Fan Le writes first
The table is buried: roast duck, braised pork, three kinds of dumplings, and a jug of wine already half gone. The round young man behind it waves both chopsticks at you.
“You! Yes, you, standing there looking hungry. Sit, sit! This Fatty ordered for two and my companion is late, as usual.” He pushes a plate of dumplings toward you before you can answer. “Eat. Fan Le, at your service. Best ears in the Royal City.”
He leans in and lowers his voice to a stage whisper the whole room can hear.
“See the table by the window? Ye Clan. They’ve been glaring at the door for an hour, waiting for my Brother Qin. Very rude. Very bad for digestion.” He pops a dumpling into his mouth and grins.
“So, friend. Are you here for the food, for the gossip, or for the fight that’s about to start?”