By his count, it had been a long time since he’d last gone back to Heng Street.
The days back then — that pack of boys chasing and shouting and shoving each other around at the third alley entrance — those had truly been the most carefree, the most joyful days.
When Lin Luxiao was born, his father was only a deputy section chief in the fire department’s administrative office — a comfortable enough but modest household. After Lin Qi was born, his mother happened to be laid off, and the family’s circumstances tightened considerably. In his memory, life during that stretch had been lean, but genuinely happy. Later, with his father’s job changes and promotions, things improved year by year — but with more things to worry about, it was somehow less happy than before.
In those days leading up to the university entrance examinations, there had been a moment when the whole group was standing at the base of the wall, smoking and talking.
Da Liu had wanted to follow Lin Luxiao to the military academy, but his grades weren’t good enough. Lin Luxiao suggested he follow his family’s advice, study something commercial, and aim for the civil service exam afterward. Da Liu refused — and at the time, that 200-something-pound bulk of him squared his shoulders and declared: “I just want to be with you!”
Even now, when Lin Luxiao recalled Da Liu’s expression at that moment, a wave of revulsion still passed through him.
Sun Mingyang and Shen Mu had also mocked Da Liu mercilessly, insisting he had clearly gone crooked.
But Da Liu had said: “Li Xiazi told me — I fail to recognize the right person, and I suffer my whole life. I don’t know about anyone else, but following Luxiao, I can’t go wrong.”
“And what are the two of us — just window dressing?”
Sun Mingyang and Shen Mu had been ready to cut ties with Da Liu on the spot.
The fortune-teller at the alley entrance had the surname Li — his given name had remained a mystery to everyone. Over time, after everyone in the neighborhood had grown familiar with him, they simply called him Li Xiazi. He didn’t mind in the least.
Li Xiazi had given each of the four boys one line.
Sun Mingyang’s had been:
— A true man does not easily shed tears; a true man’s blood runs hot and knows no home to return to.
Li Xiazi’s words for Shen Mu had been a passage from a Buddhist text:
— Only when all sentient beings are delivered, will I attain enlightenment.
When Li Xiazi turned toward Lin Luxiao, Lin Luxiao simply waved him off outright: “Don’t bother with me — I don’t believe in any of this.”
At the time, Li Xiazi had simply shaken his head and smiled. He truly said nothing.
But when Lin Luxiao had finished his exams and was leaving to attend the military academy, the two ran into each other once more at the alley entrance. Li Xiazi, unusually, called out to him first.
Lin Luxiao was genuinely surprised — he hadn’t expected the old man to recognize him. He waved a hand in front of Li Xiazi’s face, but Li Xiazi brushed his hand aside and said: “Stop waving. I wouldn’t still have my stall if I had so little to work with.”
At the time, Lin Luxiao had been dressed simply in black — clean, neat, purposeful — with a black hiking backpack slung over his back. He found the encounter amusing, and so, uncharacteristically at ease, he leaned against the wall at the alley entrance and chatted with him.
“How do you recognize people?”
“If I told you, what would be left to my trade?”
Lin Luxiao lowered his head and smiled.
But in the end, Li Xiazi did say something.
“Wind. Footsteps. Breath. You’re different from those other three — your breathing is steadier, your step heavier. Da Liu has this heavy panting, and a particular smell about him.”
That kind of thing is the sort that can be known but not fully conveyed in words.
Lin Luxiao nodded without reply.
Li Xiazi said: “Da Liu came to see me when he was leaving. He asked me what that line meant.”
Lin Luxiao shifted the backpack to rest more comfortably against the wall, one foot propped up behind him, the corner of his mouth tilting up. “He’s timid. Your words gave him quite a fright.”
“You really don’t want to hear yours?”
Lin Luxiao looked at him. “Go ahead.”
Li Xiazi would not say more than two sentences, no matter how he was pressed.
“This child of yours has a proud spine, and a spirit of blood and steel. Bone-deep and unyielding. In time, you will certainly be a hero.”
“Only — since ancient times, heroes have always had a weakness for beautiful women.”
Lin Luxiao: “That’s it?”
“Remember what I’ve said — it won’t lead you wrong!”
Lin Luxiao straightened up, the easy unconcerned manner dropping from him. The corners of his mouth had gone still. His voice was steady: “If you read fortunes so accurately, did you happen to see why my parents divorced?”
Li Xiazi offered no reply.
That should have been their final meeting. When Lin Luxiao next returned, word had it that Li Xiazi had left — where he’d gone, no one knew.
……
The clock hands pointed to just past eleven.
Da Liu scanned the couch where Lin Luxiao was sitting, exchanged a look with Sun Mingyang and Shen Mu, then hesitantly asked Lin Luxiao: “Should we call it a night?”
Lin Luxiao had an unlit cigarette between his teeth. He gave the faintest nod.
Da Liu pulled the other two to their feet and said his goodbyes to Nan Chu, a grin spread across his face: “Little sister-in-law! It’s been a real pleasure tonight. Come visit whenever you want — actually, do you want to exchange numbers?”
He already had his phone out.
Lin Luxiao knocked it out of his hand with a single swat. “Get out.”
Da Liu looked sheepish. “Alright, alright, going, going.”
The three left, and the room was a wreck — bottles and glasses knocked sideways in every direction, cigarette butts scattered across the floor.
After seeing Da Liu and the others out, Lin Luxiao came back and leaned against the wall at the entryway, arms crossed. “Take you home?”