I looked at Wang Shuai’s young face and smiled, “How are you still so radical? Hasn’t the tough life tempered you?” As he helped me finish off the food in the pot, he retorted, “You’ve become more and more like an old man, just in need of a radical like me to balance things out.” I was furious, my brows furrowed, and I grabbed a handful of bamboo skewers and threw them at him, “You’ve known me for ages, you know I’m old, and I still think you’re too young!” He dodged left and right but still ended up looking like a porcupine with skewers sticking out. With a mournful face, he said, “Boss, this is the only set of clothes I have left to wear outside, you’re too harsh!”
After eating my fill, I wiped my mouth contentedly and asked, “Your brother wants you to contact him; I’ve delivered the message. Whether you do or not is up to you. I’m heading to Tibet the day after tomorrow, are you coming?” Wang Shuai was still cleaning his spotted clothes, pouting, “I’m not going, I’m afraid I might lose my life there!” Whether he goes or not, I snorted, got up, and walked away. I hadn’t gone far when I heard someone shouting behind me, “Li Zheng, don’t go, I didn’t bring any money—”
—End of the Story—
