"What is this?"
O'Neal pointed at Chen Yu's plain noodles and squawked.
Chen Yu unhurriedly took out the latest issue of *The Lancet* and started flipping through it. He lifted a mouthful of noodles with his chopsticks, ate it, and only then explained, "They're noodles."
'So uncultured,' he thought. 'It's not like Americans don't eat plenty of pasta.'
"I know they're noodles." O'Neal's eye twitched as he pointed at the bowl. "But I've never seen noodles like this."
Chen Yu ignored him. 'There's a lot you haven't seen,' he thought.
"Don't look at me. Focus on eating your own food."
O'Neal looked at the plain noodles, then back at the pile of green and purple leaves on his own plate. 'Eat my ass,' he thought.
"I'm not eating!" O'Neal shoved his plate away.
Chen Yu still paid him no mind. 'Fine by me,' he thought. 'You've got plenty of fat. You won't starve.'
Nearby, Burnett's eyes lit up. He immediately signaled for the camera to push in and focus on the sulking O'Neal.
