It took me a while to become used to this way of expressing affection. At first I found it brusque and bossy: ‘Have some congee! Drink some soup! Put on some more clothes!’ But over time I came to understand what it meant. I can always tell, now, when someone Chinese is becoming fond of me because they start to cluck over my physical needs, urging me to eat or drink, to wrap up warm, to rest. When a stern-faced chef barks at me to have some more baozi for breakfast or Li Shurong presses me to have another mouthful of her red-braised pork, I know they are offering me the edible equivalent of a
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