Chapter 17
I carefully lean over Nina to work on her eyes, adding an extra layer of mascara to her short lashes. Pó Po looks through her jewelry case for Nina’s “something borrowed” while Grandma, who’s in town for the big day, takes photos of Nina getting ready. Mom finishes combing Nina’s hair and pulls it into a low bun.
“I can’t believe you brought Asshole as a plus one,” Nina says. “I’m so glad.”
“He seems like a nice young man,” Pó Po says, winking at me when we make eye contact in the mirror.
“Let’s just see how today goes,” I say, keeping my face neutral. “He’s meeting us at the courthouse.”
I fluff a section of white feathers around Nina’s strapless bodice. With her long brown hair swept up and pearl earrings glowing on her ears, she looks, in a word, breathtaking. I finish buckling the ankle strap on her baby blue, open-toed heels.
Nina steps back, adjusts a curled wisp of hair, and smiles. “Great job, ladies! I think this’ll do.”
Pó Po slips one of her rings onto Nina’s finger and then looks her up and down, nodding with approval.
Grandma snaps another photo with her film camera. “You remind me of myself on my wedding day,” she says to Nina in admiration. “Except I had a dress that resembled a tiered cake.”
“It’s been so long since we’ve seen those photos,” Nina says, snickering with Grandma.
“Your father must have them in an album somewhere around here,” Grandma says, looking around the bathroom as though they’d be in here. “I’ll ask him.”
I grab the emergency makeup kit and Nina’s change of clothes, double-checking that everything’s there before heading out to the courthouse.
Everyone piles into my parents’ and Auntie Lydia’s cars. As she climbs in, Pó Po reaches for the grab handle but misses and stumbles into the backseat. Mom and I sprint to her from across the front yard, our heels digging into the grass.
“Mom! Are you okay?” my mother asks Pó Po.
“Aiyah! I’m fine! I’m fine!” Pó Po says, waving her off.
“What are you doing trying to get in the car by yourself? We’ll help you,” Mom says with a low level of irritation.
“I birthed three children. I can get in a car.” Pó Po buckles her seat belt and faces forward.
Mom shuts the door and shoots me an apprehensive look.
With a free second to myself in the car, I check to see if any messages have come through. There’s one from Alisha.
Exciting news! One of your tweets has gone low-key viral. Looks like the hashtag is working. Yayyyy!! Have fun at the wedding! Congrats to Nina!
Our social media campaign has sparked new interest like I’d had a suspicion it would. This week alone, there have been more #LoveInTheMoonlight tags, and ever since we increased how many moon songs we pair with animal signs, I’ve answered over thirty direct messages about our services. It feels good to have an idea turn into reality. Maybe things will actually start turning around for real.
When we arrive, I find Bennett lingering in the lobby of the courthouse, looking sharp in a navy blue suit with a crisp white button-down. There’s a sweeping rush of emotions inside me seeing him here, dressed like this, looking at me like that.
“Hey, you. You look beautiful,” Bennett says. He twirls me around as he admires my robin’s-egg blue silk dress before pulling me in for a hug. I bury my face in his neck, wrapping my arms around his waist.
I steal another look at him. “You’re looking very handsome.”
“June, it’s lovely to see you again,” he says, looking excited. He opens his arms for a hug, and Pó Po seems thrilled to accept it by the way she pats him repeatedly on the shoulder as they embrace.
Bennett gently places his hand on the small of my back as we follow my family into the courthouse room at our designated ceremony time.
Inside, I pull Asher to the side before the ceremony begins. “Asher,” I say in my most serious tone.
“Olivia,” Asher says back with a hint of nervousness. We’ve never spoken directly about his animal sign incompatibility with Nina, but she must’ve told him about our conversations.
“You’re a lucky man, Asher. Treat my sister right. Don’t ever lie to her. If you do, well…” I drag my pointer finger across my throat. I adjust his tie and spin him around by the shoulders. “Don’t disappoint me.”
His eyes are wide as he nods speechlessly before hurrying back to Nina.
Both sides of family and friends gather around the bride and groom. Everyone falls silent as Nina and Asher take their places in front of the judge.
I watch behind glassy eyes as Nina and Asher read their vows aloud and exchange rings. I’m hyperaware of Bennett standing next to me, his presence overwhelming and extremely distracting. Every so often, our eyes catch, and we quietly laugh to ourselves. He reaches for my hand, our pinkies linking in private.
Near the end of the ceremony, Asher’s mother comes up to the front and gives a blessing. Both sets of parents carry sticks with a linen blanket attached by the corners and hold it over Nina and Asher. Together, Nina and Asher smash their heels against a bag, breaking the glass inside. The glass sounds like it shatters into a million pieces.
“Mazel tov!” the group cheers and claps.
Nina and Asher seal their love and promises with a kiss. Asher spins Nina into a dip, and she dramatically kicks her leg up. My little sister found her match. Another incompatible couple finding real love.
I ride with Bennett to Ming’s Garden in the San Gabriel Valley, where the family gathers for the wedding feast. This spot is Nina and Asher’s favorite weekend dim sum spot and the location of their first date. Where better to celebrate their love than the place it all started?
A waiter leads us to the private room in the back where several large round tables are set up. Seeing Bennett in an important family setting stirs in me a whole new level of nervousness.
Votives and flowers decorate the tabletops, the light from the candles emanating a warm glow throughout the room. A portable dance floor is set up in front of a microphone stand, drum set, flute, saxophone, and piano keyboard.
Pó Po grips my arm as I lead her to her seat. Walking with us is Dad along with Grandma and Grandpa, who hold hands as they shuffle toward the tables.
“What do you think all this is about?” Dad asks us. “I don’t remember paying for a band.”
Pó Po gives us a mischievous smile. “It’s my surprise for Nina and Asher,” she says.
“Has Nina seen this yet?” I gesture toward the dance floor and look around for her, but she must not be here yet. “Didn’t she specifically not want dancing?”
“A wedding isn’t a wedding without dancing!” Pó Po says in an all-knowing tone. “She’ll like it.”
Asher’s family and ours split up so the families are intermingled at the tables. Bennett offers his arm as Pó Po lowers into her seat. We take our places next to her.
I thank the waiter and ask for a couple of glasses of water in Mandarin.
“I didn’t know you spoke Chinese,” Bennett says, looking impressed.
“Not fluently. A lifetime of Chinese classes and I can order water and ask what time it is,” I say with a sigh.
Bennett nods in understanding. “I’m not fluent, either, but I’ve tried to learn. It’s not easy to pick up or practice when everyone around you speaks English.”
“Yeah. We never spoke it at home growing up. My mom can speak Mandarin, but my dad doesn’t, so…” I trail off, reflecting on this particular shortcoming. “All the Chinese I heard at Lunar Love didn’t even soak in like I hoped it would. Sometimes I have the cruel realization that I’ll never know the language my own mother grew up speaking.”
Uncle Rupert and Aunt Vivienne claim spots between Bennett and Asher’s godparents at our table.
“Olivia! How are things at Lunar Love?” Aunt Vivienne asks. “I should introduce you to my sister’s husband’s cousin’s son. If anyone can work wonders, it’s you! Things are improving, I hope?”
I shift uncomfortably in my seat, knowing Bennett’s listening.
“Stop with all that! You’re going to make her a nervous rex before her speech!” Uncle Rupert, a paleontologist with a penchant for dinosaur puns, interjects with a sly grin.
Pó Po, who by now has heard every one of Uncle Rupert’s puns, looks genuinely charmed by his humor. He looks pleased as he arranges his chopsticks across the top of his plate.
Soft music plays overhead while we wait for the bride and groom to enter.
Pó Po must sense the way I clammed up. “I’m glad you’re both able to set aside your differences to be here,” she says bluntly.
I’m startled by the callout, and we both laugh nervously.
“Me too,” Bennett says agreeably, though I remain quiet. “How did Nina and Asher meet? Did you matchmake her?”
Pó Po waves her hand. “Goodness, no! Can you imagine?” she says, elbowing me gently in my side. “Three matchmakers in the family, and you’d think there’d be more compatible couples.” She makes air quotes around the word compatible. I’m distracted by where she learned to do that, and by her unexpected dismissal of compatibility that she’s been hinting at for weeks now.
“You know, in my matchmaking days in Taiwan,” she continues, “I paired people based on their zodiac animal sign, education, and family background. My focus was matching clients from families of equal social status. In the old days, matchmakers used to be a lot more esteemed. But now we have a different relationship with clients.”
Pó Po suddenly sounds like she’s feeling reminiscent, and while I normally love it, I don’t know how much of it Bennett would want to—or should—hear.
“Starting Lunar Love here, I dropped all the other details of matchmaking and focused on the zodiac. That was my interpretation of it. My way of modernizing it, I guess you could say. To keep it simple,” Pó Po explains. “Now matchmaking can include looking at assets, salary, profession, and even blood type.”
“Modernizing. Very interesting,” Bennett says, raising his eyebrows theatrically at me.
“In China, matchmakers can charge tens, even hundreds of thousands of dollars,” Pó Po says. “Lunar Love’s practically giving away our services! Maybe I should’ve stayed in Asia. I read that a man paid one and a half million dollars for a match. I’m sure it took a lot of time and effort for the matchmaker to sort through thousands of women, but with that price tag attached, I’d welcome the challenge.”
Bennett listens intently, focused on Pó Po and her stories.
“Is that even real?” I ask, suspiciously.
Pó Po clucks her tongue. “We could be making bonuses upwards of thirty thousand dollars.”
“Can you imagine?” Bennett asks, leaning forward.
“Maybe we should be charging even more than we do,” I say, even though I don’t feel this way. I’ve already considered restructuring the fees. Less exclusive, more inclusive. After all, if we want to attract a younger clientele, our prices can’t be as high as they are. When ZodiaCupid launches and offers free profiles with paid upgrades, how can we compete with their $9.99 per month? I tuck my hands under my thighs and focus on the candle’s flickering flame.
“But now people want everything immediately, and love no longer has to be considered a big investment when there are free options available,” Pó Po adds, giving Bennett a dramatic side-eye. To my surprise, he laughs.
All this talk about Lunar Love only reminds me how much work there is to do, especially if we want Lunar Love to be around for much longer. A pang of guilt forms when I think about how much time I’ve spent allowing myself to be distracted by my competition. I try to shrug off the stress and enjoy the wedding.
Without warning, we hear the door kicked open and see Asher walk in carrying Nina in his arms. Nina has changed into a long, ruby-red silk dress. I glance over at Pó Po to gauge her reaction and watch as her tight-lipped smile relaxes.
My focus turns back to Nina as her eyes flit from the group to the dance floor. She breaks into a giggle reserved only for those hopelessly in love.
“Looks like we’re dancing after dinner!” Nina announces. “Thanks, Pó Po! We love it.”
Pó Po slaps my thigh with the back of her hand. “I told you!” she says, pleased. There’s no one else who could go against Nina’s wishes and get away with it.
The newlyweds position themselves in front of the dance floor. “Before we eat dinner,” Nina starts, “Asher and I would like to take a moment to have a toast and incorporate a Chinese tradition that I recently learned about and love.” She looks over at me and smiles. “It’s our interpretation of a tea ceremony. I chose my favorite green tea, and Asher chose chamomile.”
At that, a few waiters glide over to our tables with platters of white teapots. They start pouring hot tea into the teacups next to each guest’s dinner plate.
Asher continues where Nina left off. “The two teas have been blended together, representing our union and families coming together as one. To those who were able to be here, to those who aren’t here with us today, and to love.”
“And health!” Pó Po shouts out, holding up her teacup.
“And happiness!” Asher’s grandmother chimes in.
We all hold up our teacups to toast and then sip the green-chamomile concoction.
Nina and Asher take their seats and more waiters come out with platters and bamboo steamers filled with food. A whole steamed fish is placed in the center of each table, the silvery gray of the fish’s scales and sliced green scallions vibrant against the bleached white tablecloth. Around the fish are bowls of steamed rice, stir-fried vegetables, hot and sour soup, long-life noodles, and platters of Peking duck with steamed buns and hoisin sauce. Plates of garlic-and-ginger shrimp are squeezed in wherever there’s room to fit them. Baskets of dim sum are piled on top of one another, welcoming interaction between guests at the table.
I fill my plate with a mound of steamed rice. Before I can add more, Pó Po takes over.
“No, no! Not enough food for you,” she says. Pó Po grabs my plate and piles more food onto it. “You need to eat so you have energy to keep up with me on the dance floor.”
Bennett follows suit, filling his plate with enough food to make Pó Po proud. Within minutes, he and Uncle Rupert are engaged in deep conversation about when dinosaurs last roamed the earth.
Pó Po watches me over the course of the meal. At the very least, I finish off the rice so that she doesn’t have to remind me of the importance of eating every last grain.
“Bennett reminds me so much of Gōng Gong. Strong-willed, earnest, patient, and handsome,” Pó Po leans over and whispers. “Things seem to be going well.”
“I don’t know. Maybe?” I mumble. Since my last talk with Pó Po, more has happened between me and Bennett. “It’s been nice, but we’ve been together because of work. Who knows what will happen once we sort out this podcast situation. That bet I made, well, we called it off. I’m not sure what will happen now, but with Bennett being a Rat—”
Pó Po shakes her head. “Incompatibility. Compatibility. If you let it, they’ll all rule your life.”
My mouth goes slack. “Uh, isn’t that the point?”
Pó Po tucks a curl behind her ear. “Sometimes in life, there isn’t a point. Sometimes we demand that there is. We pray that there is. And sometimes, we make a point when one isn’t needed. When things are actually quite simple.”
“I don’t understand,” I say. “One day you’re pro compatibility, the next you’re not.”
Pó Po’s dark brown eyes glimmer as she grabs for my hand. “Liv, can I tell you something that you promise to keep secret?”
I look back to make sure Bennett’s still talking to Uncle Rupert. “Of course, Pó Po. You can tell me anything. What is it?”
Pó Po folds the cloth napkin across her lap and then looks up at me like she’s only going to say what she’s about to say once. “Gōng Gong and I weren’t technically compatible,” she finally tells me in a hushed tone. She looks around to make sure no one else heard.
My hand loosens its grip, my chopsticks dropping into my lap. “What’s that now?”
“I rejected my parents’ arranged marriage for me and married Gōng Gong instead.” She continues when I don’t say anything. “They matchmade me too late. He was my first and only love, and he happened to be incompatible. I wish you could have known him. When I say his death quite literally tore my world apart, I mean it. My children were the only ones who got me through that dark time. Which leads me to why I started Lunar Love.”
“I had no idea,” I whisper. “How could you never have told me this? This is huge.”
“No one knows,” she says. “How would it look if the founder of Lunar Love was promoting compatible love when she herself never had a compatible marriage?”
All my thoughts rush to me at once. I sit frozen in place, my hands gripping the sides of my chair. “I don’t understand. Did you both agree to lie about his birthday?”
A small smile lifts Pó Po’s cheeks. “Something like that. For so long, I believed that my husband died because I rejected my parents’ safe, compatible arranged marriage. Lunar Love was my repentance, what I promised myself I’d do. I committed to a life of compatibility and would make it work no matter what.”
“You stubborn woman,” I say with an amazed laugh, my shock slowly wearing off.
“You see why my stubbornness was inhibiting,” she says. “The thing with spending more than fifty years of your life doing something is that you gain a good sense of what’s important, compatible or not.”
“Compatible or not?” I whisper.
Pó Po reaches for my hand and pulls it into her lap. “Don’t get me wrong. Compatibility is the bread and butter of Lunar Love, and there’s truth in the system. But here’s something else I’ve learned in my lifetime: you should be with someone who not only makes you happy, but who challenges you.”
“Who challenges me?” I repeat. What is happening right now? “I can’t believe this.”
“If you really boil it down, Lunar Love provides people with the knowledge and tools for making relationships work.” Pó Po gives my hand a light squeeze. “I didn’t want you to be disappointed in me, so I didn’t tell you sooner,” she says.
“Disappointed in you? You could never disappoint me. Thank you for telling me,” I say, squeezing her hand gently. “Your secret is safe with me.” Pó Po leans in for a hug, and I hold her tight.
I’m still processing this information when the room quiets for my toast as maid of honor. I grab my glass of champagne and overcompensate with a forced smile that makes my cheeks burn. My already shallow breathing quickens until I feel like I’m going to burst. Bennett turns from his conversation and picks up the napkin that slides off my lap, placing it on the table.
“I consider myself lucky that love is my life,” I start, my voice shaky. “I am literally around love every day. In the thick of it. Helping create it. Which means, when I say I’ve never seen a love quite like Nina and Asher’s, you should believe me. It’s an honor to witness a partnership filled with respect, laughter, intense debates, a flair for the theatrical—as evidenced by Nina and Asher’s entrance—lots of love, and honesty.”
Light laughter fills the room. “I know a perfect match when I see one,” I continue. “Nina and Asher, I love you both. Congratulations, and may your best days be ahead of you.” I hold up my glass and a chorus of clinks rings out in the room.
Once the carrot wedding cake—in the shape of a Rooster for Nina and Asher’s signs, made by yours truly—is cut, the band members trickle in. Dressed in all-white tuxedos and sequin bow ties, five older Chinese women take their places at their instruments. No one knows what to anticipate. The woman with the flute begins to play familiar, high-pitched opening notes.
“It’s time for their first dance!” Pó Po squeals, having already moved on to the next event of the evening.
The singer opens her mouth to sing and out comes a Mandarin version of “My Heart Will Go On” by Celine Dion. Bennett and I glance at each other and burst into laughter at how unexpected it is. Nina and Asher look confused but dance anyway to the romantic crooning. They hold each other close, their feet moving in sync on the temporary dance floor, and laugh together. Pó Po closes her eyes and sings along, swaying back and forth in her seat.
The last note of the song ends, and I’m excited to hear what they play next. It’s anybody’s guess. The saxophonist leans forward with her instrument, the smooth notes of “Crazy Little Thing Called Love” filling the room. Pó Po drags me with all the strength she can muster to join her, while I try to pull Bennett up to join us.
“You can’t not dance!” I shout to him over the music.
“I don’t dance in public!” he says. “Remember? Junior prom.”
“What could’ve been so bad? You were what, seventeen? We all look ridiculous at seventeen.”
He shakes his head. “It involved a pulled hamstring, sweaty bangs, split boxers, and my entire grade laughing at me.”
“I promise I won’t laugh when you pull your quad this time,” I say very seriously.
Bennett stays put in his seat.
My shoulders drop. “You’re really going to make me dance alone?”
Bennett visibly tenses. “Sorry,” he says, “but honestly? You don’t want me dancing with you. It’ll just be humiliating.”
“Okay, if that’s what you want,” I say, disheartened.
“Love is crazy, and that’s the thing!” Pó Po sings, reinterpreting the lyrics. The song is performed in English this time so even I can sing along if I want to. She dances her heart out and tugs at my arm. I follow her, abandoning Bennett at the table. I recall what Pó Po said about him not wanting to get too attached. A cloud of uneasiness looms over me, but Pó Po’s excitement pushes it away.
Pó Po doesn’t move fast, but she wiggles with passion. She throws her head back in delight, her happiness contagious. Auntie, Mom, and Dad join in, each of them taking turns to show off their dance moves. A few minutes later, Nina and Asher bop their way over to us.
“This was a great idea, Pó Po!” Nina shouts over the music. “You’re right. I would’ve regretted not having this. Maybe you really do know best!”
“Don’t ever forget that!” she shouts back.
When the slow Mandarin version of “Can’t Help Falling in Love” booms over the speakers, I go back to the table to sit with Bennett.
I lean in closer to his ear. “You okay?” I ask.
Bennett drapes his arm around me, and I rest my head on his shoulder. “I’m great. Thanks for inviting me. This means a lot.”
“Thanks for coming,” I say, angling my face up toward his. “You’re sitting this next song out, too?”
He nods.
For the next slow song, I find my way back to Pó Po. She wraps her arms around my waist, and we rock back and forth.
Pó Po leans back to look me in the eye. She holds her pinky up. I link mine with hers, and we press our thumbs together.
“Liv,” Pó Po says, “you are worthy of love. Let people in. Your heart is stronger than you think. And always remember that I am so proud of you.” She cradles my face in her hand and looks intensely into my eyes. In this simple act, it’s as though she can sense all my worries and fears and wants and desires that are deeply embedded in me. “You were never, and will never be, a disappointment.”