Chinese time of my life

**$CHINESE: The Lore** Every night, the market screams. Vendors shout. Scooters scream back. A man sells one sock and calls it a bargain. At the center sits a figure on a stool. He does not move. He has never moved. The stool may be load-bearing. Before him, a steamer. Lid on. "The lid stays on," he says. This is all he says. A pigeon lands on the stool's edge. It wants rent. Nobody knows what the pigeon owns. The figure slides it one dumpling. The pigeon leaves, unsatisfied, and returns tomorrow with a clipboard. The market panics. The market always panics. Prices rise, fall, and rise again in a language no one speaks. The figure waits. Steam gathers. The quiet does the work. When the lid finally lifts, the dumplings are done. They were always going to be done. *Not financial advice. Just dumplings.*