One day…
Bang!! Bang!!
"Order and move it, you lazy brat! Don't block the front!"
The street vendor banged the pan, shouting at the customers standing along the narrow sidewalk. Smoke and clatter filled the air, creating a chaotic scene.
"Why'd you drag me into this slum alley, Ming? The street's muddy, smells like sewage, and it's noisy as hell," muttered the younger twin, scrunching up their face at everything they saw—from the alley's depths to the part of the city the rich avoided.
But the older twin, indifferent to the mess, led them to a small eatery by the polluted canal. The unpleasant stench mixed with mossy black-green fences created a setting so far from serene that it almost defied description.
Sizzle! Clang!
Water poured into a hot pan, sizzling and being poured out into the canal. Oil was poured in, and ingredients stir-fried again—a scene that made the younger twin's throat tighten at the raw intensity of street food in a slum. Yet the locals seemed unfazed, calmly eating amid the smoke, dust, and smells.
"No fermented pork fried rice!"
"You can have my fermented pork," called someone.
"Are you joking? If you don't want anything, get out!"
The vendor's loud, boisterous voice competed with the neighborhood's noise. The chaotic and unfiltered service was the opposite of what you'd see in a fancy mall. The younger twin was astonished, still wondering why the older brother had brought them there.
"This place is so loud. Why did you bring me here? It's hot, it smells, and who even recommended this place? Gross," the younger twin complained, scrunching up their face and waving a hand in front of their nose, trying to avoid the discomfort—but still followed their brother.
"Quiet, Khwan, or you'll get stomped," whispered Ming, the older twin, who always knew how to handle situations. "So, yesterday I was scrolling TikTok, and someone mentioned this place. They said the vendor's handsome, and then when the vendor served the food, the camera caught your face. I freaked out and dropped my phone on my face."
The younger twin still didn't understand their brother's strange ideas.
"Wait… you screamed in the house? Did you like it, or did you see a cockroach?"
"Just wait until the vendor serves the food you'll see for yourself," Ming replied, nodding toward the old cart with a faded vinyl sheet hiding the vendor's tall frame.
One day…
BANG!!
"Waaah!"
Before a word could be said, the fried rice with egg that they ordered was slammed onto the old table so hard that some of it spilled. Kwan, the younger twin, instinctively raised a hand to his chest in shock, nearly toppling off the plastic chair. His smooth, fair face tilted up to look at the cook, and he couldn't help blurting out,
"Whoa!"
"What are you screaming for? Are you crazy?" Thick eyebrows knitted as the cook stared at the twin with a slightly annoyed look.
"F-Fia…" Kwan's lips parted, almost whispering the name of someone as his eyes locked on the cook, unblinking.
"What the hell are you talking about? This is your two orders of fried rice, drinks are self-service!" The loud voice snapped Kwan out of his daze, and he ducked his head, embarrassed.
The cook, greasy-faced with messy long hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, gave a frown as he looked at the pale, neatly dressed customer who practically glowed among the locals. He turned and stomped back to his cooking area, swaying his body like a street tough making food.
Kwan's gaze ran over the tall cook in a black t-shirt with a red, MSG-stained apron. His ripped jeans were frayed at the knees, and the back was torn so widely that the red underwear showed.
Despite the messy hair and sweat from the hot, humid weather, the cook's face, height, and build were uncannily similar to Kwan's old friend's ex-boyfriend.
"He looks exactly like Fia… like a twin, and with that apron, it's even crazier," Kwan muttered.
The younger twin wrinkled his nose at the grimy, narrow street-cart setup that barely qualified as a "restaurant," rusty cart, uneven chairs, motorcycles weaving past. Yet the cook, slightly tanned, resembled the long-lost twin so closely.
"See? I told you, total surprise~" Ming, the older twin, dug into his fried rice with a nod, impressed by the food even if the presentation was rough. Kwan eyed the rice but being picky, he slid his plate over to his brother and continued whispering about the cook.
"So, what's the deal? I don't get it."
"This guy's name is Fahsai."
"Damn, even the name's similar."
"Yeah, he's a street-food cook, thirty years old."
"Whoa! Same age too?"
"Yep, but grew up poor, worked from a young age, lives in the slums."
"And?"
"You know this area, right? They're evicting people from unauthorized spots."
"What are you planning?"
"I'm gonna help both my friend and him. Remember our talk with Ueng-ing? The company bought land in the slum—this is the place. And Fia's family home is about to be evicted. I'm gonna turn this crisis into an opportunity. Help our friend cheer up while letting him reconnect with someone who looks like Fia."
"Are you crazy? Will he even go for it? And what if Ueng-ing finds out later that you hired someone who looks like Fia to get close? Will he stop being friends with us?"
"Why would he stop? We tried everything else. Anyone we suggested didn't work. This might finally help him stop sulking."
"But…"
"Don't overthink it. Do you want to see our friend depressed forever? He's an only child. Don't you want him to have his spark back?"
"But this cook…" Kwan wrinkled his face, glancing at the cook arguing with dogs, cats, old folks, and young guys alike. The man didn't have an ounce of charm in his service, so how could he possibly handle a picky rich kid like Ueng-ing?
BANG!! BANG!! BANG!!
"Oi, get out of my way, you spotty brat!"
Woof!! Woof!! Woof!!
"Hey, this rice is spicy."
"If you can't handle it, go eat plain soup, don't order stir-fried chili paste, are you insane?"
"Heh… so rude."
If you want, I can continue the next scene in this smooth English style, keeping the humor, character personalities, and chaotic street-food vibe intact.
Do you want me to do that?