The owner of Han Palace (Fang) made food extra spicy.

Some of the hot peppers were little balls
with slits like tiny heads laughing.

Fang sometimes sat with Weng as an excuse to drink baijiu,

which his wife didn’t like because it made him
spontaneously generous with customers.

When it was cold, Weng’s neighbor Hui
would bring over containers of noodles,

then sit in the chair with the red cushion and watch Weng eat.

Despite Beijing’s ascension in metal and glass,

and the influx of tourists, not much had changed
for people in the hutong.

A new season of grandmothers had begun,

Steaming food was still sold through open windows;

Cars a nuisance, but there were still places
people went to gamble

and places people went to cry.