Chapter 11 Monologue Over Hotpot

• Dusk settled heavily, the night breeze carrying the smoky aroma of street food through the city. The open-air food stall at the end of the old street buzzed with voices, neon lights casting a glossy, mottled glow on the plastic canopy. The air was thick with chili oil, charcoal, and beer—a hidden festival of scents.
• Kai trailed Lena cautiously, his steps light, his sleeve nearly toppling a stack of beer crates by the roadside. He glanced down at the faded ad on the crates, featuring a cartoon tiger with a forced grin and words he could barely read. Turning back, he saw Lena striding ahead in sneakers, hair tied back with a rubber band, her profile sharp and cool. The city’s rhythm and crowds still overwhelmed him—alien yet vivid, cramped and disorienting, despite these days spent shadowing her.
• “Sit inside,” Lena said, pulling out a red plastic stool, her tone casual. “You’ve earned a break.”