“You speak Mandarin?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“Enough.”
Grant laughed.
This time, several people around the table smiled.
Not because the situation was funny.
Because Grant was laughing.
Rich men often came with their own atmosphere.
People laughed when they laughed.
Stopped when they stopped.
Simone had seen it hundreds of times.
Grant pointed toward her.
“Where did you learn Mandarin?”
“School.”
“What school?”
“Several.”
He laughed again.
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the answer I have.”
One of Grant’s executives looked uncomfortable.
Zhao watched Simone carefully.
Grant took a sip of wine.
“Say something.”
Simone remained still.
“What would you like me to say?”
“In Mandarin.”
“I understood that.”
Chen Rui covered his mouth.
Grant looked at him.
“Something funny?”
Chen shook his head.
Grant returned his attention to Simone.
“You’re telling me you can speak fluent Mandarin?”
“I didn’t say fluent.”
“Ah.”
Grant smiled.
“There it is.”
Simone said nothing.
“You know a few restaurant phrases.”
“No.”
“Ni hao. Xie xie. Maybe numbers.”
Simone felt heat rise into her chest.
Not embarrassment.
Something older.
Something familiar.
A memory of being nineteen years old in a Georgetown classroom while another student asked whether she had joined the wrong language section.
A professor at a conference looking at her badge and asking whether she was administrative staff.
A recruiter telling her that “China-focused policy work might be a difficult cultural fit.”
A customer at the hotel once praising her English.
English.
In Oakland.
Simone had learned years ago that ignorance often arrived dressed as curiosity.
Grant was not curious.
He wanted an audience.
He had one.
“Actually,” Simone said, “I can hold a conversation.”
Grant looked delighted.
“Can you?”
“Yes.”
He leaned toward Zhao.
“This could be entertaining.”
Zhao did not smile.
Grant did not notice.
He looked back at Simone.
“You know what? Let’s test it.”
“Grant,” one of his lawyers said.
He waved him away.
“No. She says she speaks Mandarin.”
Simone remained calm.
“I do.”
“How confident are you?”
“Confident enough.”
Grant studied her.
Then his expression changed.
The room knew that expression.
It was the face of a man about to turn money into theater.
“I’ll give you ten thousand dollars if you can have a proper conversation with Chairwoman Zhao.”
Nobody spoke.
Simone looked at him.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
Grant smiled.
“Ten thousand dollars.”
His chief financial officer laughed.
Grant continued.
“Five minutes. No English. No help from Colin.”
Colin shifted in his chair.
Simone glanced at Zhao.
The older woman’s face remained unreadable.
Grant mistook Simone’s hesitation for fear.
“Too much?”
“No.”
“Then do it.”
Simone looked at the door.
Mateo was somewhere outside arranging crème brûlée.
Her manager was probably checking invoices.
Her phone sat in a locker downstairs beside a photograph of her younger brother.
Ten thousand dollars.
Her brother’s college tuition balance was twelve thousand four hundred.
She could pay almost all of it.
She could replace the transmission in her father’s truck.
She could stop taking double shifts for a month.
But something about Grant’s smile made the money feel dirty.
Simone said, “No.”
Grant blinked.
“No?”
“No.”
“Because you can’t.”
“Because I’m working.”
Grant laughed.
“I’m giving you ten thousand dollars for five minutes.”
“You’re offering money because you expect me to fail.”
“Well…”
He spread his hands.
“You said it.”
“I didn’t.”
A few people looked down.
Grant’s smile became thinner.
“Twenty-five thousand.”
Simone stared at him.
One of Jade Meridian’s lawyers quietly said something to Zhao.
Simone heard it.
“This is inappropriate.”
Zhao replied:
“Wait.”
Grant pointed at Simone.
“Twenty-five thousand dollars. Five minutes.”
Simone said nothing.
Grant looked around the room.
Now he was performing.
“Fifty.”
His lawyer leaned toward him.
“Grant, enough.”
“No.”
Grant grinned.
“This is interesting.”
He looked at Simone.
“Fifty thousand dollars.”
Simone felt every eye in the room.
Her throat tightened.
Then Zhao spoke in English.
“Mr. Whitmore.”
Grant turned.
She said calmly, “Perhaps the young woman does not wish to be part of your entertainment.”
For half a second, Grant looked embarrassed.
Then pride took over.
He smiled.
“Of course not.”
He turned toward Simone.
“I apologize.”
Simone nodded.
“Thank you.”
She reached for the wine.
Grant said, “One hundred thousand.”
Nobody moved.
Even Simone thought she might have misheard.
Grant rested both hands on the table.
“One hundred thousand dollars.”
His CFO whispered, “Jesus.”
Grant looked at Simone.
“If you can speak Mandarin well enough that Chairwoman Zhao says you are fluent, I will personally give you one hundred thousand dollars.”
The room was completely silent now.
Grant smiled.
“But if you can’t…”
He shrugged.
“You admit you exaggerated.”
Simone stared at him.
One hundred thousand dollars.
Her mother’s voice entered her memory.
Never perform intelligence for people committed to misunderstanding you.
Her mother had said that when Simone was seventeen.
Back then, Simone had thought it meant walk away.
At thirty-two, she understood something else.
Sometimes walking away was wisdom.
Sometimes staying was.
She looked at Zhao.
The older woman watched her with patient eyes.
Then Simone looked at Grant.
“Put it in writing.”
The CFO stopped breathing.
Grant’s smile vanished.
“What?”
“If it’s a real offer, put it in writing.”
Someone near the end of the table coughed.
Simone continued.
“One hundred thousand dollars if Chairwoman Zhao determines that I can communicate fluently in Mandarin.”
Grant stared at her.
Then laughed.
“You’re serious?”
“You made the offer.”
Grant looked around.
Now backing down would cost him more than the money.
It would cost him the room.
He pulled a hotel notepad toward him.
“Fine.”
He wrote.
Signed.
Then slid the paper across the table.
Simone picked it up.
One of Jade Meridian’s lawyers reached out.
“May I?”
Simone handed it to him.
He read it.
“Clear enough.”
Grant smiled.
“Happy?”
“Almost.”
Simone looked at Zhao.
“Chairwoman Zhao needs to agree to judge.”
All eyes turned.
Zhao regarded Simone for a long moment.
Then she smiled.
It was the first genuine smile Simone had seen from her all evening.
“I agree.”
Grant leaned back.
“Go ahead.”
Simone took a breath.
Then she spoke.
Not the careful textbook Mandarin Americans often used when they wanted Chinese speakers to know they had studied.
Not a memorized sentence.
Not a greeting.
She looked directly at Zhao and said, in fluid Mandarin:
“I apologize that your dinner has turned into a spectacle. I also apologize for interrupting your negotiations, but before we continue this ridiculous wager, I believe there is something in the document in front of you that you need to examine.”
Zhao stopped smiling.
Chen Rui slowly put down his glass.
Colin’s face lost its color.
Grant looked between them.
“What did she say?”
No one answered him.
Zhao replied to Simone.
“What exactly?”
Simone stepped toward the table.
“Section Fourteen. Clause Seven.”
Zhao looked down.
Simone continued.
“The English language version limits your assumption of environmental liability to claims arising after transfer.”
Zhao flipped several pages.
“The Mandarin version does not.”
Every chair around the table seemed to become suddenly occupied by a different person.
Lawyers leaned forward.
Executives stopped smiling.
Grant looked at Colin.
“What is she saying?”
Colin opened his mouth.
Chen Rui snapped something at him in Mandarin.
This time Simone did not need to translate.
The anger was universal.
Zhao found the clause.
She read.
Then she looked toward the English-language contract across the table.
“Give me that.”
One of Grant’s lawyers handed it over.
Zhao compared both versions.
Thirty seconds passed.
Nobody spoke.
Grant said, “Meilin?”
She raised one hand.
He stopped.
Zhao read again.
Then she turned to the lawyer beside her.
They spoke quickly.
Pages moved.
Pens appeared.
Chen opened his laptop.
Another executive began checking earlier revisions.
Grant looked at Simone.
“What did you tell them?”
Simone answered in English.
“There is a material difference between the Mandarin and English versions.”
“That’s impossible.”
“No.”
Grant looked at Colin.
“Is she right?”