Beijing, this massive crucible that consumes dreams while forging others, often stages real stories stranger than fiction, seemingly out of the blue. Lin Wei is one of the seemingly glamorous characters in this play.
Lao Ma felt he was getting a bit out of touch. Retired at home, brewing a pot of strong tea, flipping through the newspaper, taking a stroll – life was supposed to be quite pleasant. But he couldn't ignore his precious granddaughter, Xiao Hua'er, who just started primary school this year. This Xiao Hua'er, though small, had a lively mind, always muttering about something called "Labubu"—a foreign name that sounded like a tongue-twister to Lao Ma.
The midday sun was vicious, baking the asphalt until it seemed to steam. Old Wang, Wang Dexing, was carrying his chipped enamel mug, ambling his way home. He'd just finished a bowl of Douzhi'er with a couple of Jiaoquan'r at "Old Zhang's" at the mouth of the hutong. This Douzhi'er, ah, it's like life itself. Smells foul, but once you get used to it, miss a day and your whole body feels out of sorts. He smacked his lips, the taste – sour with a hint of sweet, sweet with a hint of rancid – still lingered at the back of his tongue. Satisfying!
At half-past four in the morning, the sky wasn't fully light yet, murky grey like the cooling embers in a hearth. Old Zhang rubbed his bleary eyes, shuffled in his cloth shoes, and carried his chipped enamel mug out to the courtyard tap. The faucet sputtered twice before reluctantly spitting out a thin, ice-cold stream of water.
In Beijing's spring, the wind is still the same old story – not too strong, not too weak, but it loves kicking up dust, getting in your eyes. Old Liu hunched his neck, pedaling his 'Flying Pigeon' bicycle – the kind where everything rattles except the bell – towards that newly opened 'He-something-Ma' supermarket. His wife had mentioned yesterday that their neighbor, Old Mrs. Zhang, had bought some kind of 'imported, especially soft' bread there. She told him to go check it out too, and while he was at it, grab a couple of slices to try something new.
Wang Erguang, known as Little Wang, wasn't actually little anymore. Pushing fifty, his hair had anxiously whitened halfway on its own. But in this yámen [government office], going by seniority, he still counted as "Little Wang." Who could blame them? He'd joined late. Pulling strings through countless relatives, burning who knows how much incense money, he'd finally managed to snag a shiye bian position in this bland, unremarkable archives department. The iron rice bowl! Thinking of those words, Wang Erguang could chuckle aloud in his sleep. A wife, a child, a warm kàng bed-stove, plus the salary arriving on time each month and those not-too-high, not-too-low benefits – this was Wang Erguang's dream for the latter half of his life, the capital that let him walk tall in the hutong.
Old Man Zhang has been feeling a bit muddled lately. Not that his mind isn't sharp anymore, but he feels like something about the way life is going isn't quite right, though he can't put his finger on it. It's like the spring wind here in Beijing – blowing through the same familiar hutong entrance, but the smell carried on it is mixed with something else, something a bit pungent, and a bit... unreal.
The afternoon sun slanted across the greasy tabletops of the "Lao Yutai" teahouse, dust motes lazily swirling in the beams of light. Inside, it was the usual crowd of regulars: Second Master Zhang, carrying his birdcage; "Big Mouth" Zhao, with his booming voice, who loved to discuss national affairs; and Mr. Qian, who drank his tea quietly, occasionally interjecting with a startling remark. The teahouse owner, Lao Wang, with his slight paunch, carried the long-spouted copper kettle, leisurely refilling everyone's cups.
"Have you heard? Down south, no, southwest, over in Myanmar, the earth dragon turned over!" Big Mouth Zhao took a sip of scalding jasmine tea, lowering his voice slightly, yet still managing to drown out the chirping of the thrush in the birdcage. "Tsk tsk, heard on the radio, it was quite a commotion, lots of houses collapsed, people...唉!"