Chapter 94: The Promise Nears Fulfillment

Today was a fine day.

The sky stretched high and clear, with wispy clouds drifting above and the air crisp and fresh; the wind carried a hint of autumn’s coolness. Early autumn’s heavens were vast like a blue sea, and the slow-moving white clouds resembled anchored sails, glimmering with hidden waves.

Across the earth, the classic scent of Damask roses lingered—peaceful and serene.

A motorcycle sped down the still uncongested road. Wang Qiang yawned; last night had exhausted him, all thanks to being short-handed. Otherwise, he would have considered offering overnight service like the newer internet cafés. This morning, when he'd gone to wake Zhu Xiaofeng, the boy refused to get up, so Wang Qiang had to set out for Qinghai Road on his own.

As always, he locked his motorcycle beneath the eaves. Twirling his keys on his fingers, Wang Qiang slipped into the stairwell, pondering last night’s uncertainty—would today’s business be as good as yesterday’s?

He hadn't finished his thought when a familiar voice called out.

“Brother Qiang, weren’t we supposed to open at eight? Why are you just getting here?”

Was that Jian?

Wang Qiang snapped back to reality and looked up. Jian, Wen, and six others were either sitting on the steps or standing by the door. He wiped his brow and said, “Sorry, I overslept.”

It was already close to half past eight.

Last night, after returning to the hostel and washing up, it was well past eleven before he finally dragged his weary body to bed; naturally, he slept a little late.

He opened the door.

Before he could even unlock the drawer holding the game cartridges, Jian, Wen, and the others clamored impatiently.

“Give me Fantasy Star first!”

“I didn’t sleep well at all last night.”

“Yeah, my head was full of the game, I’ve been waiting for morning.”

“Brother Qiang, hurry up! We’re all waiting.”

“Exactly, the other game rooms don’t have any puzzle cartridges. This place is way more fun.”

“I went to the game room on Maoling Road last time to collect money; they only had ordinary cartridges, boring as hell. Yesterday, when Brother Hailong asked me to stay and play, I thought it’d be dull, but then I tried ‘Metal Max’ and realized there are these puzzle cartridges—so much fun! I’ve got my fourth tank now. Once I’m done, you all should try it.”

“Fire Emblem is great, too. Wen, what are you playing?”

“Me? ‘Eight Treasure Beads.’ It’s fun, just a bit difficult.”

“How hard can it be? I don’t believe it. Once I’m done with ‘Super Robot Wars II,’ I’ll trade with you.”

Yet another challenger determined to take on the fiendishly difficult ‘Eight Treasure Beads.’

Wang Qiang quickly powered up their machines one by one. When he finally had a moment, he opened a window to let in some air.

Soon, more customers arrived.

It was Lin and Bin, who hadn’t come yesterday. Lin rushed in, saying, “Boss, give me ‘Eight Treasure Beads.’ I missed out yesterday, I’ve been dying to play.”

Wang Qiang, just returning to the counter, replied, “Uh, someone else has it right now. Want to try something else?”

Lin: “…Who’s playing it?”

Wang Qiang pointed to Wen in the third row on the left.

Lin simply walked over and sat beside Wen to watch him play. Having played for two days, Lin was ahead in progress and occasionally offered tips. The two strangers soon struck up a lively conversation.

Bin, though unable to play ‘Metal Max,’ eventually settled for ‘The Conquest of the Overlord.’

Then Huang Mao and Dong Xiaowu came in. Dong Xiaowu, still disgruntled with Wang Qiang, was compelled to come by Gu Xiaolei’s orders. Yesterday, watching his younger brother play ‘Dynasty Wars’ had enthralled him. Though his arm was in a sling, he wanted to start fresh under his brother’s guidance.

One after another, more people showed up—some from Gu Xiaolei’s group, some middle and elementary school students scared off yesterday morning.

Among them, a round-faced eleven-year-old and his friends entered, glancing nervously at Dong Xiaowu and Jian, and asked cautiously, “Boss, they won’t fight again today, will they?”

“No, no,” Wang Qiang reassured them. “They didn’t fight yesterday either. Play without worry. What would you like?”

The round-faced child thought for a moment. “Do you have the four-in-one Super Mario? I remember there’s Tank Battle in it. Li Xiaojun, later we’ll each play Mario for a bit, then play Tank Battle together, okay?”

Another child nodded vigorously. “Yes, yes, there aren’t many machines left. Let’s start quick, or we might miss our chance.”

Around ten o'clock, the game room filled up again. Wang Qiang breathed a sigh of relief, knowing he needn’t worry about business for now; soon, even more customers would come.

Just then Zhu Xiaofeng arrived, disheveled and munching on a bun. Seeing the packed room, he exclaimed, “Uncle Wang, it’s full already at ten?”

Wang Qiang, busy with bookkeeping and powering up machines, shot him a look. “Slept well, did you?”

Zhu Xiaofeng grinned, “You nap this afternoon, I’ll mind the store.”

…

Old Yao dropped by again. Having seen yesterday’s bustling afternoon, he wanted to see how mornings fared. After all, twenty machines and dozens of cartridges was quite the investment. He’d assumed mornings would be much quieter than afternoons, but found people standing and waiting for spots.

Seeing him at the door, Zhu Xiaofeng waved, “Uncle Yao, what brings you here?”

Old Yao coughed. His agreement with Wang Qiang was confidential, not meant for Zhu’s family to know. So he said, “Your parents went back to Wuhu to honor ancestors. I’m just checking if anyone’s causing trouble.”

Zhu Xiaofeng, young and unable to keep secrets, blurted, “Yesterday, yeah! Almost got someone chopped—scared me to death.”

Old Yao snorted, “Which bastard dares cause trouble here? I’ll fix them.”

Wang Qiang laughed, “It’s all resolved, Yao. If you’ve nothing else, why not stay a while?” He understood exactly why Old Yao was here, but couldn’t say so in front of Zhu Xiaofeng. As a man of his word, having promised Old Yao, Wang Qiang would never undermine him.

Old Yao nodded, “Alright, you carry on. I’ll watch for a bit.” He still doubted business would remain so strong.

…

Soon, lunch hour approached.

Logically, many should head home or find somewhere to eat, and business should dip.

But as Old Yao sat chatting with Wang Qiang, he was secretly alarmed. Indeed, some left for lunch, but even more streamed in, including a few street toughs. He at first thought they were here for protection money and warned them off.

Black Cat, just back from lunch, was also warned by Old Yao and complained, “Boss Yao, who’d dare collect protection money here? I just want to play.”

Old Yao, confused, said nothing.

“Boss, when will there be a free machine?” Black Cat saw the room packed and asked immediately.

“Let me check.” Wang Qiang flipped through the logbook, glanced at his watch—11:26. “Machine seven has five minutes left. I’ll check if they’ll renew.”

“I'll ask!” Black Cat dashed to machine seven to find out.

…

Around two in the afternoon, the game room reached its peak.

From his spot at the counter, Wang Qiang saw a sea of people. Besides the twenty occupied machines, three or four people stood behind each one. The sixty-five-square-meter room, usually spacious with twenty machines, now felt cramped and stifling. Each time Wang Qiang went to remind someone their time was up, he had to squeeze through the throng. He even wondered if he'd rented too small a place.

Not everyone was there to play—some students, short on cash, simply watched others.

But most really wanted to play, and with no available machines, they could only wait, reminiscent of the bustling arcades Wang Qiang recalled.

“Hey, your time’s up. Renew?” Wang Qiang asked the young man at machine three.

The youth was playing a puzzle cartridge—three yuan an hour, quite pricey. He hesitated, saved his progress, and regretfully said, “No, I’ll log off.”

No sooner had he stood up than two students pounced on the spot, one chubby one handing over money, “Boss, we want Street Fighter.” He meant the FC version of ‘Street Fighter II,’ not the arcade version. Officially, there was no FC Street Fighter; only a Game Boy version existed, and the FC one was a bootleg from Taiwan.

Many who missed out were displeased.

“Hey, those two!”

“Fast enough, eh?”

“See? You lost your chance by waiting.”

“Boss, which machine’s almost done?”

A brief scramble ensued as seven or eight people crowded Wang Qiang, eager to know which machine would soon be free.

It left Wang Qiang speechless.

Just days ago, he’d worried about having too few customers; now he only wished he had more machines. But with only twenty, and the summer break almost over, business would likely dip soon, so twenty was just right.

With everyone looking to him for answers, Wang Qiang shouted, “Machine eleven has ten minutes left. Don’t…” Before he could finish, the group dispersed, rushing to lurk behind the two students at machine eleven.

Under so many watchful eyes, the two students grew unnerved and logged off two or three minutes early, sparking another frenzy for spots.

Was this level of enthusiasm really necessary?

Why did there seem to be even more people than yesterday?

Though he sensed this was the summer’s final madness, Wang Qiang almost couldn’t resist getting more machines and puzzle cartridges. At last, he restrained himself, chuckling at his own lack of composure—despite being decades old at heart. But it wasn’t just him; anyone faced with this scene would want to expand.

What did it mean for business to be booming?

This was booming business!

A packed game room—wasn't that good enough?

Now, not only were all seats filled, but many were waiting for their turn.

Wang Qiang had a premonition: perhaps after operating just one more day, he would fulfill his promise to his mother and achieve his first goal since returning to life.