Chapter Seven: Getting a License

Brothers, do me a favor and add this to your favorites. If you have some recommendation votes, give them to me—I want to make it onto the new books list this week. The Half-Immortal bows to you!

Twenty dollars for a bowl of ramen is certainly expensive, but not outrageously so; because it tastes so good, there's always someone willing to pay. Even at some Chinese restaurants run by Chinese people, twenty-dollar ramen bowls are not uncommon.

Even after getting the shop tidied up, Qiu Fengyu still felt too lazy to move. Just looking at the list that Britt had made for him gave him a headache—who knew opening a noodle shop involved so much paperwork?

“Let’s just wait a few more days,” Qiu Fengyu said languidly, basking in the sun on the small patch of grass behind the shop. The lawn wasn’t large—enough for a table, two chairs, and a bit of space to walk around.

“There are things you don’t need to do yourself. Hire a lawyer. He can handle most of it, and all you’ll need to do is sign your name,” Britt insisted. He seemed oddly persistent; maybe he was just bored lately, since he kept encouraging Qiu Fengyu.

“Fine, you find me a lawyer. Just leave it all to him. And—you’re sure I don’t have to pay rent for this place?” Qiu Fengyu double-checked with Britt.

“I told you, I won’t charge rent. If I could, I’d give you the place outright,” Britt replied with a grin. “I’ve never made money here, actually lost quite a bit. The location isn’t great…”

“Then why do you want me to open a shop here? Planning to set me up?” Qiu Fengyu stared at him wide-eyed.

“Well, you’re not exactly busy, are you…”

The argument was sound enough. Qiu Fengyu fell silent. True, he didn’t have much else to do. They made arrangements: Britt would bring the lawyer by tomorrow to help Qiu Fengyu with the paperwork.

That evening, with nowhere else to go for entertainment, Qiu Fengyu headed to the bar as usual. Britt’s place didn’t even have a modern TV, and Qiu Fengyu wasn’t a fan of television anyway. By now, he was a regular; as soon as he sat at the counter, Brewkin poured him a vodka.

“Heard Ariel’s been giving you trouble?” Brewkin was a gossip, more so than most women.

Qiu Fengyu downed his drink in one gulp, then tapped the glass, signaling for a refill. “With a mouth like yours, I bet you get beaten up a lot.”

“Alright, let’s pretend I didn’t ask.” Brewkin refilled his glass, wiped the bar with a towel, and leaned in with a conspiratorial air. “You and David have issues, and he never lets a grudge go. Be careful…”

“You think I should be afraid of him?” Qiu Fengyu took another drink.

“He’s a tough guy. Maybe you know Chinese kung fu?” Brewkin struck a Bruce Lee pose, even making a “hiya!” sound.

Qiu Fengyu ignored him and glanced around the bar. The patrons were all locals, except for three strangers in the far-left corner. They looked to be in their thirties, sharp and alert, eyes scanning the room as if searching for something.

“Are those guys locals?” Qiu Fengyu asked, tilting his head toward Brewkin.

“No, they’re outsiders. I don’t know who they are, but I guarantee—they’re not people you want to mess with,” Brewkin warned. “From my experience, I’d say they’re gangsters.”

“City gangsters?” Qiu Fengyu asked.

“Maybe. Either way, don’t mess with them in my bar. In fact, don’t mess with them anywhere. Did you see their waists? One of them’s carrying a gun,” Brewkin said.

“You’re right, these aren’t people to provoke.” Qiu Fengyu finished his drink and turned back to the bar, slumping over it.

“Hey, my friend, we meet again.” A woman approached from behind and took the seat beside him. It was the same woman from last time. “Can you buy me a rum? I can’t get used to vodka.”

Qiu Fengyu snapped his fingers at Brewkin. “You heard her, give the lady a rum on my tab.” He stood up, ready to leave.

“I’ll settle the bill!” He slapped a few bills on the bar and prepared to go.

“Hey, Qiu, am I really that annoying?” the woman called after him. “I’d do you for free, just because you bought me a rum tonight.”

“Oh, come on, Saoirse, you just want to try out an Asian guy, don’t you?” Brewkin laughed, winking at Qiu Fengyu.

“Screw you, Brewkin! Go home and take care of yourself, you lonely old bachelor!” she shot back, flipping him the finger, then downed her rum and gave Qiu Fengyu a challenging look.

Qiu Fengyu shrugged. “I’m not interested in prostitutes.” With that, he turned and left.

“See? Don’t flatter yourself—he’s not interested,” Brewkin gloated.

“I think you two are the real couple here—you’re both gay, damn it!” Saoirse retorted angrily, and stormed out.

Qiu Fengyu strolled along the street when he heard someone shouting behind him, “Hey, outsider! You don’t like women? Or are you just not up to it?”

He turned to see Saoirse following him, standing just behind and calling out. He looked at her but couldn’t be bothered to reply.

“I don’t mean to cause trouble, but… there aren’t many single men in this town who turn me down. You’re the first!” Saoirse closed the distance between them.

“There’s always a first, and there’ll be a second…” Qiu Fengyu stuffed his hands in his pockets and looked at Saoirse. “How much do you make a month?”

“Four or five thousand dollars—it varies, but it’s steady. There are only so many single men in town, and sometimes married guys cheat a little. Why do you ask?” she replied, cocking her head.

“Do the girls in this town make more than you? I mean the ones who work as waitresses in bakeries and such.”

“About the same, but my job’s definitely easier.”

“Alright then!” Qiu Fengyu replied, then turned and gave Saoirse a smack on the backside, the slap echoing in the quiet night. Saoirse squealed in surprise, but by the time she came to her senses, Qiu Fengyu was nowhere to be seen.

“Damn bastard…” Saoirse cursed, then turned back toward the bar.

Lying in bed, Qiu Fengyu still savored that slap. To be honest, that girl was asking for it. But he had to admit, her backside had a nice feel—firm and soft at the same time.

The next morning, Britt brought the lawyer. The man explained the terms and procedures—he’d come prepared. Qiu Fengyu just yawned the whole way through.

“How much will it cost to get all this done?” Qiu Fengyu interrupted the lawyer’s monologue.

“Excuse me?” The lawyer was momentarily taken aback. Few clients skipped straight to the money without even hearing the terms. But such clients were often the best.

“I said, how much? If it’s too expensive, I can’t afford it.”

“Five thousand dollars!” the lawyer blurted out without a second thought.

Qiu Fengyu fell silent. The lawyer waited, then glanced at Britt and ventured, “Mr. Qiu…?”

“Forget it, I’ll do it myself!” Qiu Fengyu cut him off. This was daylight robbery. Doing it himself would save him five grand.

In the end, it wasn’t as complicated as he’d thought—no need for a lawyer at all.

After a few days of running around, Qiu Fengyu had to go to the city for the health and safety permit exam. Before the test, there was a brief training session to familiarize him with the questions, which were all practical and administered electronically.

In the end, Qiu Fengyu passed the exam. He’d come alone, and on the way home, a car sped past him, then backed up. A familiar voice called out, “Get in, I’ll give you a ride back to town.”

It was Officer Coffin. Qiu Fengyu quickly got in. They talked about his plans to open a restaurant, and when they reached the town, they parted ways. Just as Qiu Fengyu was about to leave, the car window rolled down and Coffin said, “I’ll come to your place for noodles.”

With that, she drove off, leaving Qiu Fengyu wondering if she had nothing better to do than ask such pointless questions.