The Lazy Noodle Soup Formula
The men walk into the pill house, and for a moment nobody notices them. They’re just two more bodies in a place where everyone’s eager to look the other way. If they’re too well-dressed, with their pinstriped jackets over navy silk changshan and feathered fedoras, well, a lot of people here like to look like money whether they are or not.
A pill pusher nearly collides with the smaller of the two men, jostling the black case he is carrying. She starts to laugh and apologize before she recognizes the emerald-green kerchief tucked into the front pocket of the man’s jacket. Her eyes widen. She seems caught between a shriek and an apology. As if in compromise, she manages the latter in a rising tone of voice. “S-sir– I’m sorry, sir, can I help you with something?”