The next day, the once notorious "Iron Triangle" of idlers from Southern Jiangsu, who annoyed both man and dog in Nanjing, gathered again (actually, they met every week) in room 804 of building 11 in Meihua Villa, Zhongqin Garden. It felt as if young heroes were reuniting after many years, looking back on a life like billowing waves over a thousand miles of rivers and lakes. Some people are born to change the world, like exterminating spicy crayfish from street stalls or haggling fiercely to shave a couple of yuan from the earnings of a food stand owner. Amid the clinking of glasses, the greasy glow shivered with the layers of fat on beer bellies—a wave of fantasy unique to middle-aged men.
"Mom, Dad, I'm back." Bai Yang finished today's exam and walked in, changing his shoes at the entryway. He immediately recognized the people sitting in the living room, "Uncle Zhao, Uncle Wang!"
That shiny bald head must be Uncle Wang.
