noveltune Chapter 22: Braised Food Stall
Chapter 22: Braised Food Stall
Cheng Xiaojin turned to run towards the alley entrance, but was pulled back by Tieguai Li after taking only one step.
"Are you crazy? Going there now would be like walking into a trap. Fatty Sun has five or six men guarding the area. You think you'd get away with it?"
"Even if I don't get anything good out of it, I still have to go. If he touches Tong Kexin, I'll dig up Fatty Sun's ancestral graves."
Cheng Xiaojin broke free from Tieguai Li's hand, looked down and felt around at his feet, picking up half a brick that was even bigger than the one from before and clutching it in his hand.
"I've already sent a text message to Mr. Ma, and he said he'll send someone over immediately."
Tieguai Li was so anxious that he stomped his feet, and his prosthetic leg thumped loudly on the brick floor.
"Can't you wait another ten minutes? We'll go together when they arrive, okay?"
"I can't wait."
Cheng Xiaojin stuffed the brick into his pocket and clenched his fist.
"Every minute we wait, Tong Kexin is in danger for another minute."
After he finished speaking, he turned around and ran towards the alley entrance. The night wind blew into his collar, making his shirt puff up.
Tieguai Li cursed from behind and quickly followed, leaning on his crutch.
The streetlights at the entrance of the alley were on, and in the distance, in the direction of Huguosi Street, the shadow of a black van could be vaguely seen.
Cheng Xiaojin sprang up from the ground, his shoe sole scraping against the brick floor.
"When did this happen?"
"When I got there, it wasn't completely dark yet. The car was parked about 30 meters inside the alley. There was no one in the driver's seat, and the door was open." Tieguai Li stood up, leaning against the wall, and his prosthetic leg paused on the ground.
Are you sure it's that car?
"A black Jinbei van, license plate ending in three sixes, and a missing piece on the right rear fender. It's exactly the same as the one at the entrance of Duanmaye Hutong."
Cheng Xiaojin had already started walking. Turning out of the dead-end alley, he reached Gulou Back Street. Heading southwest through two alleys, he would reach Huguosi Street.
Tieguai Li chased after him, leaning on his toes, saying, "Slow down, don't be impulsive."
"I need to consider the person's character before I act impulsively."
Cheng Xiaojin ran very fast, his sneakers making a loud thud on the bluestone slabs. He turned two corners and passed through a small street that sold noodles with soybean paste. All the restaurants on the street had their shutters rolled up, with only a sliver of light peeking out from under the door.
Tieguai Li's prosthetic leg chased after him with a thud, getting further and further away.
He stopped shouting and, panting heavily, hurried forward.
When Cheng Xiaojin ran to the entrance of Huguosi Street, a smell wafted into his nose first.
The smell was rusty, mixed with the sour stench emanating from the cracks in the floor tiles after the braised soup broth was overturned, and also had a hint of the raw, astringent smell of chopped wood.
His pace slowed down.
The braised pork stall is located about 70 or 80 meters inside the alley, where the streetlights illuminate the mess.
The pot overturned.
Tong Kexin's old iron pot, which she had used for eight years, lay tilted on the ground, upside down. A fist-sized dent had been kicked into the center, and the braised soup on the rim had spilled out in a large area.
Two benches on the stall were chopped into wood chips, and the plastic tarpaulin was torn off and thrown on the ground, leaving seven or eight footprints.
A row of spice bottles were broken, and chili powder and cumin powder were mixed in the braised soup, some red and some yellow.
Cheng Xiaojin stood in front of the stall, a surge of energy rising in his chest, which he forcefully suppressed back down.
"Little Gold".
The voice drifted from the corner of the wall, slightly hoarse.
Tong Kexin squatted at the base of the wall, her apron covered in braised soup stains, the dark brown soup staining the white apron mottled.
There was a red mark on her left cheek, extending diagonally down two inches from her cheekbone. It wasn't a slap mark, but rather a rubbed mark, with a thin cut along the edge of the skin.
Aunt Zhang squatted down beside her, put her arm around her shoulder, and when she saw Cheng Xiaojin arrive, she spoke in a low voice.
"Four people arrived, about twenty minutes ago."
"What kind of person?"
"The leader was wearing a baseball cap, so his face wasn't visible. He was short and chubby. He was followed by three young men. Those three were the ones who did the fighting. They came in, kicked over the pot without saying a word, then chopped up the stool. They left in less than two minutes."
"Tong girl tried to stop them, but was pushed and stumbled, her face scraping against the edge of the iron pot."
Cheng Xiaojin squatted down, his eyes fixed on the red mark on Tong Kexin's face.
His right hand reached out, his fingers stopping about three inches from her cheek, hovering in mid-air, before he withdrew it.
Tong Kexin looked up at him, her eyes were red, but she didn't shed any tears, and her lips were tightly pursed.
"Cheng Xiaojin, don't do anything foolish because of me."
"Who gave you permission to stop me?"
"You think I could just leave after smashing everything? This place was left to me by my dad."
Tong Kexin's voice trembled slightly, "It's been eight years. That pot has been with me for eight years. The savory flavor from the bottom of the pot has seeped into the iron. It would take at least three years to get a new pot with that flavor."
Cheng Xiaojin didn't say anything. He stood up, walked to the overturned iron pot, bent down, turned the pot over, and looked at the dent on the bottom.
He kicked it.
He was wearing hard-soled leather shoes, and the dents he kicked had indentations from the soles.
Did you write down the license plate number?
Aunt Zhang pulled a crumpled piece of paper out of her pocket: "I've noted it down. It's a Beijing license plate with three sixes at the end. It's the same car that was the one that was waiting at the entrance of Ma Ye Hutong before."
"Anything else?"
"When he left, the guy wearing the hat made a phone call in the car. He was talking quite loudly, and I overheard it from around the corner."
"What did you say?"
Aunt Zhang glanced at Tong Kexin, then at Cheng Xiaojin, and said in a low voice, "He said the stall was smashed, but no one was seriously hurt, so he's giving him a warning first."
Cheng Xiaojin took out a cigarette case from his pocket, shook out a cigarette, and tapped it against the wall.
He banged his head a second time.
The third blow was too hard; the cigarette paper tore, and tobacco shreds fell out of the tear.
Tong Kexin looked at his hand: "You can't afford that kind of cigarette, don't waste it."
"Um."
Cheng Xiaojin clutched the broken cigarette in his hand, his fingers cracking as he clenched it.
Tieguai Li's footsteps came from the alley entrance, his prosthetic leg thumping on the ground, and the head of his cane rattling in the cracks between the bricks.
He turned in and saw the mess. He paused for two seconds, glanced at the overturned iron pot and the broken bench, then looked at Tong Kexin in the corner, but didn't ask anything.
"Aunt Zhang, could you please look after Kexin here for a while? I'll arrange for someone to come and clean up in a bit," Tieguai Li said to Aunt Zhang, then limped over to Cheng Xiaojin and squatted down.
"Did you see it clearly?"
"I saw it clearly." He spoke in a very low voice.
"What are you planning to do?"
"I haven't decided yet."
Tieguai Li pulled a hexagonal wrench, about the thickness of a thumb, from the side pocket of his work pants. He placed it on the ground in front of Cheng Xiaojin, and the metal made a crisp sound as it hit the brick surface.
"I won't stop you from taking action, but think it through first."
"What are you thinking about?"
"Should we beat him up to vent our anger, or make sure he can never recover in this lifetime?"
Cheng Xiaojin stared at the wrench for five seconds.
There were several oily fingerprints on the wrench, left by Tieguai Li when he was working.
He didn't pick it up.
He threw the broken Zhonghua cigarette in his hand on the ground, crushed it with the sole of his shoe, and the tobacco shreds scattered in the braised soup.
"Giving him a beating is too lenient a punishment."