I didn’t recognize where we were. We ducked under labyrinthine corridors, crossed short bridges, and came to a busy street filled with pedestrians. A man blew fire from his pipes and an awkward woman with a huge nose swallowed swords. There were long alleys everywhere we turned.
“I’ve never seen this place before,” Larry said.
“It’s one of those well-known secrets that’s hard to find the first time,” Shinjee said. “You just need a guide.”
There were puppet shows of dynasty romances playing out in high-pitched shrieks and cymbals. Food was boiled in the cauldron of oil drums, cobs of corn burning with an egg pizza that smelled like cinders. Dice players reveled through their rotting teeth, gums eviscerated by poor hygiene. The street was bursting with lights, a ballet of lanterns dancing to the swell of the night breeze. There was a guy who smelled of garbage with a dog trained to speak Mandarin. The dog jumped on Hyori and barked, “Wo ai ni.” I love you.
“I love puppies,” Hyori exclaimed.
The owner encouraged his canine to say more, then pointed at the cap filled with coins. His swarthy eyes and his desperate smile depressed me.
“Life becomes more poignant with humiliation,” Larry said.
“What do you mean?”
“There’s an old Chinese story about a town that was attacked by fox spirits. They hired a Taoist monk to protect them so he took a bunch of paper, wrote his special Mandarin characters, and wha-lah! It came to life as a paper golem that fended off the evil spirits. But it had to be fed all the time and grew so big, it ended up destroying the town it was meant to save.”
Shinjee, who couldn’t stop smoking, said, “I’ve never heard this one.”
Larry shrugged. “My uncle used to tell me a lot of weird stories. He was depressed because his wife left him after he lost all his money gambling. He was part of the wig business too but hated it, thought there was no future in it, and sold his shares to my dad before it hit big. I named one of my last films Rennaili because of a street like this in Beijing he always used to talk about.”
“What about it?”
“More than a century ago, the Empress Cixi got mad at one of the merchants and shut the whole street down. After she was deposed, people came back. During WWII when the Japanese took over Beijing, they chased away all the vendors. After they lost, people came back. During the Cultural Revolution, the officials said this place was too capitalistic and closed it down. After it ended, people came back. The place is called Rennaili— endurance in Mandarin.”
The girls wanted to stop at a clothing store and Larry said to me, “Don’t look back, but I think we’re being followed.”
“Where?” I said, immediately looking in the direction he’d told me not to look. I saw two butch Korean guys sporting Mohawk wigs, trying hard to blend into the crowd. They both wore sunglasses and green striped suits.
“I could be wrong,” Larry said. “They’ve been following us since Waitian.”
Shinjee and Hyori came back out. “Nothing we want,” Hyori explained.
We rushed to the dumpling restaurant. It was a crowded hole-in-the-wall that barely looked sanitary. The tiled floors were dirty and there was only one waitress for the whole place. She spoke a guttural Mandarin that was thickly accented. There were old 2D photographs from before the Baldification, though even with real hair, people looked pretty much the same.
Shinjee ordered a hundred dumplings, three hamburgers, five anchovy omelets. “I’m not that hungry,” I warned her.
“This is for me and Hyori,” Shinjee said. “If you guys want to eat, you’ll need to order something yourselves.”
I passed and Larry ordered more vodka. The steaming dumplings came out and I was impressed at how heartily the two ate their food. There was no sense of propriety or fake demureness. These women liked their food and I liked how they shed their artifice and devoured their meals. They used their fingers, didn’t bother closing their mouths, and chewed loudly. It was the only time this evening I felt like I was seeing a genuine side to them. The burgers were doused with Sichuan spicy sauce and Shinjee offered some to Larry.
“Those peppers make my ass burn when I do my business,” he said. “Forgive me for being so crass.”
That elicited knowing laughter from the two ladies. “They say they’ve found a prehistoric crab that used to be the size of a grizzly bear,” Shinjee said. “I’d love to have seafood like that.”
“Shandong has the best seafood,” Hyori said. “Have you visited their shrimp farms? Those shrimp get pretty big.”
We both took sips from our vodka and I tried to imagine a crab that was bigger than me.
Shinjee, after helping devour the hundred dumplings, brought up recent movies as they started critiquing various elements from an action flick.
“The Great Leader loves movies,” Hyori said. “He would esteem your position if you two came and made movies for our great country.”
“I’m not ready to move just yet,” Larry said. “I’m working on my next big epic.”
“What epic?”
“The one that’s going to change everything.”
“You never told me about this,” Shinjee said.
“I haven’t told anyone yet. Until I finish it, or at least start it, I’m not going anywhere. I tell you though, this is the film that’s going to change everything.”
“What’s it called?” I asked.
He grinned at me. “We’ll talk when the time’s right. Not yet though. I still need to work out the story.”
Usually when he had an idea for a movie, he would gush with information. In fact, he usually had too many ideas and it took months just to settle on one out of tens of thousands. Phone calls in the middle of the night were the norm, telling me he knew what his next “epic” was going to be, talking until the morning. Then a few hours later, another phone call from him saying he had an even better idea. He wasn’t secretive with strangers either, not in the least bit worried about people stealing his ideas. “It’s the execution, not the idea that counts,” he liked to say. In this case, his silence was so uncharacteristic, I didn’t know what to make of it and I pushed for more information. But he wouldn’t budge.
“I still have a ton of research to do,” he insisted.
Shinjee whispered something in his ear and talked in a sweet tone.
“Sorry. Not until I’m ready,” he replied to her. “If this movie fails, then I’ll know I don’t have what it takes to be a filmmaker. I’ll give up and focus on wigs.”
“Your ass is drunk,” I said. “This is the third straight film I’ve heard this threat.”
“This time I mean it!” he declared.
“Sure, buddy,” I said and burst out laughing.
“Don’t laugh at me! Don’t laugh at me!” he yelled. “Not everyone’s meant to lead. Maybe I don’t got the vision.”
“Ladies. Larry needs some fresh air. Let me escort him out.”
I grabbed Larry and helped him outside.
“No more alcohol,” I said, then noticed the two thugs lurking across from us. They were casting furtive glances in our direction and I wondered if they were coordinating something with the girls. I peered inside, but Shinjee and Hyori were still eating. “I have this strange feeling that maybe we should leave the girls and get the hell out of here.”
“You mean just leave them in there?” he asked. “I’m trying to get laid, man. She won’t even let me kiss her yet. If I leave, it’s over.”
“And those two guys following us? What if they plan on kidnapping us?”
“If I get to sleep with her for one night, it’ll be worth it. Besides, I got you to get me out of trouble. Remember those girls we visited in the Congo?”