The Zodiac Schmodiac Story Cycle

At Least I Have My Mustache

Old Zhang seemed to have been part of the neighborhood since time began. All of the children knew him because they bought his red bean cakes after school, his shop was across from the elementary school. The adults knew him from the time when they were students, and after they grew up they learned to appreciate his hearty soups and noodles. The old folks couldn't remember a time when they hadn't known Zhang. He was as much a part of the scenery as the parks, as constant as taxes.  

Old Zhang's shop only took five days off per year; three days for the Spring Festival, a day for Dragonboat Festival, and a day for Mid-Autumn Festival. He was open on weekends, open on all other holidays, he opened on typhoon days and on the day after the earthquake which nearly brought the shop down around his head. When his children asked him why he never took a vacation he simply replied "If I take a day off where will the people eat?" Even though his shop showed its 50-some years clearly in the form of grease and grime, the people still came. He wasn't much with a broom, but his kitchen was immaculate, sparkling clean. The health department inspector tried to chide him for not making an effort to renovate the dining area, but he was a regular customer as well and everyone knew it.  

When he was 14 he had started selling food. He learned how to cook from his mother, and once he learned what she knew he was expected to do all of the cooking while she went to work. His father had died when he was still a child, and as the oldest child he knew it was his duty to help as much as he could. His mother died when he was 14, and he took to the streets selling noodles from a pushcart to take care of his brother and sister. When his brother was old enough he was sent out to become an aprentice candy maker, his sister married young and moved in with her husband's family. At 18 Old Zhang was on his own, and since his cart was so popular he kept selling noodles. He opened his store on his 20th birthday and now, more than 50 years later, he was still selling the noodles his mother had taught him to cook so long ago. 

"Ah, Zhang, what a fine day we're having today!" Old Mr. Chen had been the first customer of the day for 15 years now.  

"Mr. Chen, the weather is no man's friend. Surely it will be raining buckets on our poor heads by afternoon." 

They shared a laugh as Old Zhang prepared a bowl of noodles and squid chowder. The same breakfast was served each day, the same was served for lunch and dinner as well. The squid chowder was good, his mother's secret recipe, but sometimes Zhang had doubts that she'd just learned it from a newspaper. Well, the customers liked to think that it was an old secret family recipe.  

"Your mustache is looking wonderful as usual, Zhang," Mr. Chen said as he sat at the rickety table and prepared to eat.  

"If the god of the skies gave me nothing good in this life, at least he gave me my mustache. It's good for a man to have at least one thing he can be proud of," Zhang replied.  

"I once mentioned to Mrs. Chen that I wanted to have a mustache like yours, and she laughed me to scorn." Mr. Chen had told the same story at least twice a week for fifteen years, but Old Zhang never tired of hearing it. He may not have much, but at least he had his mustache, the one great thing that he had in life.  

Have you ever seen an old painting of a Chinese official or soldier? Their beards are terrible. Most Asian men can't grow facial hair to save their lives. Zhang had tried once or twice to turn his mustache into a full beard, but the beard came in thin and whispy, making him look like he had a handful of corn silk stuck to his face. But the mustache, it was beautiful. No one who knew or met Zhang had ever seen anything like it. Full, dark, and luxuriant, it sat under his nose like a gift from the gods, a sign that even a poor noodle merchant could have something fabulous in life. Perhaps it was a final gift from his mother for taking care of his siblings after she died. It seemed to come in overnight just after his sister was married. No matter where it had come from, it was his pride and joy, the one thing in the world that always made him smile and stand a little bit taller.