Chapter 126: The Reunion of Old Friends

"The old friend has ridden the yellow crane away, leaving only the empty clouds for a thousand years. Why have you come to see me instead of going to see that old friend?"

"You, too, are an old friend of mine."

"I thought you would go to see him first; indeed, you should have gone to see him first."

"That is what everyone thinks. But at this very moment, I have no desire to see him. I only wish to see you."

In the Yang Erniang Hot Pot Restaurant in City A, a disheveled old man and an old man in black sat facing each other. The air was thick with the clamor of diners as passionate as the boiling pots, people coming and going, some sated and some still hungry, shouting and clinking glasses. Yet, the two old men remained indifferent, their gazes fixed only on one another.

They stared in silence, both wearing expressions that defied interpretation.

"Coming through, make way!" A woman with a round face and a round waist arrived, hips swaying, carrying two plates of duck intestines. She set them before the two men and beamed. "Freshly plucked, have a taste!"

The man in black withdrew his gaze first. He fished a slice of beef from the steaming hot pot, dipped it in his bowl, chewed twice, and feigned amazement, giving a thumbs-up. "My, oh my! Yang Erniang, this beef is truly something!"

The disheveled old man propped his right foot up on the stool, scrubbed between his toes with his index finger, and cast a look of disdain at the man in black. He picked up his chopsticks, grabbed a mooncake from the deli platter, swallowed it whole, and fawned over Yang Erniang. "Erniang, your stir-fried mooncakes with green peppers are simply divine..." He downed a glass of soy milk in one gulp and smiled broadly. "And your milk is delicious too—a flavor that lingers in the memory!"

Yang Erniang rolled her eyes at him, chiding, "Sima Bei, use your brain before you speak. Are you afraid the gossip about us isn't enough? My son is practically your son now. You may have no shame, but I still have to face the world!"

Sima Bei coughed lightly and dismissed it with a wave. "Fakes are fakes; no matter what they say, it won't make them real. Gossip is better than silence." He pointed at the man in black across from him. "Look, it’s people like Zhang Xiaoman you need to watch out for. There’s a saying: the quietest dogs bite the hardest."

Zhang Xiaoman snorted, pointing at the golden mooncake on the plate. "There’s also a saying that a dog can’t change its habit of eating dung. That holds true as well; some dogs, even when they turn into men, still can’t move past anything yellow."

At these words, Sima Bei glared furiously at Zhang Xiaoman, who stared right back. The air grew heavy and silent once more.

Yang Erniang shook her head and chuckled, wiping her plump hands on her apron. "That’s enough, you two. Stop acting for my benefit; no one is eavesdropping. Eat, drink, and speak as you please! I’ll go cut you two plates of lamb kidneys. Boil them in the pot—the taste is absolutely spectacular."

With that, she swayed her hips and marched back to the kitchen, head held high.

Sima Bei watched her go, sniffed, and whispered to Zhang Xiaoman, "Tell me... exactly how old is Erniang, anyway?"

Zhang Xiaoman picked up a pair of duck intestines and swished them through the red copper pot. "Must be sixty-nine."

"Sixty-nine?" Sima Bei’s eyes lit up. He smacked his lips and began swishing his own intestines in the spicy broth. "What an interesting number."

"Isn't it? Of the ten Arabic numerals, they are the only pair that completes the other. Turn a nine upside down and it's a six; turn a six back and it's a nine. Interesting, no?" Zhang Xiaoman placed the intestines in his bowl, not in a hurry to eat, and swished another pair. "Six and nine are each other's halves, just like a person and their shadow. Only together are they complete."

"Oh?" After a few seconds, Sima Bei blew on the steaming intestines, popped them into his mouth, and dipped another round into the bubbling broth. A few seconds later, he lifted his chopsticks, and somehow, there were two pieces instead of one. He asked languidly, "So... what are they when they are perfectly joined?"

"Sun!" Zhang Xiaoman watched as Sima Bei snatched the intestines from his chopsticks along with his own. He rolled his eyes. "The sun is the great ball of fire that brings light and warmth to the world. Therefore, six and nine can never be separated."

"But in this world, where there is light, there is shadow. Everything under the sun has a shadow. Night cannot mix with day, and a person cannot merge into their shadow..." Sima Bei shoved both portions into his mouth, chewed, spat them out, and pursed his lips. "Greed truly makes for a tough chew!"

"Duck intestines must be savored slowly," Zhang Xiaoman said, finally eating his own. He pointed at the red pot. "Good soup must be simmered patiently over a gentle flame."

"Then why aren't you simmering?" Sima Bei scoffed. "Are you so used to being the master in the countryside? Fed and clothed by others, with two old spirits by your side—a life of luxury! Poor me, alone in the mountains, in the wind and the rain..."

"Don't you have a little apprentice?" Zhang Xiaoman fished another piece of intestine, this time from Sima Bei’s pot, and offered it with a fawning expression. "If you follow me, life will only get livelier."

"I don't believe a word you say!" Sima Bei pouted. "Was that apprentice of my own choosing? It was a destiny set by my master; how could I refuse? He arrived on the mountain and disappeared within two days. He only returns to the grass shack to sleep at night; he's barely a roommate... If I really agreed to you, even the ghosts would vanish, leaving me shivering in the cold wind. Besides, six and nine together are just too much to handle. One is enough!"

Zhang Xiaoman sighed. "One it is, then. Which one do you find suitable? Complementary? Or similar?"

Sima Bei shoved Zhang Xiaoman’s intestines away with his chopsticks, fished a slice of beef from the pot, sipped his soy milk, and wiped the residue from his beard. "One must have an appetite for what one swallows..."

"Well said!" A sudden voice boomed beside them. "That is exactly what I think."

Zhang Xiaoman looked coldly at an old man in a black teacher’s uniform who had sat down between him and Sima Bei. His lips curled upward. "Splendid. A traveler returning on a snowy night, and two old friends arrive at once. It saves me the trouble of running around."

Sima Bei squinted at the man in the teacher’s uniform and frowned. "Luo Ci, why are you here? Following the dinner rush?"

"He has two apprentices..." Luo Ci sat primly, picking up a piece of pork intestine with surgical precision, maintaining the exact height as he swished it in the broth. After a few seconds, he placed it in Zhang Xiaoman’s bowl, his eyes gleaming. "You have two apprentices, and the one who suits my taste is very much to my liking!"

Zhang Xiaoman looked at him suspiciously. "Your nose is truly sharp... I fear that if similar things gather, the effect will multiply, and we shall see monsters born!"

"No fear, no fear," Luo Ci said, popping a piece of beef into his mouth and waving a hand toward Sima Bei. "He has already created one monster, and nothing happened. Speaking of which, that shadow is the one who truly suits my taste..."

Sima Bei tapped the rim of the hot pot with his chopsticks, his eyebrows arched. "Don't even think about it. If you dare touch the food in my bowl, believe me, I’ll flip this table!"

"I have no habit of eating other people's spit..." Luo Ci pouted. He turned to Zhang Xiaoman, his expression grave. "I thought you would go to see him first. I waited there for ages and didn't see you, so I knew you must have come here. What are you thinking? Shouldn't the urgent matters be over there?"

"Everyone thinks I am going over there, which is exactly why I cannot," Zhang Xiaoman said, sipping his tea, his ears twitching slightly. "Listen. The dogs over there have begun to bark..."

Luo Ci glanced toward the hospital in the distance, then back at Zhang Xiaoman, his expression strange. "Are you afraid of death?"

"Any person is afraid of death," Zhang Xiaoman exhaled. "I am no exception. But this time, it is not fear of death, but rather that I cannot die just yet. Instead of running over there to throw my life away, it is better to sit here and wait for death."

Sima Bei looked at Luo Ci, who had bowed his head in silence, and then at Zhang Xiaoman, who was staring into the distance with his teacup in hand. He frowned. "You’ve ruined a perfectly good hot pot with all this talk of death. Death comes for everyone eventually—some choke to death, some starve. Come! Finish this intestine, and enough with this nonsense about dying!"

Luo Ci regained his composure and chuckled. "People are born and die every day; it is nothing strange. It is as mundane as the barking of dogs. By the way, I heard some curious sounds on my way here..."

Sima Bei tilted his head. "Oh? If you find it curious, it must be very curious indeed. What sounds?"

Luo Ci blinked, his expression playful as he stared at Zhang Xiaoman and uttered three words: "Pop, pop, pop!"

Sima Bei’s mouth twitched. "Fireworks in the sky, gunfire on earth?"

"It is gunfire..." Zhang Xiaoman sighed again. "When a gun goes off, someone may not necessarily die, but someone will be hurt. Someone’s heart will be wounded, someone’s body will be wounded, and some will be wounded in both heart and body..."

Sima Bei tilted his head. "Three people?"

Luo Ci gave a thumbs-up. "Good math!" He opened a bottle of white liquor, filled a cup, drank it in one go, and turned to Zhang Xiaoman. "You won't go to the hospital. Will you go to the funeral home?"

Zhang Xiaoman shook his head. "He Wei went there ten minutes ago..."

Luo Ci poured himself another cup and drained it. "If you won't go to the hospital and you won't go to the funeral home, where are you going?"

"Going here..." Zhang Xiaoman dipped his finger in his tea and wrote two characters on the table. He looked at the heavy snow falling outside. "This snow won't stop tonight. By tomorrow morning, the snow will be deep, the streets will be wrapped in silver, and many children will be out building snowmen. Some will begin to carve ice sculptures..."