Weeds View | Dali Diary

At Xitou, Jason had clear broth beef noodles, I had sour cabbage beef noodles. I always think of two noodle shops: Xitou, with more choices and better taste, and Chuan Xiangzi, which is quick but average. Each shop has its own personality. No matter what, some will like it, some won't. Sticking to your character is key.

It was hot, we ate outside. The traffic and camphor trees on Hongsheng Road gave me a light, floaty feeling. I ate every noodle, then the baby cabbage, then the garlic bits from the seaweed salad. I wanted to linger as long as possible.

We left to pick up a folding bike from Li Zhenhao's shop. The bike appeared three months ago when we were planning separate trips. Now Jason is leaving for Japan, and I haven't planned next month yet.

Pink cherry blossoms lined the highway. My dizzy head felt like I was dreaming as we drove past.

We turned left and drove up the creek. I looked for Sting's new shop. Someone was sitting in the corner. Jason parked and went in to ask; I stayed in the car.

Sting used to run a salmon shop at Peace Hotel. We went occasionally. It had a few tables, music posters on the walls, no sign, only word-of-mouth. The salmon was fresh, affordable, and generous. We always left stuffed.

I didn't know Sting well. Jason admired him and sometimes mentioned him, but it was abstract to me.

Once, we had a reservation. We arrived at 7 and waited. No food came. We moved to the charcoal fire to keep warm, chatting for over an hour. Jason smoked many cigarettes. Still no food. Sting was sitting nearby drinking coffee, not busy. Jason finally asked if our meal was ready. "Is everyone here?" Sting asked. "Just us two," Jason replied. "Oh, I thought you were seven. I had the food ready but didn't serve it." Sting apologized. Jason felt bad. It was a mutual misunderstanding. We both didn't want to disturb the other. That waiting time felt precious—a sign of respect and trust.

Jason waved me in. I was shy but curious. I sat at the counter. Jason sat across from Sting. Two or three years had passed; Sting looked older, Jason's temples grayer.

Sting brought us coffee. He warned mine might be bitter. I said I could handle it. It wasn't very bitter; it was smooth and rich. I didn't say how good it was.

"After your public account post, more out-of-towners came to buy beans," Sting told Jason. "Great, it helped," Jason said happily. Sting mentioned coffee bean prices had risen sharply but he didn't want to raise prices suddenly. Jason said it would be okay to adjust. The beans were already cheap at 50+ yuan for 250g.

Earlier, when salmon prices soared, Sting refused to raise his prices.