(Late in the morning, in China at the end of the 19th century)

Lung was returning home, a small rundown hut in the forest, happy about his winnings at the time he spent betting on teacups. Surely his grandfather would be pleased with the money he had gotten-- they could buy a month's worth of quality wine with the coins he had. Though, grandfather surely won't tolerate that he gambled. Hopefully he won't run into any trouble, as usual. Grandfather always urged him to find proper work like everyone else but he just can't seem to.

Getting into a small fight with three guys doesn't count as trouble, does it? He didn't get beat up. Grandfather would definitely be proud that his little Lung used his kung fu to 'defend' himself. Oh, yeah-- he didn't want him to use the kung fu out in public. Stupid Lung.

On the way home, he encountered a small stall that had delicious food on display. "Woahh," he gushed underneath his breath, taking his time to approach and pick one. He decided on the jianbing (savory crepes) and tangyuan (sweet glutinous rice balls in syrup).

"Can I get the jianbing and tangyuan?" he asked as he glanced at the vendor--

You.