In the Audi TT, we return to the West Lake district. Since the temple’s not too far away, we park the car in a nearby parking lot and walk into the temple.
Since today’s not a weekend, there aren’t that many tourists. In the distance, at the end of a long line, are large pots from which a few monks are handing out porridge. Even a hundred meters away we can still smell the plain rice porridge aroma.
“Old K’s over there!” Song Han points after scoping out the place.
Lin Wan Er and I immediately look over and sure enough standing there in the crowd is a man with short hair, wearing a plaid shirt. He’s about 1.85 m with a rough and famished look. While rubbing his hands, he grumbles: “So hungry. No food for three days. Finally, I’ll be able to eat a decent meal……”
Before Song Hang can go over to say hello, Lin Wan Er stops him: “Wait, not yet. First, let’s observe. I want to see the quality of a member of Zhan Long Studio…..”
I want to say something but one look at Lin Wan Er’s curious little face and I hold back.