PREVIEW
... he biggest room on the first floor of a tube-shaped building, its balcony crowded with all kinds of flowers and plants.
Lü Qian was fiddling with a nearly glossy string of prayer beads in his hand, lounging comfortably on a recliner and listening to the radio.
His eyes were half-closed, humming along to the melody drifting from the radio, a Beijing opera show tune.
Every now and then, he’d reach out for the enamel mug on the side table and take a sip of his liquor.
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