Read Crimson China for Free Online Page A

restaurant is only a takeaway: inside there are no tables, only a long counter and a few chairs for waiting customers. Besides, she can see from the menu on the door that it does not serve hotpot. She steps inside anyway. A young Chinese man is behind the counter, talking on a mobile in Mandarin. He is tall and lean and clean-shaven. When he sees her, he hastily closes the phone.
    “Excuse me,” she says in Mandarin. “I’m looking for a hotpot restaurant near here. Do you know of one?” The young mancrosses his arms and leans back against the counter, regarding her with a look of bemusement.
    “Why?” he asks.
    Startled, she hesitates. He is good-looking, the sort of man who knows as much, the sort of man she has always avoided at home.
    “I like hotpot,” she says finally. The young man laughs genially and spreads his arms.
    “We’re just a takeaway. Noodles, fried rice, that sort of thing.”
    “I know. I saw the menu.”
    “But you only want hotpot,” he says teasingly.
    “Yes,” she replies, the colour rising in her cheeks.
    “Stubborn lady,” he counters.
    Embarrassed, she turns to go.
    “Hey,” he says. “I was only joking. There’s one not far from here.”
    She turns back to him, her heart racing. He steps from behind the counter.
    “Here,” he offers, nodding towards the map book in her hand. “I’ll show you if you like.”
    She hands him the book and he opens it on the counter, turning the pages.
    “Thank you,” she murmurs.
    “No worries,” he says in English. He glances sideways at her.
    “You speak English?” he asks.
    “Of course,” she replies.
    “Not everyone here does,” he says, looking back down at the book. “When did you arrive?”
    “Three days ago.”
    “I thought you were new,” he says. “From where?”
    “Hebei Province,” she says cautiously. “Near Tangshan.”
    “And already looking for hotpot? What are you, homesick?”
    “No,” she stammers. “I…” She breaks off. The young man looks up at her, sensing her discomfort. At once his tone softens.
    “Here,” he says, pointing to a place on the page. “The place you’re looking for is here. Fifteen minutes’ walk at most. But be careful. The guy who runs it is a bit of a tyrant. A friend of mine used to work there. A couple of years ago.”
    She looks at him. A couple of years ago, she thinks. Like Wen. She resists the impulse to ask him the name of his friend.
    “Thank you,” she says, turning once again to go.
    “Hey,” he says. “You hungry?”
    She pauses, for in truth she is starving. “A little,” she admits.
    “I’ll get you something from the back. You can take it with you.” He disappears inside and returns a few moments later with a small white bag, which he hands to her.
    “Thank you,” she murmurs, embarrassed.
    “Spring rolls,” he offers with a shrug. “Western style. Made them myself. No charge.”
    “Do you own this place?” She asks, surprised.
    He looks at her askance.
    “No way,” he says in English. “My mother’s cousin owns it. I’m just the hired help. But this is a quiet time of day. So I’m on my own.”
    “Lucky for me,” she says.
    “So who are you looking for? Boyfriend?” Lili blushes and shakes her head.
    “No one important,” she says. “Just an old classmate.”
    “Do you know people here? In London?”
    “A few,” she says. “One, actually,” she admits.
    He laughs. “Well now you know two. My name’s Johnny. I’m an engineering student.”
    “Johnny?” she raises an eyebrow.
    He shrugs.
    “Zhong Li. But here I’m Johnny.”
    “Thank you, Johnny,” she says. For the third time, she turns to go.
    “Hey Hebei,” he calls in English. “What’s your name?”
    “Lili,” she replies with a smile.
    He nods. “Come back and see me sometime,” he says easily. “I’m here most days.”
    “Okay.” Lili flushes slightly, surprised by her own boldness. Would she have agreed so readily at home?
    Johnny is right. The old