Late night, White Stone District, Pandier Bar.
Outside at the open-air table, a foreign guest is talking on the phone. The waiter quietly brings the third glass of beer and leaves.
Foreigners are rarely seen around here, and now even less so would tourists visit. It's so late at night, maybe this man in black has nowhere else to go?
Thinking this, the waiter looks inside the bar where men and women are drinking themselves into a stupor, finding comfort in each other's company, while cries and whimpers fill the colored glass windows. Many people have nowhere to go, and this man is no different. After all, I'm lucky; the bar still stands, I still have a job, and life can still go on.
The waiter leaves, Yan Qi grabs the beer glass, downs nearly half a liter in one go, and wipes his mouth. The old friend on the other end of the phone sighs: "Still in the mood to drink, huh."
