Word count: ~4500 | Est. read time: 23 mins

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Chapter One

Using his foot to lift one corner of the cardboard box, Wang Chao revealed … a pile of dark charcoal. This was his only trophy, after scratching his way through three whole industrial units. He pursed his lips, not even wanting to waste a sigh, and looked towards Old Fan in the dark.

Old Fan made a gesture, signalling that he should grab the charcoal.

Wang Chao knotted his brows; he didn’t even have to look to know that the old coot’s fat fleshy face was filled with scorn right now. He knew there’d be more criticism when they got back, but he’d just hit one bad spot after another. It was his own fault he lacked the skills the others had.

He had become a professional scavenger about a month ago, but still hadn’t been allowed to do a solo run; nor had he scored anything so far, other than his own wallet being lifted. But there were no other options for him—you just had to accept it, and try and make a living.

Walking out of the xiaoqu¹, Old Fan huffed into his hands, squeezing out more beratements between gritted teeth at Wang Chao, who trailed behind him, clutching the charcoal. Wang Chao could only take the abuse.

“Aren’t you going to ask me why I told you to grab the charcoal?”

“To bring it back for burning?”

“I’ll burn you! That’s money. We can trade it for food.”

Back home, Old Fan crawled into bed, but Wang Chao wandered out alone into the streets. Tiexi Road was cold and desolate at midnight. The small puddles on the tarmac had formed thin layers of ice, while the giant chimney in the distance expelled a constant white smoke. That was the CEPC cooling tower. Some lights were still on in the old xiaoqu, off the main road. Narrowing his eyes, Wang Chao squinted out through the synthetic fur on the hood of his puffer jacket.

The weather was freezing, but it wasn’t even autumn yet. He remembered, as a child, going out in just a shirt, and wondered if the dislocated weather had something to do with the construction of the collider.

Wang Chao didn’t know, nor did he want to think about it. Something like that, buried two hundred metres below the entire city, five hundred kilometres all round, had nothing to do with him. They said they were investigating the Big Bang, positive and negative particles, and the mysteries of the universe, but so what?  The only mystery he was interested in was how to fill his empty stomach, and the only thing he wanted to investigate was a big bowl of steaming hot noodles.

Cinching his hood up tight, he crossed, turned and threaded through the streets, making a beeline for the strange restaurant Old Fan had told him about.

A little two-storey eatery stood at a crossroad on the southwestern corner of the slums, tucked behind Tiexi Plaza. A cheap Perspex sign, one that flashed the words “Tiexi Donkey Restaurant” in red characters against a yellowing background, shook in the wind. The place was strange for three reasons Old Fan had told Wang Chao—one, their marinated donkey meat was the most tender and tasty; two, the restaurant only opened at night; and three, if you didn’t have money, you could pay with coal, coke, or charcoal.

Wang Chao didn’t get it. Taking coal as payment? Had the boss let one of the donkeys kick him in the head?

Carefully, he lifted the quilted door curtain, with its see-through plastic window, his glasses were instantly misted up as he was wrapped in a warm current of scents and steam. Many guests were drinking too.

Wang Chao wiped his glasses and looked round. The décor had retained that late 20^th century style, with an alternating white, green colour scheme. Simple, rustic and clean. There was nothing stating that his charcoal could be used as payment, and he began to worry that Old Fan had been setting him up for a prank. Wang Chao searched round again, until he spotted a short-haired young man, standing behind the hoof-shaped bar. He glanced around, before asking in a low voice:

“Excuse me, but I was told … ”

“Coal for food? Yes, please have a seat!” The man had seen the blackened lump wedged under Wang Chao’s arm, and saved him the rest of his query by answering it.

One kilo of donkey meat and two bottles of Xuehua later, Wang Chao was radiating heat.

The other drinkers were shouting, cheering, and laughing, raising a ruckus and, occasionally, ordering cold side dishes.

Wang Chao beckoned the waiter, who introduced himself as Chubby, pointed to the charcoal, now placed on the chair, and asked, “What will this get me?”

“That much? Three meals.”

“Then get me another plate of cauliflower, a dish of peanuts, and two more Xuehuas.”

Diners left; more arrived. Most of the customers were hauliers, or taxi drivers between shifts. A few were pleasure-seekers, fresh out of nightclubs, and a few more looked homeless. They chatted about international affairs, Sino-U.S. relations, football and celebrity gossip, which Wang Chao found funny. A few more rounds of beer, and they were on to tuition for the kids, lending money to the deadbeat brother-in-law, and redundancies. A few more, and it was all “life ain’t easy” and “fuck this shit”.

Somebody brought up the collider, and a sober voice pointed out that some scientist had discovered a new particle, and life was going to start getting better. Another voice asked how much the collider cost every month, and someone else said that you couldn’t get into the facility, even if you knew someone. There was a moment of silence, broken by a slurred voice, who asked, “What’s it all worth, moving half the city, turning the earth upside down, just to make a big metal ring? What’s the point?”

A voice, even more slurred, called back, “What’d you care? You the fuckin’ mayor?!”

The sober voice began to explain. “The Circular Electron Positron Collider was twenty times bigger than the one in Geneva, and only our country could take on such vast engineering. Naturally, our city is one of the best locations, with the advantage of the plateau, the mild weather, the Liaohe oil field and Anshan Iron and Steel to provide the energy and infrastructure. Since the birth of the PRC, our city, a leader in the republic, has persisted with heavy industry. But when we faced decline, all the young people left, and building after building emptied … building the particle collider here is injecting fresh life into the place. It’s good for all of us.”

“Yes, the greater good for everyone, ganbei! Let me refill your cups,” chimed in the slurred voices.

Glug, glug, glug, EMPTY!  Glug, glug, glug, EMPTY!

The window glass, behind their green-painted frames, began vibrating violently, making Wang Chao jump. “Here we go again, it’s starting up,” said the big guy across from him, without a drop of concern.

Wang Chao went to look through the quilt door’s little window, but saw nothing except the mist-shrouded outside world. Returning to his seat, he snatched up the beer bottle and filled his cup to the brim.

He thought about the huge arguments with his parents, the northbound train and the stolen bank savings … Looking at the coal, Wang Chao drank glass after glass, eventually just swigging straight from the bottle. Tears rolled silently down the cracked skin of his cheeks, which he left unwiped, until his vision blurred.

Chapter Two

Wang Chao woke up sore and parched. He found himself stretched out on a mat on the floor, with a big army coat draped over him.

Outside, day was just breaking, and enough light streamed in to make out the tables and chairs, which had been piled up in the corners of the room. He rubbed his head, vaguely remembering cutting loose last night. With the big army coat draped over his shoulders, he pushed open the door to find he’d been sleeping in a private dining room on the second floor of the restaurant. The front door downstairs was tightly locked, and there was not a single soul around. Wang Chao drank some water, crawled back upstairs and went back to sleep.

Thump..thump… The sound of footsteps and heavy banging woke Wang Chao. Peering out, he found the restaurant boss dragging two huge flanks of meat down the stairs. Wang Chao quickly went to help. He was almost a head taller than the boss and carried the meat down with ease. The boss told him that last night, he had drunk till he collapsed, and Chubby had carried him upstairs, saying that our Xuehua was too strong for outsiders.

Two bowls of hot congee later, Wang Chao had sobered up enough to leave. He got up and bowed to the boss to thank him.

As he closed the door behind him, the light dazzled his eyes. Narrowing them, Wang Chao noticed a handwritten sign taped to the door. Help wanted: no age restrictions, food and board included.

So, Wang Chao went back in.

In the afternoon he did odd jobs, and after midnight he served on the restaurant floor. The arrangement suited him just fine, leaving him time in the evening to pursue his own business.

The restaurant business wasn’t too busy, all the dishes were either made with ready sliced donkey meat or served cold. Brother Dragon bartended, Chubby handled the kitchen, and Wang Chao did the legwork on the floors. What took up most of Wang Chao’s time was dealing with the nocturnal drunks. He didn’t understand why Dragon chose to open at night, when so many lost and broken men came to drink. Difficulties at work, conflicts with family, unfaithful wives … He also had to deal with some people from his former life, meeting up to discuss a job. Occasionally, when someone got too drunk to walk, Wang Chao would carry them upstairs, make up a cot for them and let them sleep it off.

Dragon’s bedroom was the dining room next to Wang Chao’s. He was in his early forties, single, and not a great talker. One time, two drunks got into a fight, throwing beer bottles at each other. Instead of pulling them apart, Dragon just slid a fresh crate of empties towards them. This, on top of the whole “coal for meat” thing, marked him as a weirdo in Wang Chao’s eyes. On the second day of the new job, he couldn’t resist asking about that deal. Dragon replied, “They trade meat for coal, I trade coal for something else. I’m hardly losing out.” 

What kind of logic was this? Wang Chao stifled a laugh.

Regular guests were extremely respectful towards Big Brother Dragon, perhaps because he provided a haven for these spiritual outcasts who had nowhere else to go after midnight. Nobody caused a ruckus, and if they did happen to smash a few bottles, they paid for them. The rare drunks who did cause trouble were politely escorted outside, without Brother Dragon even needing to lift a finger.

What Wang Chao found stranger still, was where the supplies of donkey meat came from. The skin was rich and fibrous, delicious, with a fragrance that seeped out of the meat as you chewed. Excellent indeed. But in the whole time he’s been working there, there had never been a single delivery. Dragon always brought the meat down from the attic freezer, sometimes lugging sacks of coal up with him. After being pressed a few more times, he disclosed that these donkeys roamed free range on his suppliers’ lands, and he got bulk deliveries, which he put straight into storage.

Again, messed up logic. Wang Chao pursed his lips discontentedly. No deliveries to the kitchen, but he was dragging it all the way up to the attic, what for? The exercise? Or was he getting his deliveries by airlift?

The attic door was always locked tight, which raised Wang Chao’s curiosity even further.

But one of his trade maxims had always been “any lock’s for picking, except your own”. Wang Chao swallowed, and forced his attention back to slicing the meat, preparing the vegetables, and figuring out where to go for that evening’s business.

Just as he was making up his mind, Old Fan turned up, asking Wang Chao for his help with something whilst signalling. Wang Chao got the message, and asked Dragon for some time off, he then followed Old Fan out.

All five members of the “Chicken Frame² Gang” made it back from the job lifting a truck load of copper from a transformer factory and had fenced it smoothly. As Wang Chao had run lookout, he’d earned his score since working with the gangs. His first lot, he’d exchanged for coal.

The meeting was the first time that Wang Chao didn’t get a scolding. He returned to Tiexi Donkey Restaurant, humming a tune, and placed a carton of Hongtashans on the bar, telling Dragon, “A gift from a friend.”

“The one who came this afternoon? What does he do?” asked Dragon.

“He’s … in engineering.” Wang Chao said, turning away quickly, and diving into the kitchen.

Wang Chao’s pay wasn’t much, but he didn’t have to worry about filling his stomach or keeping dry and dressed. He occasionally helped the Chicken Frame Gang with one of their “projects”, but really, he’d settled down in the restaurant. Once, when he’d followed Dragon upstairs to ask a question, he saw him pass through the attic door and heard him lock it behind him. Wang Chao glued his eyes to the crack under the door, when suddenly a bright flash of light pierced the gloom, forcing him to shut them tight. Then he heard the faint sound of animals calling, and after that, all was quiet. Half an hour later, Dragon descended, dragging a haunch of donkey meat for defrosting.

According to Chubby, Big Brother Dragon hadn’t had a good upbringing. The restaurant belonged to his parents, who had some sort of accident, so it was passed down to him. Dragon’s health wasn’t great either. He had a few mental knocks, which meant that sometimes, he did things most people couldn’t understand. The restaurant was everything to Dragon, who never took a day off, although he never seemed to worry about how little he was making.

Maybe he just needed to be alone sometimes. Maybe he’d set up his family shrine in the attic. Wang Chao felt sorry for Dragon and stopped trying to work out what was going on in there. His eyelid twitched as he thought about his parents, who had no idea where he was, or what he was doing. If they ever found out, what would they think?

I won’t be telling them, Wang Chao thought.

Chapter Three

A few days later, Old Fan came again, with another project he wanted Wang Chao’s help on.

“What project?” Dragon walked over.

“Pipeline testing along the Huanggu-Dadong section of the collider. Urgent work, and we really can’t find anyone else,” Old Fan replied, steeling his gaze at Wang Chao.

“Brother Dragon, it’ll only take a few hours—” Wang Chao implored.

“It’s a rush period, so no, you can’t have any time off,” Dragon glared at Old Fan, turned, and walked away.

Wang Chao had to spend half a day trying to calm Old Fan down before the old man finally threw his hands up and left, saying, “Kid thinks his wings is all grown!”

“Don’t associate with them anymore,” said Dragon. His use of “them”, and not “him” left Wang Chao pondering for a long time.

Later that day, Dragon disappeared.

More precisely, he vanished from the restaurant. That afternoon, when there were just the two of them working, Wang Chao had watched Dragon head up the stairs and not come down again. He looked in every corner of the restaurant, but the place was deserted. His eyes finally came to rest on the tightly locked door of the attic.

He knocked on the door, but there was no answer. Wang Chao fished out a trusty piece of copper wire, and with subtle clack, the lock conceded.

Inside the tight, narrow space, were a pair of large freezers, scattered fragments of lumpwood and coal, some scraps of animal hide, and a few cardboard boxes. On the side wall, there was a door. Without thinking, Wang Chao went over and pulled it wide open.

Blinding sunlight hit his face, mingled with the strong scent of fresh grass. As Wang Chao’s vision adjusted, he saw a vast, wide grassland, over which a radiant sun hung high. In the distance, green mountains stretched away to the horizon. Before Wang Chao could comprehend the scene, a cacophony of shouting, hissing and roaring drew his attention. Following the noise, Wang Chao crested a hill, and by the edge of a forest he found a gaggle of ape-like beings, climbing over the body of a man …

When Dragon woke up in the hospital, Wang Chao was cagey, probing him to make sure his boss hadn’t remembered being carried out of the attic, before telling him he had heard a cry for help, and found him collapsed on the stairs. When Dragon spoke about what happened, he was vague, saying that a bunch of monkeys had climbed through the attic window, attacked him and stolen the donkey meat. Maybe they’d escaped from the zoo.

Back at work, Wang Chao was unable to look at the attic in the same way again. It was like a treasure trove, deep in an abyss. He wanted to approach it, to explore it, but also dreaded the unknown dangers. The supply of donkey meat had dried up for a while, but it wasn’t too long before Dragon went up to the attic again, and the supply resumed. Now, every time he went up there, Wang Chao would be aware of it and position himself at the foot of the stairs. Perhaps out of curiosity, perhaps to protect Dragon, or perhaps he was just walking that fine line between keeping the secret and exposing it—he didn’t really know, but whenever he touched the banister, his fingers would shoot back as though he had been electrocuted.

The resentment with his family, the breaking away from the Chicken Frame Gang, the chaos of his present and uncertainty of his future combined and mingled. The stealthy joy, excitement, guilt and every other indescribable emotion from the great secret he had uncovered … Wang Chao had no idea who to talk to. He became insular, unable to sleep without half a bottle of Niulanshan³ in him.

Dragon noticed the change, but said nothing, other than warning him against drinking so much on an empty stomach, and telling him to grab a couple of dishes from the kitchen.

One day, Old Fan came to eat, bringing a large group of associates. They were in good spirits and drank heavily, toasting one another. With his face glowing red, Old Fan told Wang Chao that they had landed the one big this time. A score to set them up for at least a few months. Pointing to a small guy in the middle of the gang, he told Wang Chao that the leader wanted him back in, full time.

Wang Chao pictured it, and his eyes lit up.

Dragon objected to the request ferociously. The Chicken Frame Gang were intimidating, but in an unprecedented act, Dragon sat down to drink with the little gang leader, who referred to him as “Donkey Bro” throughout their conversation… a term just shy of mockery but enough to provoke. But Dragon just smiled back as they spoke. Socialising was not his strength, and Wang Chao had no idea what they were discussing, but no one asked him to join them again, and as they left, Old Fan patted his back and told him to do well at the restaurant.

Chapter Four

As they were closing, Dragon stopped Wang Chao before he headed upstairs, opened a bottle of beer, and brought out a couple of dishes.

“I know it was you who saved me back there,” Dragon held up his glass, “you went into the attic.”

Wang Chao was stunned.

“Behind that door is a Neolithic prairie.”

Wang Chao felt like he was once again being assaulted by that bright sunlight, and that verdant scent.

Dragon looked at Chao and confessed that he had still been conscious when Wang Chao had chased off the Neanderthals.

“What we’re eating here is wild donkey from several thousand years ago. I trade the meat with the ape-men, in exchange for coal.”

Wang Chao said nothing and lowered his head, he stared at the succulent meat, observing the rich, marble-like pattern showing in its cross section.

Dragon explained that the tribe had a new leader, so negotiations were rocky and ended in violence. Thankfully, Wang Chao had come to the rescue, otherwise he would not have been able to make it back.

Dragon told him the restaurant had been in business for thirty years, but ten years ago, about three years after the collider was built, this time portal appeared. At first, only his father knew of this secret. He went in, fully armed, hunting with an air gun for animals which he then sold off as rare specimens, and made a lot of money, which he blew on gambling and fucking around—his mother had argued with him countless times, which only drove him deeper.

“He turned to drugs, caught infections, which ravaged him till he was skin and bones. He howled when he found he couldn’t even lift a gun. Before he died, he told my mother the secret of the attic. Her eyes were full of hate when she bricked up the door and locked up the attic. It wasn’t until her mental health began to fail, and she was struggling to run the restaurant, that she opened the lock and knocked down the wall. She tried to go hunting like my dad had, but came back empty handed every time. My mum’s state was … sometimes good, sometimes not. She would sometimes open the door, and just sit quietly, letting the wild wind from aeons ago caress her face, and other times, just stare at the attic and weep. One day, she opened the door, walked in, and never came out.”

“How did you know all this?” Wang Chao asked.

“She left me a letter. One she’d written long before she actually left. Unfortunately, it took me a long time to find it. The situation with my parents left me with severe depression. I couldn’t sleep at night. I wanted to kill myself countless times. I was barely human by the time I opened that letter, but in it, my mother told me to love life and live well. I listened, and I re-opened the restaurant.”

Dragon threw his head back and drained his drink.

“I’d heard there were all sorts of anomalies round the area since the collider started up, especially near the superconductive magnets. I guess our restaurant is above one of those. But I was afraid to report it. If I have to close the restaurant, then I’ve got nowhere else to go.” Dragon opened another bottle.

“Business was bad, I felt alone and helpless, I was in a daze when I opened that door and met the cavemen. I tried to communicate with them using hand gestures and hadn’t even realised we’d struck a deal. They hunted the donkeys, packed up the meat, and I gave them coal. I don’t care about money, so I let people just pay in coal. Some people say I’m stupid, but it’s just equal trading. The restaurant opens at night, because that’s when I need company. They come to drink and eat, and I listen to them talk, feeling less lonely.”

The florescent lamp ballasts hummed, and for a while, the pair just sat gazing at each other in silence, steam rising from the dishes between them.

“Thank you,” said Wang Chao. “I’ll keep your secret.”

He was grateful to Dragon, not so much for the shared secret, but for the trust. It was something he hadn’t felt in a long time. After long periods of receiving eye rolls and looks of contempt, he thought that his heart had been scraped away by the biting Dongbei winds.

“Stay away from those people now.”

“Actually, they…” Wang Chao feared what Dragon might think of him.

“I’ve had words with them. They won’t be asking for you anymore.”

“Okay … I’ll focus on my work here then.”

“Something’s come up in my hometown, and I need to shut up shop for a while. You should take the opportunity to go and learn a trade. I’ll put in the money for you.”

Wang Chao nodded, his lips trembling, his eyes tearing up.

Wang Chao was young, so young, that he had not yet learned how to tell a lie from a goodbye. He moved to a new town, where he spent a month methodically mastering locksmithing. When he returned, he found the Tiexi Donkey Restaurant reduced to a pile of bricks, and an excavator rolling back and forth, grinding down the buildings at the far end of the old road.

Frantic, Wang Chao grabbed the first person he saw, who told him that the government had ordered compulsory demolition, and the whole city was slated for conversion into a giant collider, starting with the Tiexi District. The notices had gone out months ago.

“Dragon? Never heard of him.” The man shook his head, pulled away and walked off.

Wang Chao’s world spun. He stood alone, under the cloudless, windless sky.

Epilogue

There is a strange little shop. Obviously just a tiny stall, but it calls itself “Tiexi Locksmith Hall”. The owner is very young, with bright and melancholic eyes, he does his work diligently. Any lock, no matter how complex, is like a child’s toy in his hands.

He doesn’t say much, but whenever he gets a new customer, no matter what hour of the day or night they visit, he’ll always ask them—

“Do you remember Dragon? The one who ran the donkey restaurant?”

1. Xiaoqu refers to a residential district consisting of multiple apartment buildings, the plan was first designed by the Soviet Union and was introduced to the PRC in 1957. ↩︎
2. Whilst those carcasses in the west are saved for dogs, chicken frames are a favourite snack in northeastern parts of China such as Shenyang. These bony parts of the chicken, are rich in fats and amino acids, which soak into the slivers of meat by the bone, rendering them tastier than other parts, the crunchy and chewy soft bones and tendons are considered a fun and moreish delicacy. ↩︎
3. A distillery in Beijing famous for its erguotou baijiu. ↩︎