Three hours later,
"Dad, how do you write the 'qian' in 'apologize'?"
"I don't know how to write it."
"Dad, you're an adult, how can you not know how to write it?" Curly looked at her father, her face full of disappointment.
"I've been learning Chinese for less time than you have." Adrian stared at his own chicken-scratch handwriting, feeling all stuffed up inside. Chinese characters were so hard to write.
1.5 thousand dollars worth of characters—it felt like an impossible mission.
"Dad, aren't you part of the Orienta Diaspora? Don't people from the Orienta Diaspora have to learn Chinese?"
"When your grandpa was still alive, he did hire a Chinese tutor for me. My speaking is okay, but after all these years, I've forgotten all those characters clean."
Curly scooted over and took a look at Adrian's self-criticism, then went slack-jawed. "Dad, even the title 'self-criticism' is wrong. The 'jian' isn't written like this.
