“You hear this?”
The businessmen exchanged glances.
The oldest, a silver-haired man named Henry Lin, watched Naomi with increasing interest.
Victor turned back.
“I asked for someone who speaks Mandarin.”
“I do.”
Victor blinked.
“You?”
“Yes.”
“You speak Mandarin?”
“Yes.”
“Fluently?”
“Yes.”
Victor leaned backward.
An amused expression appeared on his face.
He had found entertainment.
“You don't look like someone who speaks Mandarin.”
Naomi stared at him.
She had heard versions of that sentence her entire life.
You don't look like a lawyer.
You don't look like a graduate.
You don't look like you belong here.
People often believed appearance was evidence.
It wasn't.
Naomi took a breath.
“Would you like me to ask the manager to come over?”
“No.”
Victor smiled.
“I want you to stop pretending.”
Naomi said nothing.
One of the businessmen suddenly spoke in Mandarin.
“Why is he treating her like this?”
Naomi understood every word.
She almost smiled.
Victor noticed her expression.
“You don't understand them, do you?”