Yin and Yang – Chinatown, New York City
The Wáng Fãi Dumpling Factory on East Broadway is a flurry of activity as Shadow and Wednesday ascend a metal staircase leading up to the second floor. Amongst the metallic clank of their shoes hitting the aluminum staircase that feels rickety and gives Shadow the impression that it could collapse at any second; is the usual sights and sounds of a hundred strong immigrant factory workers in dark blue overalls preparing and packaging a variety of generic branded dumplings in preparation for Chinese New Year celebrations that will be dominating Manhattan in the coming weeks.
At the peak of the staircase is a dilapidated wooden door that leads to the factory's office and reception area where a middle aged woman with a thick New York accent is answering phones in English and speaking with her fellow staffers in Mandarin. Shadow and Wednesday are able to wander past without a mere glance in their direction.
Wednesday leads Shadow through a wooden sliding door where upon opening; the distant noise of the factory that was heard downstairs is drowned out by the sound of Mandarin language heavy metal music as well as a blast of cold air from an industrial air conditioning system.
Built within the walls of a deconstructed storage space is a studio apartment belonging to a pair of Chinese deities who appear to have adopted the lifestyles of their followers.
Shadow looks around him trying to get a sense of his surroundings. On every wall there appears to be the famous "Taijitu" in various forms of artistic decoration whether from cross stitching to framed paintings made with water colours or oil based paint. To stone carvings illuminated by LED lights, to wooden figurines that were hand carved by poor craftsmen who sold their wares at road side markets for bargain basement price.
Shadow needs no introduction from Wednesday who appears to be eyeing the two figures who inhabit the apartment. Both of whom have not aged a day since their meeting in the desert more than two millenniums prior.
Dressed in a black and white sweatshirt with matching tights, Yin is at her desktop computer playing one of her favourite first person shooters, where through a noise cancelling headset she curses in both English and Mandarin at her fellow online gamers. The image of an avatar resembling a sorceress being struck down with dark magic is seen reflected on the lenses of her prescription Ray-Ban Wayfarers. She pauses briefly only to take the occasional sip from her cup of "boba" tea. While Yang on the other hand is hard at work practicing his turns, spins, and strikes using a six-foot fighting staff that's made of beech wood. Yang's ambition to be the next Bruce Lee of the twenty-first century never ceases to amaze Wednesday who can't help but feel overtly jealous of the pair in which immortality has maintained their youthful appearance. Even Shadow concedes that a man with his physical strength and fighting skill would never stand a chance against someone formidable like Yang in a violent confrontation.
If anyone could intimidate the both of them; it would be Yang. Beads of sweat glisten from his bald scalp and muscular physique as he propels himself into his workout that has become a passionate routine for him over many decades.