In the bustling West District Market of Silverport City, during the dusky hours, pedestrians and vehicles rush about with abandon. The ground is stained with vegetable scraps and wastewater; faded shop signs hang from various stalls, and occasionally, a few flickering neon lights of monotonous colors can be seen. Among the returning workers, schoolchildren, elderly grocery buyers, and all sorts of weary passersby, this drab sky seems to weigh down even more heavily upon them.
Perhaps in such an international metropolis, this area is akin to the most despised blemish on people’s hearts, one that they wish had never existed.
Yet, near a crossroads by a low wall, a young man is engaging in an activity that others might not view as entirely reputable, yet he carries it out with leisure and contentment.
He is a vendor selling lamb skewers, cladding in a white tank top speckled with grease and grime, pairing with a pair of coffee-colored baggy shorts and worn blue plastic slippers.
The young man’s hair is somewhat disheveled, but his ruggedly handsome face, despite looking prematurely mature, boasts well-defined features, and upon closer inspection, exudes a masculine charm. Unfortunately, regardless of his appearance, no girl passing by on the street spares him a second glance because, after all, he is just a lamb skewer seller.
Having placed several freshly grilled skewers aside, the young man finds it easier to cook them than sell them amidst the scorching heat. Despite the reasonable price of 50 cents for two skewers, he makes only a meager sum of around 12 dollars throughout the day—barely enough for two meals.
However, the young man shows little sign of dejection, instead wearing an expression of satisfaction and ease as he leans against a small stool behind him, watching the chaotic and anxious scene of heavy traffic before him, as if it is the most beautiful landscape.
”Old Lee, you say you will pay up a couple of days ago!” A hoarse voice suddenly intrudes nearby.
Three boys who appear to be under twenty saunter over, dressing sloppily. Leading the pack is a young man with spiked hair, adorned with silver chains, torn jeans, a gaunt face, and a cigarette dangling from his lips.
Old Lee is a vendor selling fried snacks stationed next to the young man. Just like him, Old Lee’s business is slow due to the hot weather, leaving him sitting idle and fretting.
”Ah… my young master,” Old Lee replies with a wry face, “please show some leniency. Look at this sweltering heat, I am barely making any sales. How am I supposed to come up with the money?”
”You are pushing your luck, Old Lee,” threatens one of the followers, trying to flatter their leader at the same time. “If it weren’t for our Brother Bruiser protecting your stand here, it would have been dismantled long ago!”
Bruiser, the local hoodlum, revels in his arrogance. He grins, smacks the flatterer on the back, then looks straight at Old Lee and declares, “Today’s protection fee, you pay up or not—I am getting my money one way or another. If you don’t cough it up, I tear down your stall right now!” Having said that, he grabs a stick of sausage, takes two large bites, and tosses the half-eaten piece onto the ground.
Old Lee is at a loss, clutching the stack of bills in his pocket, which is meant for his wife’s medical treatment and medication. He cannot bear the thought of ‘donating’ it to these ruffians.
”I cover it for him.” Unexpectedly, the young man selling lamb skewers walks over, pulls out a few dry and crumpled banknotes from his trouser pocket—none of which amount to more than 50 dollars—and hands them over. He speaks calmly, “It is all I have. Old Lee is in urgent need of the money, so why don’t you guys show some mercy?”
Brother Bruiser sneers and laughs, taking the few notes from the young man and passing them to his subordinate. “Caelan Dwayne and you still want to play the good guy? You haven’t even paid your protection fee!”
Caelan Dwayne furrows his brow, lamenting inwardly how these young hooligans choose this path rather than studying. But realizing he isn’t their father, he refrains from lecturing them and states simply, “I pay tomorrow. Tomorrow.”
”Fine, I am not unreasonable. We work together, I protect your businesses, and you give me the money—it is only fair. I come to collect tomorrow.” With that, Bruiser swaggers off with his cronies to harass other vendors down the street.
Tears well up in Old Lee’s eyes as he gazes gratefully at Caelan Dwayne. “Young Caelan, why do you put yourself through this? You always help me pay those thugs, and I can’t bear it…”
”Old Lee, don’t say that,” Caelan Dwayne replies sincerely. “When I come here, unfamiliar with everything, you are the one who helps me make my first friend. You’re my benefactor, and this is my way of repaying you.”
”Caelan…what can I say…” Old Lee knows he can’t change Caelan Dwayne’s mind and sighs quietly.
Unaffected by the extortion, Caelan Dwayne smiles genuinely, albeit faintly. “By the way, how is your wife’s health doing?”
”Thanks to the loan you gave me earlier for her surgery, she is much better now. She just needs regular check-ups and medicine,” Old Lee responds, filled with gratitude.
”Well, that’s good news. I hope she recovers soon,” Caelan Dwayne nods in satisfaction.
Old Lee sighs, “Caelan, I will repay your debt. If I die without paying it off, I’ll ask my daughter to continue repaying you. if it weren’t for me, you would have opened a good storefront with just over 50,000 dollars. You wouldn’t need to come over and sell lamb skewers, and you wouldn’t have to be bullied by those little thugs.”
Caelan Dwayne shrugs indifferently. “I enjoy this life. Selling lamb skewers isn’t bad; it keeps me fed and going.”
”Are you serious?” Old Lee expresses frustration. “At your age, twenty-three or four, other young men are either in college or striving to climb the ladder. You don’t even have a girlfriend. Do you plan on selling lamb skewers forever?”
Caelan Dwayne doesn’t reveal his inner thoughts but feels a tinge of bitterness. He isn’t unconcerned; he just hasn’t dwelled on those matters.
As night falls, Caelan Dwayne packs up his stall and wheels his single-wheeled cart back to his dilapidated rented apartment.
The building is old, its monthly rent is merely 50 dollars due to its deserted state. Unlike others, Caelan Dwayne doesn’t worry about the building collapsing and moves in, attracted by the affordability.
Inside his apartment, the furnishings are simple and mostly second-hand—a bed, cabinets, chairs, and a television set that can only tune into China Central Television.
After storing his vending items away, Caelan Dwayne glances at the calendar hanging on the wall and, remembering something, dashes into the bathroom.
Within five minutes, having taken a cold shower, Caelan Dwayne emerges shirtless from the bathroom. His skin is a healthy tan hue, with a well-proportioned build where each muscle is not overtly prominent but subtly radiates a contained virile beauty.
Approaching the large wooden cabinet beside his bed, Caelan Dwayne scratches his damp hair in frustration before rummaging through the pile of clothes and eventually selecting a few pieces. He puts on a beige shirt, and lightweight linen trousers, and, as usual, wears the same pair of plastic sandals.
Exiting his home, Caelan Dwayne heads straight for the most bustling commercial street in the West District—the only part of the rundown area that can hold its head high, known colloquially as “Bar Street.”
The nightlife is already in full swing, with colorful dresses swishing by and an array of perfumes filling the air. Upon entering Bar Street, the city’s atmosphere envelops him immediately.
Unlike other young men ogling women openly or secretly, Caelan Dwayne goes directly to a bar named “ROSE.”
The neon signboard of the bar is neither overly flashy nor dull, indicating a medium-sized establishment with an undertone of intimacy. Its advertisement features rose-shaped lights in a variety of hues.
Upon entering the bar, Caelan Dwayne makes his way to the familiar corner by the bar counter.
”Dwayne, you’re here.” The young bartender in a black suit and vest sees Dwayne with a warm smile and brings a glass of water. “Sister Rose has been waiting for you for a long time.”
Caelan Dwayne smiles at him. “Rose, isn’t she angry? I come home a bit late, so I’m late,” he says.
“Not angry not angry,”bartender Jack seems to follow in the smile, steals a voice to Dwayne Way: “Dwayne bro, tell me, what magic do you use to bubble on our boss Rose? You know, countless guys in Silverport City’d line up from the West District to the estuary for a date chance with her. Our boss lady has never shown interest in a man like this before, yet you manage to keep her waiting eagerly. Today alone, she’s asked me at least five times if you’ve arrived…”
”Don’t talk nonsense. There’s nothing between Rose and me as you imagine,” Caelan Dwayne replies softly and shakes his head slightly.
The bartender Jack puts on an expression of “I don’t believe it to death”and then sighs again, “Alas… Bro Dwayne, to be honest, your cold-blooded spirit is really at home. Can bubble onto our boss Rose such national beauty, which man must be sticky every day. Only you, so rare to come, still let the beautiful woman wait for you. Or how to say can not get is the best it, these words also apply to women AH…….”
Just as Jack is exaggerating, a charming yet dignified voice comes from behind him. “Jack, how many times can I deduct your salary?”
Jack jumps, his body tenses up as though he’d received an electric shock. As soon as he regains composure, he quickly slips aside and pretends to focus intently on mixing drinks, although the beads of sweat on his forehead betray his nervousness.
Stepping elegantly forward, Sister Rose, named Vivian Rose, approaches Caelan Dwayne. Dressed in a modern, glamorous crimson cheongsam that hints at seductive glimpses of thigh through its high slit, her ample bosom and slender waist combine with a face so delicate it could have been sculpted from fine porcelain. Her shoulder-length hair, tinged with strands of light purple, completes the image of a woman seemingly stepping out from a painting.
Caelan Dwayne greets her with a warm smile and meets her gaze without awkwardness. “Sister Rose, you look stunning as always. Happy birthday to you.”
