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... in, his feet heavy as if weighed down by the stares piercing his back. People turned to address his cousin with polite smiles and animated voices, but when their eyes flicked toward him, it was like a door slammed shut. Their greetings faltered, replaced by sidelong glances and barely concealed disdain. Jian could feel it—like the prick of needles along his skin—the way they looked him up and down, dissecting him. He swallowed hard, his hands curling into fists at his sides.

Don't look a ...

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You may not believe it, but I just want to make a dish.

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