“Yeah, I am in Amphecaine right now,” the man walked out of the station with a phone near his ear and eyes glancing at the surrounding. After a short silence, he replied, “I love you too. Take care,” the call ended, and the man went into a black van. He didn’t fully open the back door when he entered. His every move looked suspicious. The car steered after the man got in. It had a black shell and tinted windows. The surface was dull without any logo or brand, but the inside wasn’t. Half of the dollars were paid, and the man arrived. He got down from the van and walked into the old apartment. The bricks were dim, and the walls were covered with filthy and nasty graffitis. The metal balconies and stairs were mainly rusted. Only a few were still neat and shining, including the one he was here for.

He got up from the elevator. Figuring out which room he was here for by his memory. He again put his right hand on his blue crossbody bag. He wanted to open it but also not. The bag was dark blue without any decoration or brand on it. It seemed like a homemade bag but much nicer than most existing homemade bags. He heard the sound of his grandma, but far away. He heard her from the first floor. He heard her getting into the elevator. He heard her with another man. “Cinkarry Wright,” he murmured and pretended he was just here.

“Oh, John! I thought you would be here a bit later,” the granny laughed and walked toward the man with that blue crossbody bag. She quickly turned to Cinkarry, who was a few steps away, and said, “Cinkarry, here! This is John, my grandson.” John politely smirked and nodded, then the granny continued, “This is Cinkarry wright, a neighbor next door. You two must be hungry. Come in.” She led the two men into her apartment room.

Her room was a nice place with a small living room next to the open kitchen and a small hallway on the north side of the living room. They went in with the door at the west of the living room, through a small entryway. Cinkarry sat on the old beige settee facing north toward the television in front of him without a single pause. John ambled into the living room with each step short. His heel counters can almost touch his toe puffs. As he slowly walked into the room, his eyes glanced at the whole living room and the open kitchen at south in half of three-second. Cinkarry tapped lightly on the settee and stopped as he caught a glimpse of John’s glancing. He dazed but immediately turned back to normal. “How to call?” Cinkarry inquired with a fake easy. “Oh, uh…… My surname is Zhang(pronounced extremely like John)… like my grandma, but you can just call me John, Mr. Wright,” John Zhang answered with uncertainty and up-and-down volume. “Don’t call me Mr. Wright. Cinkarry is okay enough. Don’t be shy,” Cinkarry responded rapidly, almost directly after John finished his sentence. “Yeah, Cinkarry……” John fake-smiled embarrassedly and clutched his bag’s strap with one hand. Meanwhile, he hastily snatched the control from the table in front of him.

Cinkarry’s attention didn’t get snatched by the television, which John just turned on. He stared at John’s blue bag, “Homemade?” He queried without moving his eyes from the purse nor having any facial expression; he never had. “Yeah, it looks firm, ain’t it?” John put his bag on the small table. He chuckled and proudly beamed. “Exactly,” Cinkarry kept staring but with his eyes closed. John stared at the bag, too, “I spent five months just to find an ideal material. It took a lot of time for me to make it.” Cinkarry repeatedly nodded his head; Still, the eyes were closed. The voice of a female reporter came from the television, “The case seems to be related with a famous vigilante, White Bastard.” The news caught both men’s attention. “Is him a good guy?” John asked with his eyes gazing at White Bastard’s picture on the screen. Different pieces of white armor plates were covered with numerous white fabric pieces and connected with various white clothes that are various on white color. That formed White Bastard’s clothing on the torso. Only a few plates seemed to be on his legs, and there was only a white bally mask covering his head with a light welding goggle that the two lenses are connected with a belt. “Yeah, he’s a good guy. He fights bangs and drug dealers,” Cinkarry said briskly without a doubt.

“It’s lunchtime. Stop wasting time. It wouldn’t taste good if you leave it cool,” the old lady sat on the square table in front of the kitchen. She said with beaming. John went to her with his shy grin, and Cinkarry followed behind him. What on the table were several dishes of Chinese food and three pairs of bowls and spoons. “If you want to eat anything, just use that tong and put some into your bowl,” the granny said with a finger pointed at the tong and moved to those dishes. John sat down without a word but his shy grin. “I thought you would use chopsticks instead, ” Cinkarry asked for a snort. “You can use chopsticks?” John queried with slight astonishment. “No, I can’t,” Cinkarry sat down with a wry smile which was probably the only smile he could make. “Do you know how to eat them?” John mocked as he put a twig of bell pepper into his mouth. “Come on, tell me how,” Cinkarry rubbed his palms and prepared for the lunch challenge. “Don’t forget to wash your hands, young men.” If the old lady didn’t remind them, they wouldn’t remember even after the meal.