ABSTRACT
Summer in Chengdu is like summer in New York City: hot and humid. One rarely sees the face of the sun but feels toasted nonetheless. Xiaoyue is an old friend from my childhood. I was supposed to meet him in a da chaguan at 2:00. 1 At 2:30, as I was about to leave and find some cooler place to sit, he appeared, wearing a white polo shirt, baggy dress pants, and black sneakers. As usual, he looked wan and tired.
