Chapter 7: The Blind Bowl

By mid-morning on Sunday the fever had broken, the drip was out, and Ran was sitting up in his hospital bed demanding his shoes.

"I want to go," he said. "I want to see his face."

"Whose face?" said Mu Qing.

"Dong Wei's. When we win."

Mu Qing had not slept, and he was not going to argue with a child who had a plan.

By the hour of the challenge the whole of Terminal Plaza was packed.

There was a red carpet, a lion-dance troupe, two photographers and a man from the district office in a grey jacket.

Dong Wei stood on a platform under his banner with a microphone and a wide smile.

Mu Qing stood at the edge of the crowd in a clean white shirt, holding Ran's hand.

Fan Yue was beside him with a handcart, a covered pot, and a stack of plain white bowls.

Well back, at the side of a lamp post, stood a tall man in a black coat who had not been invited.

Mu Qing did not look at him.

Xu Zhengyuan had said he would come on Sunday, and he had come, and he had said nothing since.

Dong's voice came out of four speakers at once.

"Friends of Zhenjiang! Today the best bowl of noodles in the city begins right here!"

"Bones simmered fourteen hours, from my family's own recipe! And I see my neighbour from Sanlian Lane has come to say hello."

The crowd turned.

"Boss Mu has a fine little shop," said Dong, warmly. "I've nothing against him."

"But the lane is wondering something, and as a friend I think we should ask."

He let it hang.

"A man who keeps his child's father a secret for six years," said Dong. "What else does he keep?"

There was a gasp from somewhere, and a murmur.

Mu Qing felt Ran's hand tighten.

He felt, very clearly, the whole plaza looking at the child.

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