Chapter 3
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Leaving through the East Gate, crossing a bridge, there’s supposed to be a jujube tree, heavy with fruit, right at the bridge’s entrance. Take a stick and knock down the fruit—they say there are a lot of green ones and only a few red ones. One jujube, two, three, four, five, six, seven…
Just kidding, there’s no bridge, and certainly no jujube tree either. Lin Hao is actually going out through the West Gate, but practicing his breathwork in the process, nonetheless.
Lin Hao has been resting lately, but he hasn’t neglected his studies. Still, since he’s technically on break, he’s decided to get out and stroll around.
Lin Hao currently lives near Huguosi, right between Deshengmen Inner Street and the Renmin Theater. If you head out the door and walk a bit further down West Street, you’ll reach the back gate of Beihai Park, near the Beihai North bus stop, circa the early 2000s.
Sure, who knows if there’s a “South Mountain South,” but “Beihai North” is definitely a thing.
Heading west out the door leads to Shichahai, including Qianhai, Houhai, and Jishuitan. Unfortunately, there aren’t so many bars back then; however, people still ice skate there in the winter. Feeling a bit bored, Lin Hao continues to wander around.
There’s so much in this era that he doesn’t know, and even after learning about it, he finds it kind of dull. Maybe it’s because he hasn’t really dived into it all yet.
The passersby’s conversations don’t resonate with him either, coming as he does from a wealthy background. Sometimes, he’ll sit down and listen to the locals talk, often about the reform of state-owned enterprises and the fear of losing their “iron rice bowls.” This sort of talk doesn’t really affect him much, and he even feels a certain disconnect from it. Big news for others might just pass him by, like some broadcast blaring from a loudspeaker.
…
He keeps walking, maybe a bit further.
Before he knows it, he’s wandered down Gulou East Street, where a left turn would take him to Andingmen Department Store. This was a pretty popular place back then, as people were slowly getting a bit more money to spend. In this area, Andingmen was considered big.
Kids in the hutongs would brag about their new stuff, claiming they got it from Andingmen or Ditan Department Store. As for why Lin Hao doesn’t just go to the closer Ditan… well, maybe he had a run-in with a sales clerk there.
Ah, those days, it really was the 80s, and people could be pretty cocky.
But, all that aside, Lin Hao doesn’t enjoy shopping among big crowds, so coming in the afternoon was a good call. He’d take a look around and maybe grab something to eat nearby. Although, he’s not a fan of the sanitation conditions here at the time, so he always opts for a higher-end restaurant.
Whenever the waitstaff asks him how many people, he replies, “Just one,” which sometimes surprises them and makes him feel a bit awkward.
It’s like going to a buffet alone.
Fortunately, something happened this time, sparing him the usual awkwardness. Although he didn’t run into Dou Wei or Wang Fei or anyone famous, he did see someone very unexpected.
Someone young, almost unrecognizable.
This person hardly seems to have changed over the years, but Lin Hao could only tentatively call out, “Mr. He? He Jiong?”
…
In September 1992, He Jiong was admitted to the Arabic Department at Beijing Foreign Studies University. By March 1995, he began hosting The Clever Room, a segment of Big Windmill, as “Brother Thumb.”
If it weren’t for some kids calling him “Brother Thumb,” Lin Hao might not have even noticed him. Since coming to this era, he’s often felt like he’s floating through a dream, detached from it all.
Honestly, in Lin Hao’s mind, Xu Wei isn’t that guy who sang Blue Lotus. He’s more of an angry young man. But He Jiong? He’s a part of Lin Hao’s own life journey.
After wandering around this old Beijing for so long, he’s finally found a familiar face, almost a connection to this era. Beijing might be a second home to him, but this old Beijing—the one that the real locals may remember fondly—isn’t the Beijing he knows. It doesn’t quite hold the same sense of nostalgia for him.
Anyway, enough of that—Lin Hao quickly approaches.
Only, at this point, He Jiong is just the “Brother Thumb” guy. “Hello, hello, I’m He Jiong. Just call me He. I’m just a student, no need for any formalities.”
Of course, being recognized outside is a thrill for him too. After all, he’s just a junior in college now and probably still over the moon about landing a spot on CCTV (1).
As for Lin Hao, confirming his guess made him feel sentimental. While it’s true that He hasn’t changed much over the years, that youthful spirit and freshness now… well, He is only four years older than him.
“Hi, He Jiong. I’m Lin Hao. I love your role as Brother Thumb,” Lin Hao said shamelessly, without a hint of embarrassment. “Seeing a real star today makes me so happy. Can I treat you to a meal?”
…
It’s all kind of sudden and random, but hey, sometimes you brush shoulders with someone and don’t even realize it. Just like those romance dramas, where the main characters always miss each other at some intersection.
Just kidding.
“Oh, I wouldn’t say I’m a star,” He Jiong humbly chuckled, delighted by the unexpected compliment.
But Lin Hao’s enthusiasm was infectious, and after chatting a bit, Lin insisted on treating He Jiong to a meal. They took the bus since He Jiong wasn’t quite comfortable with the idea of taking a cab with someone he barely knew. Eventually, Lin Hao brought him to the famous Makai Restaurant, which left He Jiong stunned and quick to decline.
This was a high-end spot—known for its elegance and being a gathering place for Beijing’s “old-timers” and socialites. And with that elegance, of course, came a hefty price tag, a bit too much for He Jiong.
“Go ahead, ask the staff here—they know I come alone pretty regularly.” Lin Hao, standing tall at 183 cm, had no trouble persuading He Jiong to accept his offer. “What, you can’t grant me this small favor?”
Putting on a confident air, Lin Hao nodded as the waitstaff confirmed, “Yes, Mr. Lin often dines here alone.”
How could they forget? The restaurant may be packed all the time, but this young man, dining solo and often, has become quite memorable to them. And this time, since it’s a quieter hour, he’s led to his usual seat.
Oh, Xu Wei? You ask.
The guy’s busy; he signed with Red Star last year and gave singer Tian Zhen a song called Persistence for her comeback. Plus, it would feel odd not to return the favor if he brought Xu Wei, so Lin Hao decided to avoid that situation altogether.
…
Once seated, He Jiong seems at a bit of a loss for words. After all, he’s just a small-time children’s TV host. Most people would recognize “Golden Tortoise” over him. Yet, here Lin Hao is, treating him like a genuine star, so that reason aside, there’s really no other explanation for this invitation.
What is he supposed to say? “Young man, I see you’re a martial arts prodigy. This Buddha’s Palm manual is yours for only ten bucks!” Joking, of course—the Kung Fu movie hasn’t even come out yet, and this meal probably costs more than ten bucks.
“The usual, Mr. Lin?” the waiter asked.
“Let’s add a few more dishes,” Lin Hao laughed, handing the menu to He Jiong. “This is a Hunan restaurant, so the spicy tripe and mala chicken are a must. As for the rest, I’ll leave it to this Hunan native.”
“Huh, how did you know I’m from Hunan?” He Jiong asked, surprised.
“Your accent!” Lin Hao replied confidently. “You might not notice, but it comes through sometimes.” Besides, if it wasn’t Hunan cuisine, he wouldn’t have brought He Jiong Here.
(1) CCTV stands for “China Central Television”, the main state-run television network in China
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