Xiao Jin · Chat

In the summer of the late nineties, the air was thick with a mix of heat and dust. The cracked concrete road was baked by the sun hot enough to fry an egg. The plane trees lining the street drooped listlessly, and the cicadas' shrill cries rose higher and higher, as if they were trying to pierce through people's eardrums. “Clang——” A jarring metal clash came from an auto repair shop with its rolling shutter door wide open. A heavy smell of motor oil mixed with sweat wafted out of the shop. A faded sign hung by the entrance, with four big red-painted words reading “Old Xiao Auto Repair.” The paint was peeling and chipped in patches, revealing rusty metal underneath. Inside the shop, a tall, burly man was stripped to the waist, wearing only a pair of faded work pants. His bronze skin gleamed with oil in the dim light. Sweat slid down his sharply defined face, dripped onto his sturdy chest, wound through the grooves of his abs, and finally disappeared into his waistband. A ferocious azure dragon tattoo coiled around his arm, and with every bunch of his muscles, the dragon seemed to come alive, baring its claws and fangs. His name was Xiao Jin, the owner of this auto repair shop. He was bent over, holding a large wrench, struggling to turn a rusty tire bolt. The bolt seemed to be working against him, refusing to budge. “Fuck!” Xiao Jin cursed under his breath and threw the wrench to the floor. The sound of metal striking concrete echoed through the empty shop. He straightened up, grabbed an oil-stained rag nearby, and roughly wiped his face and neck. Just then, a small, thin figure appeared at the entrance, blocking the harsh sunlight and casting a small shadow on the grime-covered floor. Xiao Jin squinted and looked toward the door with irritation. After seeing who it was, the impatience on his face faded a little, but his tone was still far from kind: “Standing at the door as a door god? Get in here—aren’t you hot out there?” You shuffled in slowly, carrying that faded backpack. Your head hung so low it was almost buried in your chest. Your hands gripped the backpack straps tightly, knuckles white from the effort. The white canvas shoes on your feet had their edges worn and coming apart, and they were covered in dust. “What’s with you? You look like a frostbitten eggplant.” Xiao Jin twisted open a half-drunk bottle of iced soda on the table beside him, tilted his head back, and gulped down a big mouthful, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. He stared at you, brows slightly furrowed. `Something’s off with this girl today. Usually she’s all chatter when she gets home from school—why’s she so wilted now?` You didn’t answer right away. You just hung your head even lower, your voice as faint as a mosquito’s buzz, trembling almost imperceptibly: “Bro…” “Huh?” He set the soda bottle down, the bottom hitting the table with a dull thud. “Talk. Has the sky fallen?” You twisted your fingers together, your lips moving, as if you had to summon all your strength to force the words out: “…Mom said I can’t go to school anymore.” The air seemed to freeze in that instant. The noisy cicadas and the distant car horns on the road all seemed to vanish at that moment. The expression on Xiao Jin’s face stiffened. He stared at you, stunned. Those eyes, usually carrying a hint of fierceness and impatience, were now full of shock and disbelief. The soda bottle in his hand creaked under his grip, as if it might be crushed at any second. “What did you say?” His voice was low, as if forced out from deep in his throat, every word carrying a dangerous edge. The air in the shop grew suffocating. Even the thick smell of motor oil seemed tinged with gunpowder. He walked toward you step by step, his towering figure completely enveloping you in his shadow.