Morning breeze swept through the Fang family's backyard as Arvin moved through his martial arts form. The house was quiet as it was only half past five, and today was Saturday. The Fangs were still asleep.
Arvin's body moved like water. Each movement was smooth and natural. The ancient silat moves came as easy as breathing. Even in this foreign place, his morning ritual kept him grounded.
His feet shifted into the traditional stance his grandpa had drilled into him. The grass stayed undisturbed despite his complex footwork. Years of training with his master had taught him to move while leaving as little trace as possible.
He breathed in a steady way. In through the nose for four counts, hold for two, out through the mouth for six. Each breath matched his movements. The rhythm blended with the suburban sounds around him.
As his routine ended, Arvin headed inside to shower and get ready for the day.
______________________________
Later that afternoon, after self study session while the family worked at the store, Arvin settled in the backyard for his meditation. He sat in the lotus position as the afternoon sun set. The house had been peaceful all day, and now he needed this quiet time before the family returned home for dinner.
In this state, the boundaries between past and present disappeared. Memories of the past week rose through his mind.
It had been a week since his English lessons with Cynthia. Seven days later, everything changed. The twins were always busy now. Cynthia was swamped with student council duties as vice president. Jeremy helped her as an honorary member. Both came home at six or sometimes seven instead of five like usual. But the worst was Tuesday where the twins got back almost at eight. Because of that, the study session after diner was put on pause.
Naturally, the Fang couple waited for them at the store.
That's why the house felt empty these days.
The first memory that he recalled was Monday evening. Jeremy burst through the front door with his laugh echoing through the hallway.
"Wait till you see what I brought home!" he announced. His voice carried excitement.
He set down two grease-stained paper bags. The smell that escaped when he opened the first bag made Arvin's eyes widen.
What came out of those bags destroyed every assumption Arvin had about American hamburgers. He'd expected the small flat patties he'd seen at the airport. These were giants. Each as large as a dinner plate and nearly ten to twelve centimeters tall. The regular burger had thick beef patties, fresh lettuce hanging over the edges, bright red tomato slices, white onion rings, and crisp pickle chunks.
The cheeseburger was even bigger. Melted American cheese dripped down the sides.
"You haven't lived until you've had a proper cheeseburger," Jeremy declared. "Trust me on this one."
Christina laughed at her son's excitement. "Jeremy ordered enough food for six people. I hope you're hungry, Arvin. We've had ours earlier so please enjoy it."
The family watched as Arvin stared at the massive sandwiches. He looked confused about how to eat them. He tried to lift the cheeseburger with one hand but the filling almost slipped out so he quickly catch it with the other hand.
His first squashed the layers into something manageable, then bite it. The burger released a burst of flavors. The beef's savory richness mixed with the crispness of vegetables. The melted cheese added a creamy element that reminded him of certain dishes from China. Familiar yet completely foreign.
"Good?" Jeremy asked. He grinned as he watched Arvin's expression shift from confusion to appreciation.
"Very good," Arvin managed in his unique accent. He was trying to practice English carefully. "Cheese is like Chinese cooking. Savory but different."
"The cheese makes it better, right?" Jeremy prompted. He took a massive bite of his own burger.
"Yes. More rich. Flavor is..." Arvin paused, searching for the English word. "Complete?"
Fang Chou nodded. "Your English is improving quickly."
"I think practice every day," Arvin replied. Then he caught his mistake. "I practice every day."
Jeremy laughed. "Hey, you speak it better than I speak Chinese. At least people can understand what you're trying to say."
The easy exchange between them warmed Arvin. Despite the language barriers and his unusual circumstances, this family had made space for him at their home.
The memory shifted to Tuesday, where they back late at eight. Christina proudly presented spaghetti bolognese. She announced it as a European dish and set steaming bowls of long pasta strands before each family member.
Arvin studied the strange noodles. Unlike the flat or regular noodles from Chinese cuisine, these strands were long and thin. They coiled around his fork easily. The red sauce coating them caught his attention. Such a bright color surely meant super spicy, right?
His first bite, thought, brought surprise. Instead of the expected heat, the sauce had a hint of sweetness but mainly rich and savory with deep flavor notes. It was not spicy at all.
"Not spicy?" Christina asked. She noticed his confused expression.
"Color is red, but not spicy," Arvin replied carefully in English. He was still amazed by the contradiction. "It's strange for me."
"It's tomatoes," Christina explained patiently. "San Marzano tomatoes specifically. That's where the color comes from."
Arvin repeated the unfamiliar words slowly. "San Mar-zano." He filed them away with all the other pieces of this new language he was collecting.
"They're Italian tomatoes," Fang Chou added. "Very sweet compared to other tomatoes."
(Oh, so it was tomatoes from Italy? I don't know there's tomatoes that really sweet like this.)
Despite his confusion, Arvin liked the dish's complexity. The meat was rich, the herbs he recognized added depth, especially that grassy oregano scent. The tomatoes contributed a subtle sweetness that balanced everything.
"Different from Chinese noodle," he observed. He successfully twirled another forkful. "But good different."
Wednesday stood out most clearly in his meditation. Tiredness after two late nights showed on every line of the family's faces during morning breakfast. He sensed their exhaustion and offered to cook dinner himself.
"You sure?" Fang Chou asked with concern. "We don't want you to feel obligated."
"I want," Arvin interrupted. His English still carried that distinctive accent. "All of you is tired. I'll cook."
Christina's face lit up with real appreciation. Relief showed on her features. "That would be wonderful. Just don't overwork yourself."
The memory of that afternoon played out clear. After they left, Arvin started his prep routine around three o'clock after his usual self study session and skip his usual afternoon meditation. The beef in the freezer needed careful thawing. His grandmother had taught him to follow this process exactly. He put the package in cold water and changed it every half an hour to ensure even temperature without ruining the meat's texture.
By four o'clock, the real work began. Arvin peeled the ginger, turmeric and galangal before washing them. Thankfully, Fang Chou had bought them and other ingredients for Asian dish last time as he visited Chinatown while searching for the mushroom he used to cook capcay.
Next, he washed two stalks of lemongrass and then lightly bruised them along with the galangal. For the ginger and turmeric, he cut them into small pieces before he put them into the food processor along with some garlic and shallots that he had peeled before and saved in the fridge. He added some salt and pepper, but sadly it was missing one ingredient but he could still cook it without them.
So he pressed the button and waited for exactly a minute before the paste was ready.
It was really easy using the food processor but honestly he still preferred using the mortar and pestle. Because the food processor produced slight heat, the paste aroma from it was not as strong as the one made with traditional way. But it was no problem as he could adjust it by sauteing them.
After the paste was ready, he took the wok and threw the paste in along with the bruised galangal and lemongrass that he had tied into a pretzel shape as it would make it easier to pick them up later. Then he added a small amount of cooking oil.
He sauteed the paste until the smell became much stronger and the oil from the paste itself came out.
He stopped as the paste became oily and then set it aside.
The beef, once properly thawed, he washed it and put it in the pot. He worked through the preparations with focused calm. A large pot of water came to boil for the vermicelli. Another pot started the slow process of creating the clear, flavorful broth that would be this dish's foundation.
This was a technique his grandmother had passed down too. Creating broth that looked almost clear yet carried depths of complex flavors. Unlike the rich cloudy broths common in cooking, this preparation needed a gentle touch. The meat had to give its flavor to the water without making it cloudy. To do that, he had to simmer them gently while also scooping the foam that came out from them. It was a simple process but took a lot of time. So one must be patient.
After the soup had a clear and slight glassy look, he took out the meat as it was already cooked and then sliced it thinly. He then added the paste into the boiling beef stock and added lime leaves and bay leaves. He had removed the galangal from the paste but let the lemongrass remain as he would remove them along with the leaves after the soup was ready. Then he went on to do the other tasks.
As the afternoon went on, aromatic steam filled the kitchen. The scent carried notes of beef and subtle spices that blended together. Arvin arranged his ingredients with care. Shredded cabbage in one bowl, cooked meat in another, mound of vermicelli in a third. Smaller dishes held bean sprouts, chopped scallions, and golden fried shallots. A modest portion of chili paste sat ready in small bowl as a side condiment to add spiciness.
At seven o'clock, the front door opened for the family's return. Their voices carried the tiredness of long workdays but lifted as the enticing smell reached them.
"Oh my God!" Jeremy exclaimed. He take a deep breath as he loosened his tie. "What is that incredible smell?"
"Seems like, Arvin's been cooking all afternoon," Christina said. She appreciated the rich smell that greeted them. "It smells even more complex than his previous dishes."
"It's like the first time he cooked two weeks ago," Jeremy added. His stomach rumbled audibly. "This smells amazing."
Arvin emerged from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a dish towel. "Its not ready yet," he said apologetically. "Need thirty minutes more."
"Perfect!" Fang Chou grinned. "Just enough time to shower and change."
The family scattered to their rooms and left Arvin to his final preparations. Twenty-five minutes later, they met in the dining room and found a table set in a new way.
Empty bowls waited at each place. The center of the table held an array of serving dishes. Plates of shredded cabbage, thinly sliced beef arranged in neat rows, a mound of vermicelli. Smaller dishes contained bean sprouts that looked like tiny white pearls, chopped scallions, and crispy fried shallots. A small bowl of chili paste sat quietly at one corner.
Arvin appeared carrying a large bowl of steaming broth. The golden liquid looked almost crystal-clear, but the complex smell rising from its surface suggested depths of flavor that went against its simple appearance. He placed it carefully on a heat pad in the table's center.
"What kind of dish is this?" Fang Chou asked.
Arvin straightened slightly. He chose his English words carefully. "Its called Soto Daging. Beef soup from Indonesia. Usually for breakfast or lunch." He gestured toward the various bowls. "Not like hot pot. Everything already cooked. You make a bowl how you like."
He demonstrated the assembly process. Vermicelli in the bottom of his bowl first. Then beef strips. Next, the shredded cabbage, bean sprouts, and scallions, adding bursts of color and crunch. Finally, he ladled the fragrant broth over everything. It poured through the ingredients. He topped the creation with a sprinkle of fried shallots and added a dab of chili paste.
The family followed his example. Each created their own bowl according to personal preference. Jeremy loaded his with extra beef. Cynthia went light on the chili. Christina added extra vegetables. Fang Chou assembled his copying Arvin.
The first taste brought surprise. Despite its clear appearance, the broth carried remarkable depth and complexity. Layers of flavor revealed themselves slowly.
"This is incredible," Cynthia said. Her usual reserved manner softened with praise. "How did you make the broth so flavorful when it's so light?"
Arvin smiled at her comment. He felt good from her approval. "Its meat broth, not bone broth," he explained carefully. He chose his words with thought. "More light, but still have flavor. But..." he paused, searching for the right English terms. "Its not complete. Missing one ingredient."
"What's missing?" Christina asked with interest. She leaned forward slightly.
Switching to Chinese for better communication, Arvin explained about candlenut. The crucial ingredient that would make this dish truly authentic. (Chinese) "It's called kemiri in my language," he said. "But I don't think you have it here."
Even Fang Chou admitted he had never tried it after translating. (Chinese) "I know the name but not much about it."
(Chinese) "It's also not common in China," Arvin continued. "But very important for most food from where I'm from. Makes the broth more creamy."
Trying to return to English, he attempted to explain that the broth should be cloudier. But mistakenly said "dirtier" instead. The word hung in the air for a moment. Then the family burst into warm laughter that filled the room.
"Oh no!" Fang Chou chuckled. He gently corrected the translation with affection. "He means 'cloudier' or 'less clear,' not dirty!"
Arvin's cheeks reddened as he realized his mistake. But the family's good-natured laughter took any embarrassment out of the moment and made him feel included rather than criticized.
"I can try to find some candlenuts," Fang Chou offered earnestly. "Maybe there's some in Chinatown, or one of the Southeast Asian markets."
"No, no necessary," Arvin protested quickly. He didn't want to cause trouble. "Its too much."
"Absolutely not," Christina interrupted firmly. Her tone left no room for argument. "We want to taste the authentic version. It's no trouble at all."
The meal continued, and then Arvin remembered something. He went to the fridge and sliced some limes. He then told them to try squeezing a little of it into the bowl. Everyone follow along and was surprised as the taste became much lighter with a hint of fresh tang from the lime juice.
Because of that, everyone ate larger portions than usual. The broth's lightness made it deceptively easy to take in. The parents managed four bowls each. Cynthia surprised herself with five while Jeremy got six. Arvin finished whatever remained in the pot along with most of the accompaniments. Nothing went to waste.
The rest of the week flowed in similar patterns. Thursday evening Arvin cooked capcay at Christina's request. She'd developed a particular fondness for it. Friday he also cooked nasi goreng at Jeremy's request. He declared it his new favorite dish, better than any takeout he'd ever had.
At five-thirty, Arvin's eyes opened slowly from his meditation. His pupils adjusted to the warm afternoon light.
The memories settled back into their proper places. The meditation had restored his energy completely and left him refreshed despite sitting motionless for over an hour.
He rose and brushed grass from his borrowed sweatpants. The day had been good. This morning, after his martial arts practice and shower, he'd joined the family for breakfast at seven-thirty. Then they'd all gone to work at the family supermarket while he stayed home. The afternoon meditation had helped him process the week's memories, and now he had time to prepare for the family's return.
He didn't cook as Fang Chou said he would bring some takeout for today.
Now that he think about it, a month had passed since he'd disappeared from the flight.
He had been living three weeks with the Fang family. Creating routines and relationships he'd never expected to find so far from home. Still, thought of his real family brought the familiar ache to his chest. Were they searching? Did they believe him dead? Had they given up hope entirely?
He'd considered trying to contact them. But he didn't even remember their phone number. Five years in the mountain had severed such connections. His master had insisted on complete isolation from outside distractions with only contact with the neighboring village around where he stayed.
He thought about writing a letter but it seemed problematic. Could mail even reach his home from this country? And what could he possibly say that wouldn't sound completely insane?
Two years. That's how long Fang Chou had said it might take. Two years of hiding before Arvin could get legal status with Leo's help. The number felt short yet quite long at the same time.
Yet the Fang family had shown him kindness. They'd created space for him at their home, in their conversations, in their daily routines. Perhaps this strange displacement was meant to teach him something. About adaptation. About finding family in unexpected places. About building new relationships.
Rising from his meditative position, Arvin stood in the center of the yard with quiet determination. When the opportunity arose, he would ask Fang Chou about sending a letter. Even if the chances were slim, he owed his family an attempt at contact.
For now, though, he would continue building this new life. Accepting his circumstances while holding his true home close to his heart. The future remained uncertain. But the present offered gifts of connection and purpose. Small miracles disguised as ordinary moments.
The sun continued its westward journey as Arvin remained in the garden, simply existing in this moment of peace.
For now, though, there was only the present moment. The warm sun on his face. The gentle breeze through his hair. The acceptance of circumstances beyond his control. Tomorrow would bring its own challenges. But today held the simple gifts of routine, reflection, and the slow construction of a new kind of belonging.
∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘
Hey guys!
Sorry I'm late to update the chapter.
It was not a good day for me yesterday as one of my relative was suddenly rushed to the ER and I couldn't concentrate to finalize the chapter yesterday.
So, because of that, I'll keep writing but perhaps it'll take a longer time to write the next chapter until that person go out from the hospital.
Anyway, that's the message that I want to say.
Hope you'll enjoy reading this one as much as I enjoyed writing it!
As always, thanks for sticking with me on this journey. Let's keep enjoying the story together!