The Public Slight
Luo Chen stood by the kitchen door, a tray in his hands, a prop in his own home. The front hall of the ancestral restaurant, usually bustling with dinner service, was dressed for a different kind of business. Old carved screens gleamed. The round mahogany table held a tea service, a lacquered bid folder, and three copies of the valuation register under a glass paperweight shaped like a fish. Everything looked polished enough to lie.