Xiao Mo came in carrying a chair.
A wooden chair, brought in from the dining room outside. He held its back in one hand and pushed the door open with the other.
Wang Xiaoliang looked up at him.
Xiao Mo stood in the doorway, and their eyes met. Wang Xiaoliang smiled at him and called out, "Bro."
Xiao Mo said nothing. He set the chair on the floor, turned, and went back out.
A dozen seconds later, Xiao Mo returned.
He had a bottle of liquor in his left hand and two glass cups in his right, wedged between his fingers, clinking softly as he walked.
He went over to Wang Xiaoliang's desk, set down one cup, unscrewed the bottle, and poured a drink. The liquor was clear, and its aroma spread.
Then he stepped back and sat in the chair he had brought.
The moment he settled into his seat, he started digging through his pockets. From his left trouser pocket, he pulled out a bag of Tang Heihu Original Flavor Roasted Chicken Wings; from his right, a bag of Grandpa Liu dried tofu. He set both on his lap and poured himself a drink too.
"Xiaoliang."
Wang Xiaoliang looked at him.
Xiao Mo raised his cup, his tone utterly natural, as if they were at a street food stall. "With an atmosphere this good, how could we go without a drink? Brother, cheers."
Wang Xiaoliang paused.
He looked at Xiao Mo's face. There was a smile in his eyes. Not a deliberate smile, but the kind that said, "I'm just here to drink with you. Nothing else has anything to do with me."
Wang Xiaoliang put down his pen.
He picked up the cup and drained it.
The liquor burned as it went down his throat. He set