The next morning, sunlight streamed through the thin curtains of their new apartment, casting soft golden patterns across the living room floor. It was Saturday quiet, unhurried, and warm in the way only Briggon mornings could be. Eli signed in
After a quick breakfast of instant coffee and tea, Eli and Jin hopped onto the scooter and headed down to The Corner Pocket, weaving through the steady traffic of locals heading to market or late breakfasts.
The store's familiar sign came into view, slightly crooked as always but comforting. The door jingled softly as they stepped inside.
Mr. Duan stood behind the counter, sleeves rolled up, restocking a basket of dried noodles. His face lit up when he saw them.
"Ah! Look who the wind brought in," he said warmly.
"Morning," Eli said, returning the smile. "Got a few things I wanted to go over. Business stuff, if you've got a minute."
Mr. Duan nodded, setting the basket aside. "follow me into the Office."
They headed to the cramped back room, where a metal fan spun lazily in the corner and a whiteboard full of scribbled delivery notes hung crookedly on the wall.
Eli pulled out a folded paper. "I've been looking at the weekend numbers. We're seeing more foot traffic from the new gathering hall , especially during meeting hours and festivals. I think we should lean into that. Maybe a small stand outside with snacks or quick lunches—rice balls, cold drinks."
Mr. Duan scratched his chin. "Mm. We could try it. Cheap to test. You think Jin would help with signage?"
"He's good with clean fonts," Eli smirked. "And he has opinions."
Mr. Duan chuckled. "Takes after you."
Meanwhile, Jin had wandered toward the small refrigerated section, where Mian stood arranging fruit yogurt cups in neat rows. She glanced over and gave him a nod.
"New shoes," she said, noticing the navy blue Hanri pair on his feet.
Jin looked down, shrugged. "Yeah. Got them yesterday."
"They look expensive."
"They were."
Mian gave a small smirk. "So you're rich now?"
"Not even close," he said, nudging a cup with his toe. "Just lucky."
She opened a yogurt and offered him one. "Welcome to Briggon."
He accepted it, sitting down beside the crate stack.
They didn't say much else at first, just sat there under the hum of the refrigerator. Eventually, Mian added, "I heard you're starting at Greatheight."
Jin gave a small nod. "Yeah."
"It's not the worst school," she said. "Some kids suck, but the art teacher gives out snacks if you pretend to care about your project."
Jin raised an eyebrow. "Good to know."
They both took a bite of yogurt at the same time. It wasn't exactly friendship—but it was a start.
Back in the office, Mr. Duan leaned back in his chair. "You've got good ideas, Eli. The community likes you. You're not like the usual city types. You seem to understand and care for this community"
Eli glanced at the faded photo on the desk—Mr. Duan in shorts and a white top, standing in front of the same store, holding a crate of apples. "I'm just trying to keep up."
Mr. Duan gave a slow nod. "Well, you're doing more than that."
By noon, the store bustled. Kids ran past the shelves, old women haggled over mushrooms, and the air smelled faintly of oranges and soy sauce. Eli stepped back out front and saw Jin and Mian sitting together on crates, both eating yogurt, neither saying much—but neither walking away.
He smiled to himself.
This was why they moved.
For school. For people. For rhythm.
For days like this.
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The Corner Pocket was in full Saturday swing—customers trickled in and out, the scent of steamed buns and dried fish mixing in the air. Jin was helping Mian restock instant noodles near the front. Eli was back behind the counter, updating stock numbers in the system, while Mr. Duan counted receipts with one eye on the candy rack, making sure no kid got too bold.
The door jingled, followed by the heavy click of polished leather shoes against the old floor of the store. Everything seemed to slow just slightly.
Eli looked up.
Mr. Feng.
Sleek dark blazer, glossy hair swept back like he was headed for a business gala, not a neighborhood grocery. A thin smile stretched across his face, but his eyes—sharp and calculating—didn't match it. He walked in like he owned the place, gaze drifting lazily across the modest shelves and worn tile.
Mr. Duan stiffened ever so slightly behind the counter. "Feng," he greeted, voice polite but guarded.
"Ah," Mr. Feng said, spreading his arms as though embracing the space. "So nostalgic. This store still smells the same." His tone dripped with fake warmth. "Soy sauce and… mildew."
Eli straightened up but kept his tone even. "Anything we can help you with?"
Feng's eyes landed on him, interest flickering. "You must be the new partner I've heard about. The young man with the big ideas."
Eli offered a tight nod. "That's me."
Mr. Feng chuckled, the sound hollow. "I do love ambition. It's such a… temporary thing."
He walked over to the pickled radish display, idly tapping a jar with his knuckle.
"I just thought I'd stop by," he said casually, "to offer a reminder to my old friend Duan."
Mr. Duan's jaw tensed, but he said nothing.
Mr. Feng's gaze sharpened as he turned fully to face them.
"SuperMartX opens this Monday." He smiled, wide and cold. "Right down the block. Prime location. Grand opening deals. Full marketing rollout. And—of course—air conditioning."
He let the words hang in the air like smoke.
Mr. Duan gave a hard grunt. "We're aware."
"Of course you are," Feng said. "I just didn't want you caught off guard. It's always better to know… when the tide is coming in."
He paused, then turned to Eli. "I hear you've put a lot of effort into this place. That's commendable. Really. But you know how it goes—some tides you can't stop. Some waves… wash everything clean."
He clapped his hands softly, like the matter was settled. "Well. That's all. Just a neighborly visit."
Then, with a grin too white and a goodbye too smooth, he turned and walked out.
The bell above the door jingled again as it closed behind him, and the store fell quiet for a long beat.
Jin looked up from the noodle aisle, wide-eyed. Mian scowled in the direction Mr. Feng had left.
Mr. Duan let out a slow breath and muttered, "Snake in a suit."
Eli said nothing—but his fists were clenched behind the counter.
SuperMartX was coming.
And the real fight was about to begin.