What Was Wrong Lee Said

A conversation Wrong Lee made right.

Wrong Lee Chu bowed at his server, sniffed the delicious Tom Yum Goong steam rising up to his nose, and sat upon his cushion. “Xièxie nǐ de tāngd,” he said, giving the thank you with a western drawl.

A raised eyebrow spoke to him from the caucasian beauty holding chopsticks to her lips at the next bamboo table. “Will you join me, Wrong Lee?”

“Better Wrong Lee here than going right elsewhere,” Wrong joked in English. He gathered his Hanfu silk robe around him and slid over by her side. “You know me?”

“You may call me Bright Lee,” she said, raising her teacup to her lips.

“Thanks for not leaving me in the dark,” Wrong toasted her with his own cup of tea.

“I have a gift for you.” Bright shivered deliciously as she brought forth a single sheet of paper from her kimono. “You were Wrong in what you did and are Wrong now in thinking you could hide. I am a process server.”

“Something is wrong here,” Wrong’s own eyebrows raised. “You’ve got the wrong Wrong.”

“You are sitting right before my eyes. What do you mean?”

“I changed my name when I moved here a year ago. I’m Stanley Hightower from Skeneckety, I took Wrong Lee Chu’s name as a gift given as a nickname given by the real Wrong Lee.”

Bright’s face blushed as bright as if it were on fire. “I’ll lose my money if I can’t provide proof of service.” She began to choke on a piece of huǒ tuǐ.

Stanley had saved Wrong’s life by giving him the Heimlich Maneuver when he was choking on a piece of jī ròu. He now did so with Bright.

‘You stan before me a free man,” she said as brightly as she could.

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