A good buddy gone in a puff of smoke

By Hu Xudong ( China Daily ) Updated: 2007-02-14 10:49:07

In the community where I live, there was a humble cigarette stand. Its shabby cover could barely ward off wind or rain, but the cigarettes were the best in the neighborhood, with many varieties on offer at reasonable prices.

I often visited the stand, because its owner was a kind, honest youngster from East China's Anhui Province. The 17-year-old lived all by himself in this huge city.

Every morning before 7, the young man would sit behind his cigarettes in a worn-out green cotton overcoat. With hair uncombed and nose running, he greeted acquaintances with a hearty smile.

He was known in the neighborhood as Lao'er a fond title for the family's second child. Lao'er was quiet, but when he spoke, he was outspoken. Whenever I bought a pack and took out a cigarette but couldn't find the lighter from any of my pockets, Lao'er would hand me one, grinning broadly: "Big bro, this is for you."

I sometimes stopped by his stand at meal time. A bowl of the cheapest noodles without any meat from the nearby restaurant was his usual meal. He always raised the bowl to my face. As the steam blurred my view, he would say: "Big bro, have you eaten? Have some if you haven't."

Occasionally, Lao'er surprised me. Once I was carrying out my wife's orders to greet her bosom friend. I bought a pack from Lao'er before we headed home.

Lao'er took one look at the charming lady beside me, and then whispered conspiratorially: "Big bro, your wife returned home half-an- hour ago. Don't take her home. There's a warehouse behind my stand. Well, just in case you need a place"

I laughed so hard, I couldn't light my cigarette or find enough words to clear the young man's suspicions.

A few days ago, when I got up and found no cigarettes at hand, I hurried out, only to find broken tiles and pebbles in place of the crowded grocery stores, photo studios and food stands. They were gone overnight.

I asked the security guard what had happened. He merely gestured at a nearby board that read: All the flat houses in the community have been removed for a better environment. Did the guard know where Lao'er had gone? No.

That good-natured young fellow who had greeted me almost daily for more than a year had simply vanished into thin air. Who knows when and in what unexpected corner I will bump into that Lao'er who generously offered me noodles and a warehouse.

I then remembered many other such nobodies in this enormous city. Back in college, there used to be a dumpling stand. The young man who cooked for us everyday was also called Lao'er. The native of Henan Province also disappeared overnight when illegal constructions were torn down.

As I prepared my doctoral thesis, I often bought used books from a young man of Shandong Province. When the hutong alley gave way for high-rise buildings, he too was gone.

Even though these men humbly called Lao'er disappear from our lives everyday, the diligent folks from outside Beijing make for the liveliest part of our urban scene.

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(China Daily 02/14/2007 page20)