Chapter 79: Daily Life 6 (Please Keep Reading)

Ao Xi drove Zhuo Ning to see a play. No sooner had they left the neighborhood than a motorcycle sped past them. Then, one after another, a procession of motorcycles formed a long, swaggering line down the street.

"Why are there so many motorcycles today?"

"Just turn on the radio and you'll know."

“KTLA reports: This morning, a fierce gunfight erupted at Twin Peaks Restaurant. The cause? Negotiations between the Barrett Street Black gang and the Mexican Lomas 13 gang broke down. A quarrel escalated into a brawl, weapons were drawn, and the conflict spiraled into a shootout. Members of the Hell’s Angels, who happened to be resting nearby, got caught up in the chaos.

Police, already deployed in anticipation, immediately fired smoke grenades and shot at the armed gangsters. Reports say police fired twelve rounds, killing four, but over sixty shell casings were found at the scene. In total, sixteen are dead and eighteen wounded. This is another mass shooting in a short span, following the Boyle Heights music warehouse incident. At Twin Peaks, shell casings matching those from Boyle Heights were found—a breakthrough that may lead to the suspects’ capture.

Police arrested 117 gang members at Twin Peaks. A Hell’s Angels spokesperson stated the police should release the innocent; their club members were simply dining. Latest news: Hell’s Angels have organized their bikers to parade through the streets, pressuring authorities to release those detained.”

These people really have the nerve to claim they’re innocent bystanders. When they fought the Black gang, they went all out—harsher than the Mexicans.

Ao Xi overtook the motorcycle convoy and headed north. Arcadia was truly close to San Gabriel; it took barely any time to drive there. But he’d never really wandered these streets before. No wonder Zhuo Ning seemed a little unhappy—who wouldn’t want to spend each day together?

Maybe only Kidneys wouldn’t.

The play, written by Su Daqiang, told the story of seven humble Chinese immigrants—students, stowaways, all living under one roof, facing the bittersweet struggles of survival in America.

Ao Xi dozed off soon after it began—so, in effect, he’d paid for a nap. He only caught a glimpse during the curtain call. Once out of character, the lead actor seemed like a tired old man with heavy bags under his eyes, withdrawn and shy. Fang Fang, beside him, looked much more energetic.

But Ni Dahong’s attitude was exemplary—never refusing a photo, even striking heart-shaped poses. He even asked Ao Xi why he’d fallen asleep—was the performance lacking?

After the play, they went to eat at the famous Sichuan Impression Jin City, a restaurant that was a perennial feature on EaterLA’s must-eat list. The décor was distinctly Chinese: white pleated chandeliers, oak tables, matching chopsticks and bowls, and a moon gate dividing the space, instantly transporting you back to Chengdu.

On the table were condiment boxes shaped like a cat or rabbit—hard to tell which—filled with Sichuan peppercorns and salt.

The prices were reasonable: sixty-nine dollars for finger-licking spicy crab, hot pot chicken, chili chicken, mapo tofu, two bowls of rice, and two glasses of house wine (though in reality, this was a family combo for three and you probably couldn’t order all that for the price). The two of them ate heartily, delighted to find authentic Sichuan cuisine so far from home. They resolved to return for boiled fish and lamb skewers another time.

Afterwards, Zhuo Ning didn’t want to leave. She clung to Ao Xi’s arm, insisting on strolling around. Ao Xi wanted to spend time with his girlfriend—after all, you can’t just do the same thing every time you meet; there’s more to life than bananas.

They didn’t buy much, just wandered and enjoyed the simple pleasure of walking the streets together, maybe snacking a little along the way.

At Bawang Tea Princess, they bought a cup of milk tea—shockingly expensive. He missed the four-yuan lemon water at Mixue Bingcheng.

Then they tried Lay’s Red Oil Spicy Strip Ridges—yuck! Absolutely terrible; don’t buy them, friends.

They were happily snacking and strolling when suddenly, loud arguing broke out up ahead.

Ao Xi’s eyes lit up. He grabbed Zhuo Ning’s hand and headed for the commotion—he’d picked up this habit from the Black guys.

Up front, two Black women were arguing. One wore tight black sportswear, the other a white T-shirt. Their words came in a rapid-fire torrent; Ao Xi couldn’t even catch what the fight was about.

After only a few exchanges, two foot patrol officers arrived—impressively fast response. Each officer took charge of one woman, didn’t bother with explanations, just pulled them apart and told them to leave—no fighting in the street, go argue somewhere else.

Both women were with male friends. As soon as the men saw the cops, they hurried to pull the women away.

But Sportswear woman wouldn’t let it go and tried to rush back and keep arguing. The officer pulled her back—perhaps a bit too forcefully—and she fell to the ground.

She wouldn’t stand for that. She sprang up, ready to take on the officer. Suddenly, White T-shirt woman sneered, which made Sportswear woman explode.

That bitch is laughing at me!

With a shriek, she dashed over and slapped White T-shirt woman across the face. Without waiting for a reaction, she grabbed her T-shirt and yanked it down—instantly, a patch of pixelation appeared.

Who goes out without underwear? Really, some people.

But to be fair, Black or not, that pixelation was quite something.

Ao Xi was thoroughly absorbed in the spectacle when, out of nowhere, Zhuo Ning covered his eyes.

"Enjoying yourself? Completely entranced, huh?"

"Ahem, I was watching with a critical eye."

He pried Zhuo Ning’s hands away, but White T-shirt woman had already put her shirt back on. Disappointing.

He turned to Zhuo Ning with a look that said, “Let’s see how you explain this,” while thinking up his own excuse.

Before Ao Xi could come up with a story, two gunshots rang out not far behind them.

Ao Xi immediately pulled Zhuo Ning’s head down and dragged her behind a parked car.

The two officers, who had been breaking up the fight, abandoned the women and sprinted toward the sound of gunfire, drawing their sidearms as they ran and reporting in.

They charged in, guns blazing. After a few shots, someone collapsed next to a car—whether it was the right guy, who could say.

They were about to check on him when more gunfire erupted ahead.

Forget it, no time to check; if you’re hit, you’re on your own.

The two officers ran toward the new gunshots. From afar, Ao Xi could make out a 7-11 convenience store.

A man with a gun had apparently just stolen something from inside. As he exited, he saw the officers, hesitated, then fired at them and tried to run the other way.

That brief hesitation was his undoing. The officers had already raised their guns and emptied their magazines into him—practically earning themselves administrative leave.

It all happened in a flash. Even Ao Xi found it exhilarating, though he had no chance to get involved—just stand by and watch, which left him a bit unsatisfied.

Looking back, he realized the two Black women had already fled. No need to come up with any story after all—a small relief.