Lu Fen stood at the door, biting into a fried dough stick, staring at the stairwell.
She was long gone.
He looked down at the plastic bag in his hand — two fried dough sticks, a bag of soy milk. Still warm. He took a bite. Crispy. The oily fragrance melted in his mouth.
He hadn't had fried dough sticks in a long time.
He went inside, sat on the edge of the bed, and ate slowly. The soy milk was sweet. He took a sip, then another.
When he finished, he wadded the plastic bag into a ball and tossed it into the trash can. He stood up, ready to go to work.
When he reached the door, he stopped again.
How did she know where he lived?
He had never told her. Last time they ran into each other at the vegetable market, she asked where he lived, and he said "around the crematorium" without going into detail. She didn't ask further.
Now she had shown up at his door with fried dough sticks.
Lu Fen stood there, thinking for a long time. He couldn't figure it out.
Finally, he stopped thinking and went to work.
---
When he arrived at the crematorium, Old Liu was already in the cremation chamber.
Lu Fen went in, changed his clothes, and got ready to work. Old Liu glanced at him, said nothing, and handed him a cigarette.
Lu Fen took it and lit it.
After two drags, Old Liu suddenly said, "A woman came asking about you this morning."
Lu Fen froze.
Old Liu looked at the furnace, his face expressionless. "The one on the motorcycle. The pig slaughterer?"
Lu Fen said nothing.
Old Liu added, "I told her where you live."
Lu Fen still said nothing.
Old Liu took his last drag, stubbed out the cigarette, and walked inside. After two steps, he turned back and said, "She asked. So I told her."
Then he went in.
Lu Fen stood there, smoking, staring at the fire in the furnace.
So she had asked.
He finished his cigarette, stubbed it out, and started working.
---
Four people to burn today. He worked from morning until afternoon, with only two steamed buns in between.
Tired, but his mind was at ease.
When he got off work, it was already dark. He changed his clothes and walked outside. At the entrance, he saw someone squatting on the steps.
Tu Su.
She was wearing her work uniform, squatting there, spinning her motorcycle keys in her hand. When she heard his footsteps, she looked up and glanced at him.
"Off work?"
Lu Fen stopped. "Yeah."
She stood up and brushed the dirt off her pants. "Come on. Let's eat."
Not a question. A statement.
Lu Fen looked at her and didn't move.
She didn't wait for him to answer either. She was already walking toward her motorcycle. After two steps, she turned back to look at him. "What are you standing there for? Get on."
Lu Fen stood there for two seconds, then followed.
---
The motorcycle weaved through the alleys. The wind hit his face, a little cold. Lu Fen sat on the back, not sure where to put his hands. Finally, he grabbed the metal rack on the side of the seat.
Tu Su rode fast. When she turned a corner, she leaned hard, and Lu Fen almost got thrown off. His hand instinctively reached forward and grabbed —
He grabbed her clothes.
She didn't look back. She kept riding.
Lu Fen's hand held onto her clothes. He didn't let go.
---
They arrived at a barbecue stall. She parked the motorcycle, got off, and walked inside. Lu Fen followed.
The stall wasn't big — five or six tables, three of them occupied. She picked a corner spot and sat down, then shouted to the owner, "The usual, double meat."
The owner grunted in acknowledgment and started grilling.
Lu Fen sat across from her, looking at her.
She didn't speak either. She looked down and played with her phone.
When the meat arrived, she picked up a skewer and started eating, very fast. After two skewers, she looked up at Lu Fen. "Eat. Why are you staring at me?"
Lu Fen picked up a skewer and took a bite. Not bad. Pretty tender.
They ate for a while without saying a word.
Halfway through, she suddenly said, "That guy Lame Li. Don't mess with him."
Lu Fen's chopsticks stopped.
She kept eating, not looking at him. "That man has a black heart and heavy hands. He keeps a few thugs under him. You're just a furnace stoker. You can't take him on."
Lu Fen said, "He owes me."
She looked up. "He owes you what?"
Lu Fen said, "He scared my mother."
She froze for a second, her chopsticks stopping in mid-air.
After a moment, she put her chopsticks down and looked at him. "Scared your mother?"
Lu Fen didn't speak.
She asked again, "When did this happen?"
Lu Fen said, "Last month."
She stared at him for a few seconds, then lowered her head and continued eating. After a few bites, she said, "So what are you going to do?"
Lu Fen didn't speak.
She didn't ask again.
---
When they finished eating, she paid the bill, stood up, and walked outside. Lu Fen followed.
When they reached the motorcycle, she swung her leg over and looked back at him. "Get on. I'll take you back."
Lu Fen stood there without moving.
She frowned. "Hurry up. I have to get up early tomorrow to kill pigs."
Lu Fen walked over and sat on the back seat.
This time, he grabbed her clothes on his own.
She rode even faster than when they came. The wind howled. Lu Fen watched the streetlights flash past on the side of the road, his mind blank.
When they reached the entrance of his alley, she stopped the motorcycle.
Lu Fen got off and stood beside her.
She got off too, pulled something out of her pocket, and handed it to him.
Lu Fen took it and looked — a folding knife. Not big, but pretty heavy.
"Take it," she said. "For self-defense."
Lu Fen looked at her.
She didn't explain. She swung her leg over the motorcycle, started it, and rode away.
Lu Fen stood at the entrance of the alley, watching the motorcycle disappear into the night. He looked down at the knife in his hand, gripped it, and tucked it into his pocket.
He started walking back.
After two steps, something suddenly occurred to him —
How did she know about Lame Li?
He stood there, thinking for a long time. He couldn't figure it out.
Then he kept walking back.
---
When he got back to his room, he didn't turn on the light. He sat on the edge of the bed.
He pulled out the knife, opened it, and looked at it by the light from the window. The blade was quite shiny — it had been sharpened, fine enough to shave with.
He closed the knife and put it under his pillow.
He lay down and stared at the ceiling.
Her face was in his mind. The way she rode her motorcycle. The way her hand looked when she handed him the knife.
He didn't know what he was feeling.
But he didn't dislike it.
---
The next morning, he was woken by knocking again.
He sat up, froze for two seconds, then walked over and opened the door.
No one was there.
On the ground sat a plastic bag containing two steamed buns and a bag of soy milk.
He picked it up and glanced toward the stairwell. No one.
He stood there for a few seconds, then closed the door and went back inside.