On the way to the classroom that afternoon, Xie Lan noticed that Dou Sheng was walking with a slight limp.

It was a very strange limp—sometimes the left foot, sometimes the right. He limped on flat ground, but not on stairs. He limped when teachers were around, but walked normally when he saw classmates.

Back at his seat, he finally couldn’t help but ask, “What happened to your foot?”

Dou Sheng was extremely calm. “Forgot about the tailbone thing? Hu Xiujie asked me at noon if I was better. I have to act for a couple of days.”

“……”

All the teachers were grading papers, so the afternoon classes were turned into self-study. The class monitor, Dong Shuijing, announced that the grade-wide rankings would be out tomorrow.

Amidst the groans, Che Ziming leaned back. “Lan, I realized later, can your British stomach handle spicy food?”

“I can’t.” Xie Lan lowered his head and took out his textbook. “I won’t order the Ribs Pot anymore.”

Che Ziming let out an ‘Ah’. “Sorry about that. Are you hungry now? I have bread.”

“It’s fine.” Xie Lan buried his head in his writing. “I ate a box of Dou Sheng’s pastries at noon.”

“That’s good then.” Che Ziming sighed in relief.

A few seconds later, he suddenly whipped his head around to look at Dou Sheng.

Dou Sheng was propping his forehead up with one hand. “What?”

“You shared your food with him?!”

Dou Sheng said nonchalantly, “I didn’t share.”

Then he added, “I gave him the whole box directly. How can that be called sharing? That’s just giving it away for free.”

Che Ziming rolled his eyes on the spot.

After he turned back around, Xie Lan stopped writing and whispered, “Seems like it wasn’t just once.”

Dou Sheng paused. “Hm?”

“The first time was the dirty bun, and you hadn’t even been in a fight then.” Xie Lan slowly organized his logic. “So I think you didn’t give me food to bribe me, at least not that time, but because of some kind of guilty conscience.”

Dou Sheng looked slightly stunned. After staring at him for a while, he clicked his tongue. “Your thinking is pretty clear.”

“I always felt something was off.” Xie Lan started to tense up. “What else happened that day?”

Dou Sheng didn’t say a word for a long time.

Not only did he stay silent, but he also looked down, found a picture on his phone, and tossed it to him.

“Here, look for yourself.”

Xie Lan was startled. “What is this?”

On the screen were two cats snuggled together. One was a large orange tabby, the other a creamy white one. The orange tabby was half-closing its eyes and grooming the creamy white one, which was flattened on the floor like a comfortable cat-pancake.

Dou Sheng let him look at it for a moment before taking the phone back.

“See? This is a Chinese tradition.”

Xie Lan was confused. “What tradition?”

Dou Sheng said slowly, “The tradition is that the big cat has always lived in the house, and the second cat came later. To show acceptance and status, the big cat has to groom the second cat. It’s an instinct. Even if the big cat doesn’t usually like grooming other cats, the second cat is an exception.”

Xie Lan fell silent for a few seconds. “Sounds quite touching.”

Dou Sheng nodded. “Mmh-hmm.”

Xie Lan: “But what does this have to do with Chinese tradition?”

“Nothing.” Dou Sheng admitted frankly. “I just thought adding that sentence would make it easier to fool you.”

Xie Lan: “……”

He still felt that Dou Sheng must have secretly scammed him somewhere.

Xie Lan pondered this while flipping through the dictionary, spending the entire afternoon matching the Chinese and English versions of the periodic table of elements. His first small goal was to understand the names of chemical substances—just enough to know that “carbon dioxide” was CO2.

When the bell rang at five o’clock, Dou Sheng woke up right on time.

The first thing he did upon waking was ask Che Ziming, “Where are we eating?”

“Yangchang Alley¹, the Little Dining Table². Same old place.”

Dou Sheng grunted an acknowledgment. “Who’s going?”

“Dai You isn’t going today. Just the three of us then, plus bringing Xie Lan along.”

“What is the Yangchang Alley Little Dining Table?” Xie Lan couldn’t help asking.

“Yangchang Alley is that pitch-black hutong outside the West Gate.” Che Ziming stood up and explained, “A ‘Little Dining Table’ is a place run out of someone’s home specifically for students to eat. The few of us basically eat at the cafeteria for lunch and the Little Dining Table for dinner every day.”

It was past five, and music was playing across the campus. Students were heading in waves towards either the cafeteria or the West Gate.

Che Ziming said there were countless Little Dining Tables outside the West Gate, but the one they were going to was the best. The only downside was that it was a bit far; they had to pass through Yangchang Alley. But a group of big guys walking together had nothing to fear.

“The auntie said there’s one portion of non-spicy Malatang³ left, perfect for Xie Lan.” Che Ziming was texting the owner on the way. “But she didn’t steam extra buns. Can the four of us make do with three baskets?”

“It’s fine.” Dou Sheng said indifferently, “You can just not eat.”

Che Ziming rolled a genuine eye in the dark. “You are literally being generous at another’s expense.”

Yangchang Alley was indeed a bit dark, narrow and winding, twisting just like a sheep’s intestine. After walking in for about three or four hundred meters, the sounds of the school faded away. Only at the very end of the alley did streetlights gradually appear. The narrow path was scattered with unswept withered leaves, and the legendary residential building was not far ahead.

Walking beside Xie Lan, Dou Sheng suddenly paused.

“What’s wrong?” Che Ziming glanced at him. “Still pretending to be lame here?”

Dou Sheng didn’t speak. He lowered his eyes to the ground, slowed his pace, and walked quietly.

Xie Lan felt something was inexplicably wrong. He instinctively turned his head to look behind them.

—There was nothing there.

“Something’s not right. Let’s go back,” Dou Sheng suddenly whispered.

The lit entrance to the residential complex was just over a hundred meters away. After walking all this way in the dark, he said they should go back.

Yu Fei straightened up, resting his elbow on Che Ziming’s shoulder. “What’s up?”

Dou Sheng whispered, “When we first entered Yangchang Alley, there seemed to be someone behind us. I didn’t pay attention at first, but that person kept speeding up to chase us, and then turned back about two minutes ago. It was like…” He paused slightly, “Like they just wanted to confirm we were heading this way.”

“Holy shit?” Che Ziming shuddered. “Two minutes ago? Why didn’t you say so earlier?”

Dou Sheng weighed his words. “I was thinking about how to divide the buns.”

Xie Lan: “?”

Dou Sheng’s gaze landed on the entrance of the residential building not far away. “Also, at first I thought he would call people to come from behind, so we’d be fine if we went straight into the complex, but—”

Before he could finish his “but,” the sound of a kicking soda can suddenly came from the quiet, empty iron gate.

Xie Lan looked up and saw three guys with streaks of dyed hair walking out from the other side of the iron gate. Their target was clear; they were staring straight at Dou Sheng.

Their faces weren’t familiar, but the T-shirts covered in mysterious English words were very familiar. Xie Lan was puzzled for a moment, doubting whether the English taught in China was within the scope of his knowledge.

“Great, it’s the Wang Gou thing again.” Yu Fei frowned impatiently. “Annoying as hell. If I’d known, I wouldn’t have eaten with you guys tonight.”

Dyed-Hair Number One fished a cigarette out of his pocket and dangled it from his lips. Dyed-Hair Number Two lit it for him.

He bit the cigarette and jutted his chin at Dou Sheng. Smoke from the cheap cigarette drifted over his forehead, making it look like the top of his head was on fire.

“You’re Dou Sheng?” Dyed-Hair Number Three asked. “You’re the one looking for trouble with Lei-zi?”

Dou Sheng stood his ground. “Which one is Lei-zi? The buzzcut or the long hair?”

So he distinguished those two the same way. Xie Lan couldn’t help but think to himself, What a coincidence.

Dyed-Hair Number Two yelled, “Why the hell do you care? Today we’re laying down the law here. Time to settle what needs to be settled.”

Dou Sheng pondered for a moment. “It’s the buzzcut, right?”

Dyed-Hair Number One narrowed his eyes behind the smoke. “You’ve seen us at British High?”

Dou Sheng said coolly, “No. Just remembered that the long-haired guy was doing all the performing that day. Maybe the quiet one is the type to seek revenge afterward.”

A spark of inspiration hit Xie Lan, and he asked instinctively, “Barking dogs don’t bite?”

“Right.” Dou Sheng was a little impressed. “You even know that saying. Not bad.”

“Fuck.”

Dyed-Hair Number One threw down his cigarette. “Where’s the guy Yongping Street sent?”

“Said he’s almost here.” Dyed-Hair Number Two kicked his right foot impatiently, as if a mangy dog were clinging to his ankle and he was trying to shake it off, or maybe he simply suffered from Restless Right Leg Syndrome.

“Can’t wait. Let’s do this.” Dyed-Hair Number One stomped out the cigarette butt on the ground and rolled up his sleeves, revealing solid muscles on his upper arms.

Xie Lan was mentally gauging the level of these fierce-looking guys, wondering if they would display the Kung Fu seen in movies, when out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dou Sheng crouch down, scoop something up from the ground, and casually weigh an irregular wooden plank in his hand.

It was leftover scrap from the renovation of some demolished bungalow nearby, covered in splinters. Watching Dou Sheng weigh it in his palm, Xie Lan suddenly felt a bit annoyed.

Maybe not annoyed, just something indescribable—the kind of feeling he couldn’t even articulate in English.

The three opposite charged. Dou Sheng used his free hand to grab one by the collar, dragging him forcefully from Xie Lan’s direction to his own front. The wooden plank in his other hand flew out directly, spinning with a whoosh in the air a few times before landing with a heavy thud on another guy’s shoulder.

The plank fell to the ground, only to be picked up by Yu Fei. Yu Fei was like a completely different person compared to his usual listless self. His face was written with rage. He rotated his wrist impatiently, then jerked his arm up violently. Muscles bulged on his lean arm like a character in Contra entering berserk mode, unleashing a flurry of combos as he whipped the plank fiercely.

Xie Lan was a bit dumbfounded. He never expected the French Bulldog… no, Yu Fei, to be like this when he wasn’t acting颓 (tuí – listless/slacker). He thought it was kind of impressive.

Che Ziming just focused on pulling Xie Lan’s arm with all his might, dragging him to the side, trembling as he said, “These three are actual gangsters, holy shit. Where did that buzzcut know these people from?!”

Xie Lan watched the situation unfold. It felt like the two sides were evenly matched, or perhaps his side was even stronger. Mainly because Yu Fei could really fight, and he got fiercer as he fought, his speed and power constantly breaking limits. As sleepy as he usually was, that’s how manic he was right now.

“Did Yu Fei learn martial arts or something?”

“Yeah,” Che Ziming said. “He seemed to mention he’s close to a Sanda (Chinese kickboxing) 7th Duan level. The Little Green Dragon of the Jianghu.⁴“

“……”

Although he didn’t understand, it sounded very impressive.

Not long after, Yu Fei seized an opportunity with a spinning sweep kick that took down Dyed-Hair Number Two. He whipped the plank viciously against the guy’s calf. Number Two hit the ground instantly, clutching his leg and rolling in pain.

Number Three was also beaten down by Dou Sheng. Number One gasped for breath, retreating two steps, glaring death at Yu Fei.

Xie Lan suddenly felt something was wrong.

They hadn’t gained the upper hand, but they weren’t leaving. Combined with what they said earlier, it was hard not to think they had a backup plan.

Just as Xie Lan was hesitating whether to shout for Dou Sheng and the others to run, he heard footsteps behind him.

They were unhurried and reluctant, not sounding like someone rushing to a fight.

Xie Lan turned his head. The newcomer looked up, their gazes collided, and they both froze.

Che Ziming exclaimed, “Holy crap, you’re mixed up with them?”

Chen Ge.

Dou Sheng and Yu Fei were clearly stunned too. Dou Sheng lowered the hand holding the plank, frowning as he stared at Chen Ge.

This was the first time Xie Lan had sensed such intense negative emotion in Dou Sheng’s eyes. Even yesterday in the staff restroom, he had been indifferent. unlike now—he looked calm, but beneath that calm was a suppressed ferocity.

“Go.” Dou Sheng pointed the tip of the plank at Chen Ge. “Leave here. I’ll pretend I didn’t see you.”

Chen Ge snapped out of his daze and scoffed. “Truly noble Class 4 people.”

“You’re in Class 4 too, damn it!” Che Ziming yelled. “You haven’t left yet!”

“I’m not in Class 4.” Chen Ge’s voice was very low. “I haven’t been for a long time.”

As soon as he finished speaking, he suddenly looked up sharply. Almost simultaneously, Dou Sheng instinctively pulled Xie Lan aside. Chen Ge rushed over from several meters away with a flying kick, knocking away the knife thrusting from behind them.

Yu Fei cursed, turned, blocked and grabbed with his left hand, drove his right shoulder into the punk’s right shoulder, clamped the guy’s right arm, turned to his back left, and executed an over-the-shoulder throw, slamming the person down.

The body hit the ground with a dull thud. The long-haired guy was speechless for a moment before recovering, pointing at Chen Ge and raging, “Yongping Street sent trash like you for the rotation?”

Rotation. That was the first time Xie Lan had heard this term. Another vocabulary lesson.

Chen Ge paused. “Yong-what Street? Don’t know it, never heard of it. I’m just passing by.”

“Stop playing dumb! What’s your name?”

In the distance, the other guy who had been knocked down minutes ago and hadn’t gotten up shouted, “Think his name is Chen something!”

Dou Sheng said, “Chen Xiujie. British High, Year 2 Class 4. Welcome to challenge anytime. Remember it.”

Xie Lan: “?”

Chen Ge: “……”

Dyed-Hair Number One exchanged glances with his companions and reached some kind of consensus.

“……Fuck. You guys just wait. And you, Yongping Street’s Chen Xiujie, I’m going to settle this score with your street boss too.”

The tougher the talk, the faster they ran. In no time, they were gone without a trace.

Che Ziming took a deep breath. “Good thing Fishy was here today, or we would’ve been toast.”

“Yeah.” Dou Sheng tossed the plank to the ground nearby. Amidst the crisp sound of it hitting the earth, he glanced at Chen Ge. “Also good thing the hired thug sent for the rotation defected.”

Chen Ge didn’t even lift his eyelids. He continued looking down at the ground in the distance, paused for a moment, then turned and walked back the way he came.

“Explain yourself!” Che Ziming was like a lit firecracker, ready to charge after him immediately.

However, Dou Sheng reached out and blocked him, watching Chen Ge’s figure disappear. After a long time, he said quietly, “Forget it.”

“You can’t help him,” he said indifferently. “Some things, no one can help with.”

The violence in Yu Fei’s eyes receded, and he returned to his slightly listless, sleepy, dispirited self. He hesitated, then reached out and patted Dou Sheng’s shoulder.

Che Ziming sighed. “That’s what you say, but didn’t you say you were encouraged by someone to walk out of it back then?”

“Can’t compare.” Dou Sheng said in a low voice, “My situation is fundamentally different from his.”

Xie Lan turned his head to look at him.

They were speaking in riddles again. Perhaps because he had only known them for two days, or perhaps simply because his Chinese wasn’t good, he often couldn’t decipher these riddles.

He just felt that under the heavy night sky, Dou Sheng’s profile looked a bit too cold and lonely.

But Dou Sheng quickly put away that quiet aura, glanced back at him, and was about to say something when his gaze inadvertently fell on Xie Lan’s rolled-up sleeve. He frowned suddenly.

“You got hit? When?” He came over, pulled up Xie Lan’s wrist, and gently poked the two slightly swollen welts on his arm, hissing long and loud. “It’s over. Ms. Zhao Wenying is going to murder me.”

Xie Lan fell silent.

He silently looked at Che Ziming. Che Ziming immediately clasped his hands together behind Dou Sheng’s back, begging for mercy.

Should he tell Dou Sheng that these two welts were clawed into him by a terrified Che Ziming?

---

Translation Notes:

1. “Yangchang Alley” (羊腸巷 – Yángcháng Xiàng): Literally “Sheep Intestine Alley,” implying it is narrow and winding. ↩︎
2. “Little Dining Table” (小饭桌 – Xiǎo fàn zhuō): A common service in China where local residents (often retired people or stay-at-home parents) provide lunch/dinner and a place to rest/study for students in their own homes. ↩︎
3. A popular Chinese street food ↩︎
4. A term often used in wuxia (martial arts) fiction, referring to the “world” or community of martial artists/underworld. ↩︎