The waitress placed the menu on our table. Its plastic cover was slightly yellowed and sticky. I opened it.
The pages were filled with pictures of food that were too bright, a little faded at the edges. I didn't recognize most of the names, just rows of complex Mandarin characters.
I pointed to the first picture I saw, something bright red with pieces of dried chili floating on top. Mapo Tofu.
It was the most expensive item on the page. Then my finger moved down, searching for the cheapest. A small bowl of clear broth with a few pieces of green vegetables and white tofu. Vegetable and Tofu Soup.
"This one," I said to the waitress, pointing to both pictures. "And tea."
The waitress nodded without expression, jotted something down in her small notebook, then turned to Belial.
Belial didn't look at the menu. He just pointed to a large picture of beef noodles on the first page.
"One," he said.
Then he closed the menu and placed it back in the middle of the table.
