All language subtitles for Pushing.Daisies.S02E05.720p.HDTV.x264-CTU-eng

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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?

����bao���ϵ�����

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���� ����ҪһЩ��Ǯ...

�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.

���dz���������Ⱦ� �IJ�

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.

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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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