Old, shriveled, wrinkled, with large thick glasses. Guan Wei speaks softly, and often coughs which makes it even harder to understand him through his accent. When he walks he limps, from an old injury of no consequence if anyone asks.
Guan Wei came to America in the 70s and set up a small shop in the middle of china town to import authentic Chinese artifacts. He was going to live the American dream. Guan had rugs, and vases, and tapestries, all sorts of décor. And none of it sold. What he found did sell were the curiosities, it was mostly minor trinkets, old folk charms, odds and ends. Stuff he considered ‘chintzy crap’. Or atleast he did, that was until his shop was robbed. Something happened that night, and now Guan Wei knows, he knows a lot more than he should. Like which charms he should sell to the tourists and which to save for his… eccentric clientele.
He won’t talk about that night, not even his family knows what happened in the shop that night, but what they do know is as long as they are circumspect with their knowledge and dealings their livelihood is safe. Should they fail to be circumspect something tells them that it’s not just their livelihood that would come to an end.