Tuesday is members’ day at the Total gas station. If you go on this day, you can save a few dimes per liter, and the station also gives you a few discount coupons to use for your next fill-up.
Lin Song hadn’t driven all day, but to avoid missing today’s deal, he decided to make a trip to Total after the sun went down.
After filling up his Peugeot 508 and parking it in the underground garage, Lin Song sat in the car and scrolled through his phone for a while. According to a Nikkei report, Japan’s imports of Chinese cosmetics had jumped to third place, behind only South Korea and France. Chinese brands were appearing in Japanese department stores and drugstores. Apparently, complaints about being “uneasy with Chinese cosmetics” had decreased.
Perhaps it’s that the French cosmetics industry, through innovation, is responsible for setting the industry’s highest standards, while some desperate hustlers seize the market with low prices, and in the process of imitation, are responsible for setting the industry’s lowest standards. All hustlers have their own bright futures.
He then opened the Tonghuashun stock app to check the day’s closing numbers. The Shanghai Composite Index had surged to a ten-year high. Nowadays, whether the market rose or fell, it made Lin Song anxious. This was an emotion that could no longer be handled with a calm mind. No wonder, after all these years, the little bit of loose change in his account had long been battered to pieces by his own tinkering.
When the market is good, some people make money; when the market is bad, some people still make money. As for Lin Song, he now had neither the ability to profit nor the nerve to lose.
Regardless, over the past few days, the funds in his account had seen a meager gain. Having money come in, after all, is always a cheerful thing. He decided he should treat himself to a few skewers at Lingling’s barbecue place.
Night had already fallen with great ceremony. Lingling’s Barbecue was at the other end of the Huayuan neighborhood, directly accessible via a small path through the community. The daytime clamor of the neighborhood had vanished, replaced by the surrounding hum of air conditioner compressors. A sound like rain, drip-drip-drip, was the condensation from the AC units hitting the extended awnings. In the sweltering summer, people no longer placed bamboo beds in the alleys to cool off.
The “Dongping Grocery” had its doors wide open, without even a plastic curtain. An older woman sat on a bamboo chair by the entrance, fanning herself with a cattail fan, saving on the electricity bill for her air conditioner. A dim, yellow incandescent bulb hung above the doorframe, and three QR payment codes were scattered on the steps at the entrance.
The neighborhood’s tailor and mending shop had already closed for the day. But the neon signs of the foot massage, physical therapy, and hair salons flickered on.
The northern section of Guanghua Road had transformed into a bustling night market. The late-night food stalls displayed all sorts of braised dishes, stewed pork knuckles, as well as bubble tea and sushi. If a car tried to pass through here, this was the proving ground that tested whether a driver’s license was “excellent” or merely “passable.”
Inside Lingling’s Barbecue, there were still two small empty tables. The four tables in the innermost area had been pushed together, already laden with grilled chicken feet and meat skewers. Six or seven young people were sitting there, chatting.
They wore matching gray-black T-shirts with a huge “STAFF” printed on the back. A line of small text underneath was also in English. Lin Song vaguely recalled the last few words being “nothing with ai can’t.”
Lin Song chose a small table near the group and sat down. He ordered six skewers of beef tendon, six of crispy cartilage, two chicken feet, and a portion of shiitake mushrooms. He hesitated for a moment, wondering if he should have a beer. He decided against it. He knew his own stomach; the barbecue itself was already a heavy burden. So, he got up and went to the grocery next door to buy a bottle of Master Kong’s rock sugar and pear drink. Although barbecue without beer seemed to be missing something, times were different now. Barbecue plus beer, and his stomach would directly revolt, showing not the slightest mercy.
The owner of the barbecue shop kept bringing more grilled meat and bottles of “Brave the World” beer to the young people’s table. However, they were still just idly chatting about recent sales figures, leaving the food and beer on the table untouched. “The Director is here, the Director is here!” So, the young people were waiting for their director. The young director was also wearing the same T-shirt, which tightly wrapped around his already stout arms. He had short hair and spoke in a quick, distinct rhythm. “Owner, bring the menu! We need to order enough food tonight, and we need to drink enough beer!” With unlimited barbecue and beer, he had the air of someone who wouldn’t go home until he was drunk. Lin Song was reminded of a phrase his clients often used when he was young: “Your drinking capacity is your sales capacity.”
At a team-building dinner, the girls are always more active than the boys. Their voices, as they urge others to drink, are always several decibels louder. The slightly goofy boys will just pick up their glasses and down them in one go, to show their sincerity toward their work. Perhaps at any time, in the space between encouraging drinks and drinking them, camaraderie is just that easily forged. “Today, our store officially begins operations! And, it’s also our Director’s birthday in August, so let’s all wish him a happy birthday!” “Happy birthday! Happy birthday!” Clink, clank. The beer bottles collided cheerfully. The barbecue shop was filled with the young people’s dopamine.
Just that one “delicate” meal of barbecue remained lodged in Lin Song’s stomach all night, causing him to toss and turn, unable to sleep soundly. He raised his wrist and looked at his watch. It was 5:00 AM.