed. "That's remarkable for just one day!"
"He has a good ear," Cynthia said. "And he's not afraid to make mistakes, which helps a lot."
Arvin ducked his head modestly. (Chinese) "I still have a long way to go," he said. (Chinese) "But I'm grateful for Cynthia's help."
The demonstration went on for another twenty minutes. Each family member took turns asking simple questions. Arvin answered haltingly at times. He needed repeats now and then. But his progress showed clear.
"I think that's enough for tonight," Christina said at last. She noticed Jeremy stifling a yawn. "It's getting late, and tomorrow's a school day for you two." She nodded at the twins.
"And work for us," Fang Chou added. He stretched as he stood up. "Arvin, you did very well tonight."
After Cynthia translated, Arvin bowed his head slightly. (Chinese) "Thank you for the encouragement. I'll keep practicing."
The family split off to their evening routines. Jeremy headed upstairs to finish homework. Christina checked that the doors were locked. Fang Chou turned off the lights. Cynthia helped Arvin gather up the workbooks and notes.
(Chinese) "We'll continue tomorrow after school," she said. Her usual reserve came back now that the group session was over. (Chinese) "Focus on the food vocabulary we started today. It should be useful since you cook so often."
Arvin nodded. He appreciated her clear plan. (Chinese) "I will. Thank you again for teaching me."
Cynthia gave a small nod and headed upstairs with the books. She left Arvin alone in the living room.
Arvin made his way to the guest room. The house had become familiar over the past twelve days. It wasn't home yet, but it felt like a place of comfort and safety.
In the guest room, Arvin got ready for bed. He followed the same routine from the mountains. He laid out clean clothes for morning training. He made sure his few possessions were arranged neatly. Then he sat cross-legged on the bed for a short night meditation.
As his breathing slowed and deepened, Arvin thought about his new routine. Morning training in the backyard. Helping Christina with breakfast. Studying English with Cynthia in the afternoons. Sometimes preparing dinner before the family got home.
Learning English would be key if he stayed here for the next year or two. The idea still felt strange. Being in America so long, far from his family. But the Fangs had been kind from the start. They offered shelter and support without asking for anything back.
(I'll repay their kindness somehow), he promised himself as the meditation deepened. (Starting with mastering English as quickly as possible.)
Outside his window, the night grew deeper.
Arvin finished his brief meditation, slipped under the covers, and closes his eyes.