We're in the car. It seems to be sprinkling outside. Too bad I have to meet up with my classmates.
After class that day, Fatima created a teams chat for us to communicate in. It's been a couple days, so it's time to regroup and check our progress. I've already finished my part. I mean, it was a pretty simple project. Personally, just reporting our work in the chat felt like enough, but Jacob really wanted us to go to that bubble tea shop he likes. Because why make life easy and do things the simpler way when you can overcomplicate everything?
Fatima thought that was a great idea, and Xu Zi Quan agreed amicably. When my parents heard of this, they, of course, also thought it was inefficient, but they did agree to drop me eventually.
"It's right here," Mom said as we drive over to the shop. Today, she's wearing a long, elegant dress with puffy sleeves, large earrings dangling. "I'll pick you up in about an hour and a half. Text me if you need anything, okay?"
"Yes, I understand." My mom believes in non-monosyllabic speech. So unnecessary, but if I don't, she gets extremely irritated. Multiple times, I'd only answer with "okay", and each time, I'd get an unavoidable, ten-minute lecture of how to speak respectfully.
I shut the door of the car. She pauses for a second before driving off, waiting for my thumbs up to cue for her to go. Mom smiles one last time and I smile back, letting her know I'll be just fine by myself. I'm this old, and she still worries about little things like this. I give her a thumbs up and she's off.
The bubble tea shop is littered with neon colors. Pinks, blues, yellows, and greens. Cutesy little kawaii stickers all over the walls. Ew, whoever designed this place should get fired. Well, says the girl who only wears solid-colored clothing--making shopping a true pain in the butt. Want me to wear anything bright colored or very girly? Over my dead body. I am definitely not the target audience for this place.
There's a few customers inside, but not many. At the very back, Xu Zi Quan is already waiting at the booths. Again, he looks good. And I mean by my parents' standards anyway: ironed clothes, not a hair out of place, and just clean all around.
Instead of preparing his part of the work to share, he just sits there. Ok, not just sits there. He seems to be observing the conversation between the lady at the counter and a customer. And not just observing, he seems fully occupied. What exactly is so interesting there?
Xu Zi Quan glances over at me as the door jingles open. It only lasts for a second before he goes back to watching them. Huh, must be so interesting that he'd rather eavesdrop than do his work, which is due in three days by the way. I really hope he isn't wasting his time. If he doesn't do his in time, it's going to put everyone else behind, all because of his incompetence. I hate incompetent people so much.
"Hello," I sit myself down opposite from him, crossing my right leg over the other. The seat feels way too plushy. I'm basically sinking. Again, who designed this place? I glance at my watch. It's five minutes past the meeting time. "I wonder why the others aren't here yet."
A beat passes.
Oof, that must have come out a little passive-aggressive. Why can't I just sound nice? Did I offend him? I still have to work with him.
"Probably just traffic. If you're coming from Seattle, it isn't easy to get through." He seems to be in a good mood judging by his lighthearted comment, his finger lightly tapping the fake wood of the table. Xu Zi Quan is still staring at the cashier and the customer.
Might as well get to work. I need to review his part to make sure he's doing alright. Also, I want some feedback as well. "So, can we start?"
His gaze finally meets mine. The tapping stops. "Shouldn't we wait for the others? It wouldn't be great if we just go ahead without them."
Yeah, but I don't have all the time in the world. News flash: deadlines are a thing that exists. "Yeah, but it's their fault for being late. It's already 5:10. I have my Karate class at seven."
"You do Karate?" he repeats, curious with his eye brows raised. His full attention is on me now. Xu Zi Quan's lips are in a near smile.
"Yeah, I've been doing it a year or so, and I'm an orange belt now," I tell him. Just last month, I passed the test. Martial arts are just so badass--highly recommend. He probably thinks so too by the full-on smile on his face. I actually got Xu Zi Quan to smile. First time for everything. Ugh, more like smug. Now I'm wasting time. "Okay, back to what we're supposed to do," I brush off, annoyed. We need to get to work.
I show him my paragraph from my computer screen. It should all be great, but maybe, like that day in the library, he'd be able to see it differently. "Let's do mine first. Anywhere to improve?"
Xu Zi Quan turns the computer towards him. He reads it over. Then twice. What's taking so long? He finally speaks up, "Overall, it's pretty great.--" I said I wanted criticism, not compliments--"but some of your transitions are off."
Transitions? Sigh. I can't see my laptop--and my mistakes-- at this angle. I move from my seat, and slide next to him. Still a foot away from him. I've always been a bit stingy when it comes to personal space.
Xu Zi Quan looks me up and down, surprised at my sudden change of seating. Oh, he thinks I have some sort of motive. Like, romantic motive. God, we've moved past the the twentieth-century last time I checked. "Explain," I state, straight-faced. My motive is to know why I have a mistake.
It takes me a second to realize Xu Zi Quan is a bit off-balanced. I know I'm curt, but we have no time for games. He regains his composure. Congrats. "This really is all great. You make many good points, but sometimes you need to have transitions or else you could shock the reader. However, because of that, consequently are all useful examples of transitions. So right here--" He points to each oversight-- "here, here, and here. After that, you should be done."
At that moment, a group of middle schoolers struts into the shop. All looking like they just came out of a barbie movie. Xu Zi Quan finds them fascinating apparently.
I glance back at my paragraph. Criticism and I have a love-hate relationship. I love it because it makes my work better. But I also hate it, as it undermines me. As much as perfection, as an idea, is lovely, it is simply unachievable. Don't get me wrong, I still strive for perfection, but I'm kind enough to not beat myself up at every flaw.
"Got it, thanks." I smile to show my appreciation. Xu Zi Quan returns his gaze to me. He gives me a thumbs up. Cool.
After I started smiling at times like these, I noticed that people would work with me better. I'm not the most emotive, so I have to fake it. Like, I'm happy that he finally was able to give me feedback, but definitely not ecstatic. Heck, I don't even think that's an emotion that happens to me.
I snort out loud at my own inner monologue. Xu Zi Quan, who began spinning his pen while watching the middle schoolers a second ago, startles at my sudden outburst, dropping the pen. If I don't say something soon, this will get awkward. People don't just laugh to themselves out of the blue. Unless they're crazy, and I might be. But he doesn't have to know that.
"So," my voice still breathy from my internal giggling. I clear my voice. "Can I see your paragraph now?"
Again, he waits a beat before responding. Please speak. Don't make this awkward. I beg you. "Yes, of course. Let me just pull it up real quick."
He still seems to be analyzing me, judging his watchful stare...
Xu Zi Quan pushes the laptop towards me, so I can read his paragraph. I read it. There are some grammatical errors here and there but, as a whole, was a pretty enjoyable read. He writes about the legends behind tea. One is about a Buddhist monk and the other is about a Chinese emperor. Apparently, he wasn't slacking after all.
"Not bad," I slowly articulate. Xu Zi Quan's eyes smile, clearly pleased with my approval. Half-compliment. I don't give full compliments. Makes things too mushy. "However, you're missing a few commas and periods. Try to take your run-on sentences and split them into smaller ones. After that, you've finished."
At my criticism, it almost seems like a dark cloud floats over him, his smile dimming. Xu Zi Quan looks away, not at anything particular. I was just giving constructive criticism. It isn't that deep. Finding fault in a paragraph and in a person are two separate matters.
Before I can fully decipher him, the door jingles. Look who decided, thirty-two minutes late, to waltz in. They better have a good excuse for wasting everyone's time.