The Beauty of Humanity Movement (129 page)

“Good,” he declares.

Does he mean okay, good enough, or really good? Where on the spectrum of good does it land?

There’s no time to adjust it in any case. They hear the footsteps of the first customers in the courtyard. Word has travelled throughout the Old Quarter: the sun has only just lifted over the lip of the coast and a lineup has already begun to form right out into the alley, the familiar faces of people carrying the bowls, spoons and chopsticks they have brought from home.

“Hah,” they say when they see T
in the kitchen, trying to conceal their looks of disappointment, “the apprentice.”

“Temporary situation,” he assures them as he deposits the noodles into their bowls and ladles in the broth. He lays down the slices of beef then adds a sprinkle of chopped green herbs, trying to perform this gesture with the same dramatic flourish as Old Man H
ng, though in his first few attempts more green lands on the floor than in the bowls.

It is hot and steamy in the room, a dozen people now squatting on the floor and occupying all available chairs—including the seat of the
Honda Dream II—slurping and burping and chatting away to one another in T
’s family’s kitchen. There’s a lot of creaking overhead, as half a dozen people have carried their bowls upstairs to pay their respects to Old Man H
ng, and there are still a good number more customers lined up in the courtyard outside. No one comments on the ph
, but they empty their bowls before rinsing them. T
can only interpret this as praise.

Maggie has just arrived, and so have Ph
ng and his father. T
knows Ph
ng, at least, will give him an honest answer about the broth.

“It’s good,” Ph
ng says, clearly surprised.

“What kind of good?”

“The kind of good where I would like to eat it again tomorrow.”

“That is good,” T
says, smiling with relief.

Maggie climbs the stairs with her steaming bowl carefully balanced between her thumbs and middle fingers. She waits on the landing and inhales from the bowl while H
ng’s visitors file out of T
’s room.