“Don’t let the emperor get you, buddy,” he said as the whistling dwindled to an airy whir. The hog’s eyes roved, as if searching for a crack inside the boy, a way in. Then Hai started to sing along. And as he did the hog shifted on its hooves, and its eyes rolled back, revealing two white pool balls before slowing to a stop, like a statue that suddenly remembered it was made of stone. Hai bent close enough to feel the beast’s breath on his face. “I’m sorry, Bà ngoại,” he said in Vietnamese. “I’m so sorry. Sorry, Noah. Sorry, Ma. Sony, Aunt Kim, Uncle Minh. I let you all down. I tried my best,
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