The place was nearly empty. One person sat at a table, ignoring me as they ate. They had an entire metal tray set on a small electric stove in front of them. They spooned generous amounts of vegetables coated in red sauce onto their plate. I noticed the head of a fish making its way onto his plate. In between voracious bites he would pour himself more hot tea from a metal pot on his table.

I was left to watch the man feast as I waited for someone. The entire time I paced and tapped my fingers on my thighs. It wasn’t that I was irritated, I just could never stand still. I even meandered over to the wooden carved wall for a bit and traced the design with my eyes as I tried to stand still for a moment. After a couple minutes someone finally showed up, looking offended I was here at all.

The place would be full come dinner rush in another hour. Steam and voices would fill this area until the air conditioning couldn’t keep up and you had to shout to place your order.

The scent of chili peppers and fish was already strong enough to make my eyes water as the hostess placed me in a booth. She didn’t offer me a menu and didn’t ask what I wanted. Instead, she showed up a minute later with hot tea, a glass of water, and hot and sour soup. White mushrooms, bamboo shoots, and tofu floated in orange broth, the scent of vinegar and spice tickling my nose.

The hostess slash waitress noted the cloth napkin I’d opened up and spread across the table before walking away. She knew what it meant. I picked it up once she left, draping it in my lap.

A minute later she was back, insisting on taking my half-eaten soup away even while I tried to get another spoonful into my mouth.

“Hurry,” she sighed in annoyance. “He hates the smell.”

“The entire place smells like this,” I argued but she ignored me and took the soup. I sighed and leaned back in the booth. I could feel him approaching and rolled my neck, trying to not sit up straighter like my instincts wanted. Instead, I bounced my legs and stared straight ahead at the empty bench across from me while my fingers tapped away at the table. The red plastic had cracks and the corner was peeling.

He slid into the booth, wearing a silver three-piece suit. It shined in the light. He was albino, his hair perfectly white and his eyes pink. Tu Shen was a very pretty man, with high cheekbones and thin fingers that all had thick white gold rings.

He reached out, refilling my white porcelain cup to the brim with brown tea before straightening his shoulders. He looked slyly at me through thick white eyelashes.

Tu Shen was a god.

I swallowed before reaching forward and taking the tea. It would be offensive not to take tea poured from a god and the bastard filled it to the top. I pressed the porcelain to my lips and drank…and drank. My throat bobbed and my eyes watered as I kept drinking until the entire cup was empty.