"Xiao Linzi, can you knock properly for once? Can't you fix that bad habit after all these years?" Li Xiangdong scolded.
He stepped forward, pushed Xiang Lin aside, and grabbed the copper ring on the door. He knocked twice, not too hard, not too soft. Hearing no response from inside, he knocked three more times.
"Coming, coming! Who is it?" a cautious, hurried voice called out.
The door creaked open slowly. A lean young man peeked out, then flung the door wide, cursing, "Xiang Lin, you bastard! I knew it was you banging on the door!"
The lean youth was their childhood friend Azhe, full name Shi Zhengzhe.
After his outburst, Azhe stepped forward and bumped fists with each of them.
"Dongzi, last time we met was at your wedding. How many kids now?"
"Two—a boy and a girl."
"Nice. Binzi, still as chubby as ever."
"Not everyone can get fat even if they try."
"Sanmu, long time no see."
"Long time no see."
Azhe moved to Xiang Lin, dodged his fist, and thumped him on the chest.
Xiang Lin rubbed his chest. "Was that necessary? I just knocked, and you're acting like I committed a crime."
Azhe gave a dry laugh, unsure how to respond, then changed the subject. "Xiao Linzi, why'd you get a reform camp haircut? You didn't just get out of the slammer, did you?"
Xiang Lin huffed, "Don't talk nonsense, Zhezi. I'm learning barbering from a master now."
"How many times do I have to say it? Don't call me Zhezi!"
"Whatever, Zhezi sounds great. Azhe's just awkward."
"Awkward or not, that's what you're calling me. It's what my mom called me since I was a kid."
Azhe's eyes reddened as he spoke. "I never thought you guys would still come see me. Thanks, brothers."
Li Xiangdong stepped up, hooked an arm around Azhe's shoulders—bony and hard, a sign of the tough years he'd endured.
"Enough of that. We didn't just come to see you; we brought good stuff too. Is Uncle not home?"
At the mention of his dad, Azhe shot Xiang Lin a glare and said sheepishly, "My dad's inside. It's all Xiang Lin's fault, banging on the door like that and scaring him. Xiao Linzi, can you show some manners next time you visit?"
Xiang Lin clasped his fists in mock apology. "I'll be careful next time, bro."
"Alright, cut the act. Let's see what good stuff you brought," Azhe said.
He peered into the bucket and saw a plump pig's head. His mouth watered, and he swallowed hard before grinning. "Come on in! Welcome to my humble abode, brothers."
"What's with the scholar act? 'Humble abode'? Can you even write those words?" Li Xiangdong teased.
"Dongzi's right, Azhe. Don't be shy to admit it. Your dad may be a university teacher, but we're all the same. School shut down back then, so we're all half-illiterate now," Zhang Sen added.
"Damn it, don't bump me! You'll spill the liquor in the mugs!" Qian Bin snapped.
"Ha! So that's why you and Binzi are each holding a tea mug—they're full of booze!" Azhe laughed.
The group bantered, the distance from their time apart fading. They shoved each other playfully as they entered the courtyard.
Azhe's dad, hearing their laughter, stepped out of the house.
"So it's you boys, here to hang out with Azhe? You have fun. I'm going back inside to read," he said.
Li Xiangdong and the others snapped out of their daze as Azhe's dad retreated to the east wing. They almost hadn't recognized him.
Back when he taught at the university, Azhe's dad had been full of vigor, standing tall and straight. After Azhe's mom left, he'd only seemed a bit worn down. But now? His hair was gray, his back hunched, and his steps unsteady. Barely in his forties, he looked like a man in his sixties.
"This…" Li Xiangdong started but didn't know what to say.
"It's fine. Don't worry about my dad. Let's get to it—I'm starving," Azhe said, livening the mood and urging them to start.
Li Xiangdong and the others sighed and got to work.
Qian Bin checked the kitchen and came back out. "Azhe, your cooking pot's too small. We could make do with the bucket, but your single-burner stove will take forever."
Azhe pointed to a pile of junk in the corner. "There's some bricks over there. If we need to, we can build a stove and tear it down later."
"That'll work," Qian Bin agreed.
Li Xiangdong set down his mugs and joined them to dig through the pile. They found enough bricks for a stove and some wood for burning.
Under Qian Bin's expert direction, they built the stove smoothly.
Li Xiangdong offered his matches, lighting two scraps of paper to ignite the wood chips. Then he, Xiang Lin, and Zhang Sen stepped back, leaving the rest to Qian Bin.
The three followed Azhe into the main room.
"Wow, this place is spacious," Xiang Lin remarked.
The room was nearly empty, with barely any furniture, and their voices echoed.
Azhe gestured them to the table, pulled out a long bench from underneath, and brought out a few cups. He filled them with water from a thermos.
"No tea at home right now, so you'll have to make do with plain water," Azhe said.
"No big deal. Water's fine," Li Xiangdong replied.
He pulled out his Daqianmen cigarettes and passed one to each. After lighting up, his eyes caught a square stool by the door. His heart skipped a beat. He walked over and examined it.
It was rosewood, with carved patterns identical to the table at his house!
Could his family's rosewood table have come from Azhe's place? But the timeline didn't add up—his grandpa had found their table before anything happened to Azhe's family.
He asked, "Azhe, where'd these square stools come from?"
Azhe glanced over, unconcerned. "The street office provided them. The furniture confiscated from our house was lost long ago, and the records are gone too. These were just pulled from their warehouse."
Li Xiangdong sighed in relief. If these were really Azhe's family's things, he'd feel torn about whether to return them.
Azhe added, "I forgot to mention until you asked. My dad's a bit paranoid now. He says these are rosewood antiques and that keeping them around could cause trouble. He wants me to toss them out soon. But this saves us the hassle—we can use them in the yard to fuel Qian's fire."
What the hell—burning antique rosewood furniture to cook pig's head? That was some next-level recklessness, just like his nephew Li Xiaojiang, a total prodigal!
That was too much. Li Xiangdong worried his stomach couldn't handle meat cooked with such extravagance.
He quickly intervened. "Don't waste them! If you don't want them, I'll take them. I'll bring them home tonight."
Azhe looked curious. "Dongzi, what do you want them for? My dad says they're rosewood antiques, but they're worthless now."
"I know. I just like them, that's all," Li Xiangdong said.
Of course, he knew they were worthless now, which made it easier to ask for them.
Azhe shrugged. "If you like them, take them. My dad doesn't want them in the house anyway."
Hearing Azhe's approval, Li Xiangdong admired the stool for a moment, then sat back down, pulled Azhe's arm closer, and whispered, "What's going on with your dad? How'd he end up like this?"