There was a place in Shandong called Taixian.
It had shop decorated in a simple fashion selling breakfast. There were three young men who were about twenty-five to twenty-six years old sitting there with grave expressions and straight backs. Their faces were gloomy, and they did not touch the Chinese steamed barbeque pork buns and the snacks in front of them. One of them held a spoon and toyed with some plain porridge in front of him. There was a scowl on his face, and he looked absent-minded, as if he was burdened by something very great.
A few girls in the restaurant sized up the three men who were built, dressed in army green tank tops, and had strong looking faces. Even though their attire made them look poor, their eyes were full of life, their muscles were tight, and the lines of their bodies were full of power. They exuded an aggressive and manly aura, and they managed to attract the gazes of the girls who had finished their breakfast.
