STT – Chapter 3
by Little PandaZizheng, Don’t Cry.
The night was deep, and a dark silence had fallen all around. Mother Lu had asked Lu Zizheng and Jiang Huaixi to stay the night.
Seeing Lu Zizheng’s obvious hesitation, Jiang Huaixi offered some gentle persuasion. “You haven’t spent much time with Auntie lately. Why don’t you stay? I’ll come pick you up early tomorrow, we’ll swing by your place for a change of clothes, and I’ll get you to work. There’s plenty of time.”
Lu Zizheng hesitated for another moment before giving a slight shake of her head.
Jiang Huaixi raised an eyebrow. “Is there a problem?”
Licking her lips, Lu Zizheng asked, “Do you have anything to do tonight?”
Jiang Huaixi’s reply was simple and to the point. “I’m free.”
“Uh, then… you should stay, too.” It was the first time she had ever invited Jiang Huaixi to stay over. The surprise on Jiang Huaixi’s face was plain to see, a flicker of astonishment she couldn’t hide. Lu Zizheng quickly added, trying to sound casual, “Otherwise, it’s such a hassle for you to go back and forth. I… I’d feel bad.”
At that, a smile spread across Jiang Huaixi’s face. “I rarely ever hear you say you feel bad about anything. It’s so rare, I think my ears are getting hot.” She playfully tilted her head toward Mother Lu. “Auntie, can you check for me? Are they red?”
Mother Lu just watched them both, her eyes crinkling with a smile.
Flustered, Lu Zizheng shot Jiang Huaixi a glare. “Mom, I’m going to take a shower,” she announced before turning her back on them and heading to her room to grab her pajamas.
In the living room, only Jiang Huaixi and Mother Lu remained, watching TV together.
Mother Lu picked up a slice of apple from the plate on the coffee table and handed it to Jiang Huaixi. “Huaixi,” she said with a sigh, “I still remember the first time Zhengzheng brought you home. In the blink of an eye, so many years have passed.”
Jiang Huaixi took a small bite. “They have,” she said, smiling. “Auntie, you have no idea. Zizheng didn’t want to bring me home at all back then. She was practically furious when she saw how warm you were to me.” Thinking of Lu Zizheng’s stubborn expression from all those years ago, a deep tenderness filled Jiang Huaixi’s ink-dark eyes. She truly missed those days.
Mother Lu smiled knowingly. “How could I not know? But Huaixi, the first time I saw you, I knew you meant Zizheng no harm. I knew you were a good kid who wanted to be good to her.”
Jiang Huaixi felt a little embarrassed. She finished the apple and looked down, not saying a word.
“All these years, Zhengzheng has been so much happier thanks to you,” Mother Lu continued. “You don’t know what she was like before…” She trailed off, letting out a heavy sigh. “Anyway, Auntie wants to thank you for being so good to Zhengzheng. She can be so difficult sometimes, and she doesn’t know how to express herself. If she’s ever been thoughtless or hurt you unintentionally over the years, I apologize on her behalf.”
Jiang Huaixi quickly shook her head. “It’s nothing like that, Auntie. I should be thanking Zizheng. She’s brought me so much happiness, too.”
“Huaixi, Auntie is truly fond of you,” Mother Lu said. “It’s just a pity that…” She didn’t finish, but her regretful tone was clear.
Jiang Huaixi had a good idea of what Mother Lu wanted to say. She felt that same regret, but she still managed a smile to comfort her. “Good friends can last much longer.”
Mother Lu gave her a thoughtful look, then smiled and said no more.
Later that night, when Jiang Huaixi came out of the shower, she found Mother Lu had already prepared everything. An extra blanket and pillow had been added to Lu Zizheng’s bed. Lu Zizheng herself was leaning lazily against the headboard, her head bowed over a book.
For a moment, Jiang Huaixi felt a daze wash over her. Her steps slowed, and she leaned against the doorframe, just watching.
This was her first, completely unplanned sleepover at Lu Zizheng’s mother’s house. And yet, in the bathroom connected to Lu Zizheng’s room, she had discovered a matching set of couple’s cups, toothbrushes, and towels. In the wardrobe, there was brand new underwear and a nightgown, all in her size.
It seems that after all these years, she thought, I’ve finally managed to warm a part of Lu Zizheng’s stone heart1.
Jiang Huaixi’s eyes crinkled at the corners. The feeling of accomplishment was immense.
Mother Lu knocked on the door and brought in two glasses of milk. Jiang Huaixi kept a strict schedule, so after finishing her milk and seeing the clock strike ten, she pulled up the covers and prepared to sleep.
Lu Zizheng drank her milk and, seeing Jiang Huaixi already settled in, closed her book, turned off the light, and lay down as well. This wasn’t her usual bedtime, and as she lay there with her eyes closed, sleep wouldn’t come.
After a long while, she gave up. Opening her eyes, she turned her head to look at Jiang Huaixi, only to find her face peaceful, seemingly lost in a deep, sound sleep. Lu Zizheng just watched her quietly for a long time. Finally, a small smile touched her lips, and she closed her eyes again, drifting off to sleep herself at some unknown point.
But her sleep was not peaceful.
She dreamed of the first time Lian Xuan had ever spoken to her.
It wasn’t long after she had started high school. A new transfer student arrived in their class, someone who had supposedly come back from England. Her family was distinguished, her grades were outstanding, and rarest of all, her looks were extraordinary. She was as beautiful as a princess from a fairy-tale castle and, for a time, her limelight was without equal2. Lu Zizheng was in her class, at the desk right next to hers, so she naturally paid some attention, but only as an observer. In those days, all she wanted was to live quietly in her own world. She didn’t want to bother anyone, and she certainly didn’t want anyone to bother her.
Lian Xuan was an unexpected intruder into that world.
At the time, Lu Zizheng was the only student in the entire class who sat alone. The head teacher forbade boys and girls from sharing a desk, and none of the girls were willing to sit with her.
During a pop quiz in English class, the teacher told everyone to take out a sheet of test paper. But on that particular day, Lu Zizheng, who was always so prepared, had forgotten to bring any.
Everyone had their pens and paper ready. The teacher was about to begin. Lu Zizheng bit her lip, seeing no other option, and was about to use a blank sheet of notebook paper when an English test paper with ruled lines suddenly appeared from the desk beside her. She was stunned. The entire class was stunned, letting out a collective murmur of surprise.
But the paper’s owner, Lian Xuan, simply offered Lu Zizheng a friendly smile, as calm as ever, before turning back to wait for the teacher to begin.
Lian Xuan never knew. That casual gesture, that unintentional smile, had illuminated Lu Zizheng’s gray high school life, bringing a touch of life-giving moisture to her nearly withered heart.
And so, Lu Zizheng began her friendship with Lian Xuan, carefully, cautiously. She guarded their bond with nearly all the strength she possessed.
When Lian Xuan moved a little closer, Lu Zizheng would be ecstatic, the tide of her heart surging3. She knew that what she craved from Lian Xuan had already crossed the line of friendship.
It didn’t matter that Lian Xuan didn’t know. She could endure. She could wait. She was willing. She lowered herself into the dust4, all for the day Lian Xuan might see her devotion and be willing to accept her sincere heart.
But one day, Lian Xuan pushed her away. She used the same scornful, contemptuous tone as all the others. “Lu Zizheng, you’re so disgusting. They were right. You’re no different from those people climbing power and clinging to influence5, trying every trick you can think of to get something from me. I was wrong about you. Get away.”
In that instant, her heart was startled and cold, her heart like dead ashes6. But she still struggled, still begged. “Lian Xuan, it’s not what you think. That thing… can we just pretend I never mentioned it?” Forgetting the umbrella she was holding, she reached out with both hands to grab Lian Xuan’s left arm.
But Lian Xuan used her right hand to forcefully pry Lu Zizheng’s fingers away, one by one. She gave her one last, complicated look before getting into the car waiting to pick her up. It kicked up dust and left7. As the car sped away, a wave of muddy water splashed viciously onto Lu Zizheng, covering her from head to toe. It was Lian Xuan’s final gift—a body drenched in filth, a picture of utter humiliation.
In her despair, she abandoned all dignity, screaming Lian Xuan’s name as she chased the car for a long, long time, until she could no longer keep up, until the car was nothing more than a speck in the distance…
“Lian Xuan, you said… you said you believed me…”
She collapsed onto the ground, powerless, soaked through, and utterly defeated. She knew that many students passing by were watching her, laughing at her. She knew this would become yet another story they told to mock and humiliate her. But she no longer had the strength to stand up and protect what little dignity she had left.
She didn’t remember how she got home that day. Her memory was a blur, filled with nothing but a torrent of tears…
That night, she came down with a high fever. She took three days off, which, combined with the weekend, meant she hid at home for five days straight. When she went back to school on Monday, she was still naively thinking that if she could just explain things to Lian Xuan again, maybe there was a chance. Maybe Lian Xuan would believe her.
But when she got to school, she learned the truth from the pointing fingers and whispered discussions of others.
Lian Xuan had transferred.
She clearly heard the sound of her own heart shattering.
She was gone.
She was never coming back.
And she had taken Lu Zizheng’s heart with her—a heart already riddled with a thousand sores and a hundred holes8, but one that had been truly sincere.
Lu Zizheng laid her head on her desk and cried the entire morning.
She knew what all the students were saying. They said she was the one who drove Lian Xuan away. They said Lu Zizheng was a disgusting homosexual, and Lian Xuan had left because she was scared of being harassed. They said Lu Zizheng had no father and was so desperate from being poor that she was always hugging the thighs of rich people9—and look, she’d been kicked away. They said Lu Zizheng was a slut10, that she used her pretty face to seduce men even though she liked women. They said Lu Zizheng…
Lu Zizheng couldn’t remember how she got home from school that afternoon, either.
After that day, she never went back to that high school.
She vanished, just like Lian Xuan, leaving behind nothing more than a bit of gossip for her schoolmates to discuss after tea and after rice11.
When she finally awoke from the dream, Lian Xuan’s icy words—”You’re so disgusting, get away”—were still echoing in her ears. Her disdainful gaze was like a sword stabbing straight into her heart. Lu Zizheng’s eyes flew open in a panic. Her cheeks were wet, and a few strands of hair were stuck to her face. A corner of her pillow was already soaked through.
She turned her head and looked at Jiang Huaixi beside her. Thank god, she hadn’t woken her.
Jiang Huaixi was sleeping peacefully, her long, thick eyelashes curled naturally upward. Her breathing was calm and even. A rare sense of peace suddenly washed over Lu Zizheng.
She slipped her arms out from under the covers, turned onto her side, and gently wrapped them around Jiang Huaixi, over the thick blanket. She rested her head lightly against her chest. The comforter was too thick to hear a heartbeat, but she could feel the steady rise and fall of Jiang Huaixi’s chest with each quiet breath. One after another…
The feeling of holding someone filled the gaping emptiness that the nightmare had left behind, and Lu Zizheng was overcome with a profound sense of affection. She buried her face in the blanket, a small smile forming on her lips as she murmured silently in her heart, I love you…
She never knew that as she held her, the woman with the closed eyes was repeating a single phrase in her own heart, over and over again.
Zizheng, don’t cry…
LP: Re-translated on January 04, 2025
Footnotes
- Hanzi: 石头心 | Pinyin: shítou xīn | Context: A common metaphor for someone who is emotionally cold, unfeeling, or difficult to move, as if their heart were made of stone.
- Hanzi: 风头无两 | Pinyin: fēngtóu wú liǎng | Context: A chengyu (idiom) describing someone who is so popular, famous, or in the spotlight that no one else can compare.
- Hanzi: 心潮澎拜 | Pinyin: xīncháo péngbài | Context: A chengyu (idiom) used to describe a state of being overwhelmed by powerful emotions, like a surging tide in one’s heart.
- Hanzi: 低到了尘埃里 | Pinyin: dī dàole chén’āi lǐ | Context: A literary phrase conveying extreme humility or self-abasement in the name of love or devotion. It implies lowering one’s own status to the lowest possible point.
- Hanzi: 攀权附势 | Pinyin: pān quán fù shì | Context: A derogatory chengyu (idiom) for a social climber who tries to curry favor with powerful and influential people for personal gain.
- Hanzi: 心惊心凉，心如死灰 | Pinyin: xīnjīng xīnliáng, xīn rú sǐhuī | Context: A two-part descriptive phrase. “Heart startled and cold” conveys shock and chilling disappointment, while “heart like dead ashes” is a common metaphor for complete hopelessness and despair.
- Hanzi: 绝尘而去 | Pinyin: juéchén ér qù | Context: A chengyu (idiom) that literally means to leave so quickly that one is beyond the dust kicked up. It vividly describes a swift departure in a vehicle.
- Hanzi: 千疮百孔 | Pinyin: qiān chuāng bǎi kǒng | Context: A chengyu (idiom) that literally means “a thousand sores and a hundred holes.” It is used metaphorically to describe something that is damaged, broken, or flawed beyond repair, in this case, a person’s heart.
- Hanzi: 抱有钱人的大腿 | Pinyin: bào yǒu qián rén de dàtuǐ | Context: A popular and vivid slang term for sucking up to or currying favor with wealthy individuals. It’s the modern equivalent of clinging to a powerful patron.
- Hanzi: 贱人 | Pinyin: jiànrén | Context: A severe and common insult that literally means “lowly person” or “base person.” Depending on context, it can be translated as “bitch,” “slut,” or “bastard.”
- Hanzi: 茶余饭后 | Pinyin: chá yú fàn hòu | Context: A chengyu (idiom) referring to leisure time, typically after meals. It often carries the connotation of casual conversation or idle gossip.
Is it unrequited love?