Original subtitles

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long weekends at the longborough school for boys

were a quiet time,

as most children went home to their families.

there were those students, however,

who gathered not out of friendship,

but because they had nowhere else to go.

young ned found himself a member of this elite group.

ingmar todd was the son of roving missionaries.

as there was very little else to do,

ingmar's room became a center of activity.

place your bets, gentlemen.

narrator: he had arrived at boarding school

with a professionally certified

and balanced roulette wheel

and a tawny owl named casper.

all young ned had to wager was the box of chocolates

he'd hastily snuck into his suitcase

the day his father dropped him off at boarding school.

it was then he noticed the note tucked into the box.

he realized the individually wrapped chocolates currently in play

had been intended as a gift to him

from his dearly departed mother.

bets are closed.

like many beginning players,

young ned bet on both red and black

but failed to consider the double zero on the wheel.

double zed. house wins.

he lost everything.

the lesson was clear -- in gambling,

no matter how well you think you know the odd

there's always an outcome you can't see coming.

during the years that followed,

the pie maker avoided taking gambles,

with a few notable exceptions.

he invested his life savings in a bakery

at a time when carbohydrates had fallen completely out of fashion,

and, more importantly,

he had gambled on the love of his childhood sweetheart,

the girl next door who had returned from the dead.

mmm. try this.

- like the fork. - like being alive.

it's a new flavor -- spring passion fruit.

now, i know it's not spring here,

but it is in new zealand,

which is, uh, exotic and upside down,

which is how we could serve it.

betting on chuck had made the pie maker happier than he had ever been.

- we'll put it on the menu. - ooh! i like daring ned.

it seems since you arrived,cautious ned has left the building.

uh, who's the new guy in the booth?

the handsome, brooding older man

with a sensual twinkle?

plus, he smells good.

he mumbled something odd to me earlier.

there was no word that completely described the feeling

the square-shouldered older man had given the pie maker.

do you ever shiver when you pee?

that's how i felt when he spoke.

- more coffee? - mm. thanks.

pie is delicious.

as good as your mother's.

he said that?

well, did he know your mother?

i didn't ask.

a stranger says a strange thing in passing,

chances are i misheard him or misunderstood.

maybe when he said "your mother's pie,"

he didn't mean my mother, he meant everyone's mother --

the iconic, all-american mother created by advertisers and politicians

as a shorthand for family values

and a longing for baked goods.

would that make you shiver?

if someone said something to me about my family,

it would give me the piss-jitters,

but i'd ask him about it, not hide in a kitchen.

i'm not hiding.

i think he's cute.

hi.

i'm...probably making a mountain out of a molehill

over a random comment i probably misheard,

and i'm hoping to offset any awkwardness

you are or will be feeling

by providing your slice of three-plum on the house.

you're a nervous talker... like your d.

this complicates things. you may need to pay for the pie.

look. dwight dixon.

i was a friend of your father's 25 years ago.

i mean, you are ned, am i right?

nope.

yes, you are, silly.

hi. i'm olive.

- hi, olive. - i'm kitty.

kitty pimms.nice to meet you.

uh, so you knew ned's parents?

yeah, back, uh, when they were dating.

it was the peak of peach season.

she baked a brown-sugar crust.

- your dad didn't have a chance. - they never mentioned you.

oh, i was in the service with your dad,

back before you were born.

you know what? your dad didn't like to reminisce.

probably a lot of things he didn't talk about.

sounds familiar.

i'm actually trying to find him.

i was hoping you could help.

really love to see him.

you got his face, you know, especially around the eyes.

the pie maker had hoped never to be likened to his father,

whether it be around the eyes...

i'm afraid we lost touch...

...or the heart.

...20 years ago.

oh, that's a shame.

any thoughts on where i might look?

nope.

and though you're obviously speaking from a good and helpful place,

it's not good and helpful...

to me, so...

as chuck marveled at the pie maker's refusal

to help search for his only parent,

emerson cod marveled at the digestive coma

produced by beef balls and curried cuttlefish

from the dim sum restaurant downstairs.

his phone silenced,

emerson knew the world of clients and murders

would soon be lost in the cloud of a power nap.

help me emerson cod!

what the hell?

arriving downstairs in search of a new case,

the p.i. stumbled on one from his past...

...simone hundin,

obedience expert and widow of deceased,

polygamous dog breeder harold hundin.

while investigating her husband's murder,

emerson and simone had forged a close bond.

emerson cod.

simone. what have you been up to?

narrator: it was a friendship that had very nearly,

but not quite, become...

breeding.

my bubblegum's in heat.

it was a long night.

sit.

but what a treat bumping into you.

i didn't know you were a dim sum connoisseur.

best pork buns in town. my office is upstairs.

it's a dangerous combination.

bun?

no, i'm really trying to, you know --

narrator: the private investigator considered how his inescapable desire

to be obedient to this obedience trainer

was at once thrilling and terrifying.

then he remembered his case.

hey, did you send me a message in a cookie?

wasn't me.

i find there are more reliable ways to send a message.

leave it.

it's been a pleasure, mr. cod.

perhaps we'll cross paths again.

narrator: fortunaty,

emerson had a distraction from his conflicting impulses --

a client.

excuse me, ma'am?

i'm emerson cod,

the private investigator from upstairs.

did you by any chance contact me?

i've seen your billboards.

my name is lai di.

"lady"?

"lai di."

i'm married to bao, the chef.

picking up some things of his.

you're married to the chef?

ma'am, may i just say --

your husband's pork buns make me glad to be alive.

the man's a true artist.

well, not anymore.

he's dead now.

but i'll hire you to find who killed him.

narrator: the facts were these --

lai di and her husba, bao,

immigrated from beijing

with the hope of opening theiown restaurant.

bao quickly established himself

as the premier authority

on the delicate art of bun steaming.

he demanded privacy while he worked...

both to eliminate distractions and protect his unique recipes.

but even with his daughter working as a waitress,

bao could never save enough money for his own restaurant.

it was after a 16-hour shift

that lai di had noticed bao could not sleep.

something had him terrified.

bao chose to reply in english.

- pressure! - pressure?

narrator: lai di would remember bao's misgiving as ironic.

police were satisfied bao's death had been an accident,

but lai di was convinced there had been foul play.

okay, let's be delicate.

he may not speak english.

and with the pipe the way it is,

i don't know if he'll speak at all.

bao ��� �����м�������Ҫ����

you speak chinese?

whoa! watch out.

please, don't hurt me! i'm sorry i lose the bet!

look, we're not gonna hurt you!

- what bet? - gambling at the dim sum!

- now someone's going to kill me. - going to kill you?

i don't know how they're going to do it,

but they're going to do it for sure!

- yeah, yeah, who -- who wants to kill you? - who were you gambling with?

i tell you that, and i'm a dead man!

see, what we need now is a mirror.

i got to get out of here!

hey!

bao, no! wait!

ouch.

narrator: as it appeared the bun steamer's buns

were steamed over a bet at the dim sum,

emerson cod returned to the restaurant

for a chat with bao's daughter.

mei: i don't know why my mother hired you.

my father's death was an accident.

your mother had a hunch.

i could gold-leaf my bathroom with whai made off ther-hunches.

and what i really need to know is --

are those the new chiu-chao dumplings? may i?

pork...

...dried shrimp.

chives, mushrooms...

in a glutinous rice flour.

girl, your father could make a grown man cry.

hi.

this is rubbie wu, my fianc?

also manager of the dim sum.

son, you got a hell of a restaurant.

ah. i'm a lucky man in many ways.

mr. cod, right? you work upstairs.

cuttlefish, beef balls,

and taro dumplings every sunday at noon.

i'm sorry about your loss,

both in the human and gastronomical sense.

speaking of the genius who was your father,

is it possible he was also a degenerate gambler?

i heard he was killed over a bet.

he didn't ha time for anything but work.

least, as far as i know.

my father and i weren't very close.

what about gambling here in the restaurant,

you know, with employees or maybe customers?

we're just a dim sum restaurant.

if bao was in trouble 'cause of gambling,

it didn't happen here.

so, it sounds like mei didn't seem too broken up

about dear old dead dad.

didn't waste many tears.

that being said, i searched the entire restaurant --

there's no basement or secret card room or the like.

maybe bao meant something else when he said he lost a bet.

maybe bao had a pipe through his head

and we're chasing smoke.

i'll call you when i find a lead.

- what are you doing? - i just --

??

dwight stopped by again. didn't say much.

just that kind, warmhearted smile with the crinkly eyes that say,

"oh, i wish i could find my old friend, ned's dad,

before i die alone."

i know that face.

it's the "i'm still waiting to hear

why you won't help your father's friend" face.

no, it's a "you don't know my face as well as you think" face.

i keep my feelings about my father behind a door

that's closed for so long,

it's wallpapered over, and you can't sethe seams.

and that's how i like it.

dwight showing up is like a corner peeling.

and i see that peeling corner,

and i want to rip it off.

you wouldn't if you knew what was underneath.

in my case, it's a colorful mix

of anger, chronic distrust, and misplaced guilt.

my mom's been lying to me for three decades about who she is.

we have a whole pile of stink to work out,

and i would if i could, but i can't.

but you can, if you could, and you should.

what is that?

it's my clue pad for writing down clues.

i love that you have a clue pad.

my father's address --

you can give it to dwight.

that's as much as i can do.

h-how long have you had this?

a while.

narrator: by "a while,"

the pie maker meant 20 years, 11 months,

3 weeks, 5 days, and 6 hours

since he had gotten word, whilst away at boarding school,

that his father had moved on and started a new family...

without him.

can i help you?

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�ҵij�����ͣ�ڱ�ǰ��

this is hua jiang.

he overheard emerson at the restaurant.

����ԭ����һ���IJ��ĵط�

yeah, he said that there's been illegal gambling at the dim sum

since it opened in the days of prohibition.

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he says they'd pull the shades and play cards for money all night long.

and when your luck was running,

you'd have a woman on each arm

and all the milk you could drink.

- "milk"? - hmm,

might not be the right word.

my mandarin's a little rusty.

this went on until the police filly caught on

and shut them down.

but he says they always found a way to keep the card game going.

i've already searched the whole damn restaurant.

well, there were gin joints in the '20s

that used to have underground passages and secret panels,

and you used to have to know the password --

like "antwerp" or "fiddlesticks."

what?

i was pecting emerson to say something snarky.

emerson?

are we spying? i love spying.

shut it.

0 hey. isn't that... - simone?

that dog lady you dated?

is that why we're hiding?

- we ain't hiding, and we didn't date. - you wanted to.

- yeah, and then i didn't. - why you didn't?

no kidding. she's gorgeous.

there are complicated issues in this situation

that you nd to know nothing about,

except that their complexities are so complex,

it makes this shallow conversation absurd.

strange.

you calling my romantic life "strange"?

no.

it's strange none of the people at that table are eating.

narrator: as they continued to observe the diners who were not dining,

several unusual details became apparent --

all plates at the table were covered with a lid.

before serving,the waitress would spin the food on a lazy susan.

each diner took five plates...

then placed a number of soybeans in the center of the table.

let's see 'em.

narrator: while this behavior did not seem consistent

with diners enjoying a dim sum dinner,

when the scene was reimagined in a different way,

it began to make sense.

i do love winning.

those folks are playing poker with food.

narrator: faced with a table full of unsavory poker players,

emerson cod summoned a steely bravery

acquired from years of p.i. work,

as he questioned what was, for him,

the group's most intimidating player --

simone.

given the amount of cash you left with

in your doggie bag last night,

i'd say this wasn't the first time

you been gambling at the dim sum.

aggression is a sign of fear, mr. cod.

sometimes aggression is just a sign of being aggressive,

which i will be until i catch whoever killed bao ting.

now tell me about dim sum-style poker.

it's quite simple.

you give the password to the hostess,

which is "hao shou yun" and means "fortune" in mandarin.

you buy in at the table. ach plate is a card,

and the meats are the four suits shrimp, pork, chicken, beef.

the appetizers represent different numbers.

other than that, it's traditional five-card draw.

except you can eat your cards.

which is what you do when the police arrive.

did you know bao ting?

his steamed buns blurred the line between eating and sex,

but we were not acquainted.

any of these regulars seem like the type

to push a pipe through your skull if you owed 'em money?

shrimpboy's a gangster in charge of running the table

and paying off the manager.

anson chen did eight years in the state pen for armed robbery.

jin quin is a thug for hire, will do anything for a few dollars.

louie strangled his mother-in-law, got off on a technicality.

jim...is a plumber.

they all take gambling seriously,

and they're all dangerous.

any of them could have done it.

what about you?

pbht. please.

i was at a dog show that night,

which is 800 alibis -- 1,200,

if you include canines.

are we finis?

i've made a career out of training animals

to overcome and subdue their instincts.

that being said, without raw instinct,

life is nothing more than a series of empty tricks.

you pretending this is all business between us...

seems like an empty trick.

something i leard the hard way...

whenever i'm with someone,

the more i begin to feel...

- inadequate? - never.

- tongue-tied? - no.

aroused? ye-- i'm just saying...

thmore i'm into somebody,

the greater the odds that it's gonna end badly.

and based on that, how would we end?

extremely badly.

you hear what i just said?

narrator: this was the first time

the private investigator had ever been ordered to...

come.

narrator: as emerson went against what he was sure

was his better judgment,

chuck and olive did the same

by paying a visit to ned's father.

- pie delivery! - surprise random pie delivery!

just a minute.

this is a good idea. right?

sounded like a good idea when you described it to me.

yeah, imagine if we'd have dragged ned here

and we find out that his dad's still an emotional disaster?

and it turns out he's older and crankier

and drinks $6 bottles of sour mash?

ohh, ned would have a trump card of an i-told-ya-so.

man: come in!

hi!

it'll take just a minute.

wait..actually, we were looking for an older...

oh. o-okay. all right.

voil?

oh.

thank you.

it's not my fault.

the stupid false bottom keeps jamming.

it works when i do it.

oh, twins! oh, i love twins!

i-i'm ralston. this is maurice.

we have a big show coming up.

oh, actually, we were looking for an older man that lives here?

he won a pie in a raffle.

we have a raffle every week.

it's very exciting.

the only older man was our dad,

and he hasn't lived here for a while.

did you say..."dad"?

yeah. he hasn't lived here in a few years.

he kinda... disappeared.

then our mom shacked up with someone else,

so we kept the house.

narrator: it was then that chuck and olive realized...

you have the same eyebrows as him!

they do! they do!

i said that twice -- once for each of you.

you have seen twins before, right?

oh, yeah. she didn't mean the same as each other. she meant...

narrator: a pause as they considered how the pie maker might react

if he knew they had discovered his half-brothers.

- dad must be very handsome. - oh, yeah. enjoy the pie.

- both: thanks. - bye.

narrator: simone come and gone,

emerson felt flushed with a post-coital sense of achievement

and renewed powers of mental clarity.

he spotted something.

who are you, busboy in every picture?

narrator: and, looking more closely...

meet me at the dim sum.

three reasons i want to speak to that busboy.

one, he makes $5 an hour,

and he's wearing a $2,300 omega deville prestige quartz wristwatc

two, he's always hanging around that poker table.

and, three, he's been watching us ever since we came in here.

since we came here. where were you?

gambling. for you.

and i hit a jackpot --

but, um, maybe not the kind you'd like.

what other kind is there?

busboy's making a run for it. let's go.

how could you go to my dad's house without telling me?

i can't believe you didn't tell me you have brothers.

half-brothers.

two half-brothers, which is like one whole one,

and, anyway, they're family,

your dad did the same thing to them.

and, ned, they have your eyebrows,

and they do parlor magic!

so, maurice, he jumps into one trunk,

and then ralston jumps out of the other one.

"maurice" and "ralston"?

you didn't even know their names?

i'm glad dad got so fun and creative with naming

after i left. goodbye, ned.

- hello, mercutio and ribald! - maurice and ralston!

that's what happens in a second marriage.

people loosen up, drop their baggage, and live a little.

i was the baggage.

busboy's not in the kitchen.

hey, wait a minute.

yeah, right, over there.

aha! ohh. ohh.

this is where bao worked his magic.

it's terrible that your dad left you,

but it's not your brothers' fault.

it's not even half their fault.

why not try to get to know them?

i know other nice people my father didn't abandon me for.

oh,no, too much pressure.

no, this isn't good!

what is that?

that is a newly repaired bun steamer!

watch out!

- man: aah! - who shrieked?

i might have shrieked.

it sounded like it came from over there.

i think i found him.

it's the busboy.

you think just 'cause you dead,

you ain't gonna tell us what you was up to,

but you are so wrong.

what the hell's that?

i believe it's a three-foot length of pper pipe.

i wonder if that's excluded under "special circumstances."

what "special circumstance"?

my life insurance policy.

that's what i do -- investigate policy claims.

i'm perry long with dawson & stubbs...

previously.

well, perry, judging by the man-made crimp in the pipe,

i think we looking at your garden-variety premeditated murder.

nice! it's a solid payout.

listen, if you're an insurance investigator,

what the hell you doing posing as a busboy?

working undercover.

checking out a suspiciousolicy claim by a chef named bao ting

we know bao.

bao took out a $200,000 life insurance policy

one day before he died.

- what are we, idiots? - who's the beneficiary?

his daughter.

name's mei. she works at the restaurant.

thanks, perry.

you think he left me money?

i'll believe it when i see it.

well, 200 grand's a lot of dough.

maybe enough for somebody who felt ignored

and neglected to cash in?

will you excuse me? i have a table waiting.

wait, wait. hold on a second. i --

since i'm waiting on an order,

maybe you ought to let her do her job.

- yes. good idea. - yeah, you right.

and that is shrimpboy.

he runs the poker table.

- he didn't like us talking to mei. - maybe they're all in on it together.

yeah.

- mr. cod? - food to-go.

i didn't order this.

meet me across the street.alone!

narrator: although the handwriting was familiar to emerson,

as it turned out, the author was a surprise.

you think i killed my father?

then why would i send you the fortune cookie

the first time asking for help?

- your mother sent me that cookie. - no!

i sent you the cookie

knowing she was there that day collecting my dad's belongings.

i wanted her to run into you.

i knew she was suspicious of how dad died.

why couldn't you just hire me?

because shrimpboy watches me!

i know all his secrets,

but mom doesn't know anything,

not even about the gambling.

if he knew i was talking to you now...

what's you...

that i'll tell you about the bet my father lost.

did you say "bet"?

narrator: the facts were these --

chasing money for his own staurant at the dim sum poker table,

bao had gambled away his life savings.

he then begged the other gamblers to let him play on credit.

shrimpboy agreed, on one condition --

if bao lost the next hand,

his daughter would be forced to marry

shrimpboy's socially handicapped cousin rubbie,

manager of the dim sum.

20 minutes later, mei was engaged.

and since shrimpboy believed the terms of a bet

should be followed to the letter,

he kept a close watch on mei.

it's the wrong bet.

bao gambled away his daughter's hand in marriage,

but so far, mei's kept her end of the bargain.

there's no motive.

no way she's gonna stay in some kind of an arranged marriage.

she ain't going anywhere,

not as long as she's under shrimpboy's thumb.

we got to prove that shrimpboy killed bao,

and to do that, we got to questioshrimpboy.

but there are bodyguards involved --

very big ones.

- maybe simone can help. - simone can't help.

i thought you talked to her.

or did you more than talk?

you did more than talk.

we decided to cool things off as a mutual agreement amicably reached

by two highly mature adults!

excuse me.

what's the matter with you?

i owe you an apology.

is this an apology for going to ned's dad's house?

and if so, can i please get in on it?

because i, too, am very sorry.

i was thrown that you went behind my back to look for a man

who made my tender, formative years pure misery.

that said, i appreciate the apology.

well, we weren't gonna tell you anything

if we didn't have good news.

your brothers are friendly and very cute --

not that you care about that,

but i thought it qualified as good news.

especially the "brothers" and the "friendly" part.

yeah, and it was wrong to be sneaky.

i was trying not to be pushy and replacing "sneaky" with "pushy" was a big mistake,

- but... - "but"?

but i know you.

you say you don't want to feel connected,but...

i don't believe that.

i mean, everyone needs family.

you're my family.

and you, to a slightly lesser degree.

thanks, to a slightly lesser degree.

i've spent my life not having...father

which is a good thing.

but if i reach out to my brothers,

i'm betting it'll make my dad feel good, wherever he is.

i don't want that.

ifhat seems petty and vindictive and small,

think of it as an homage to my father

and the tiny part of us that is the same.

narrator: as chuck and olive pondered the distance

ned put between himself and his past,

emerson pondered ways of getting closer to shrimpboy.

while tracking the potentially murderous gangster,

the p.i. came up against something far more frightening --

simone.

the mutual decision to let things "cool off"

had not, in fact, been mutual.

but as he gazed up at the stars,

his thoughts turned to his favorite warm, puffy pastries

and the delicious surprises hidden inside.

and then he got an idea.

menus for table 12

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whold it kill you to bring ouve a few menus

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narrator: emerson's plan involved a pot of green tea??

when ingested,

the herbs were known to cause an uncomfortable fullness of the bladder.

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little cousin wins again.

how 'bout that, huh?

boss?

i got an uncomfortable fullness of the bladder.

yeah, me -- me too.

�� ��

i'm sorry, we're closing.

what if i said we was here for the "hao shou yun" special?

same for me, darlin'.

that's right.

what's up, players?

which one of y'all be shrimpboy?

depends. who's asking?

"who's asking" is jimmy the ace.

ricky the hammer

we did time in the joint together.

where is ricky, that lovable cutthroat?

never heard of him.

and this game...is full.

yeah, well, uh [clears throat] that's too bad,

'cause, uh, the sucker behind me

got pockets so deep,

he write a check and the bank bounce.

he's a grade-a fish.

i thought i'd bring him in here so we can pick him clean.

rubbie, why don't you and louie sit this one out?

yes, rubbie.

have a seat, player.

it's a grand buy-in. hope thas not a problem.

oh, i always carry around some loose change.

damn, woman, you got the kung fu grip.

ain't you the shrimpboy won himself a bride in a poker game?

i heard about that.i thought,

"that fella needs to get out more.

there's better ways to meet girls."

i was playing her dad.

girl wasn't for me.

see, my cousin ain't too hot with the ladies,

so i did him a favor.

yeah, i bet her daddy was pretty angry

when he lost that bet, huh? [ chuckles ]

well, if he was,

why'd he play the hand in the first place?

see, around here, a bet's sacred.

your word is all you got.

��

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bet's to you, new guy.

$300 to stay in.

oh, is that all? [ chuckles ]

you can raise.

no, i like to begin with an insignificant sum, like this,

then work my way up to the real money.

yeah, speaking of real money --

if i was you,

i'd have kept right on betting with that fool.

he sound like an easy mark.

oh, he came back,

felt guilty about his daughter having to marry my cousin.

said he wanted to win her freedom back.

so it wasn't about money this particular time.

he was just trying to help his daughter.

except he had nothing to bet with.

so i told him to get lost.

yo, you or what?

oh, yeah, yeah.

all right. let's switch 'em.

hey, somebody! open up!

keep walkin'.

i love gongs! nothing wrong with that.

narrator: the bodyguards still indisposed,

the private investigators nsidered their latest clue --

that the bet that had gotten bao killed

had not been with shrimpboy after all,

but with someone else.

bao wanted to win back mei's freedom.

if shrimpboy wouldn't play,

there's always someone else bao could have played against.

you mean rubbie?

yeah. bao would've gondirectly to her fianc

to try to win mei back from him.

hey. time to put up or shut up.

oh, yeah, yeah.

let's do this.

pork buns, shrimp dumplings,

full house.

beef pot stickers, straight to the nine.

bao had life insurance.

what if he gambled that?

i mean, mei's the beneficiary,

but if rubbie marries her, then he gets the money.

and rubbie wouldn't collect as long as bao was alive.

narrator: at last, the truth was clear.

rubbie murdered bao.

beef and sticky buns -- empty. you bluff.

we better hurry up and finish this business

and then call the police.

- what's with the whispering? - show the damn cards.

oh, yeah.

10 high.

shrimp dumplings, four of a kind.

winning hand.

i won?

yeah, i won! [ laughs ]

time to cash out.

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??i got bad circulation.

keep them here

until me and my fiance are on the plan

we're taking our honeymoon early.

right, honey?

hey, crab cake,

you help him, you're an accessory,

and i'm not talking gucci handbag.

i'm talking hard time in the pen,

the joint, the hoosegow, the forbidden city.

my cousin won a bet, and around here...

a bet is sacred.

what? i'm...just repeating what he said.

narrator: the facts were these --

bao's desperate plea for a chance

to win his daughter's freedom

was paired with an unfortunate lack of funds.

when shrimpboy refused,

rubbie suggested bao simply wager the payout

from a life insurance policy.

if rubbie won the hand,

he would marry mei and wait for bao to die

before claiming his reward.

rubbie won the poker game with an amazing straight flush.

bao had failed his daughter and was devastated.

even more devastating was bao's next realization,

that his future son-in-law demanded payment...

immediately.

papa was risking his life for me.

i wouldn't even speak to him.

it's not your fault.

i thought i knew my father,

but i didn't know him at all.

narrator: it struck the pie maker,

he'd always believed his father's actions poke for themselves.

but maybe he was wrong.

speak of the devil.

simone?!

nobody locked the door?

- i don't think this would be the best time. - and when would be

certainly not earlier, when you dived into your car to hide from me.

no, see, you don't underst-- - i require honesty, loyalty, and respect --

qualities you've done an extraordinary job of not showing.

so let's try a new set of rules.

from now on, you will not speak to me...

- but i -- - ...or call me.

- but i -- - ...or come within 20 feet.

- but i -- - and stop calling me "but i"!

lady.

what's going on?

we have a plane to catch.

no! no!

bubblegum, stop begging!

doou have food in your pocket?

no.

- you do, don't you? - what are you talking about?

i was waiting on you when you beat shrimpboy at poker.

and i bet you beat him because you had the winning pork bun in your pocket.

you're a cheater.

cheater, cheater, cheater, cheater.

ch-cheater!

yeah, and you know he was cheating when he played bao.

and around here, a bet is sacred. right?

out of my way!

narrator: while there were things shrimpboy could forgive,

such as homicide, kidnapping, and illegal poker,

he drew the line at cheating.

in part,

it was the countless hands of poker

he'd lost to rubbie in the years since childhood,

now seen in a different light.

as rubbie had cheated bao,

shrimpboy agreed the bet was nonbinding.

mei and her friends were free to go.

and mei's engagement was disengaged.

ah, sparkly.

because shrimpboy believed that all games are meaningless

unless we risk something real.

rubbie risked something real,

and what he gained, as olive predicted,

was a visit to the hoosegow.

after the insurance company made a grudging payout to mei,

she ared it with her mother,

who shared it with emerson --

payment for a job well done.

still, emerson was forced to acknowledge

it had been a job not so well done

where simone was concerned.

simone! simone!

damn it, woman!

whatever it is, say it quickly.

look, you all about control.

now, i'm not gonna denythat's a turn-o

but you never show your cards.

i figured if i went all-in,i'd be out on the street somewhere

with a tin cup and a borrowed blanket.

you with me?

for about 10 more seconds.

but when you barged into the restaurant to tell me off,

well, that was a whole new simone,

- because that meant you were... - hiding a shred of vulnerability?

well, hell, a shred's better than nothing.

all i'm saying is...

...you show me your cards,

i'll show you mine.

narrator: it struck emerson that while some people are terrified of a gamble

and others can't say no to one,

the best approach lies somewhere in the middle.

i would ask what changed your mind...

except?

except you haven't rang the doorbell yet,

which would prove that you have changed your mind.

all right, anything i say now is tempting fate.

it's easier to make assumptions about dad

and why he did what he did than admit i don't know.

i don't know my family,

or what it would be like to know them.

and the finding-out part...

makes me a little queasy.

well, whatever happens, i'll be right here, okay?

thanks.

come on. come on.

- hello? - hi. i'm ned.

i thought i'd stop by because...

basically, we have the same dad.

narrator: as t brothers gazed at each other for the first time,

the pie maker sensed this gamble would pay off

in ways he could never predict.

and from his vantage point across the street,

dwight agreed.

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