Page 40 of Vera Wong's Guide to Snooping (on a Dead Man)

When the chicken is finally simmering away, Vera looks up and says, “There. Like that, okay?”

“Yeah, that was pretty good,” Robin says. “But the beauty in making content is the editing.”

“Editing?”

“Watch and learn,” Robin says. And Vera does. She watches and learns as Robin slices the video she recorded into short clips and plays around with them, zooming in one second and out the next, cutting the repetitive bits out and editing the colors. She adds some soothing background music, and before Vera knows it, she’s watching an incredibly professional and utterly entertaining short video of herself making drunken chicken. “And now all we need is a clip of the chicken when it’s done and you eating it.”

Vera looks affronted at that. “Me eating it? Why you want to see me eating the chicken? Is this like some pervert video?”

“Or maybe like those kind of Korean videos where they watch people stuff themselves silly?” Winifred says. “Is called mukbang.”

“No, god, you guys,” Robin cries. “It’s the thing you do with cooking videos. People need to see you eat it. Because, see, every story starts off with a promise.”

“A premise,” Vera corrects her magnanimously.

“No, a promise. Like, this video promises to create a delicious chicken dish. And then showing the final product and eating it islike fulfilling that promise: The chicken looks deliciousandit tastes delicious. Get it?”

Vera glances over to the dining room, where TJ is half listening to their conversation. She wonders if TJ caught what Robin said. She wonders if he knows what a bright kid Robin is. She quirks an eyebrow at Robin. “Okay. Sound like the bullshit, but I go with what you say.”

“Meanwhile, did you want to record narration for it?” Robin says.

“Oh yes!” Vera grabs the phone and clears her throat before hitting Record. “Hello, today I am making Drunken Chicken. You can find recipe in…Where can find recipe?”

“In the caption,” Robin says.

“Okay. You can find recipe in caption. Now, we go back to talking about this Xander Lin. Very curious case. He is huge star on the Instagram and the TikTok, party with so many of you. I see many picture of him at big party with big people. If you are one of these big people in Xander photo, please slip and slide into my DM and tell me everything about Xander. This is very important, because I am concerned. I am concern about…a lot of things, really. And when I see Xander photo, something inside me connect with him. I think it is loneliness. I know all about loneliness, you see. My husband, he die many years ago, and I was all alone for very long time. No meaning in life, until last year, by good luck, man die in my teahouse. Police tell me is nothing, just accident only, but I know. Oho, I know. And I solve his murder, and when I do that, I gain new family. Now I do the same with Xander. I see people who are connected to him, they seem like they need help, so I help them. Please, help me do the same. Help me understand why such young man, so promising and so handsome, can die like this.”

By the time Vera is done, the house is quiet. Robin, TJ, Winifred, and Emma are all staring at her. Vera starts feeling slightly self-conscious. “Is it not good?”

TJ clears his throat. “It’s really good.”

Winifred nods. “I think you will help this case a lot.”

“Yeah, that was—and it pains me to use this word—but that felt really authentic,” Robin says.

“What is authentic?” Emma says.

“It means ‘real.’ So much on social media is curated content,” Robin says. “People are always looking for something real, something authentic. Something they can connect with on a basic human level.”

“And that’s Grandma Vera?”

“Yep.” Robin looks at Vera, and Vera could swear there is wonderment in the teenager’s eyes. “That’s her all right.”

And this time, it is Vera’s turn to blush.

Fourteen

QIANG WEN

Is it wrong to lie? Qiang Wen knows it is, on the whole, not a great thing to lie. But what if it is a lie that never hurts anyone? A lie to make people feel good. And Qiang Wen has always been good at those, ever since he was a little kid. Like telling his mother that the new dress she bought was pretty and did not at all look cheap, or telling his father that the pepper beef he cooked wasn’t too peppery, even though Qiang Wen couldn’t stop coughing after every mouthful. But these are good lies, aren’t they? Lies that help grease the wheels of life, because sometimes life can be so cruel, so jagged and harsh.

But maybe there is no such thing as a good lie. Because now, Qiang Wen’s lies are catching up with him. And it’s these lies that got him in this predicament in the first place. Lies that Xander came up with and Qiang Wen never refuted, lies that—

No. Qiang Wen needs to own up to his responsibility in this entire business. As much as he would like to blame everything on Xander, he can’t. He was a willing participant. But, oh, he was solonely. Excuses. Anyone can come up with an excuse for anything, even murder. Tears fill Qiang Wen’s eyes as he looks at his phone. He hadn’t even known what an Instagram was before Xander. Then Xander had downloaded it on Qiang Wen’s phone and helped him create an account and followed a handful of people for Qiang Wen. One of them was Xander, of course, but the others were very interesting Chinese people who posted videos of themselves cooking Chinese food or doing tai chi or having family meals. Qiang Wen likes the last ones most; that’s all he watches nowadays, just videos of strangers eating with their families. Sometimes he cries while watching these videos.

But now, Qiang Wen isn’t looking at these strangers’ content. He’s scrolling through Xander’s profile and letting the grief and guilt and confusion surge through him in overwhelming waves. There are so many pictures and videos of Xander, and Qiang Wen misses him so much he could practically hear Xander’s voice, laughing with him, calling him “Ah Gong.” His own grandchildren don’t even call him that. They call him “Gramps,” a horrible English word that sounds so grouchy, so harsh to Qiang Wen’s ears. But when he tried to tell them to call him “Yeye” or “Gonggong,” his own daughter had told him off and accused him of taking away their autonomy. Qiang Wen hadn’t even known what an autonomy was; how could he take it away?

He smiles sadly at a video of Xander and him, both of them wearing matching aprons, making dumplings. His voice comes out tinny, barely recognizable. “The edges of the dumpling skin should be thinner than the center, so when you pinch it together, you don’t get this horrible, thick layer of dough,” Qiang Wen says in Mandarin.

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