The Alley Was Always This Long – Chapter 12

Gangdao

“When are you going to take me home with you?”

[Hey, Tao Tianran,
When are you going to take me home with you?
At least I want to go and see the place where you grew up.]

            

–

As the plane roared and thrust its way into the sky, Tao Tianran cast a glance at Cheng Xiang.

“What?” Cheng Xiang didn’t have the spare energy to entertain her in that moment.

            

Growing up as a hutong kid¹ in Beicheng, Cheng Xiang could count the number of times she had been on an airplane on one hand. This was largely because her mother, Director Ma, firmly believed that Beicheng was the absolute center of the universe.

Every time the plane hit the stratosphere and she experienced that split second of weightlessness, her hands would grip the armrests in a death hold. Her entire body would stiffen and pitch forward, looking exactly like a quail preparing to be launched.

Tao Tianran had been lucky enough to witness this idiotic posture once before.

            

It happened during the only trip they had ever taken together—to Kuncheng. Back then, the internet was relentlessly pushing that artsy, romanticized promotion about going to a windy place². In reality, the turbulent winds had shaken the aircraft so violently that Cheng Xiang genuinely believed she was going to lose her little life up there.

When the plane landed, Tao Tianran was treated to the sight of the launch-ready quail once again.

Cheng Xiang shivered. “If we actually kick the bucket right here today, do you have any regrets?”

            

“Do you?” Tao Tianran asked.

“I do!” The more Cheng Xiang shivered, the more she babbled. “I haven’t even bought Director Ma any flower pastries³ yet! And the termite mushroom sauce⁴ for Deputy Director Cheng—I picked out two different brands but haven’t gone to taste-test them. Also, Tao Tianran, do you know what hairy tofu⁵ is? It’s literally tofu that grows hair. Qin Ziqiao asked if I could mail some back to Beicheng for her, but I told her you probably aren’t supposed to mail stuff like that…”

Seated by the cabin wall, Tao Tianran gazed silently out the window.

            

Cheng Xiang tripped over her tongue. “You don’t seriously have zero regrets, do you?” She let out a ha. “Do you really love me that much? Just being with me is enough?”

Tao Tianran turned her head and gave her a sideways look.

“Haha.” Cheng Xiang nudged the leg of the seat in front of her with the toe of her canvas shoe. “Just kidding.”

            

When Tao Tianran turned back to the window, Cheng Xiang lowered her head. Her fingertip lightly picked at a faint rust stain on the seatbelt buckle.

Why was it like this?

Even when she was just joking around, she couldn’t say the words “You really love me that much” with any real confidence.

            

Outside the window, it was the blue hour of dusk. She couldn’t see the expression on Tao Tianran’s face, only the layered twilight—blue bleeding into orange like a poured cocktail—drowning them in an emotion that felt awfully like loneliness.

Cheng Xiang reached out one finger and poked Tao Tianran.

When Tao Tianran looked back, her expression was as placid and rippleless as ever. She was simply wrapped in the colors of the sky.

            

“Hey, Tao Tianran,” Cheng Xiang said with a smile. “When are you going to take me home with you?”

Tao Tianran answered mildly, “Are we walking to Gangdao?”

“Huh?”

            

“Considering how terrified you are of airplanes.”

“If I was going home with you, taking a plane wouldn’t be a big deal,” Cheng Xiang said. She linked her arm through Tao Tianran’s and rested her head on her right-angled shoulder. Ahead of them, the headrest cover of the seat in front bore a printed liquor advertisement: Reunion is the most beautiful thing.

“At least I want to go and see the place where you grew up.” Cheng Xiang’s voice was very soft, dissolving into the drone of the descending plane.

            

At the time, Cheng Xiang had thought it was strange: why did she use the words 「at least」?

It wasn’t until now that she finally understood. That singular phrase “at least” was her subconscious already recognizing that she would never actually get the chance to see Tao Tianran’s hometown.

Years had gone by. Now, as she sat shoulder-to-shoulder with Tao Tianran in the cabin, looking out at the scattered, star-like lights of Gangdao in the distance, her soul was housed in another person’s body.

            

Everyone praised Gangdao, calling it a shining pearl. Seeing it now, the comparison was apt—it was so small, yet so dazzling, sparkling with everything it had.

It was so small that one almost had to wonder how a place like this could have produced someone like Tao Tianran—someone who could completely captivate another girl and make her love her so desperately.

Cheng Xiang rubbed her nose. Little by little, she had blended these small habits of the old Cheng Xiang into Yu Yusheng’s body.

            

When the flight attendant came around to offer the final beverage service, she was met with the sight of a woman whose face was almost excessively glamorous, making a goofy, almost foolish gesture of rubbing her nose. The woman was staring out the window with her cat-like eyes, looking entirely lost in thought.

“Miss,” the flight attendant asked softly. “Would you care for a glass of red wine?”

“Yes, thank you.” Cheng Xiang snapped back to attention and nodded.

            

As she took the wine, she curled her lips in thanks. There was already a touch of self-deprecation in her smile.

The flight attendant turned to Tao Tianran. “And for you, Miss?”

“No, thank you.” Tao Tianran was still looking out the window.

            

She had kept her face turned away the entire time; Cheng Xiang couldn’t see her expression at all.

“What is Teacher Tao looking at?” Cheng Xiang gently swirled her wrist, letting the wine breathe in the glass.

“Nothing.” Tao Tianran’s tone was icy. She still didn’t look back.

            

Cheng Xiang swallowed half the glass of wine in one go, closed her eyes, and leaned against the seat.

This was fine, too.

It was fine that she couldn’t clearly see Tao Tianran’s face right now. At least she could lie to herself and pretend that maybe, just for half a second, Tao Tianran had remembered a young, foolish girl who had once made a devout wish to see her hometown.

            

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Tao Tianran was from Gangdao.

That single fact had become known to absolutely everyone the moment she transferred to Attached Seventh High School in Beicheng.

Back then, population mobility was nowhere near as common as it was today. Cheng Xiang’s Attached Seventh High wasn’t exactly a top-tier institution. They didn’t have fancy international exchange students. All the students were kids from the neighboring hutongs; the most “mixed blood” anyone ever got was a kid from Straw Hat Alley mixing with a kid from Cat Alley.

            

Gangdao inherently carried a layer of mysterious allure.

The boys were all gossiping. “Don’t let the celebrities fool you into thinking they’re all stunning. Actually, the local girls in Gangdao aren’t even that pretty, you know? They’re super average.”

For those first few days, Cheng Xiang hadn’t paid any attention to the rumors.

            

She was too busy having a fight with Director Ma.

Cheng Xiang had told her, “I want to take the art exam and draw manga.”

Director Ma had replied, “How about I take a feather duster and draw a few lines on you first?”

            

Ugh, seriously. Learning exponential functions like y = a^x was annoying enough to bore a person to death. Cheng Xiang stood her ground. “If you don’t let me take the art exam, I’ll go on a hunger strike.”

“Go ahead and starve,” Director Ma said, entirely unmoved. “I’m frying chive pockets⁶ tonight.”

Director Ma was truly ruthless! Over the weekend, she launched a culinary bombardment, alternating between chive pockets and carrot meatballs. The greasy, savory aroma permeated Cheng Xiang’s skin until she had become a walking meatball.

            

Director Ma gave her a sidelong glance. “You’re really not going to eat?”

“Not eating!” Cheng Xiang thought to herself: If I compromise now, wouldn’t I have starved for nothing?

But by Sunday night, she couldn’t hold out any longer. She frantically sent a WeChat message to Qin Ziqiao: 【Emergency rescue.】⁷

            

Qin Ziqiao understood the assignment perfectly: 【Loud and clear! My mom made fennel buns, I’ll bring you two.】

The fennel buns made by Qin Ziqiao’s mother were legendary—rich and dripping with oil.

When Cheng Xiang received the two piping hot buns before early morning self-study, she was so grateful she nearly wept, swallowing them whole.

            

It wasn’t until just before P.E. class that her stomach started feeling wrong.

Cheng Xiang grabbed Qin Ziqiao. “Did you notice anything weird about those buns?”

“Nope. Oh, wait,” Qin Ziqiao said deadpan. “Our fridge broke last night, so they sat out on the dining table until morning. You’re fine, right?”

            

Cheng Xiang: …

It was September in Beicheng, and over thirty degrees Celsius outside! What do you mean ‘am I fine’?!

During P.E., she made several consecutive trips to the restroom. By the final time, as she drifted back toward the sports field with barely a breath of life left in her, Xiao Xiao grabbed her arm. “The new transfer student is here! Let’s go, let’s go see.”

            

Cheng Xiang wasn’t in the mood. “What’s there to see?”

Xiao Xiao hooked her arm through hers. “Those boys who were saying Gangdao girls are super average? Their jaws are on the floor. One of them was eating a roasted sausage after playing basketball, and the second he saw her, he bit his own tongue and spat out blood. Tell me, beauty that makes people literally spit blood—isn’t that insane?”

“Hahaha.” Cheng Xiang wheezed. “Who’s that unlucky?”

            

“Gong Chuang.”

Gong Chuang was their class’s sports committeeman. His family had money, and he usually walked around strutting like he owned the place⁸.

Cheng Xiang found this hilarious. She reached out and dragged Qin Ziqiao along. “Let’s go, let’s go see.”

            

The new transfer student was standing outside the teaching building, reportedly waiting for the Dean of Students.

She was already surrounded by three layers of students on either side. Kids who grew up in the Beicheng hutongs had an innate talent for being shameless rubberneckers; no one was holding back.

Xiao Xiao dragged Cheng Xiang, shoving into the crowd. “Make way, hey, make way!”

            

As the crowd crushed against her, Cheng Xiang suddenly felt dizzy. “W-wait…”

Her voice was as weak as a thread. She looked so utterly fragile that if Director Ma had seen her, she would have refused to claim her as a daughter. Amidst the deafening chatter, Xiao Xiao didn’t hear her and just kept pulling her deeper into the mob.

Cheng Xiang felt worse by the second. Layers of cold sweat beaded on her forehead, and her legs turned to jelly.

            

Finally, just as the girl at the center of the crowd came into view, Cheng Xiang went entirely limp and collapsed onto the ground.

“Stop pushing, stop pushing!” A girl nearby—who had far more of a conscience than Xiao Xiao—was the first to notice Cheng Xiang fainting. “Someone over here just fainted from Tao Tianran’s beauty!”

In the final second before Cheng Xiang lost consciousness, she heard the crisp, clear sound of footsteps walking toward her.

            

She tried her hardest to force her eyes open, but she couldn’t quite bring that face into focus.

She really wanted to know—

Exactly what kind of face was worthy of a name like “Tianran”⁹?

            

How arrogant.

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When Cheng Xiang went to school the next day, Gong Chuang glared at her with utter disdain in the hallway.

The moment Qin Ziqiao saw her, she went, “Pfft.”

            

Cheng Xiang rolled her eyes. “What the hell are you laughing at?”

Qin Ziqiao abandoned all restraint and burst into hysterical laughter. “You can’t blame Gong Chuang for being pissed at you. You completely stole his thunder.”

Overnight, the entire grade had heard about “the girl who fainted from Tao Tianran’s beauty.”

            

Cheng Xiang went from being a complete nobody in her grade to world-famous in a single day.

Cheng Xiang protested the injustice. “I didn’t even get a clear look at her face! Didn’t she transfer into our class? Why isn’t she here?”

“Oh, she went to handle her paperwork.”

            

Chinese class was the best time to zone out. Cheng Xiang propped her chin on her hand, watching a chirping bird outside the window.

The textbook droned on about the ancient minds of people that modern students could no longer comprehend. Cheng Xiang spun her pen between her fingers, her mind echoing with what Director Ma had told her: “Have our ancestors ever produced an artist? Do you know you need connections to make it in the art world? If you draw manga in the future, will you be able to feed yourself? If you can’t feed yourself, you’ll become a burden on society, you know that?”

“It’ll impact the battle against poverty! It’ll impact the progress of modern society! It’ll impact the great rejuvenation of the nation!” Director Ma’s pitch had climbed higher and higher.

            

She was a Neighborhood Committee Director, alright—she was exceptionally skilled at escalating things to a national level. She had lectured Cheng Xiang into a complete daze.

The Chinese teacher tapped the chalkboard with his chalk—tap, tap—creating a mind-numbing white noise in the early autumn afternoon. The chalk stopped right as footsteps echoed from the corridor outside.

Because Cheng Xiang had her head turned toward the window, she was the only one who saw the tall girl walking in behind the homeroom teacher.

            

The girl looked into the classroom. Her indifferent, dark eyes met Cheng Xiang’s, then swept away without a single ripple of emotion.

Cheng Xiang’s mouth fell open slightly.

The entire class had been reciting a passage out loud. Right before the Chinese teacher clapped his hands to make them stop, the sentence they were chanting happened to be:

            

I long to see the Moon Palace,¹⁰
Where clouds comb and winds sweep.

The homeroom teacher led the girl up to the podium. “Introduce yourself.”

The girl’s dark eyes swept heavily over the classroom. She turned around, picked up a piece of chalk, and wrote her name on the board: 【Tao, Tian, Ran】¹¹.

            

She tossed the chalk stub aside and spoke in surprisingly crisp, standard Mandarin: “Tao Tianran.”

Not a single extra word.

The homeroom teacher scanned the room, then pointed to the empty desk next to Cheng Xiang. “You can sit there for now.”

            

Cheng Xiang blinked. “Teach, my seatmate is only on sick leave, he didn’t drop out.”

The whole class erupted in laughter.

The homeroom teacher gave her a mock glare. “Just accommodate the new student for now. We’ll rearrange things when your seatmate gets back.”

            

Tao Tianran slung her backpack over one shoulder and walked over to Cheng Xiang’s side.

She cast a glance at her. This lanky seatmate of hers had her shoulders completely rigid, sitting as stiffly as a quail.

“You don’t like me?” Tao Tianran asked.

            

Cheng Xiang sat frozen for two whole seconds before she realized Tao Tianran was talking to her. She pointed a finger exaggeratedly at her own nose. “Are you talking to me?”

She knew she ought to explain herself, but Cheng Xiang had temporarily lost the ability to speak.

Tao Tianran had already lowered her eyelashes, tossed her backpack onto the desk, and dragged the desk backward.

            

She sat directly behind Cheng Xiang.

Cheng Xiang was utterly dumbfounded. When she finally turned around to look at her, she still hadn’t found her tongue.

“Don’t mind it.” It was Tao Tianran who spoke first. Her eyelids drooped slightly, looking a bit dismissive, her tone mild. “Lots of people don’t like me anyway.”

            

Wow, how cool.

Cheng Xiang was entirely captivated by how cool she was.

A sudden thought popped into her head: If a person like this ever found something they really wanted to do, they definitely wouldn’t care what anyone else had to say about it.

            

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