Everyone has their own “soul breakfast.”
For Lin Song, it’s pan-fried buns, which must be paired with two fried eggs. If a breakfast shop only serves braised eggs, Lin Song considers them insincere.
Sharing a table with Lin Song were a young daughter and her earnestly instructing mother. The daughter had wanted pan-fried buns; the mother had ordered steamed dumplings. When the girl saw the pan-fried buns in Lin Song’s bowl, a look of disappointment crossed her face, as she had none. “You just eat your food properly. Finish these hot dry noodles, then have two steamed dumplings.” “A fly, a fly! Shoo it away, shoo it away!” “I’ll go see if the steamed dumplings are ready yet.” “I want to eat from the big bowl. And I want diced pickled radish.” A waitress, clearing tables, repeatedly shouted into her headset microphone: “Special deal today! Shumai are buy one, get one free!”
“I don’t want to eat anymore.” “You’ve barely eaten anything.” “I’m full. I really don’t want to eat.” “You eat so little, less than a cat. You just wait until you end up in the hospital.” The restaurant’s loudspeaker called out: “Customer 403, please collect your order from Window 1.” The mother stood up and returned from the counter with the steamed dumplings. “The dumplings are ready. Be careful, they’re very hot.” “I really don’t want to eat.” “Then we’re going straight home, no going out to play.” “I really don’t want to eat.” “Do you still want to have snacks?” “Sweetie, are you doing this on purpose? Grandma and Grandpa both said you don’t eat your breakfast when you’re with them.” “It hurts, it hurts!” “You have to eat even if it hurts.” “This is already delicious food, it smells so good. What else could you possibly want to eat?” “Open your mouth. Are you going to make me feed you?” “Good girl, just one more bite from the small bowl.” “Excellent! Have another dumpling, dip it in the soup, it’s so tasty. We’ll go out to play as soon as you finish.”
During the summer vacation, the grandmother’s most severe reprimand was always: “If you don’t listen, I’m going to have your mother come and take you back.”
The rain was still falling on the street. The red light at the intersection had stopped all the cars going straight ahead. But to expect the electric scooter of the food delivery guy in the yellow raincoat to also stop—that was an impossibility.
At the Northeastern Dumpling restaurant, two young men, scrolling on their phones, greeted a customer in unison: “Bro, you’re here.” The owner had surprisingly added a large spoonful of oil-splashed chili crisp to the cold noodles. Was this a sign that he was planning to pivot to a Northwestern noodle shop? Today’s cold noodles had plenty of ice water, full marks. Four slices of red sausage, four slices of tomato, half a hard-boiled egg, a pinch of sesame seeds, thinly sliced scallions, and shredded cucumber paired with flavorful cilantro. Occasionally, one could find a few stray bits of garlic from the cutting board. First, eat the noodles; the fried chili flakes were a bit gritty against the teeth. Then, drink the soup; it was sweet and sour, a perfect summer heat reliever, with the chili’s kick bringing on a light sweat. Blissful.
It’s rather uncomfortable to be watched while eating. The man who seemed to be the new owner put down his phone and sat there, watching the customers. A customer, in turn, glanced sideways at him. The customer pulled out two tissues, first wiping his nose, then the sweat on his forehead. Hmm, he thought, isn’t that the wrong order for using tissues?
The Machangjiao skywalk was once the northernmost edge of Hankou town. In ancient times, merchant caravans coming to Hankou had to leave their horses outside the city gates. Just as now, heavy trucks with out-of-town license plates are not allowed inside the Third Ring Road. A gaunt, withered old man was crossing Tangjiadun Road via the skywalk. The blazing sun shone through the glass railings onto him. He wore a sun hat with frayed edges, and his white t-shirt had some yellowish stains.
Going for a car wash. The weather forecast said it would rain in Wuhan, but which district would get the rain? The announcer on the radio didn’t say.
Whenever you’re on the road, whether you’re in the fast lane or the slow lane, you will inevitably encounter a slow car blocking your way. If they form a line abreast, giving you absolutely no chance to overtake, you have only one option: follow them and drive slowly. And then again, perhaps you are the slow car that is blocking yourself. Dai Zuyi said, “A car is not just a means of transportation; a car is part of your soul.” On the road, sometimes fast, sometimes slow. Nowadays, he mostly listens to FM 105.8. Only when driving does he have a period of uninterrupted time.
Lin Song once bought a headphone amplifier to hear more details in his music. Now, he uses a pair of Sennheiser MX80s, which cost 124 yuan. He understands now that he doesn’t really understand the music he listens to all that well, so more details are no longer that important to him.
Starting this Wednesday, for a full seven days, there is a book fair at the Shanghai Exhibition Center. Famous publishing houses will all be there to support it, and fashionable authors will meet with readers to sign and sell their new books. One year, Lin Song saw on an information kiosk at the fair that a simplified Chinese version of C.T. Hsia’s A History of Modern Chinese Fiction had been published in Shanghai. He found the counter selling it and flipped to the last few pages, where he saw a postscript that read: “For reasons known to all, we have made deletions to the original work. We ask for your understanding.” Lin Song was puzzled—why didn’t they put this notice at the beginning? This is a major academic work, and finishing it is quite an arduous task.
The Biography of Su Dongpo had no preface and no postscript. How could a Chinese translation of an English work not offer some explanation to its readers?
Every year, when the Shanghai Book Fair ends, it is always followed by a torrential downpour. And then, the peak of the year’s summer heat completely dissipates.