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“Your mate made that one.”
“Really?”
Mei nodded. “How old were you then, Nero? Twelve?”
“I was thirteen. My grandmother was tired of cooking, so she brought us here.”
“Ah, yes. Your very first crane.”
“You hung it up?” Felix’s tone was surprised.
“It was Nero who gave me the idea. He saw me folding the napkins and asked if I knew how to fold paper, so I showed him. I hung his up first, then started making more. Nero helped over the years, until we filled the ceiling.”
My mate looked at me, his eyes shimmering, and I felt a pulse of affection through our limited bond.
He understood how important Mei and this place were to me.
The restaurant was small, with ten booths along the walls and a few larger tables in the middle. Tonight, only two booths were occupied. Mei led us to the last booth on the side near the kitchen door. “Sit. Since this is Felix’s first time here, I’ll grab a menu.”
“You don’t need to do that. I love Chinese food, and I’m sure I’ll love Nero’s favorites.”
She beamed at him and patted his hand where it was resting on the table. “Nero usually drinks tea. Is that all right for you?”
“Yes, please. And a water if that’s okay.”
“Of course.” She winked at me, then glided through the swinging door, shouting my usual order to whoever was working the kitchen in rapid Mandarin. For as many years as I’d beencoming here, I’d only picked up a few basic Mandarin phrases. I didn’t have the head for languages. If Quin were here, he and Mei would have had a whole conversation in Mandarin.
I glanced up at the ceiling, looking for one of Quin’s lumpy birds. Spotting one tucked among a pristine flock, I laughed.
“What’s funny?” Felix asked.
“So you know how Quin is an artist?”
My mate nodded.
“There is one art form he could never quite get the hang of.” I pointed up.
Felix’s eyes went wide. “No. You’re kidding?”
“I’m not. Quin picked up Mandarin like he was born speaking it, but he couldn’t fold a crane to save his life. When he was young, Mei hadn’t been able to tell him his cranes were too misshapen to hang on the ceiling, so she tucked a few in among some of the nicer ones.”
Felix studied the ceiling, looking for the cranes that weren’t perfect, then he met my eyes and reached across the table to put his hand over mine. “I can feel how much this place and Mei mean to you. Thank you for bringing me here.”
Flipping my hand over, I wound our fingers together as had become our habit and reveled in the thrill of Felix’s touch.
The swinging door creaked, a sound that would annoy most but felt like home to me, and Mei pushed through with a tray. She set a simple metal teapot on the table between Felix and me and a small ceramic cup and small plate in front of each of us. Then she put down a serving dish piled with six golden egg rolls. Steam swirled from them in a translucent wisp, and my mouth watered.
“I put some extras on the plate since I figured Felix would want to try at least one.” She laughed, patted my shoulder, then disappeared through the door to the kitchen again.
Felix slid his hand away from mine and reached for the teapot, tipping some tea into his cup, then pulling my cup over to fill it. It was the tiniest gesture, but it lit me up inside, and I felt my lips tip into an uncharacteristically wide smile as he set the full cup back in front of me.
“I take it these are your favorite?” Felix nodded toward the plate of egg rolls while he held his cup to his lips and blew on the tea to cool it down.
“They are.” I picked one up and split it in half, watching steam rise from the middle. I placed half on Felix’s plate, and he looked at it, then smiled at me.
“Is that all I’m going to get?”
I pretended to consider his question. “Maybe.”
