Chapter 18

Four in the morning, and the north wind was dropping.

Gi Changning's father turned on the bedside lamp and got up.

The noise woke his wife, who struggled up with her eyes half shut. "What time is it?"

"Only four." He pulled the quilt back over her. "Go back to sleep. You've work in the morning."

She had been half under already, and once she was pressed back down she curled into the warm instinctively, still muttering, "No. You're opening. I want to see."

He did not know whether to laugh. "What is there to see? It's a trial opening. I can't even let off bangers at this hour, I'd have the neighbours out. And your sister-in-law's helping me. Don't worry."

Settled, she went back under. He tucked the quilt in, dressed, checked that the wontons he had folded were still in the fridge, and let himself out quietly.

The frost was heavy and your breath seemed to come out in splinters of ice. He rubbed his hands. There was no hiding the nerves or the gladness in his face. He patted his own chest, where the heart was going fast, as if to flatten the excitement of a thing wanted for years finally happening. He put his mask and his helmet on and rode for the vegetable market.

Inside the market, stallholders were arriving one after another, and their greetings woke the last of the night up. The uncle had his stock in already and was laying the vegetables out neatly with Gi Zhao, who was still on holiday, picking out anything knocked about in transit. That was the first job done.

His wife opened her flask and took a pull of hot water. Her phone rang in her pocket. She handed the flask to her son and answered. "Hongcheng? You're there? Your brother's got Zhao here with him, they'll manage. Give me a minute, I'll come over."

She hung up. "Hongcheng's there. I'll go to the shop. Can you two cope?"

The uncle had been worrying about his brother's business anyway. "No problem at all. Since when have you not trusted me to work?"

She did not in fact distrust him. She was simply jumpy and needed somewhere to put it, so she rattled off a string of instructions, and told Gi Zhao to use his head, to let the bruised vegetables go cheap if they had to, and not to argue with a customer over one or two in change.

Gi Zhao could see his mother was nervous. He got the same speech every holiday when he came to work at the market, often enough to wear a groove in his ear. He put his hands on her shoulders and steered her towards the aisle, drawing the words out. "Yes, Mother. And if you don't go, my uncle will be standing there waiting."

That stopped her, and she went.

The stallholder next to the uncle saw her leave, put down the box he was unloading and came over. "Hongguang. Your wife's not with you today?"

"My brother." The uncle raised his voice deliberately, and there was no hiding how pleased he was. "My brother's restaurant opens today. She's gone to help."

The man was visibly startled. "You're joking. What time does it open? Where is it? I've had one pastry this morning. If it's close I'll go and get something hot."

That Gi Hongguang had a brother who could cook was no secret around there. Every time the brother brought lunch, you could smell it several metres out from the stall, and it drove people mad. So the word opening had ears pricking up all round.

"Not far. Old Yang's dough stick place." The uncle's voice went up another notch. "The Yangs have gone to the capital, haven't they. My brother's taken the lease. Trial opening. Free tea egg if you go in."

The small hours are the cold part, and traders who are up early have to grab something from outside when they can. For years the same few places had been on that street, and everyone was sick of all of them.

"Can he do takeaway? I've nobody to watch the stall."

The uncle clapped his hands, remembered something, took a stack of flyers out of the bag behind him and handed one over. "Of course he can. My brother's bought a sealer. Porridge, soup, the lot, all boxed up."

A thumbs-up. "Perfect."

The uncle put his popularity to work and handed flyers to every stallholder round him, calling as he went. "Good food, cheap. Free tea egg during the trial opening. You won't get another chance at it."

They looked over the bright red sheets and each of them decided, independently, to give it a try.

Nothing lost either way.

---

The shop had its lights on and was bright all through.

The place was called Four Seasons, a name the whole family had put their heads together over. Inside the door the walls looked clean and plain, and close up you found they had been faced with patterned PVC panelling, which looked well and wiped down easily. Tables and chairs stood in neat rows along both sides, two-seaters and four-seaters, each with napkins, chilli oil, pickled beans and black vinegar. Further in was the till, with the sealing machine beside it, and behind that the kitchen with a small hatch cut in it for handing out orders.

Gi Hongcheng put on a chef's whites he had not worn in years and a mask over the scars on his face, checked what was in the fridge, rolled his sleeves up, washed his hands and started.

For the trial he was not doing much. Noodles and wontons, except that the noodles came three ways, bean sauce, minced meat, or plain in broth, and the wontons were one filling only.

Noodles were what he was best at. The wonton wrappers he had made the day before and left in the fridge, and the filling he mixed fresh. Thin skins and generous filling, each one folded plump with one pinch, and very neat they looked too.

By the time his sister-in-law arrived he had most of the filling used up.

Going into the kitchen was like walking into a wall of steam. Millet porridge bubbled away, another pot held boiling water, and a few strainer baskets for cooking noodles hung off the side.

What caught her, though, was a pot of master stock coming slowly up to heat, putting out a heavier and more complicated smell through the lid.

He heard the footsteps and guessed. "Sister-in-law?"

"Yes." She left the stock pot with some reluctance, washed her hands and put on an apron. "Sorry, I'm late. What can I do?"

"You're not late. Are you hungry? I'll put some wontons on for you."

She waved it away. "I'm not hungry, I had something at home. It's your first day, you can't be careless."

He gave his slow smile and made room. "All right. Tell me when you're hungry. For now, help me fold wontons. I'll do the sauce and the meat, and once there are customers you can take the money and keep an eye on the front."

"Right you are."

The time went by a little at a time. The sun put its head up. The eating places along the street woke one by one. The old, who sleep lightly, were already out, getting to the market first for the freshest and best.

Old Yang was a regular at the vegetable market. He knew which stallholder was easiest to deal with and whose vegetables were honest. Today, though, there was something different about the place.

He went to Gi Hongguang's stall as usual, picked over the spinach, bought some knocked-about tomatoes cheap, and then his nose went up at a sour, hot smell that went straight to the back of his head.

It was coming from the next stall along.

With the weight settled, he used the business of change to ask quietly, "Hongguang. What's he eating?"

The uncle handed a flyer over with the money and sold it hard. "Minced meat noodles and a tea egg. My brother's place. Why don't you go and try it?"

The neighbour drank the last of his soup and felt the warmth go right through him. He belched happily and said, with feeling, "Lovely. I'll try the bean sauce tomorrow."

Old Yang had always liked sour and hot. "Is it really that good?"

The neighbour wiped his mouth. "If it isn't, I'll give you two courgettes for nothing."

Old Yang knew the man was tight, and would not round down by fifty cents, let alone give vegetables away. He thought again about that smell. It itched at him. "Where is it?"

The uncle answered with endless patience. "Old Yang's dough stick shop. The Yangs went off to their son's, didn't they. My brother's taken it on."

Old Yang knew that shop well. He shared a surname with the owner and had been going for years and they got on. Every time he had the dough sticks, the two of them would throw in a bowl of soft beancurd. When he heard the old couple were giving it up, he had been sorry about it for a long while.

With the address, Old Yang wasted no time. He picked up his vegetables, pocketed his change and set off in a direction he knew.

At the same time a good many other customers were asking the stallholders what they were eating, getting the same answer from all of them, and deciding to try the new place.

---

Six in the morning, into a cold wind, Gi Changning and Ji Ran stood at the bus stop near the vegetable market, waiting.

Both of them knew it was the first day of the trial opening, and both were worried the new shop would be empty, so each had contacted her classmates the day before to make the first day look busy and get the thing off to a good start.

The bus pulled in and two groups came out of the back door.

One was the dance club under Zhou Shaoyu. The other was Xiao Xiao leading most of class one.

Twelve or thirteen of them between the two, and an imposing sight they made.

Ji Ran had nothing to say.

Gi Changning had nothing to say.

Zhou Shaoyu had chosen style over warmth, a wool jumper under a trench coat and nothing else, with a bluetooth speaker in his arms, shivering in the wind and still showing off. "Once the dance club gets going we'll have your dad's place good and lively."

The club members nodded hard. "Don't worry, Ning. What does he like? Street, jazz, cha-cha, ballroom, classical. And we've got square dancing in reserve."

Zhou Shaoyu added, "Although we only know the two square-dancing standards everybody knows."

Gi Changning had nothing to say.

She crooked a finger at him, took him round the back of the bus shelter and asked quietly, "What did I message you yesterday?"

He looked puzzled. "Your dad's new place is opening, bring a few people to make up numbers, preferably make it look busy?"

"So you brought the dance club to bring the house down?"

"Isn't that right? Shopping centres always have singing and dancing when they open." His mind went off somewhere unknowable and came back enlightened. "Although dancing on its own is a bit thin. Next time I'll pay for a couple of singers. What do you think?"

Gi Changning had nothing to say.

She was moved to tears by the wind. "Thank you so much."

Zhou Shaoyu glowed. "Don't mention it."

They came out from behind the shelter and she patted his shoulder. "Thanks for coming out, all of you. No dancing. When we get there, lunch is on me."

Xiao Xiao had worked out roughly what had happened and let out a long sigh, possibly over the state of Zhou Shaoyu's intelligence. With her face buried in her hood she said to Ji Ran, "Are there flyers? We're right by the market, we could go in and hand them out."

Class one took it up at once. "Yes, and we could mark the flyers and come to an arrangement with the stallholders, commission for every customer they send. How much commission would need discussing."

"We can settle that later," Ji Ran said. "Let's look at the shop first and then decide what to do. All right?"

Xiao Xiao agreed. "Yes."

Gi Changning and Ji Ran had scouted the route already, and walked at the front. Gi Changning muttered, "Why did you invite Xiao Xiao?"

Ji Ran did not know many people well. Xiao Xiao was one and Zheng Yao was the other, and Zheng Yao was abroad on holiday and had answered with a dozen stickers expressing her sorrow at missing it.

Gi Changning gave up. Since Xiao Xiao's birthday the year before, a good deal of the tension between them had gone, and years of habit meant Gi Changning's instinct was still to find that face annoying.

Xiao Xiao found her annoying too, and had a clear view of her own position. Miss Xiao was here for Ji Ran. It was the first thing Ranran had ever asked of her, and she intended to do it beautifully.

A quarter of an hour later, having collected a great many stares on the way, the party reached the road opposite Four Seasons.

Gi Changning pointed. "Straight across and we're..."

She did not finish it. The group went silent.

The doors of Four Seasons stood open, the place was packed, and several customers who did not mind the cold had set up a table outside and were eating with great enthusiasm.

The dance club asked Zhou Shaoyu, "Are we still dancing?"

Class one asked Xiao Xiao, "Are we still handing out flyers?"

Zhou Shaoyu and Xiao Xiao looked at each other and found the same question in the other's eyes. With business like that, it rather seemed that nobody needed a party of seat-fillers.