The night deepened, yet Old Factory Street welcod its most vibrant mont of the day.
As the early sumr evening breeze brought a hint of warmth, the street-side barbecue stalls followed suit, bustling with custors.
The simple folding tables lined up along the sidewalk were almost completely occupied.
The spicy aroma of cumin and chili powder, mixed with the smoky scent of charcoal, was freely wafting through the air.
In the nearby food stall, the iron pot was stir-frying clams in sizzling oil, and the rising steam instantly tempted everyone’s appetite.
The cries of guessing gas, the clinking of beer bottles, mixed with idle chatter and curses from all around, together ford the unique symphony of this street.
However, at one table in the corner of the barbecue stall, the atmosphere seed a bit different.
On the table, a mountain of food was piled up - sizzling lamb skewers, crispy and tender grilled chicken wings, and salted savory shrimp.
Packs of ice-cold beer bottles clustered alongside, practically taking up the entire table.
Ma Donghe was shirtless, revealing the fierce dragon tattoo across his shoulders.
Grabbing a handful of lamb skewers, he used his left hand to slide off three pieces into his mouth, while his right hand had already brought another skewer to his lips.
His cheeks puffed like a hamster’s, and with powerful chewing, it seed like he was not eating at but tearing into prey.
Facing him, Fang Cheng’s eating style did not appear crude, but rather had a peculiar precision and efficiency.
From picking up a skewer to putting it into his mouth, then cleanly pulling out the stick, the whole process flowed smoothly, taking nearly less than a second.
The number of bamboo sticks piled from his seat on the tabletop was already more than twice that of Ma Donghe’s.
One was as burly as a bear, eating with extre ferocity.
In contrast, the young man opposite him, refined and handso, devoured at such speed that it was even more exaggerated than the bear.
This unrestrained stance of the two soon drew the eyes of other diners.
At a nearby table, a few young punks laughed and pointed at Fang Cheng’s table, gossiping inappropriately.
Yet they were startled into jumping when Ma Donghe cast an inadvertent fierce glance their way.
Adding to that the nacing dragon head tattoo on his chest, he presented an image of a fearso underworld boss.
Those punks no longer dared to look, and could only shyly lower their heads, focusing on their own skewers.
When the last skewer of grilled chicken wings was cleared off the plate, the table was already full of food debris, and Ma Donghe finally stopped.
He grabbed a mug of ice-cold draft beer, tilted his head back and gulped down half, letting the cold liquid slide down his throat into his stomach, then burped comfortably.
"Ha—Ah, refreshing!"
Ma Donghe put down the beer mug, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
Then he looked at Fang Cheng, who was still battling a plate of grilled oysters, and suddenly asked:
"Ah Cheng, aren’t you curious why I suddenly ran to Master Lin, shalessly insisting on learning dicine?"
Fang Cheng was about to put a plump grilled oyster into his mouth; upon hearing this, his actions paused slightly.
He stuffed the oyster into his mouth, savoring the mixed flavors of garlic and sweet freshness, swallowed it slowly, then lifted his head.
It was only then he rembered.
Ma Donghe had said his old man had sothing important to discuss, and specifically dragged him out for this midnight snack.
Engrossed in enjoying the gourt, he nearly forgot the main agenda.
"Oh?"
Fang Cheng casually picked up a skewer of chicken wings, took a bite, and responded indistinctly:
"Didn’t you say it was for extra points in the Special Search Team exam?"
"That’s right."
Ma Donghe nodded, tossed the skewer onto the table, and took another big swig of beer:
"Adding points is one aspect, mainly it’s because I’ve been pushed to a corner!"
After finishing the beer, he scooted the stool closer, beginning to share his grievances:
"Ah Cheng, not hiding from you, the Special Search Team’s spring recruitnt retest is next week, June 3rd, consisting of three parts, interview, written test, and physical test."
"The physical test, I definitely have no problem with."
Ma Donghe patted his increasingly firm chest muscles, speaking with confidence:
"With my excellent initial test scores, I can skip the retest, receiving special admission."
Fang Cheng glanced at him.
Indeed, although this guy still looked like a bear, his vigor and spirit were completely different from before.
His muscles had grown much sturdier, with his biceps bulging high, sturdy like iron lumps.
The fierce aura he emitted had intensified, just by quietly sitting there, intimidated those nearby from speaking loudly.
Clearly, it was due to diligence in honing himself daily that brought about this change in aura.
"As for the interview, that’s just a formality, depending on luck."
Ma Donghe chuckled, raised his hand to touch his face:
"Though my features are a bit rough, they’re robust and command authority, naturally suited for official duties."
After boasting a little, he suddenly changed his tone, a worry appearing on his face:
"The challenge lies in the written test, involving law, national language, foreign languages, psychology... just hearing it gives a headache."
"So, my old man worried I’d fail that part, suggested learning so dical skills to add an extra point."
He said as he grabbed a skewer of grilled kidney, took a vicious bite, chewing while muttering:
"Originally, the old man wanted to learn Ma Family’s ancestral Qigong massage from him, but no way, his amateurish Kung Fu cannot compare to Master Lin’s miraculous rejuvenating dical skills."
"Massage, bone setting, acupoint to stop bleeding, these are the real skills, wisdom passed down thousands of years from ancestors, not only treating traumas but also harmonizing the ridians and blood flow."
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