In the heart of the bustling metropolis, where skyscrapers pierced the clouds and the night was painted with neon hues, Li Ming navigated the pavements wearing, as always, too many glasses. His father had once claimed it was a family tradition; his grandfather wore glasses for reading, another pair for watching TV, and yet another for using the computer. At some point, Ming started wearing multiple pairs simultaneously — seeing the world in layers, literally.
“Wearing that many, you trying to discover alien life?” scoffed Wang Jie, his coworker, and self-appointed life coach, as they stomped through the evening drizzle toward their favorite noodle joint.
“Perhaps I’m just seeing more than you, Jie,” Li replied, a hint of mirth in his voice. There was a comfort in the absurdity; it made the mundane feel eccentric.
Their city was a peculiar symphony of order and chaos. Home to bustling streets where orderlies, unkempt artists, executives, and beggars formed an eclectic mix, dancing around each other in structured anarchy. It was here, amid the cacophony, that Li found stories. Little did he know his latest story would find him.
The bell above the noodle shop door sang its metallic tune as they entered. The proprietor, Ma Shu, a man who saw eternity in the act of noodle-making, greeted them with a knowing nod and a warm, spicy aroma that filled the room.
“You wearing those for extra vision or hidden agenda, Mr. Li?” Shu jested as he wiped his hands on a stained apron.
“What if I told you they’re really a disguise, Shu? That I’m hiding from the world’s insanity beneath these lenses?”
“Ah, that would explain why you still come here,” Shu smiled, ladling generous portions into bowls.
As they ate, their conversation wandered through the predictable labyrinth of urban life’s pitfalls — the inflated rent, lost loves, the city’s absurdities, when a newcomer, a weary-eyed vagabond, strolled in, seating himself at the bar with a sigh as heavy as the evening fog.
Li’s curiosity was piqued. “New regular, Shu?” he asked between slurps, eyes flicking over several rims.
“First time,” Shu shrugged, “Quiet sort.”
Instinct pulled Li as he approached the newcomer. “Not seen you around. Passing through?”
The man, eyes devoid of hope, merely nodded, fingers tracing the rim of an unused bowl. “I’m searching.”
“For?” Li coaxed gently, mindful of the delicate line between intrusion and interest.
“Someone who can see,” the man confessed, his voice a mere whisper. “Someone amidst this glass constellation, able to glimpse the unseen.”
Jie raised an eyebrow. “Aliens, eh?” he quipped, mouth full of noodles.
Li unraveled his glasses, setting them—one, two, three—on the counter before peering directly into the man’s own weary eyes. “You think layers reveal more truth?”
The vagabond nodded, leaning closer. “It’s hidden here, something within these city veins. Perhaps you’ve found it already.”
Jie chuckled, wiping sauce from his chin. “Maybe it’s just indigestion.”
Their laughter drew reluctant smiles, even from the vagabond. The moment was brief, interrupted by the sudden sharp blaring of sirens slicing into the quiet of the shop. Outside, shadows flickered like a dance macabre on the wet streets.
Li turned back to the vagabond, intent on pressing for answers, yet was met only by an empty stool and three glasses still perched before him. A chill crept over Li as if the man’s departure had been as surreal as his presence.
Amidst the clamor, there lingered an unfinished tale, a mystery wrapped in layers, much like Li’s glasses, each lens revealing a fragment, a facet.
Jie clapped a hand on his shoulder, eyes dancing with amusement and confusion, the vagabond’s curiosity swirling between them like smoke. “You think he meant it?”
Li gazed at the glasses—a pile of choices and stories untold. “Perhaps,” he murmured, “But then again, maybe it’s just the city playing its game of smoke and mirrors.”
They laughed, the sound mingling with the night, leaving Li to ponder if his lenses were hiding the true insanity or simply showing too much of it.