Chapter 12

Bak, who had no hukou (household registration) or ID card, treated his morning trips to various markets to buy ingredients as a form of exercise. He would carry a half-side of pork weighing over a hundred pounds and still manage to hold seasonings and vegetables in his other hand. When he came out, he saw his father, Badacheng, leaning against his tricycle motorcycle, smoking. The logistics area of the railway was not large, and this broken tricycle motorcycle was easy to recognize. He found it a bit strange: "Dad, if you’re not resting at home, why are you out here?"

Badacheng had taken a sick leave to enjoy the daily pleasure of watching his son, but now he straightened up slightly, a bit conflicted: "To handle the hukou... damn it, they actually said they need to review it. Come on, I’ll go with you to the market to buy supplies." He deftly changed the subject, feeling that he should have some face and that he must get his son’s hukou sorted out.

Bak helped his father get into the tricycle before starting the motorcycle: "Is it that they want us to give them a gift or something?"

Badacheng shook his head: "Not necessarily. Old Ji told me privately that it’s not complicated. The chief of the police station knows you, but mainly... they need to know how you came back." In the past, Bak occasionally called home and said he was working abroad. Badacheng and his wife had not yet dared to ask about his difficult past, but the police station needed to have the proper entry procedures and proof of where Bak had been for the past few years and whether he had committed any crimes, which was more complicated.

Bak was still vague: "I... maybe you should just get a foreign passport and we can live abroad?" After going abroad, it wasn’t difficult for him to obtain citizenship of some country. Even if he didn’t face his former colleagues, he had many backup identities that could be used.

Going abroad?

Badacheng, sitting in the back of the tricycle, suddenly felt that his problem wasn’t that big: "It’s just a hukou, right? I don’t believe it can’t be done. Back when you were in high school, your grades were so poor, but I went to the principal and the academic office every day, and they still let you in. I don’t believe it can’t be done!" He sounded so confident.

Bak’s face showed a bit of emotion: "Thanks, Dad."

Both father and son felt much better and didn’t think the hukou was a big issue. After all, it wasn’t an era where you needed a hukou to eat.

After buying the meat and vegetables and returning home, they prepared to set up the stall in the afternoon. Bak was slightly surprised to see Liu Changyuan lingering around: "Bro, I... have already apologized to my parents."

Liu Changyuan, who might not be a bad person but was spoiled and hadn’t picked up any bad habits, stood by the tricycle, feeling ashamed. This emotion was more about his sense of dignity for standing there, rather than a clear reflection on his past.

Bak didn’t delve into whether Liu Changyuan was telling the truth or if it was the result of his parents’ persuasion. He just pointed to his things and asked Liu Changyuan to help.

Once they started setting up the stall, it was more solid than the previous day. At least Liu Changyuan could learn to bow his head and serve dishes properly, and he could endure being scolded or challenged a bit more.

But compared to the little beggar’s initiative and keenness, he was still lacking.

The little beggar arrived even earlier than Bak, squatting by the roadside with a mask and gloves from the previous day, occupying a spot. As soon as the motorcycle arrived, he helped unload the goods.

But Bak first threw him some clothes: "Work uniform... put it on! These two sets are for changing."

The little beggar was a bit stunned, looking at the underwear, jeans, tank top, shirt, and sandals in his hands, and two complete sets. Even if he was a bit slow, he knew this was just an excuse. His eyes, visible through the mask, were a bit moist. Bak couldn’t bear to see it and threw him a plastic bag with masks and gloves: "These are disposable and need to be thrown away after each use! And this towel, go wash it and change into it..."

The little beggar nodded vigorously, grabbed the clothes, and ran to the public toilet behind the street. He quickly came out in clean clothes, wearing a new mask, and stretched his feet to show Bak that his hands were clean before putting on the gloves to work. Bak didn’t care that his face wasn’t clean and started grumbling as he organized the stove.

He knew the child didn’t want to be pitied.

Just like with Liu Changyuan, Bak wouldn’t say anything more. He just did his own thing, providing a way of life that Liu Changyuan should follow. Whether he could stick to it was up to him. These two kids were at two extremes.

At Badacheng’s suggestion, Bak replaced the metal knives with bamboo blocks, which were thick and long, making it easy to use for scooping and lifting, but he had to cut the vegetables at home and transport them in boxes.

That day, Bak felt that many people were looking at him, not just for the fragrant grilled meat. At least some of the small-time hooligans and ruffians on the roadside were looking at him with suspicious eyes, similar to the occasional passing female students who avoided his gaze. To Bak, they all looked the same.

A bit unexpectedly, Fang Lingying didn’t come that day. Bak gave the two steamed buns to the little beggar along with the leftover meat. He also gave Liu Changyuan a hundred yuan. It was clear that this young man usually didn’t do much, and just standing and serving dishes all day had tired him out. But he had at least persisted and helped Bak load the tables and chairs onto the tricycle. When Bak drove back to the yard, the young man was actually sleeping in the back of the tricycle!

This seemingly simple grilled meat stall was set up. Bak never asked the little beggar where he lived; everyone has their secrets.

Two days later, when Fang Lingying came to the grilled meat stall for dinner, she was clearly surprised to see the troublemaker turned into a well-behaved young man. She just glanced at him and casually asked, "You... really worked as a street vendor in the northern border?"

On the way back, because of Bak’s typical appearance and direction of walking, Fang Lingying had guessed he was going to pick cotton in the northern border. Bak just nodded.

Bak looked at her a bit puzzled and nodded again, indifferent.

Fang Lingying’s eyes twinkled with a smile, but she didn’t say anything more. After finishing her meal, she paid and left. Bak noticed that she wasn’t wearing the blue coat with mud spots but a pretty dress: a white mid-length sleeve shirt with sequined collar and a black short skirt with white polka dots. It was a beautiful outfit that didn’t fit well with the environment of the street stall.

Fang Lingying, who had already walked a few steps, suddenly turned back: "Can I have your phone number?"

Bak was a bit stunned: "I don’t have a phone..." What did he need a phone for? He spent all day at home with his parents, and no one needed to contact him.

Fang Lingying was also a bit stunned, looking up and down at Bak, probably thinking about his economic situation. But now, cheap phones that could make calls were available. Liu Changyuan, who had been secretly watching the pretty girl, quickly took out his phone: "I have one, I have one. Just call me if you need to reach Bak..."

Fang Lingying smiled, gave her number, made a call, and waved before leaving.

Liu Changyuan, curious, leaned in to ask: "Bak, is she your girlfriend?" Compared to the little beggar, he was much more talkative after getting to know Bak.

Bak, who was usually quiet, said: "Do you think it’s possible?" He pointed to his own white tank top, which was also sleeveless but had a big hole, and the material was sweaty.

Liu Changyuan, who had persisted for two days, seemed to have found some motivation and was more expressive: "Why not? We always have a chance to turn things around!"

"Turn things around?" Bak pondered this trendy term and continued to busy himself with the grill.

But a new situation arose in the evening. At the usual time, the seventy pounds of meat they had prepared wasn’t sold out. In the past few days, they had barely sold out all the ingredients in just over three hours. Today, there were clearly fewer customers, and there was no queue of people waiting to eat.

How long had the stall been open? Less than a week, right? Could the customers already be tired of it? After all, there were so many people coming and going; it couldn’t be that everyone had tried it and didn’t like it.

Bak didn’t bother to think too deeply about it. Seeing that the large pieces of meat in the foam box with ice hadn’t gone bad, he decided to reduce the purchase quantity the next day, do less, and work less. He called Liu Changyuan and the little beggar to pack up and close the stall.

But the young man, who had just started to feel the hardships of work, had a different feeling: "Bak, can I... finish loading the tricycle and go check out other stalls?" It was only a little past ten, and for street stalls, staying open until midnight was normal. Other stalls were doing well, with bright lights and bustling business. Only Bak, who wasn’t ambitious, had closed the stall even though the meat wasn’t sold out.

Bak looked at him and nodded: "Sure." He prepared to ride the motorcycle home, but Liu Changyuan actually dared to make a request: "Bro, can you wait for me?"

Bak wasn’t impatient and nodded: "Sure, I’ll smoke a few cigarettes..." The little beggar, who had changed into clean clothes at the public toilet, still wore his dirty clothes but carefully packed the clean clothes in a plastic bag. He was a bit surprised to see Bak still there and bowed before leaving.

Bak opened his mouth but didn’t ask anything, just watching the dirty little beggar disappear into the dim streetlights. Beggars didn’t walk confidently in the middle of the road or near shop awnings; they walked cautiously along the curb. This child... had been a beggar for a long time.

Bak didn’t light his cigarette but skillfully rolled it between his index and middle fingers, similar to his knife skills but more difficult because the cigarette was much lighter.

Summer was a great time to see pretty girls, with their light clothing and the special charm under the streetlights. Bak, who had done this kind of thing with his friends during his middle school years, now found it boring. After seeing so many seafood feasts, how could he care about these... light snacks?

He didn’t even have the interest to convince himself to try something different. He just subconsciously thought of the brilliant fireball in the sky! It was like the streetlights... He shook his head vigorously, stood up, and forced himself to forget that nightmare-like scene. Even without a proper military doctor’s qualification, he had received various high-level trainings, and his psychological state was still problematic. The shock of wartime trauma made him extremely渴望这种平静的生活，但另一方面身处其中又觉得平淡无聊。

然后巴克就看见对面有个似乎熟悉的影子晃了一下，脑子还在反应是什么，脚下已经迈步离开了路牙子！

杀手的敏锐习惯！

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(Translation continues from the last part:)

extremely渴望这种平静的生活