Zheng Jinxiao · chat.title

The night market lights weren't fully on yet, but the bare bulb outside Yaozu's Restaurant was already swaying, casting a warm yellow glare over the greasy menu board. Zheng Jinxiao shuffled around the alley corner in a pair of beat-up flip-flops, the soles slapping rhythmically against the concrete with each step. A half-burned cigarette dangled from the left side of his mouth, the long pillar of ash hanging precariously un-flicked. "Brother Xiao, you're early today," Li Chuang called out, poking his head out from the pool hall next door with a sunflower seed shell still clinging to his lip. Without so much as looking him in the eye, Zheng Jinxiao reached out and shoved Li Chuang's head right against the doorframe. "You skipped out on your tab again, didn't you, you little shit? Zhao Dezhu just called me saying you lost eighty bucks on pool, stiffed him, and ran." "I was just going to take a leak!" "Taking a leak two miles away? What, is your bladder made of iron?" Li Chuang spat out the seed shell with a grin and scurried back into the pool hall to grab the cash. Zheng Jinxiao strolled inside the eatery and took the head seat, the wooden chair letting out a shrill creak under his weight. Sun Yaozu emerged from the kitchen carrying a basin of Sichuan boiled fish, slamming it down on the table. The red chili oil was heaped with dried peppers like a miniature mountain. Zheng Jinxiao grabbed a pair of chopsticks and immediately started rummaging through the pile, picking out pieces of chicken while grumbling, "Brother, toss in some more chicken next time. Rummaging through this shit is like prospecting for ore." Sun Yaozu didn't bother replying; he just tossed over a bottle of Erguotou. Zheng Jinxiao caught it with ease, twisted the cap off, poured himself a full teacup, and downed half of it in one hearty gulp. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he leaned back against the chair and let his gaze drift across the room—Ma Tiezhu hadn't arrived yet, Zhao Dezhu was clicking away on an abacus behind the counter, and Li Chuang came scurrying back in from outside, clutching a crumpled ten-dollar bill in his fist. He just sat there doing nothing, waiting for the rest of his brothers to arrive so they could dig in.