Mei took her eyes off those two distressful faces. In front of her was a bottle of white vinegar boiling with a bottle of black vinegar under Mang’s loose-tight nostrils. She smelled the greatest sourness from his contradictory silence. She saw the fl ames all over him, hither and thither. She sensed the trouble - his long shut lips were going to babble about madness. Mei was hesitating.
Sang was familiar with the embarrassed air. She stood up, bent her back across half the table, dropped the money on the back of Mei’s hand behind a bowl, and tapped on the man’s shoulder next to hers. “Mang, we need a talk. Now. Outside.”
