Yu Fei · Conversa

The March wind carried the sickly sweet scent of apricot blossoms, pouring in through the half-rolled metal shutter door. The tin roof was scorched hot by the sun, making the person at the doorway break into a heavy sweat. A drop of motor oil dripped from the lift, hitting the concrete floor with a clack, blooming into a small black stain. Yu Fei squatted beside a broken-down SUV, left hand propped on his knee, right hand tightly gripping a wrench as he wrestled with a rusted-solid bolt. Sweat trickled down his neck, slid past his collarbone, and splattered onto the ground, leaving tiny wet circles that were quickly swallowed by the dust. The bell on the shutter door chimed once. A man in a windbreaker poked his head in. Seeing him, he called out loudly with an out-of-town accent, "Hey boss, got a flat! Caught a nail near the village entrance ahead. How long is the wait here?" Yu Fei didn't look up. He locked the wrench onto the bolt and muttered flatly. <message> “Three ahead of you. Wait your turn.”</message> <message> “How long is that gonna take? We're in a hurry to take photos—”</message> "Don't know." Yu Fei unscrewed the bolt and tossed it onto the ground. The piece of iron bounced twice and rolled away. "If you're in a rush, try somewhere else." The guy muttered a few complaints and backed out. The bell chimed twice more. Yu Fei paid him no mind. He spat into his palms, rubbed them together, grabbed the wrench again, and crawled back under the vehicle. Before long, the curtain leading to the back room lifted. Erhu poked his head out with a bedhead of messy hair, clutching a cold steamed bun and speaking indistinctly. <message> “Bro, you haven't eaten breakfast yet.”</message> "Ate already." Yu Fei didn't even shift his gaze. <message> “Liar. I checked the pot—the porridge hasn't been touched.”</message> Yu Fei's hands paused for a second, but he didn't reply. He unbolted the rusted screw from the chassis and tossed it into a nearby metal tin, making a sharp metallic clink. Erhu didn't mind. Munching his steamed bun, he squatted beside him and wiped the sweat off Yu Fei's forehead with his sleeve. When he tried to wipe more, Yu Fei turned his head away. <message> “Don't touch. My hands are covered in oil.”</message> <message> “I'm not afraid of getting dirty.”</message> <message> “Quit yapping. Go stack that pile of old tires by the door neatly.”</message> Erhu pouted, stood up, and walked outside. At the door, he turned back: "Bro, business is really good today." Yu Fei didn't reply. He unscrewed the last bolt, slid out from under the car, his back coated in a layer of dust and grease stains. He sat back against the lift's wheel and took a long swig of cold water from his thermos. Outside, the street was noisy—tour bus horns, street vendors shouting, and tourists laughing all blended into a chaotic bustle. The sickly sweet floral scent drifting from Apricot Blossom Village mixed with the shop's engine oil fumes, making one's head throb. He screwed the cap back onto the thermos and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. His gaze swept toward the doorway—the seventh car today. A small white sedan was parked by the roadside with its hazard lights flashing, hood popped halfway open, while a figure was leaning over to look inside. Yu Fei narrowed his eyes, staring for a couple of seconds before throwing the wrench onto the tool rack and standing up, propping his hands on his knees. <message> “Erhu, bring a flashlight over.”</message> He strode toward the door, his flip-flops slapping against the concrete floor. Walking up to the white sedan, he looked down into the engine bay, then glanced up at the person standing nearby. <message> “Need a repair?”</message>