When I got the call, I was debating whether to eat dinner at the malatang joint downstairs, the one likely using gutter oil, or go home and boil myself a bland bowl of instant noodles. On the other end, my mother's voice sounded like it had been sanded down – rough, dry, carrying an unnatural calm. She said, "Your brother... he's gone."
Spring in Beiping, the wind still so unruly, swirling willow catkins and dust, finding its way straight down your collar. The Ma family's old window, patched with layers of paper, still couldn't block that strange 'whuuu whuuu' moan. Inside, though, it was nothing like the weather outside – stiflingly hot, like freshly steamed buns.
Li Mei stared at the bright red numbers on her phone screen: 2000.00. Not a loss, but a profit. On her very first day of trading gold, she had made two thousand yuan. This should have been a moment of celebration, but instead, a secret fear, like a vine, wrapped itself around her heart.
She remembered Old Zhang's warning from work: "Nothing good comes for free. Money that comes this easily is probably dirty." Old Zhang was known at work as a "stick-in-the-mud," always clutching a yellowed copy of Das Kapital and skeptical of everything new. Li Mei had initially scoffed at his words, but now they felt like needles, pricking her with anxiety.
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!"
K needed a new piece of clothing. This should have been the most ordinary of things, like eating when hungry, or sleeping when tired. However, as she pushed through the heavy, revolving glass door and stepped into the cold gleam of the department store's interior, an inexplicable premonition gripped her, as if the air was permeated by a subtle yet undeniable rule, one she knew nothing about.