Mr. Wang is staring at the center of C.J.'s chest, absorbed in thought.
Mr. Wang --?
Very mildly, he says, You have a college education, C.J.? Of
course you do. You write all those college entrance essays, you went
Yes. He doesn't add that he never graduated.
Yes, very good. I'm sorry. You hungry? Want dinner? Mr. Wang
activates an intercom and barks a quick order. We have some leftovers.
That's all right, I can't stay too --
You've never met my daughter, right? You should. Let
me get her. I think you might have similar interests. She has a
good head for business, very industrious, like you.
I don't think your daughter --
The door to the study swings open and the manservant rolls in a cart
of fried chicken. Virginia-style recipe, Mr. Wang explains.
It's good, eat, eat.
Thank you, C.J. says, but I don't --
Where's my daughter? Mr. Wang asks his manservant. I asked
for her to come down.
She is not here, the manservant says, and C.J. is pleased to note
the man's mask-like countenance has not changed a whit.