You didn't come for the food. No one does. You push past the steam on the glass. The sign says 福運, though on a bad night one character dies and it just reads 運, luck with the fortune burned off. A cleaver keeps time in the kitchen. Nobody stops you.
Behind the kitchen, a curtain of bamboo beads. Thru the beads, the floor: red light, smoke, a table where the bishop and the beggar bleed the same.
This type of dealer doesn't take your money. He plays you a few bars instead, meant only for you, and gone before you can name it. You'll hear it again. The house will make sure of it.