Mei, a Yum Cha worker

Mei’s phone buzzed against her thigh just as she ducked under a dripping air conditioner unit. The text glowed on her screen: “We’re out of fortune cookies. Pick some up on your way in. I’ll reimburse you. – Mr. Chen”

She groaned, wiping sweat from her brow. The Golden Dragon Yum Cha restaurant was still five blocks away, and her shift started in twenty minutes. The main Asian supermarket where they usually sourced their supplies was even farther. Perfect.

But she was in Chinatown now, surely some hole-in-the-wall grocer would have what she needed. She scanned the crammed storefronts: herbalists, fishmongers, a cramped shop selling dusty porcelain vases and paper lanterns. Then she saw it, a narrow door wedged between a laundromat and a boarded-up storefront, with a faded sign that simply read “Good Fortune Imports.”

A bell chimed when she pushed the door open. The air inside was thick with the smell of sandalwood and something else, something metallic, like old coins. Shelves sagged under the weight of mismatched ceramics, bamboo scrolls, and red envelopes stacked in messy piles. Behind a cluttered counter, an old man with milky eyes and thin grey hair looked up from polishing a jade figurine.

“Excuse me, do you sell fortune cookies?” Mei asked, her voice tighter than she intended.

The man’s gaze drifted over her, slow and assessing. He didn’t smile. Without a word, he turned and shuffled into the shadowy recess of the shop. Mei heard the rustle of paper, the slide of a drawer. When he returned, he held a red cardboard box, its edges softened with age. The design was simple, a golden dragon coiled around characters she didn’t recognise. Lóng de zàofù.

“Ten dollars,” he said, his voice like dry leaves.

Mei hesitated. She’d never seen this brand before. The cookies at the supermarket came in bright cellophane bags with smiling cartoon dragons. This box looked like it belonged in a museum.

But the clock was ticking.

She handed over the cash. The man’s fingers brushed against hers, cold, despite the humid air, and for a second, she thought she felt the box tremble.

“Enjoy,” he said, though it sounded less like a comment and more like a warning.

Mei stuffed the box into her bag and hurried out, the bell chiming once more behind her. She didn’t look back. If she had, she might have seen the old man watching her through the grimy window, a faint, crooked smile on his lips.

She made it to the Golden Dragon with two minutes to spare, the strange cookies burning a hole in her bag all the way.