{"id":25443,"date":"2024-02-08T14:50:15","date_gmt":"2024-02-08T06:50:15","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.wukongsch.com\/blog\/?p=25443"},"modified":"2025-06-13T13:54:35","modified_gmt":"2025-06-13T05:54:35","slug":"wukong-education-tell-us-your-abc-story-award-winning-story-dumplings-my-love-and-hate","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.wukongsch.com\/blog\/wukong-education-tell-us-your-abc-story-award-winning-story-dumplings-my-love-and-hate-post-25443\/","title":{"rendered":"WuKong Education “Tell Us You’re ABC Story” Award-Winning Story: Dumplings: My Love and Hate"},"content":{"rendered":"
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Welcome to Our ABC Stories! In 2023, WuKong Education’s “Tell Us Your ABC Story” Global Story Contest invited Chinese families worldwide to share their tales. Actor Daniel Wu and author Vincent Yee, and the WuKong Judge Team, collectively selected 21 finalists from touching submissions. “Dumplings: My Love and Hate” by 14-year-old Dora Zhao won the “Cultural Heritage Award”. Dora’s narrative beautifully captures life’s intricacies. Take a moment to be inspired by her incredible story, offering a glimpse into global Chinese experiences.<\/blockquote>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\"\"\r\n\r\n\u201cEwww, guys what\u2019s that smell,\u201d a kid snickered behind me before snorting at his own comment. That \u201cjoke\u201d was almost like \ufb02int to a chain of explosives, the way it ignited \ufb01ts of grating giggles down the table as all the other kids also seemed to \ufb01nd it equally hilarious.\r\n\r\nI didn\u2019t even have to look around to realize who they were mocking. I\u2019d already heard the same line being used\u00a0\u00a0a\u00a0\u00a0sickening\u00a0\u00a0number\u00a0\u00a0of times before. Instead, I peered\u00a0\u00a0into my worn-out Thermos that used to be bright pink. Inside, I counted a total of six dumplings. Running my plastic fork over the golden brown dough, I closed my eyes and focused on the sound of the crust. Before I knew it, the golden brown patterns began to turn gray as the jumbled noise faded back in. Knitting my eyebrows together, I forced myself to swallow the mere saliva that had been attracted by the scent of pork and fresh chives. I closed the container back up, thinking to myself \u201cI guess I\u2019m eating lunch after school again \u2026\u201d\r\n\r\n\"Free\r\n\r\nAfter we moved, there wasn\u2019t much I looked forward to at school anymore. Although we had only moved from Brooklyn to Staten Island, the di\ufb00erence between the two neighborhoods was so signi\ufb01cant that it felt as if we had moved to a whole new country. Back in Brooklyn, I was surrounded by family, friends, and most importantly, people who look like me. Since we moved, I soon realized that it was no longer the case. Instead of the traditional hand games that we all knew\u2014passed down from our parents\u2014I had to get used to a set of lyrics for a new game called \u201cPatty Cake.\u201d The period I spent eating lunch in the cafeteria was the time I cherished the most back in my old school. However, it quickly evolved into my demise. Almost every day, I would be reminded of how much I didn\u2019t belong here once I opened up my lunchbox. Lunch was the period of time when I was most vulnerable: I couldn\u2019thelp but notice the judgmental looks and comments about the foreign smell that the other kids threw my way. I tried to shake ito\ufb00 at \ufb01rst, but having to endure the rude reactions to food that I have been eating for my whole life proved impossible. I began eating in a strategic manner, doing whatever I could to contain the smell\u2013I would take a bite, and then instantly re-close the container before I had even \ufb01nished chewing. I knew that I didn\u2019t \ufb01t in. It wasn\u2019t like ahidden secret. After the \ufb01rst week at my new school, I realized that I didn\u2019t live lives like the people who surrounded me now. I couldn\u2019t relate to anyone anymore. I was alone for the \ufb01rst time ever at school. From that point onwards, I began to dread going to school.\r\n\r\nIt was the end of June, when temperatures began \ufb01ghting with the AC\u2019s to take over the classroom\u2019s atmosphere. I had been attending this school for almost 4 months already. Unfortunately, being a small school on a suburban island, the AC\u2019s proved too weak and eventually succumbed to the blazing heat. The day was abnormally hot, even teachers were unable to ignore the temperatures in the classroom. The class was wild\u2013kids shrieking across the room over whatever nonsense. Staying sane in such an environment was an impressive feat. Having had enough, Mrs. Graziano, our 5th grade ELA teacher, raised her voice, and began the class, \u201cIf you hearme, clap once. If you hearme, clap twice.\u201d Despite cringing the whole time, I clapped once and clapped twice.\r\n\r\n\"Free\r\n\r\nI ironically appreciated English class more than ever. Back in my Brooklyn, it was like learning a whole new language beacause everyone would mostly speak in Mandarin to each other. It was a class that I just had to sit through and bear. However, in Staten Island, I realized that it was my lifeline, my only solution to \ufb01tting in. Thus,I embraced the class. Having a teacher as kind as Mrs. Graziano also helped immensely, so I always gave her my respect.\r\n\r\nAfter \ufb01nally receiving everyone\u2019s attention, especially mine, she was able to show a grin before announcing that we were having an end-of-the-year party. Cheers instantly erupted from the class. The ridiculous heat had the kids on the tips of their seats, and an announcement as grand as this one was sure to drive them nuts. Of course, I was happy, too! I could already envision all the yummy snacks that we were about to get: the non-Asian, American snacks that everyone loved.\r\n\r\n\u201cSettle down, guys,\u201d Mrs. Graziano chuckled as she summoned the focus of the room back \u00a0on her, \u201cI have another special announcement! This year\u2019s party is certainly not going to be\u00a0\u00a0like the others you guys have had before!\u201d The classroom went wild! In fact, \u201cwild\u201d was an \u00a0understatement. Before Mrs. Graziano even shared the key aspect, the keyboard \u201cspecial\u201d had already have everyone cheering!\r\n\r\n\u201cHold on, guys. I\u2019m not done yet! The theme of the end-of-the-year party will be \u2026 culture! Essentially, I would like for you all to bring foods from your family\u2019s culture to share with the class at the party.\u201d I didn\u2019t know what to say. I looked at my friends and they had already started sharing about what amazing and delicious foods that they would bring. When I saw the boys that would make fun of me and my lunch bragging about all the foods that were apart of their culture, I just fell quiet. This classroom that had been my sanctuary, just turned into my worst nightmare.\r\n\r\nThat night I thought about mentioning the party during dinner. As I opened my mouth to ask a simple question, I was reminded of how much I was ready, and the thought was promptly dismissed to the back of my mind. The next few weeks were the same. Lunchtime was the same. But something had begun to irk me, and once it was planted in my mind, there was no getting rid of it.\r\n\r\n\u201cWhy do they get to celebrate their culture so proudly? Why is it that I have to eat my lunch \u00a0crouching\u00a0\u00a0over in\u00a0\u00a0such\u00a0\u00a0a bustling room, where\u00a0\u00a0everyone\u2019s laughing and\u00a0\u00a0conversing?\u00a0\u00a0What\u2019s wrong with my Chinese food?\u201d I knew it was petty to bring others down to make \u00a0yourself feel better. However, my tolerance grew lower and lower and before I knew it, I\u00a0\u00a0turned back to my sanctuary. In Mrs. In Graziano\u2019s room, I talked to her about all the books\u00a0\u00a0that I had read over the weekend. I told her about how much I loved the ending of a book\u00a0\u00a0where the dad wrote a letter to his children and how he promised to get better. And then,\u00a0\u00a0next week, she would relate tome after reading the novels I\u2019d recommended\u2014and vice versa. I loved how we talked about books and it felt like that we both used the stories as a way to escape from our world. But one day, a week away from the annual party, she asked me what I was going to bring. Perhaps she thought I was going to be just as excited as all the other kids in the class, but I just stayed silent.\r\n\r\nRegardless, I knew I had to confront the matter sooner or later. \u201c \u2026 Mrs. Graziano, is it alright if Ijust bring some snacks for the cultural party?\u201d, I hesitantly asked.\r\n\r\nTilting\u00a0her\u00a0head, \u201cWhy\u00a0wouldn\u2019t\u00a0you\u00a0like\u00a0to\u00a0bring\u00a0your\u00a0cultural\u00a0foods?\u00a0I\u00a0would\u00a0love\u00a0to\u00a0try traditional\u00a0Chinese\u00a0cuisine.\u201d I\u00a0could\u00a0tell\u00a0this\u00a0conversation\u00a0was\u00a0not\u00a0going\u00a0to\u00a0end\u00a0well.\u00a0\u201cDid\u00a0I ever\u00a0mention\u00a0how\u00a0much\u00a0I\u00a0love\u00a0dumplings?I\u00a0practically\u00a0ordered\u00a0them\u00a0everywhere\u00a0I\u00a0go.\u201d, she\u00a0joked, lightening\u00a0the\u00a0mood\u00a0with\u00a0a\u00a0smirk.\r\n\r\n\"Free\r\n\r\n\u201cNo, I-I mean yes. Um, I love Chinese cuisine,too\u201d I stuttered, and my\u00a0eyes began to wander\u00a0down\u00a0to\u00a0the\u00a0sight\u00a0of\u00a0myself\u00a0picking\u00a0at\u00a0my\u00a0hangnails. \u201cBut\u00a0I,\u00a0um,\u00a0here\u2019sthe\u00a0thing\u2014\u00a0\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cOh\u00a0sweetie, if\u00a0it\u2019s\u00a0a\u00a0\ufb01nancial\u00a0issue, I\u00a0completely\u00a0understand.\u00a0Don\u2019t\u00a0worry,\u00a0I\u00a0would\u00a0love\u00a0to help\u00a0you\u00a0out.\u201d Mrs. Graziano\u00a0interrupted, obviously\u00a0trying\u00a0her\u00a0best\u00a0to\u00a0not\u00a0overwhelm\u00a0me.\r\n\r\n\u201cNo!\u201d I cried out defensively. Realizing what I\u2019d just done, I rushed with a follow-up to smooth my outburst over. \u201cSorry, I meant, no it\u2019snot.\u201d The thought of belittling the extent my parents work to care forme and my brother, my reaction was as predicted. \u201cMy parents take great care of me, and I\u2019m so fortunate to have no \ufb01nancial issues,\u201d I added, clearing up any misunderstandings.\r\n\r\nI looked up at Mrs. Graziano\u2019s face. Her eyebrows were knitted together and her mouth curved down. If it was anyone else, I would be 100% sure that he or she was upset. However, Mrs. Grazinao\u2019s eyes were as gentle as ever. In front of her soft gaze, I could feel myself relaxed.\r\n\r\n\u201c \u2026 It\u2019s\u00a0just\u00a0that\u00a0I\u00a0don\u2019t\u00a0want\u00a0to\u00a0trouble\u00a0everyone\u00a0else\u00a0with\u00a0the\u00a0food\u00a0I\u00a0bring. I\u2019m\u00a0afraid\u00a0they won\u2019tlike\u00a0the\u00a0\ufb02avors,\u201d \u00a0I\u00a0admitted.\r\n\r\n\u201cDora-honey, listen tome when I say this: It\u2019s not about the food \u2026 I\u2019m sorry I didn\u2019tnotice how you felt about this earlier \u2026 The annual party is about celebrating your culture and your family. No one should ever feel ashamed about their family.\u201d Her gaze lingered on me, reassuring\u00a0myself\u00a0of\u00a0any\u00a0insecurities\u00a0I\u00a0had\u00a0felt.\r\n\r\n\"\"\r\n\r\nMy mouth gaped and closed like a \ufb01sh. I was speechless for a few moments. For some reason, everything clicked. I had been so focused on what other people would say about my food, that I was unable to celebrate my background. My cheeks felt \ufb02ushed, reddening as I became aware of my behavior. By letting what other kids said a\ufb00ect me, I was diminishing the hard work my working parents put into making my lunch every day despite working long hours. I was dismissing the thousands of centuries of hard work that poured into creating the traditions I celebrated every year as a Chinese American. The tears that rolled down my face were a great relief.\r\n\r\nFrom a young age, I was able to recognize how hard my parents pushed themselves to be able to provide for my brother and me. They would come home at midnight after a 12-hour shift at the restaurant. No matter how tired they were, every day, in the morning following, they would gently wake us up and get us ready for school. I could always notice their dark eye-bags, representing their lack of sleep. I would never tell them but sometimes I would stay up just to wait to hear them get home. The next morning I would be bombarded with questions for my eye-bags, but I knew they were out of love. Those nights were the ones where I got the best sleep.\r\n\r\nThat evening, I spoke to my parents during dinner. At dinner time, everyone had their designated roles: I got the rice and set the place, my brother brought the side dishes over, and my parents were the main cooks. When the decades-old rice cooker beeped, I gently scooped the white rice into everyone\u2019s bowls before bringing them to the dining table. On my way back to the kitchen, I passed my brother who handled a plate of \u201c\u756a\u8304\u7092\u86cb\u201d with both hands, carefully carrying the dish onto the dining table. Stepping back into the kitchen to get all 5 pairs of chopsticks, I threw a quick glance at my mom who was hovering over the cutting board,skillfully dicing some cucumbers for a favorite dish atour house, and my dad who wiped his forehead with this forearm while continuing to cook the water spinach in the wok with his other hand. Dinner was like this everyday, yet today felt di\ufb00erent. After my realization earlier that day, I took a step back to appreciate how we came together as a family\u00a0every\u00a0night\u00a0for\u00a0dinner.\u00a0It was\u00a0a\u00a0tradition\u00a0that\u00a0I\u00a0took\u00a0for\u00a0granted, but\u00a0I was\u00a0always\u00a0grateful.\r\n\r\nI was especially grateful tonight for our faily dinner that gave mean opportunity to share the news.\r\n\r\n\"Free\r\n\r\n\u201cMom, Dad. We\u00a0should\u00a0make\u00a0some\u00a0dumplings.\u00a0I\u00a0misseating\u00a0them,\u201d \u00a0I\u00a0began,\u00a0poking\u00a0at\u00a0my rice\u00a0with\u00a0the\u00a0chopsticks\u00a0in\u00a0hand.\r\n\r\nLooking over as her chopsticks reached for the sweet eggs, \u201cSure! But didn\u2019t you say that you didn\u2019t want to eat them anymore,\u201d\u00a0\u00a0my mom replied reminding me of last month\u2019s dinner and the reaction I had after a group of classmates looked over at me and my food during lunch that day.\r\n\r\nEmbarrassed\u00a0about\u00a0bringing\u00a0up\u00a0my\u00a0meltdown,\u00a0I\u00a0shyly\u00a0diverted\u00a0my\u00a0eyes.\u00a0\u201cYeah,\u00a0but\u00a0I\u00a0changed\u00a0my\u00a0mind. Our\u00a0English\u00a0class\u00a0is\u00a0having\u00a0an\u00a0end-of-the-year\u00a0party,\u00a0we\u2019re\u00a0all\u00a0bringing our cultural foods,\u201d \u00a0I softly\u00a0explained.\r\n\r\n\u201cThat\u00a0sounds\u00a0like\u00a0a\u00a0wonderful\u00a0idea,\u201d\u00a0my\u00a0grandpa\u00a0said\u00a0with\u00a0the\u00a0corners\u00a0of\u00a0his\u00a0eyes\u00a0wrinkling as he\u00a0smiled.\r\n\r\n\u201cI\u00a0agree. We\u00a0should\u00a0be\u00a0proud\u00a0of\u00a0our\u00a0culture. I\u00a0bet\u00a0your\u00a0classmates\u00a0would\u00a0love\u00a0our\u00a0special recipe dumplings.\u201d Dad\u00a0nodded.\r\n\r\nI smiled, \u201cCouldn\u2019t\u00a0agree more,\u00a0Dad.\u201d\r\n\r\n\"Free\r\n\r\nFinally, the\u00a0day\u00a0arrived. Sure, I\u00a0had\u00a0learned\u00a0to\u00a0appreciate\u00a0and\u00a0celebrate\u00a0my\u00a0culture, but\u00a0as\u00a0a young\u00a0kid, the\u00a0reactions\u00a0of\u00a0my\u00a0peers\u00a0still\u00a0left\u00a0a\u00a0deep\u00a0impression\u00a0on\u00a0me. With\u00a0my\u00a0dad\u2019shelp,\u00a0the\u00a0pan\u00a0of\u00a0dumplings\u00a0was\u00a0dropped\u00a0o\ufb00 at\u00a0the\u00a0main\u00a0o\ufb03ce\u00a0and\u00a0I\u00a0had\u00a0to\u00a0pick\u00a0it\u00a0up.\r\n\r\n\u201cOkay, so if he dropped ito\ufb00 during the 7th period, and the party is happening during the\u00a0\u00a0\u00a08th period, the dumplings should still be warm in the aluminum pan.\u201d I thought to myself \u00a0\u00a0as I calculated everything. There weren\u2019t going to be any issues. I was sure of it. Yet, throughout \u00a0\u00a0the 7th period, I couldn\u2019t stop my legs from shaking. The quick taps on the \ufb02oor were quiet, but noticeable if you paid enough attention. Bringing my hands to my thigh, I tried to push my legs still\u2014the movement became annoying even to myself. The \ufb01dgeting stopped, but my anxiety was at its peak. After barely being able to sit still for the past 35 minutes, the dismissal bell rang and all my classmates began running out the door to get ready to set up their food stations. Following behind,I was still \ufb01ghting with my nerves, fumbling with my \ufb01ngers while waiting for the main o\ufb03ce ladies to handover the dumplings. Finally, I was able to get my hands on them and brought them down to the cafeteria where all the other foods sat. \u201cI spent all of my time leading up to the party reassuring myself, so why am I so nervous?\u201d Resting my hand on my heart,I gave myself sometime to take some deep breaths with the e\ufb00ort to settle my nerves. I had to put an end to my dwelling for a moment as someone walked up to my station with a plate in hand.\r\n\r\n\u201cHey, Dora! These smell amazing\u2014what are they?\u201d I looked at her blonde hair. It was Rebecca\u2014I recalled bumping into her on my \ufb01rst week here. She was a nice person. Realizing I left her hanging for too long, I quickly \ufb01lled the silence.\r\n\r\n\u201cThey do? Oh, well they\u2019re my family\u2019s traditional dumplings. Dumplings area food that has been a part of Chinese cuisine for hundreds of decades. I personally love to have them during the Lunar Year,\u201d I blurted out,laughing awkwardly, as I fumbled with placing a few on her plate. \u201cTry them!\u201d\r\n\r\nGlancing\u00a0at\u00a0me\u00a0before\u00a0she\u00a0took\u00a0a\u00a0bite,\u00a0she\u00a0began\u00a0chewing.\u00a0I\u00a0couldn\u2019t\u00a0help\u00a0but\u00a0inspect\u00a0her\u00a0expression, trying to \ufb01gure out whether she\u00a0was\u00a0enjoying\u00a0them\u00a0or\u00a0not.\u00a0After\u00a0swallowing,\u00a0she\u00a0looked up at me, \u201cWow. What does that mean? Were them shockingly bad? Were them\u00a0good?\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cWow,\u201d she repeated. \u201cThese are so so yummy!\u201d, she exclaimed as her mouth morphed into a giant grin. Exhale. I didn\u2019t even realize I had been holding my breath until I felt my shoulders drop after what felt like an eternity with how nervous I was.\r\n\r\nBefore I could even thank her for the compliment, she looked over her shoulder for her friends. \u201cGuys! You guys seriously have to try these \u2026\u201d, pausing to stu\ufb00 another one in her mouth. \u201cOh my gosh, literally to die for!\u201d, she expressed as she rolled her eyes with satisfac- tion. Before I knew it, six other girls had instantly run over to my station.\r\n\r\n\u201cWhat are these?\u201d They asked, already absorbed by the crescent shape of the dumplings. I quickly responded with the same explanation that I had given to Rebecca, as I placed a few on their plates\u2014this time with a little more con\ufb01dence in my chopsticks. Watching their reactions again, I couldn\u2019thelp but let out a little giggle from under my breath as I saw how their faces lit up while they chewed. As I looked up, I noticed the line of people behind them, peeking at the delicious food and expecting a bite for themselves. Before I could stop myself, I felt my cheeks \ufb02ushand the corners of my mouth lifted up.\r\n\r\n\"Free\r\n\r\nWith 15 minutes left until dismissal, my entire tray that had to be full of at least 100 \u00a0\u00a0dumplings\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0had\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0been\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0completely cleared. Having the rest of the time to myself, I\u00a0\u00a0allowed\u00a0\u00a0my\u00a0\u00a0eyes\u00a0\u00a0to\u00a0\u00a0wander around the cafeteria before spotting Mrs. Graziano. All of a sudden, I felt this great sense of accomplishment that made me want\u00a0\u00a0to\u00a0\u00a0share\u00a0\u00a0my\u00a0\u00a0joy\u00a0\u00a0with\u00a0\u00a0the\u00a0\u00a0entire world. \u00a0I\u00a0\u00a0had\u00a0\u00a0felt\u00a0\u00a0this\u00a0\u00a0feeling\u00a0\u00a0a\u00a0\u00a0scarce number of times in the past when people had complimented my writing, but I had never imagined being able to associate the same \u00a0sensation \u00a0with\u00a0\u00a0my\u00a0\u00a0food.\u00a0\u00a0Prancing over, I could barely hold myself together before pouring all the details about what had just happened. All she did was to smile at me and whisper, \u201cI knew you could do it”\r\n\r\nLooking up at her, I could tell she meant exactly what she said\u2014however, I disagreed. I was\u00a0\u00a0able to overcome what was once an overwhelming issue forme, but I certainly did not do\u00a0\u00a0it alone. What happened that day was with the help of all of those who supported me: my\u00a0\u00a0parents who immigrated from China in their 20s with debt to pay o\ufb00 and nothing to their \u00a0name, yet were able to a\ufb00ord to give my brother and me the life they could never have, my\u00a0\u00a0grandparents who raised me when my parents didn\u2019t have enough time to look after me every second and worked at the sametime; my aunts and uncles back in China who only knew me as a baby, yet won\u2019t hesitate for a second when it comes too\ufb00ering me their support whenever I need it.\r\n\r\nI had taken so much of what I had for granted, and now I truly under- stand. I aman American-born Chinese, and it is my responsibility as the \ufb01rst generation to represent my community. It is my duty to stand up for my people when they need help. It is my duty to pass on our beloved traditions to the next generation so they will continue to beloved. It is owing to Wukong that I can communicate in Chinese and not be afraid of showing my heritage. This is my ABC story.\r\n\r\n\"\"\r\n

<\/span>Summary<\/span><\/h2>\r\nThank you for reading “Dumplings: My Love and Hate,” a story rich in the power of cultural heritage. Dora Zhao, at the age of 14, uses dumplings as a thread to weave a sincere narrative, depicting her deep understanding of Chinese culture and her journey to finding personal belonging in a multicultural society through the experience of taste.\r\n\r\nThrough the sensory experience of taste, Dora shows us how she connects and inherits Chinese culture in her growth journey in the United States. This is not just a story about dumplings; it is a young person’s soulful journey to cultural identity on the global stage.\r\n\r\nThank you, Dora, for sharing your story and adding a unique color to this global collection of Chinese stories. May we continue to meet on this journey of cultural heritage, co-writing the stories that belong to us.
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Learn authentic Chinese<\/span> from those who live and breathe the culture.<\/p>\n<\/h3>\r\n

Specially tailored for kids aged 3-18 around the world!<\/p>\r\n \r\n Get started free!\r\n <\/a>\r\n <\/div>\r\n

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Welcome to Our ABC Stories! In 2023, WuKong Education’s “Tell Us Your ABC Story” Global Story Contest invited Chinese families worldwide to share their tales. Actor Daniel Wu and author Vincent Yee, and the WuKong Judge Team, collectively selected 21 finalists from touching submissions. “Dumplings: My Love and Hate” by 14-year-old Dora Zhao won the “Cultural Heritage Award”. Dora’s narrative beautifully captures life’s intricacies. Take a moment to be inspired by her incredible story, offering a glimpse into global Chinese experiences. \u201cEwww, guys what\u2019s that smell,\u201d a kid snickered behind me before snorting at his own comment. That \u201cjoke\u201d was almost like \ufb02int to a chain of explosives, the way it ignited \ufb01ts of grating giggles down the table as...<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":211806801,"featured_media":25670,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"_coblocks_attr":"","_coblocks_dimensions":"","_coblocks_responsive_height":"","_coblocks_accordion_ie_support":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[135944],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-25443","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-wukong-stories"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\nWuKong Education "Tell Us You're ABC Story" Award-Winning Story: Dumplings: My Love and Hate - WuKong Edu Blog<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"Dumplings: My Love and Hate" by 14-year-old Dora Zhao won the "Cultural Heritage Award". Dora's narrative beautifully captures life's intricacies. 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