Chapter 13 The Master of the "Nutrition" Canteen

When sunlight again fell on two teenagers wandering the street, laughing 傻傻地 (silly) with Alps lollipops in their mouths, the warmth was gone. Winter had arrived late, and our assessment of this city was: "Sunny but windy, cloudy but rainy, barren, starless at night." These words perfectly captured it, 羽羽 (栩栩) 如生 (lifelike)—a habit. Xiaohua and I, mentally drained after two hours online, headed back to school.

"Eat outside or in the canteen?" Xiaohua asked.

"Leave it to fate." I took out a two-fen coin.

Why two-fen? It was useless—otherwise, I wouldn't keep it. "Heads for canteen, tails for outside. Deal?"

"Good idea!" Xiaohua agreed. First toss: heads. "Best of three." Second toss: heads. "Best of five." Third toss: heads. This probability was 离谱 (ridiculous). "Best of seven." Before I could toss, Xiaohua snatched the coin:

"Stop! I'll starve waiting. You want to eat outside, right? Fine."

Xiaohua knew me, but it was a joint decision—I wouldn't force him... (No, my sexuality is normal.)

Before I could respond, Xiaohua said: "Canteen."

F*ck! Inconsistent b*st*rd. I tried persuading him—canteen food s*ck*d, no oil, full of "dinosaurs"—but he ignored me. Finally, he sighed like a man losing hope: "Fate decides."

"Don't be superstitious!"

"Shut up—got cash?" I realized I'd spent all money on internet and drinks.

"Just two fen... Wait, my two-fen coin..."

Xiaohua looked at the coin, near tears: "Who wants this?" He tossed it back, defeated.

At school, we debated between the "Nutrition" Canteen and "Qianxihe" Canteen.

"Let's toss—heads for..."

"Enough with the two-fen! Let's try Nutrition," Xiaohua cut in.

At Nutrition Canteen, few people were there—class wasn't over, proving our teaching was "successful." We quickly got food and sat in a prime observation spot.

Though used to "dinosaurs," we never stopped hunting for beauties. Mid-meal, Xiaohua yelled "Ah!" I looked around—no beauties.

"What's your problem?"

He 夹出 (picked out) a small black thing from his bowl— a fried fly. As I debated its gender, Xiaohua said: "How can I eat this?"

I laughed: "Bad luck!" Xiaohua watched me eat, dropping his chopsticks. Suddenly, I found a thick thing unlike garlic sprouts—it was a cigarette butt. I felt 郁闷 (gloomy), 想吐 (nauseous).

Xiaohua asked: "Did you eat the fly?"

I spat out food, pointing to the dish. He picked out the butt: "Cigarette butt?" I nodded helplessly.

"Your luck sucks too! Haha." Xiaohua leered.

"F*ck! This food is inedible!" I groaned.

A nearby girl glanced over, scornful: "Amateurs, making a fuss."

We looked—her table had five or six black things; she was picking out flies, knocking them onto the table.

What a pro! Normally, I'd bow in 佩服 (admiration), but this was our first time seeing such a master. Xiaohua and I fled—stay longer, and we'd die of shock.

We vowed never to return. Back in the dorm, no one believed our 传奇 (legendary) adventure, even vowing to visit Nutrition Canteen. Xiaohua and I advised caution.

※※※

Card games were our thing, but playing for nothing was boring. Sometimes for money, push-ups, but the best was "streaking."

Rules: Track daily losses. The two with most losses walked three laps in the corridor in just underwear. For fairness, no mercy—refusers got beaten and "exposed" on the playground. Mercifully, we did this at 11 PM when the corridor was empty.

Late autumn wasn't too cold, but three laps in underwear would freeze you. If spotted, you'd be called a nutcase, triggering a "spectacle"—exactly what we wanted.

One day, Arui and Little J lost the most. After Rock-Paper-Scissors for order, Lord Wu cleared his throat, spat, and hosted:

"First up, contestant Arui! See him march bravely to the window, determined—he won't give up till he hits the wall! Wait, is he jumping? No, just pausing to strike a cool pose. Oh, so handsome!"

Before Lord Wu finished, Arui raced back—Lord Wu hadn't even watched. Next time, we told Little J to walk slowly. He began under our expectations.

"Next, contestant Little J! His thick shoulders, sturdy thighs (he's actually skinny). Oh, Xie Tingfeng reborn... No, Tang Dynasty heartthrob Xuanzang! Even Sister Furong is smitten, Sister Feng is ready to 献身 (dedicate herself). Yep, a real hunk..."

Doors opened as people watched. Lord Wu fled into the dorm; Little J rushed back:

"I'm so embarrassed! I quit!" It took much persuasion to stop Little J from "suiciding."

When the movie 2012 hit Chinese theaters and raked in box office gold, the most debated topic among us was the 2012 doomsday scare that had everyone on edge.

The film claimed December 21, 2012, would be the end, prompting many Chinese to revisit the Mayan prophecy. You know about the Mayan prophecy, right? No? Let me brief you: according to Maya, Earth is in the "Fifth Sun Age," meaning we've survived four previous Sun Ages. Look up the first four on Baidu if you're curious. Each Sun Age ended in catastrophic destruction, and the Fifth Sun Age spans from 3113 BC to 2012 AD.

Figures we'd be around for this. Anyone who saw the movie knows the plot, so I won't bore you—this is a novel, not an encyclopedia, hehe.

"So, if 2012 is real, what would you do?" I asked.

"I'd find a scenic spot and off myself—secure a good spot in heaven," Chuanchuan said.

We dismissed Chuanchuan's idea as superstitious.

"Me? I'd replace the portrait in Tiananmen Square with mine, then lie where I belong," Xiaohua boasted.

"Ambitious," Lord Wu praised, spitting out smoke. "We're so f*ck*d. Graduated primary school: SARS. Middle school: bird flu. High school: swine flu. Now college: 2012. What did we do wrong?"

He had a point.

"Remember that quote from Dwelling Narrowness? 'When we entered college, we watched Struggle with hope. When confused, we saw My Youth, My Rule. Just as we found clarity, Dwelling Narrowness crushed us. Now add: After 2012, we're chill. Why buy houses or cars? They'll be destroyed anyway."

"Brilliant! Insightful! Spot on!" Little Di, usually quiet, praised Xiaohua.

"Thank you, thank you! Cash donations welcome, moral support too!" Xiaohua begged, collecting a 1-fen coin from Little Di, a mangled 1-yuan coin from Shunzi, and a "special gift" from Lord Wu.

Approaching Lord Wu's bed, Xiaohua pleaded. Lord Wu shrugged: "Think you're Zhou Libo? Talking equals money? Not me. But since you tried..." He rummaged under his bed.

Xiaohua muttered: "I idolize Guo Degang, not Zhou Libo. Traditional cross-talk beats 'Shanghai-style clean talk,' and he's a national hero..."

We were confused—since when was Guo Degang a national hero? Lord Wu's sinister laugh drew our attention.

"Found it!"

Xiaohua held out his hands, only to feel something squishy. We burst into laughter—it was Lord Wu's unwashed socks, 珍藏 (treasured) for who knows how long.

Xiaohua nearly exploded, cursing Lord Wu's entire family.

"You violate jianghu rules!" Xiaohua seethed.

We laughed till we cried. Lord Wu ignored him, letting Xiaohua vent—compensation for his "trauma." The doomsday debate raged on.

Experts spouting nonsense were everywhere. I saw them as frauds wrapping scams in scientific terms, so I ignored them, sticking to my path.

One morning, Lord Wu and crew were ready to go.

"Where so early? Free shopping?" I yawned, dressing.

"Bifengtang. Coming, Cai Cai?" Little J asked. I'd never been, curious about their hangout.

I washed up, stole two mints from sleeping Xiaohua, and joined them. At Bifengtang, I observed the complex—rarely visited, almost a 禁地 (forbidden zone) for me.

Two pretty girls greeted us: "Welcome back to Bifengtang." Lord Wu smiled 风骚地 (seductively)—definite regulars. They started a billiards game; I watched, knowing only that you hit one ball into a pocket with another.

Lord Wu played brilliantly, winning two straight games against Little J. Frustrated, Little J handed me the cue after the third game: "Cai Cai, try a few. You're a CF ace—same concept."

"Finish your game! I know nothing." I refused.

"Learn by doing. Your CF progress shows you're a natural." Little J was desperate to quit.

"Better finish. Passing me an unfinished game isn't a 3P..." I used a shameless analogy.

Everyone stared; Lord Wu and Little J called me "disgusting" and resumed. No surprise—Lord Wu won in under three minutes.

"Need a pro to take down Lord Wu. Step aside, I got this." I grabbed the cue.

I imitated their stance as Lord Wu broke, sinking three balls, including one of mine. When my turn came, I aimed blindly, clueless about rules. By my third turn, Lord Wu had cleared the table but said: "Not done yet."

He hit the black 8-ball. "That's mine!" I yelled. "Black 8 is last," Lord Wu said. I'd been aiming for it the whole time, lucky my shots went astray.

I quit, embarrassed. Little J snickered: "How was it?"

"Terrible. Tried a 'gangbang,' but we got 'r*p*d' instead," I whispered. Little J collapsed laughing.