Pei Yan had barely stepped over and sat down beside Zhuang Xiao, his chopsticks not even lifted yet, when someone at the table stood up with a dark expression and left. It was Sa Risheng from the Zhuang Stunt Team, silent and obviously unhappy.
“Hey, Xiao-Sa, come back…” Bao Pengzhi reached out to tug him.
“You guys eat.” Sa Risheng spoke softly.
Sa Risheng, simple-minded and stubborn, believed he absolutely should not be sitting at the same table eating with Pei Yan. The last time they met they had gotten into a real fight, and the strain in his leg had only just healed. Now they were supposed to turn enemies into friends and clink cups together this quickly? That was far too unprincipled and disloyal.
Even if what happened in the ring had been an accident, his anda really had been beaten into a vegetative state by several vicious flying knees from Pei Yan and still lay in bed unable to wake up. Sa Risheng could not get past that. The sight of Pei Yan made his teeth itch, and all he wanted was to swing a Mongolian saber and chop the bastard Pei into eight pieces before he would feel satisfied.
Elio’s Notes: In Mongolian, anda can mean a sworn brother or an especially close friend. It helps explain why Sa Risheng takes Letu’s injury so personally.
Watching his ge prepare to bury the feud with Pei Yan over a cup of wine, Comrade Xiao-Sa made it clear he was unhappy and had no desire to talk to any of them. But ge was still ge. Zhuang Xiao was deeply loyal. If anyone in the team was injured or disabled, their medical bills came out of ge’s pocket. In the end, the whole Zhuang Stunt Team was supported and looked after by Zhuang Xiao.
Fatty Bao pushed Xiao-Sa down into a seat at the neighboring round table.
Sa Risheng pouted. Fatty Bao reached over and pinched his face. “Look at you. Forget it. Let it go a little. We’re all in the same circle…”
They were all stuntmen in the same circle. They were bound to cross paths again on sets and eat from the same production pot. Stunt work was dangerous by nature. Friction, conflict, and even accidents happened easily on set, and they would happen again in the future. You could not hold grudges too fiercely or take everything too personally. It was better to resolve enmity than create more of it.
Pei Yan glanced at what was happening and understood in his heart. Zhuang Xiao was simply giving both sides a chance and a way down. One drinking session was not going to make them intimate friends, but at least they did not have to remain enemies.
Bao Pengzhi then cheerfully took charge and ordered for both tables. Soon the big round table was covered in fragrant, bright-red, spicy Hunan dishes. Eating together was the most effective way to soften an atmosphere.
Bao Pengzhi’s name probably carried the sense of “aspiring to soar like a great peng,” and he was a moderately well-known agent in the business. His old nickname had been “Big Fat Bao.” He had been enormous, his weight astonishing, and people joked that when Big Fat Bao walked toward you, it looked like a giant fresh meat bun rolling over. He had once managed a famous comedian whose comedy team became wildly popular. The comedian was supposedly a complete foodie. On national tours, he dragged the whole team around searching for local specialties. They ate on set, they ate in the studio, and whenever the team worked overtime they ordered all kinds of late-night snacks to share at the theater. In the end, the comedian had quite literally eaten his agent into a very fat man.
His weight shot toward two hundred and fifty jin, and if he did not lose weight it would start threatening his health and lifespan. Around then, by a stroke of chance, Big Fat Bao changed clients and signed Zhuang Xiao and the Zhuang Stunt Team.
Luckily he had. Bao Pengzhi considered it one of the best decisions of his life. Every day he watched a pack of vigorous young stuntmen work out, run, and play ball. Their habits rubbed off on him little by little. Sometimes, even if he did not want to exercise, someone would drag him along and he would grit his teeth through bench presses and stationary bikes at the gym. The result? He shed eighty jin in one year and became a weight-loss miracle in the industry. “Big Fat Bao” trained himself into the adorably named “Little Fat Bao.” Once he slimmed down, he actually looked pretty good: pale skin without creases, delicate features, and a surprising amount of charm. He often appeared on camera beside Zhuang Xiao and had even picked up fans of his own.
Elio’s Notes: In mainland China, one jin is half a kilogram. Bao’s peak of 250 jin was about 125 kg (276 lb), and losing 80 jin means shedding 40 kg (88 lb).
Little Fat Bao was scrolling through Weibo with both elbows planted on the table, thoroughly entertained. “Hey, you see the trending topic? An artist drew fanart of me.”
A bunch of people leaned over to look. Fans had drawn a set of fan comics featuring Little Fat Bao and had even forcibly paired him into a CP.
Little Fat Bao slapped the table and laughed. “Fuck, losing weight was worth it. I’ve got a fucking CP now!”
Sa Risheng leaned over too, and the whole table burst out laughing. “Hahaha, your CP is Xiao-Sa. They drew you two!”
Online, Sa Risheng used to be shipped with Zhuang Xiao, with things like “the unspeakable story between a kung-fu big shot and the big shot’s personal stunt double,” blah blah blah. Who knew fans’ tastes had gotten heavier and heavier? Now the plot had taken a divine turn toward “the Grassland Prince and his thin-skinned, overstuffed soup dumpling who never misses a meal.”
Comrade Xiao-Sa frowned. He found the whole gay-shipping thing awkward and was not into that. Everyone else kept heckling him anyway. “Holy shit, so is the CP ‘Bao-Sa’ or ‘Sa-Bao’? Based on fighting ability it should be ‘Sa-Bao,’ but if we’re going by body weight, who’s pressing whom is honestly hard to say.”
Sa Risheng asked, “What does that mean?”
“Who’s on top and who’s on the bottom. You don’t get it?” Someone beside him laughed and leaned close to explain it in his ear.
Sa Risheng finally understood and looked even more uncomfortable. “Disgusting. Quit talking bullshit…”
Everyone roared with laughter. They had not even started drinking yet and had already made his whole face red. Xiao-Sa, you’re still a virgin, aren’t you?
Pei Yan ate and drank heartily at this table while listening to the whole room talk nonsense. Sure enough, once a group of men got to the drinking table, the conversation always headed below the belt. Completely normal, and strangely familiar.
Zhuang Xiao kept his head down and ate, saying very little. He did not spray spit everywhere or shout over people while bullshitting with the group. It was as though the ge had arranged the dinner and invited the important guest, and after that none of the rest concerned him. His expression stayed mild, almost detached from the noisy crowd, very quiet.
Zhuang Xiao occasionally looked up at Pei Yan. Since Pei Yan was sitting on his left, Zhuang Xiao could not see the condition of his left ear. He asked, “Your ear healed?”
Pei Yan looked relaxed. “A long time ago. It’s fine.”
Zhuang Xiao said, “Now that it’s stitched up, don’t wear that earring anymore.”
Pei Yan did not care. “I still wear one. Moved it somewhere else.”
He tilted his head so Zhuang Xiao could inspect his left ear. Zhuang Xiao frowned. “You still wear it? You put it up on the cartilage? That part’s even thinner. When you’re doing action work, it really can tear open!”
“You planning to fight me again?” Pei Yan looked straight at him. “Tell me honestly. If you don’t fight me, who else has the ability to split my ear open?”
Zhuang Xiao smiled. “Why would I fight you…”
Zhuang Xiao lifted a cup of tea from the table and said quite frankly, “Last time I hit too hard. I didn’t rein it in. Don’t hold it against me.”
Pei Yan picked up a cup of yellow rice wine. Little Fat Bao had just asked the server to open a jar. He stared without blinking into those bright eyes. “You’re holding tea? That’s not very sincere, is it?”
Zhuang Xiao: “I don’t drink.”
Pei Yan: “Not even a little?”
Zhuang Xiao said, “No. Not a drop.”
Sure enough, everyone else at the table had a wine cup in front of them. Only Zhuang Xiao had a pot of tea.
Pei Yan raised an eyebrow. He never drafted his provocations in advance. “If you don’t drink, what kind of Drunken Fist do you practice?!”
That was enough to rile up the brothers. “Our boss can practice Drunken Fist without drinking. Why couldn’t he? Why don’t you two demonstrate right here at the table!”
“It’s only been a few days. Your ear just got stitched back together and you’ve already forgotten who can press whom down!”
The whole table piled on him.
With Pei Yan’s temperament, there was no chance he would back down. He drained a full cup of yellow rice wine without leaving a drop, then showed them the bottom. “You think I’m afraid to practice? I’m the one who’s drunk and Zhuang Xiao isn’t. What school of Drunken Fist would that be?”
“Mr. Pei, you’re eating our boss’s food and you still came here to smash the place?” Bao Pengzhi turned and hollered. “You think nobody in the Zhuang Stunt Team can drink with you?”
Pei Yan poured himself another cup and sneered. “Who’s drinking?”
“Xiao-Sa, go!” Bao Pengzhi ordered. “Mr. Pei, let me tell you, we don’t need a relay team to take advantage of you. One man is enough to drink you under the table. Today we’ll make you drink until you puke right here. Xiao-Sa, drink with him!”
Plenty of people in the group disliked Young Hero Pei and had been waiting for exactly this. Damn it, maybe they could not beat him in a fight, but surely they could drink him sick. Send in their Grassland Prince… no, wait, their Grassland Little Prince. One man could stand in for a whole squad and drink that bastard Pei under the table until he begged for mercy.
There were hidden blades all over the drinking table, the atmosphere taut and half-serious, half-playful. Some people started trouble, others were responsible for cheering it on…
Zhuang Xiao bumped Pei Yan with the back of his hand. “Ignore them, they’re acting crazy. You start tomorrow, right? Don’t drink too much. Don’t show off.”
Zhuang Xiao spoke quietly, barely moving his lips, always seeming to half-smile. He gave Pei Yan a look as though he were standing behind him and keeping the situation under control. The boss of the Zhuang Stunt Team seemed to be sitting on the fence, his ass impossible to place on either side.
“Me, show off?” Pei Yan shot Hero Zhuang a sidelong look. “I’m telling you, at a drinking table, nobody has ever managed to drink me down.”
“Mr. Pei, don’t start bragging yet.” Little Fat Bao picked up right from that line. “Out on our Xilinhot grasslands, nobody has ever managed to drink our little prince down either! Let’s see which one of you ends up under the table tonight!”
*
Pei Yan really did drink quite a lot that night, one cup after another.
As Sa Risheng kept drinking with him, he quietly slipped back from the neighboring table to this one. He did not talk as much as Pei Yan. He just lowered his head and knocked back each cup, then suddenly threw in lines like, “I’ve only just lined my stomach,” or, “You Han people’s liquor tastes awful, that’s why I can never get drunk. You all sell fake booze, don’t you?” He had a dry sense of humor and kept making everyone laugh.
Zhuang Xiao seemed to tug Pei Yan twice under the table. Later he gave Fatty Bao a look. “Don’t take it too far. You guys will send Mr. Pei back to his hotel later?”
Pei Yan said too, “I’m not drunk. Just find someone to send me back later.”
Bao Pengzhi wore a look that said this had nothing to do with him, his eyes already flushed red with drink. “Me? I drank too. The police are strict about this. You can’t drive after drinking. If they catch you, you go to jail.”
Bao Pengzhi looked around. “Who at this table hasn’t been drinking?”
Two full tables of people. Who had not been drinking?
“What a useless bunch. You really don’t make me look good.” Zhuang Xiao smiled helplessly. “Fine. Drink yourselves flat on the floor if you want. I’ll take Old Pei back to his hotel tonight.”
*
“Much obliged.” Pei Yan rapidly picked food from the dishes, hunting for meat, feeling rather pleased inside.
“You’re welcome,” Zhuang Xiao replied.
The glass lazy Susan turned a plate of Hunan stir-fried pork toward Pei Yan at a slightly crooked angle, leaving the dish positioned directly between him and Zhuang Xiao.
Pei Yan’s chopsticks were always aggressive at the dinner table. He stretched out an arm to seize some food.
Zhuang Xiao also reached in with his chopsticks.
The tips of the chopsticks met unexpectedly. You could call it deliberate or accidental.
Both pairs of chopsticks stirred around in the fragrant stir-fried pork without either man getting any meat. Then Pei Yan’s two chopsticks directly clamped down on Zhuang Xiao’s chopsticks. That was definitely deliberate.
Zhuang Xiao jerked back, but Pei Yan had him clamped tight and refused to release his chopsticks.
Zhuang Xiao paused, then advanced in order to retreat, suddenly snapping his elbow up toward Pei Yan’s chin in one vicious motion. Pei Yan hurriedly tilted his head out of the way, his hand loosened, Zhuang Xiao’s chopsticks escaped, and fuck, a piece of pork disappeared from the plate with them!
Zhuang Xiao chewed, glanced at Mr. Pei, and asked, “You still eating this plate of meat?”
Pei Yan said, “I’m not full yet.”
Before the words had even left his mouth, Zhuang Xiao’s chopsticks dove into the plate again. Now he was deliberately teasing him and stealing his meat. Pei Yan guarded the plate like a tiger, both men somehow blind to the entire table of other food. Pei Yan sent his chopsticks back in to “drive him out.” Smoke and chaos seemed to erupt over the dish, red and green peppers scattering with flecks of chili, and in the end Zhuang Xiao withdrew safely with a cube of pork and ate it.
Everyone at the table stared, then exploded into laughter.
Little Fat Bao laughed. “It’s fine. Mr. Pei doesn’t like meat. Clearly you prefer eating chili peppers!”
Hahahaha!
Zhuang Xiao said nothing. He loosely held the chopsticks between three fingers, carrying enough presence in his brows and eyes to suppress the whole table, and gave Young Hero Pei a look that said, Again?
This was finger strength, wrist strength, and reaction speed. Nothing to be done about it.
Pei Yan bit the corner of his mouth. Blowing up would look graceless, so he mocked himself instead. “Heh, fine. I’ll just eat whatever’s left.”
He regretted those words as soon as he said them.
A cube of meat was snatched right off the tips of his chopsticks…
Then a strip of meat was stolen from his chopsticks too…
Even the little scraps were not spared. Not even those tiny flecks of meat were left for him. Those chopsticks had become possessed…
Pei Yan figured the alcohol must still be affecting him. Every time, his fingers reacted just a fraction too slowly. When experts crossed hands, that tiny half-step was all the difference.
The plate, looted by the two of them, was a wreck. Only hot peppers, diced garlic, and ginger remained. Reeking faintly of liquor, Pei Yan burst out, “You fucking didn’t even leave me the red peppers and scallions?!”
Zhuang Xiao was such a bastard, sly as hell. Where was that nice-guy face he showed on the surface?
Zhuang Xiao finally had enough to eat. Half the plate of meat was already in his stomach, so how could he not be full? He solemnly set his chopsticks on the little saucer and looked at Pei Yan with a smile. “You said you’d eat whatever was left?”
Pei Yan: “…”
Young Hero Pei did what he said and refused to cheat. He pulled the plate directly in front of himself and, under everyone’s eyes, ate the remaining half-plate of chopped green chilies, garlic, and ginger along with his wine. His stomach burned, his whole mouth was fiery… fantastic.
He turned and breathed a puff of air at Zhuang Xiao…
Even his breath was spicy. So was his temper.