Chapter 96: The Video Parlor

Not even a meter into the house stood a large upright wooden board, plastered with movie posters of various sizes. The largest one featured Joey Wong.

To the left of the board was a passageway, the entry point—granted you bought a ticket first at the small table to the right.

Behind the table sat a woman in her early thirties, dressed in a red tank top and jeans. She was tall and slim, the tank's low neckline revealing a tattoo of a butterfly just above her collarbone. A cigarette pinched in her left fingers, a pager under her right hand, she didn’t even look up as she asked, “How many?”

“Four. Sister Mei, haven’t seen you in a while—you’re looking prettier than ever.”

“Sister Mei, your man not here today? You running the place solo?”

Panzi and Leizi handed over the money, buttering her up as they did.

They didn’t really know Sister Mei well, but being in that awkward in-between age where you’re not quite grown but no longer a kid, they knew a sweet tongue and a keen eye could go a long way. On quiet days, if you bought one ticket, you might be able to hang around and catch another film or two.

Sister Mei stashed the cash in a drawer, tore off four tickets, exhaled a smoke ring, and cursed:

“Hell if I know where that bastard ran off to today!”

Her man, nicknamed Bao, was one of the better-known thugs in the area, often called Brother Bao.

Without a background like his, a woman like Sister Mei wouldn't be able to run a place like this.

Tickets in hand, Li Zhuiyuan and Runsheng followed Panzi and Leizi through the passageway on the left. The wooden board not only marked the entrance but also blocked the doorway light.

The space inside was fairly large, the center ringed with low benches like a makeshift cinema.

In the past, small-town theaters could stay afloat with bulk ticket sales from state-run factories and the occasional stage performance. But with the steady loss of public backing, they inevitably fell into decline.

That vacuum allowed places like Sister Mei’s video parlor to spring up and flourish.

Against the north wall stood a long cabinet with an old color TV on top and a VCR below.

Runsheng leaned in close to Li Zhuiyuan, whispering excitedly, “Xiaoyuan, this TV’s way bigger than the one Great-Grandpa bought yesterday.”

Li Zhuiyuan smiled. “This one’s for everyone. At home, no matter how small, it’s just you watching.”

Runsheng nodded. “True that. But last night, all the channels froze on one screen and just buzzed.

Scared the life out of me. Thought I broke the new TV. Good thing it was back to normal this morning.”

“Runsheng-ge, maybe the TV station folks rest at night too.”

“Mhm.” Runsheng sighed. “Too bad they can’t work shifts.”

“Runsheng-ge, let’s sit.”

Though it was only afternoon, a few people were already seated. The film playing was Prison on Fire starring Chow Yun-fat and Tony Leung Ka-fai.

The movie was halfway through.

Barring any big surprises, the screening times were fairly regular. Panzi and the others had timed their arrival just right to catch half a movie for free.

Teenagers didn’t come by spare cash easily, so they learned to stretch every penny, aiming to get the most entertainment for the least money.

Li Zhuiyuan also noticed a curtained, shadowy little door in the video parlor’s southeast corner. It looked quite mysterious.

Didn’t seem like a kitchen—no smell of oil or smoke.

Even though the movie was already in progress, everyone quickly got drawn into the plot.

Time flew by. As the film ended in a swirl of that uniquely melancholy Hong Kong cinematic language, Sister Mei came in to stand beside the TV. She didn’t care about ruining the mood and shouted the next film would be A Better Tomorrow and to prep for another round.

Some folks left, but most stayed and bought another ticket.

Sister Mei glanced over at Panzi’s group but said nothing—basically acknowledging they’d bought tickets for this showing.

A Better Tomorrow began to play.

At this time, Hong Kong cinema was at its peak, dominating not just Chinese-speaking regions but also making waves in Japan, Korea, and Southeast Asia.

Most tapes at the parlor were Hong Kong films. Occasionally, there’d be foreign ones, but the covers were always rather racy.

But after one Chow Yun-fat movie, another followed, and Li Zhuiyuan found it hard to stay engaged.

It reminded him of when the older boys in the family compound, grateful he’d done their homework, made him binge-watch Ultraman Leo all day.

Episode after episode, even skipping the opening and ending themes. Watching one a day had been pure bliss. Bingeing them all just dulled the excitement into repetition fatigue.

Earlier, Leizi had slipped out to the corner store and returned with four sodas—one for each of them.

Their brick-laying gigs at the kiln didn’t pay much, and their parents took half anyway. What little they kept could only afford small luxuries like this.

Barely fifteen minutes into the film, four young men burst in. The lead wore an ill-fitting suit vest despite the heat. The other three had their shirts off, slung over their shoulders, oozing street swagger.

They smoked loudly and cackled even louder, exaggerating every word.

Clearly familiar with the movie, they chatted while spoiling scenes, every sentence peppered with swearing.

The audience was clearly annoyed, but no one said a thing. They were four guys, after all.

Panzi and Leizi whispered to Li Zhuiyuan and Runsheng, naming the newcomers and listing their street credentials.

Teen boys often harbored a strange awe for these petty delinquents, as if knowing them was some kind of badge of honor.

But thanks to Li Lan’s influence, the Li family placed heavy emphasis on education. Panzi and Leizi were both in high school. Had they dropped out in junior high, they might’ve been running with this crowd too.

Li Zhuiyuan didn’t mind the smoke—after all, even Great-Grandpa Li Weihan smoked. But he couldn’t stand their shouting. Eventually, he got up and moved to the back row near the wall, where there were taller chairs, better than the short benches up front.

Panzi and Leizi, seeing he’d just moved, turned back to keep watching.

Just then, the guy in the vest shouted to the back, “Sister Mei! Where are you? Been waiting forever!”

Sister Mei poked her head out from behind the board and cursed, “Yell, yell, yell—yelling for your mom’s ghost, are you? Look at the time! I called them already—they’ll be here soon!”

“Hehehe.” The vest guy didn’t get mad. He just whistled at Sister Mei. “Guess Bao’s been using you too much—look at you, sagging already.”

“Go screw your grandma!”

Sister Mei cursed again and disappeared behind the board.

Not long after, two women walked in, both over thirty, caked in makeup and wearing skirts.

They sat down on either side of Li Zhuiyuan and looked him over curiously.

“Well now, little cutie, you waiting here for us ladies?”

“Such soft skin, so pale. But tell me, how does a boy your age already know his way around?”

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