The place where Professor Cao had invited Sun Hang to eat was neither one of Chunming City's upscale hotels where a single table could easily cost tens of thousands, nor one of those famous establishments claiming centuries of history. It was a nameless hole-in-the-wall eatery tucked away in an alley in Chunming City's old district.
Just finding the place took Sun Hang quite a while. With only two minutes left before the appointed time, he finally found the iron door wedged between a barbershop and a funeral wreath store, its surface made horribly greasy by years of cooking fumes.
"57 Liuming Alley... this should be the place, right?" Sun Hang looked at the barbershop bearing the number 56 and the funeral wreath store numbered 58, then glanced at the nameless little workshop across the street. Only then did he confirm that this rusty, grease-stained iron door was the 57 Liuming Alley Professor Cao had mentioned.
The moment Sun Hang pushed open the door, a burst of smoky, bustling warmth seeped through the crack—the iron door opened onto a small courtyard furnished with several folding tables as greasy as the door itself. In the semi-open kitchen, a bare-chested chef was tossing a massive wok, and sharp crackling explosions rang out continuously with every stir of the spatula.
Professor Cao sat at a table beside the base of the courtyard wall, squinting as he smacked his lips. He held a tiny glass cup in one hand, while two plates of freshly stir-fried snacks and a bottle of cheap baijiu, already one-third empty, sat on the table.
"This wok hei is excellent." Sun Hang sat down across from him. "Way better than those restaurants that charge twenty-one bucks for a single pre-made steamed bun."
"Did you need to tell me that?" Professor Cao