He broke the ice by buying half a kilo of climbing perches. Haggling, he bantered, “You’re a tough one, aren’t you?” which made both of them blush, his face turning nearly black. Then he said, “What is your name?” “Yes?” “I said, what is your name?” “Just call me ‘fishmonger.’ ” “You’re a funny one, aren’t you?” “My name is Phuong.” “I’m Cun.” Back home, Cun gave the newly bought fish to the servant. She had never seen him buy food before. Perplexed, she glanced at his face and saw that it had changed radically. It was peaceful now, radiating with a Khmer smile and a nimbus. For the first time, he didn’t look half ugly. Is he in love with me? she wondered. She could see herself as Kim Lan’s new daughter-in-law. It’s about time I get to boss a domestic servant around. Lost in reverie, distracted, she brought a meat cleaver down on her thumb, nearly slicing it off. Cun heard her scream and saw blood on the chopping board. “What the hell did you do?!”
