Peaches and Plums Don’t Speak – Chapter 88
by Little PandaSigh
Anzhi stood frozen in place as if someone had pressed her acupressure points1, her mind constantly replaying the scene: Yan Xi’s expression shifting from gently and patiently persuading her, to calmly saying, “Fine, go have dinner then.”
Frame by frame. She didn’t miss a single detail.
Then a twinge of panic rose in her heart: Was Yan Xi angry?
She tried to recall past instances when Yan Xi had been angry, to compare. But her memory was blank. Yan Xi had never been angry with her. There were only two times that came close—once when she was little and ran away from home, wanting to return to the place where she was born. The other time was when she skipped class and Yan Xi couldn’t find her.
But both times, Yan Xi had only scolded her. Mostly, she had been worried. Yan Xi had never truly lost her temper with her, never really been angry.
Anzhi’s nose suddenly stung. She had already started blaming herself.
“Hey!” Xu Jia’er poked her shoulder. “Little Class Monitor, are we going to eat or not? Or are you just using me and then throwing me aside?”
Anzhi took a deep breath. “Let’s go.”
As they walked, Xu Jia’er glanced at her sidelong. “Did you two fight, or did you two fight?”
“Don’t worry about it.” Anzhi lowered her eyes dejectedly, then remembered something and apologized to her. “Sorry.”
Xu Jia’er waved her hand. “Doesn’t matter. Good thing I figured it out, or I really would’ve been sad.”
Anzhi looked at her apologetically. Xu Jia’er winked at her.
Since their last meeting, they had tacitly kept their distance from each other. In truth, both were busy—Anzhi with her competition training, Xu Jia’er with TOEFL exams and other preparations for going abroad.
They went to eat grilled fish. The restaurant’s lighting was dim, the walls covered with graffiti and witty sayings, Rihanna’s music playing in the background. The booths were partitioned. They chose a seat and sat down.
“You can’t eat spicy food, right?” Xu Jia’er looked at the menu.
“Mn… but it’s fine, you can order.”
“Then we’ll go with mild spice.”
They ordered their food and drinks.
Anzhi asked her, “Is everything going smoothly with going abroad?”
Xu Jia’er nodded. “It’s okay. I passed my TOEFL. Now it’s just a bunch of trivial matters, lots of paperwork…”
“After New Year’s, next semester will go by fast.”
“Mn… yeah.”
After these few sentences, the two of them looked at each other, then looked away, not knowing what else to say. Then they both laughed.
“Hey, don’t be so awkward,” Xu Jia’er said with a smile. “Little Class Monitor, even if we can’t be a couple, we can still be friends. What’s wrong? Do you have something on your mind?”
Anzhi didn’t know how to begin. Besides, she wasn’t sure if it was appropriate to talk to Xu Jia’er about it. It was hard to explain in a few words.
The fish arrived. It was deboned, first pan-fried until both sides were lightly golden, then grilled. Sizzling with oil, the white fish flesh was dotted with red chili peppers and green garnishes. The fragrance wafted up, instantly appetizing.
Xu Jia’er clearly loved fish. She picked up her chopsticks, said, “I’ll dig in then,” and started eating.
Anzhi took a bite of the fish. The skin was crispy, the meat tender, and the spice level was manageable. She picked up another piece, dipped it in the sauce, and put it in her mouth. The fish melted on her tongue. Suddenly she choked—”Mn!”—it was too spicy.
Xu Jia’er laughed as she watched. “You’re too weak.”
Anzhi sucked on her coconut juice. “I’ve never been able to handle spicy food since I was little, but I still like eating it. A little spice is fine.”
It was only after coming to live with Yan Xi that she started eating spicy dishes. Her maternal grandfather had a light palate, but the Yan family loved spicy food. The first time she encountered it was with a boiled fish2 dish. She had picked up a piece of fish, taken one bite, and been startled—so spicy that tears came to her eyes and she stuck out her tongue. Yan Xi had been sitting beside her and reacted immediately, handing her cold water.
Anzhi remembered how Yan Xi had half-embraced her then, laughing softly as she kept sticking out her tongue and gasping. “It’s okay, it’s okay. It won’t be spicy in a little while.”
Her fingers had pinched Anzhi’s chin. “Show me your tongue. Is it red?”
After that, every time they went for hotpot3, Yan Xi always ordered the split pot. But Anzhi would still want to challenge herself with the spicy side, and Yan Xi would watch her get so teary-eyed from the heat that she’d have to retreat to the clear broth, laughing at the sight.
When it came to food, Yan Xi always accommodated her. Anzhi did the same. The only thing they couldn’t agree on was whether tomato scrambled eggs4 should be made with sugar or salt. Neither could convince the other.
Anzhi remembered Yan Xi’s shocked expression the first time she heard about adding sugar, and then later, the serious way she argued: “No, no! It has to be salt. This is a matter of principle!”
Yan Xi, who was always patient and accommodating, had a cute stubbornness about this one issue. In the end, they decided that this dish would no longer appear at home—it became a forbidden dish.
Anzhi bit down on her straw. She missed Yan Xi. She glanced at the phone beside her—this was Liu Yiyi’s old phone, an iPhone 6 Plus. She had just received it and hadn’t changed it to her preferred phone case yet. Inside, there were no photos of her and Yan Xi. And yet Yan Xi, before leaving, had still remembered to tell her, “Bind my card to your WeChat”—even when she was angry, she was still thinking of her.
Forty-some days of training camp, separated for so long. Every day she had to call and message her. She hadn’t realized how spoiled she was before. Only after living in collective dormitories did she understand what a good living environment Yan Xi had provided for her.
She had thought that after training camp ended, she would go home and cling to Yan Xi more, take the opportunity to act spoiled, tell her how sad she was about not being selected.
But now it had turned into this situation—and Yan Xi wasn’t even in the wrong. She was the one in the wrong. She was the one being dramatic. She was the one throwing a tantrum. She was the one being unreasonable.
Anzhi bit her straw, her brow furrowed with worry. Xu Jia’er saw it all. She sighed inwardly—good thing she had pulled back early. The girl in front of her would never belong to her. This plate of fish, on the other hand, was hers alone to eat.
Xu Jia’er said, “If you don’t eat, there won’t even be bones left.”
The fish was already deboned. Anzhi smiled. “I’m not hungry. Go ahead and eat.”
Xu Jia’er looked at her knowingly. “So you really did fight?”
Anzhi shook her head.
“Did you confess?”
Anzhi’s face stiffened.
“Didn’t think so.” Xu Jia’er took a sip of cola. “I’ve always wanted to ask you something. Can you tell the difference between your feelings for her?”
Xu Jia’er looked at Anzhi intently. “Is it really love?”
The restaurant was noisy. The fish on the grill bubbled with heat and fragrance, full of life and warmth. Anzhi’s coat was draped over the chair. She wore a thick knit sweater, her head slightly bowed, her hair softly framing her face, pale as milk powder. Her eyelashes caught the light.
She said, “I wish it wasn’t.”
Then she wouldn’t have to suffer like this. Wanting to get closer but unable to. Shouldn’t get closer but wanting to anyway.
Xu Jia’er didn’t speak.
Then she sighed.
“You’re too dependent on her. If you can’t keep your distance from her, you’ll always be a child in her eyes.”
Anzhi’s almond-shaped eyes looked at her mistily. Xu Jia’er thought to herself—so this is what a lovesick girl looks like when she’s melancholy. Too bad it wasn’t for her.
“But with your age difference, she might always see you as a child. In your situation, whether she likes girls isn’t even the primary issue—it’s the feelings built up over years of being together.”
Anzhi bit her lip. “So I should just give up sooner, right?”
Xu Jia’er stared at her, lost in thought.
She thought back to that afternoon when she had stolen a kiss from Anzhi. Yan Xi had stood at the living room doorway, her gaze sharp as she stared at her. Xu Jia’er could tell she was using every ounce of her composure to suppress some emotion.
In the end, Yan Xi had only said coldly to her, “Let her sleep.”
Maybe—just maybe—there was something different between those two.
Xu Jia’er pushed the thought away. It wasn’t her business anymore.
“I can’t give you an answer. After all, someone as handsome as me still couldn’t get the girl I liked.” Xu Jia’er smiled. The corners of her lips curved up, her gaze deep and determined. “But I won’t love someone who doesn’t love me back. I want a love that goes both ways.”
After they finished eating and parted ways, Anzhi took the bus back to the residential complex. Night had already fallen. She stood at the gate. The winter wind cut to the bone. She buried half her face in her scarf, staring at her own shadow on the dim ground.
The house was brightly lit.
Anzhi swiped her card to enter, crossed the small courtyard, came to the front door, and pushed it open. The light in the first-floor entryway had been left on by whoever had arrived home first—but this time, she was the one returning late.
Anzhi locked the door and went upstairs. The long flight of stairs. She hadn’t even figured out how to face Yan Xi before she was already there. She stared at her rabbit plush slippers for a moment before walking in.
Yan Xi sat on the sofa, the screen showing some Indian interview program. Her head was bowed, a notebook on her knee. She held a pen, writing something on the paper. Then she paused, thinking.
Her hair was tied back, a strand tucked behind her ear, falling softly beside her face. The whole person looked gentle and composed, absorbed in her thoughts.
Anzhi’s heart felt complicated. Yan Xi acted as if nothing had happened. She was busy with her own things, didn’t even notice her come in.
Anzhi didn’t know whether to stomp her foot or say something loudly to get her attention. Or just walk straight into her room and slam the door.
Either option felt too dramatic.
So she just stood there, motionless, watching Yan Xi.
Yan Xi finished writing a line, looked up, and was startled to see her. She smiled slightly. “You’re back?” She capped her pen, raised her eyes to look at her, a gentle smile in her eyes.
How could Yan Xi be this calm? Wasn’t she angry? Or was it because she saw her as a child, so she didn’t care? If she saw her as a child, shouldn’t she be worried about her coming home late? Why hadn’t she called… although it was only seven, not really late… but in winter it got dark so early!
If she didn’t see her as a child… then she had blown Yan Xi off to go eat with Xu Jia’er, right in front of her. Wasn’t she angry?
Anzhi’s thoughts went round and round until she was dizzy and even more upset. She simply turned and walked into her room. The door closed, shutting out Yan Xi’s startled expression.
Obsessed. Unable to extricate herself.
Deep in it, knowing the sweetness and bitterness only from the inside.
After a while, Anzhi secretly cracked open the door and peered through the gap to look for Yan Xi.
She was still on the sofa, her face turned toward Anzhi’s door, but her eyes were fixed on the carpet. Her brow was furrowed in thought, her expression indistinct.
After a long moment, she let out a deep sigh.
The air seemed to fill with her presence. And that sigh—an invisible, surging pressure—crashed instantly into Anzhi’s heart. She clutched her chest.
Footnotes
- A metaphor from Chinese martial arts novels. To 'dian xue' (press an acupressure point) is to immobilize someone by striking specific pressure points. Here it means being frozen stiff, unable to move.
- Shuizhu Yu (Boiled Fish) is a famous Sichuan dish featuring fish fillets poached in a spicy chili oil broth with vegetables. It is known for its numbing, fiery flavor.
- Yuanyang Guo (Mandarin Duck Pot) is a hotpot with a divided pot—one side containing spicy broth, the other side containing mild, non-spicy broth. It allows diners with different spice tolerances to eat together.
- A classic Chinese home-style dish. The debate over whether to add sugar or salt is a well-known regional difference in China—southern regions like Shanghai tend to prefer sugar, while northern regions prefer salt.
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