Vera Wong's Unsolicited Advice for Murderers (Vera Wong, #1)

by Jesse Q. Sutanto

Vera Wong Zhuzhu, age sixty, is a pig, but she really should have been born a rooster. We are, of course, referring to Chinese horoscopes. Vera Wong is a human woman, thank you very much, but roosters have nothing on her.

According to the Chinese horoscope, pigs are diligent and compassionate and are the ones to call upon when sincere advice is needed.

I am a pig lol

Tilly: Uncle Lin died because he was hit by a bus. And I’ve told you to stop calling me Tilly. I go by Bert.

With her muscles sufficiently warmed up, Vera gets into walking position—chin up, chest out, and elbows perpendicular to her body. Then she begins to walk, her fists swinging in front of her chest with the enthusiasm of a North Korean soldier at a national parade. Vera’s morning walk can only be described as vigorous. She is a general on the warpath, eating up the miles with ruthless efficiency.

wisdom, but Vera’s lack of knowledge about the victim. “Did anything strike you about the body?” “Well, yes.” By now, Vera is desperate to be of help. Officer Gray perks up. “It was dead, for one,” Vera says wisely.

“That is the correct reaction to this tea,” Vera says, taking a sip. “It is very rare, all my teas are rare, you know, and when it is picked, the farmers sob because the fragrance is so beautiful it reminds them of the celestial gardens in heaven.” “Really?” Oliver sniffles, fighting to get his emotions under control. Vera shrugs. “I don’t know, I make it up. Americans like it when I tell them stories about each type of tea.”

“So,” Vera says as she settles down across from him and pours out tea for both of them, “what is the holdup? Young people should be moving fast, take the world by its male genitalia, and so on.”

In Chinese culture, respect only flows in one direction, from the younger to the older, like a river. The older generation doesn’t owe the younger ones respect; if any is given, it is done so out of kindness and generosity, not necessity.

And yet it had taken Oliver, someone who’s only met Emma the one time, to provide it. “Thank you,” she whispers to Oliver, who smiles back.

“Don’t cry, Grandma. It’ll be okay.”

“I am mother too. Actually, I am Chinese mother. You can’t get better than that. We raise the best children in the world, you just look at any hospital, all the surgeon are Chinese.”

crispy fried youtiao.

This is so good

Something about her makes him feel like everything will be okay. Nothing bad can happen with a Vera in your life.

He glances at Vera and feels, for the first time, immensely grateful for her unexpected presence in his life.

“Why are you sitting there like a frog? Help me tidy.”

All of it, in the end, had been decided by Marshall. Who was stupid, who was worthless, who was worth their time.

“It’s going to be okay,” he tells her. “We’ll take care of you. I promise.”

“Dang, that’s quite the compliment,” Julia says, nudging Sana, who’s red in the face and grinning. “You like it?” Sana says. “Really?” “Yes, better than when I give birth to Tilly.” “Ooof,” Tilly says. Oliver pats his shoulder.

Alex Chen.”

“What did Marshall say about our daughter?” “He say—” Alex lets out another sob. “He say, ‘That little freak. I’ll have a better one with someone else.’”

Every time Vera steps inside her shop, she is immediately transported to an otherworldly place, a space between real Shanghai and one that only exists in dreams, where she and Jinlong sit in a little boat and sip tea while letting the tips of their fingers trail in the cool, calm water.