The brighter my smile, the more it masked my inner unease. I felt like I was carefully disguising something, sometimes even frantically explaining myself.
Faced with my deliberately exaggerated flattery, Yushu didn't seem bothered. He took my phone, entered his number, and even dialed it.
His phone buzzed once before he hung up, then he showed me his screen with a smile. "Saved yours too."
The table teased for a moment before moving on. The chatter shifted to urging Lia to accept Jay's devotion, or lamenting the loneliness and adjustment pains of being abroad... In a corner, Quinn Yin and Senior Yan were whispering intimately. I suspected something between them, but since both had partners back home and Quinn Yin was hypersensitive about it, I couldn't voice my thoughts.
Amidst the gossip and shared feelings, I felt something was missing. It took me a while to realize – alcohol!
Back home, gatherings like this meant big plates of meat and rounds of drinks – clinking glasses cemented camaraderie. This meal, however, was sober as could be. The conversation felt a bit dry, lacking atmosphere.
"Why no drinks? Locals abstain, but do foreigners have to too?" I asked Yushu beside me.
"Buying alcohol in Dubai requires a license. To get one, you need proof of income stating your company and monthly salary, stamped and with a contact number. Even if we students jump through hoops to get one, we can only buy basic stuff. If you want decent drinks, better to go to a bar."
A casual question, answered with meticulous detail and clear logic. He addressed every potential query, leaving no room for confusion!
I feigned sudden understanding, giving him a grateful smile before turning back to my plate, savoring the rare taste of authentic Chinese food.
I'm not particularly outgoing, especially in a room full of mostly guys. Quinn Yin was busy whispering with Yan, Lia was cornered by Jay, and the other guys were deep in their own conversation. I struggled to join in.
"You eat with such focus," Yushu said, breaking away from the guys' group, a slight smile on his lips as he looked at me.
"Because your cooking is delicious," I replied honestly.
"But few people eat with such... reverence and pure happiness on their face."
"Are you mocking me for being greedy, or..."
"No. I think it's cute."
Ah, so he wasn't just meticulous; he was also blunt.
I teased him with a string of comparisons: "If a girl isn't pretty, you compliment her grace. If she lacks grace, you say she's smart. If she's not smart either... then you call her cute."
I thought that might stump him, but his logic remained unshaken. "Calling you cute was spontaneous. It had no preconditions."
Touché. Now I was the one speechless.
Sometimes I crave perfect answers, yet fear someone being too flawlessly precise. Life needs seriousness and rigor, but sometimes, it also needs a dash of recklessness and freedom.
Back in my room that night, a text arrived from an unknown number: "Good night."
The signature was Yushu. I realized I'd forgotten to save his number after getting it! He must have noticed and sent this subtle reminder.
I quickly saved his contact and replied "Good night", ready to put my phone down. But before I could, another text notification chimed. Assuming it was him, I swiped open without looking – and froze when I saw the sender.
A single line of English, from Musa.
"Ayub said you were upset (about the group work). I'll make time to come back to class soon. Won't let you handle the whole group task alone."
Initially, influenced by Quinn Yin's warning, I'd lumped Musa and Ayub into the "slacker" category. This message, however, felt like unexpected warmth. A small flame of gratitude flickered inside me.
Reciprocating seemed polite. I typed: "Actually, if you're too busy, it's okay. You could handle research; that way you manage your own time."
My finger hovered over send. Then it hit me – that was his job anyway! Why was I being so accommodating?
I deleted the carefully crafted message and sent a dry "ok" instead.
I assumed that was the end, but my phone buzzed again.
"Your stomach might still be sensitive after the diarrhea. Ramadan starts next week. Remember to stock up on food. Don't get sick again."
Ramadan?! I'd almost forgotten!
Ramadan in Dubai is nothing like back home. In China, Han Chinese are the majority; Hui Muslims observe their fasts privately. But in Dubai during Ramadan, restaurants either close or operate secretly during the day. In public, you can't even sip water! If you're desperate, you have to hide somewhere Muslims can't see you to eat or drink. Only after sunset, during Iftar (breaking the fast), can you openly consume anything.
Essentially, Ramadan meant adapting to a whole new rhythm of life.
What warmed my heart was that Musa, a Muslim who himself couldn't eat or drink during daylight hours, would specifically remind me to prepare food.
My earlier awkwardness faded slightly, replaced by curiosity. I texted back: "You telling me to stock up is basically condoning me 'violating' your faith, isn't it?"
"Stock up, but don't eat or drink where we can see you. We understand foreigners' habits. As long as you do it privately, no one minds." Musa's reply was matter-of-fact, clearly standard practice. And here I was, foolishly thinking it was "special consideration" for me?
Talk about delusional! Served me right!
A pang of disappointment hit, but I shook it off. I pressed further: "Do you really go without even a drop for a whole month? Seriously... no one sneaks food?"
"Of course not." Musa's reply was firm. "Fasting isn't about enduring hunger. It's about discipline, self-purification, and spiritual focus. It's faith, not hunger."
His piety was genuinely impressive. A tiny spark of admiration (maybe even a flicker of longing?) for that "spiritual cleansing" ignited within me. I decided: "Then this Ramadan, I'll fast during the day too! Like you!"
"Really?"
I hesitated for a second. "I'll try my best."
"That's wonderful!" Musa seemed genuinely pleased. Why? Because he'd converted an infidel? He'd be mistaken.
The main reason? I figured it was a great chance to lose weight! No particularly lofty motives here.
A woman who loves beauty should seize such opportunities! Staying fit isn't for men's sake; it's for your own happiness! Privately, I knew I could never be like those women in black abayas, hidden deep within heavy darkness.
Since I planned to "pretend fast," I didn't stockpile snacks as Musa suggested. I only hid a few small bottles of water in my bag.
Lia scoffed at my "fake fasting": "Weren't you just preaching about observing Ramadan? Ramadan means no water either! Not just that bottled water, but you can't even swallow your own saliva!"
My eyes widened in shock. "What?! Not even saliva? That's inhuman!"
"Just messing with you!" Lia laughed slyly. "Well, not exactly. You can swallow saliva naturally. You just can't deliberately gather a big mouthful and gulp it down."
"Oh, that's... manageable, I guess." I nodded, gaining a new understanding of Ramadan rules, but my apprehension about the coming month deepened significantly.