The Alley Was Always This Long – Chapter 19
by Little PandaUnexpected
So full.
[I’m sorry,
I still haven’t grown into the adult I hoped to become.]
When Cheng Xiang arrived at work that morning with her small handbag on her arm, she found a row of people in black standing at the company entrance.
Each had their hands behind their back, expressions serious as AI.
Cheng Xiang tossed her handbag onto her desk, pulled out a jianbing guozi1 from the bag that cost six figures, unwrapped the plastic, and took a big bite. “What’s up? Did our company get busted for internet fraud?”
Her colleagues’ hearts trembled: When did the Eldest Miss’s taste change from avocado toast to jianbing guozi?
Using such an expensive handbag to hold it—she really wasn’t afraid of pickled vegetables spilling inside!
Someone answered Cheng Xiang: “No, Teacher Tao’s design proposal passed, and President Lin had someone deliver the aquamarine to the company.”
Just then, the Big Boss’s assistant came jogging in, heading toward Tao Tianran’s office while gesturing at Cheng Xiang from afar. “Shianne, you need to get to the Big Boss’s office too.”
“Got it.” Cheng Xiang quickly wiped her hands and stood up.
As she walked toward the Big Boss’s office, Tao Tianran also emerged from her own office, the tap-tap of her high heels sounding behind Cheng Xiang.
Cheng Xiang glanced back.
Tao Tianran lifted her thin eyelids: “?”
Today Tao Tianran wore white. On others it would look plain, but on her it was like frost and snow. She held manuscript paper, her long straight black hair hooked behind her ears. Her delicate ear contours were perfect for a row of diamond studs, but she wore none—only a plain silver band on her right pinky.
By coincidence, Cheng Xiang wore black today. The fabric was forever thin and soft, clinging to curves, with curled hair, red lips, and high heels. But a thin black tie hung from her chest, adding a touch of sharpness that neutralized the excessive sweetness—like a pinch of salt on an overly rich tongue.
Cheng Xiang, dressed like a cool older sister, pressed against the glass wall like a gecko and made a “please, after you” gesture toward Tao Tianran.
Tao Tianran’s eyes flicked to the side. Without a word, she walked past with an air of cold detachment.
Cheng Xiang followed behind her, scolding herself internally: Useless, Cheng Xiang!
You’ve transmigrated into someone on equal footing, so why do you still feel like she’s the Empress Dowager and you’re a little palace maid?
This habit of being PUA’d2 so badly needs to change.
They entered the Big Boss’s office. The Big Boss was named Yi Yu, somewhere in her early thirties—Cheng Xiang guessed, because her ageless face looked about thirty. Her long hair fell to her waist, and she looked like a dancer who had withdrawn from the world.
Now she stood with her back to the office door, wearing white silk gloves, staring seriously at a blue stone in a safe.
Tao Tianran whispered beside Cheng Xiang: “Go ahead.”
Cheng Xiang pointed at her own nose: “Me?”
She stepped forward. The Big Boss crossed her arms and asked her: “What do you think when you look at it?”
She knew this corporate dance!
So she answered: “What do you think when you look at it?”
Yi Yu tilted her head and studied it for a while, then spoke in the tone of a poet about to compose a masterpiece: “Big. Really big.”
Cheng Xiang’s heart went pfft: “I think it’s pretty big too, yeah.”
She glanced back at Tao Tianran.
That woman had a cold, austere face, but she was sly. She didn’t want to deal with this herself, so she pushed Cheng Xiang forward as cannon fodder.
Yi Yu picked up the aquamarine and weighed it in her hand: “Not just big—heavy.” She tossed it toward Cheng Xiang. “You weigh it.”
When Cheng Xiang and Tao Tianran had entered the office, the assistant had already distributed white gloves to them.
Cheng Xiang fumbled to catch the aquamarine: “Heavy, really heavy. Like the weight my grandma used to press scallion pancakes.”
“Your grandma?” Yi Yu looked at her suspiciously. “You’ve never mentioned her before.”
Cheng Xiang’s heart skipped a beat.
She’d spoken too fast. Was Yu Yusheng’s grandmother even still alive? She hadn’t seen any sign of one at home.
She laughed dryly: “A god-grandmother, not a biological one. I loved scallion pancakes so much I adopted one in the hutong.”
Tao Tianran watched her from behind.
Cheng Xiang weighed the aquamarine a couple more times and asked Yi Yu: “How much is this worth?”
Yi Yu: “Just ninety million or so.”
Cheng Xiang’s legs went weak: “You—you hold it for a while. I think it’s a bit heavy…”
Yi Yu playfully placed the gem back in the safe, then turned to call Tao Tianran: “President Lin is very satisfied with your proposal this time. He praised you to me. Tell me about it briefly.”
Tao Tianran stepped forward and spread the manuscript paper on the desk.
Cheng Xiang retreated to the side.
On the paper was a hand-drawn design in blue ink. The aquamarine’s shimmering light reflected onto Tao Tianran’s face. Her face had gentle features, but because she was so thin, the lines were sleek and sharp. Especially those long, narrow eyes—dark and deep, like an ink pool with no visible bottom. The eight-figure light sank into them like a pebble too light to cause any ripple.
Yi Yu suddenly nudged Cheng Xiang and lowered her voice: “Beautiful, isn’t she?”
“Of—of course.” Worth nearly a hundred million—of course it was beautiful.
“I mean Teacher Tao.” Yi Yu narrowed her eyes: “Beautiful, isn’t she? A truly top-tier beauty.”
Cheng Xiang immediately glanced at Yi Yu.
Yi Yu returned her look: “What’s wrong with collecting beauty? Gems, beauties—” She ended with a little wave, draping her arm over Cheng Xiang’s shoulder: “You’re a great beauty too—”
Cheng Xiang removed Yi Yu’s claw from her shoulder: “You flatter me.”
Her words were polite, but her actions weren’t. It felt good! Those zeros after her bank balance gave her the confidence to hold her own at work.
Yi Yu curled her lip: “What’s with that look? Don’t think I’m that shallow, okay? Why do you think Teacher Tao is my most outstanding designer?”
Cheng Xiang said nothing.
Yi Yu: “Because she herself is a gem.”
“And what’s the most important characteristic of a gem?”
Cheng Xiang: “Expensive.”
Yi Yu glanced at her: “It’s hardness!”
“Formed in the Earth’s mantle about 200 kilometers deep, at temperatures up to 1,300 degrees Celsius and pressures of 60 gigapascals, she begins to combine in specific ways. This process is too mysterious and subtle for ordinary humans to witness.”
“When you see her, she has already formed this crystalline structure. No matter the changes in the Earth’s crust, volcanic eruptions, or ice ages, she watches it all with cold eyes. You are just a wind passing over her surface. She is so transparent, reflecting the blue light of snowy plains. You once thought she was sky, was sea, only to discover in the end that it was a trick of light.”
“What can you do?” Yi Yu patted Cheng Xiang’s shoulder: “You are a wind that passes in an instant.”
Seeing Cheng Xiang standing there stunned, Yi Yu’s lips curled into a wicked smile: “What, shocked by my cultural refinement?”
“Did you think I could only say ‘big, really big’?”
“Haha.” Cheng Xiang said: “Hahaha.”
Tao Tianran finished explaining and put away the manuscript, glancing at Yi Yu: “Were you even listening?”
“I was, of course I was.” Yi Yu pushed Cheng Xiang forward: “Not only was I listening, I took the opportunity to educate this young designer who just returned from studying abroad. Wait…”
“How old are you again?” she asked Cheng Xiang: “Are you two the same age?”
“Yes.” Cheng Xiang smiled charmingly: “It’s just that Teacher Tao was a prodigy who became famous young.”
Tao Tianran lowered her head to organize the manuscript and asked Yi Yu: “How should I arrange that row of diamond fragments I mentioned earlier?”
“…” Yi Yu called to Cheng Xiang: “You answer.”
Cheng Xiang answered. Tao Tianran didn’t look at her once. She gathered the manuscript and walked straight out.
“Look at that bad temper.” Yi Yu wrapped her arms around herself: “Why do I find it so appealing?”
Cheng Xiang: …
She left the Big Boss’s office and returned to her desk, picking up the now-cold jianbing guozi.
What a waste. Finding a jianbing guozi stall near the high-end office buildings of Beicheng’s CBD wasn’t easy.
Avocado toast was like all pretty food—you couldn’t eat too much of it. It got bland after a while.
Back when she was Cheng Xiang, she couldn’t afford avocados. She and Qin Ziqiao would grit their teeth and buy two on payday, and half of one would be rotten.
Cheng Xiang put down the jianbing guozi and tapped her phone a few times.
Then she sent Qin Ziqiao a WeChat message: 【I just ordered you a box of avocados. Remember to pick them up.】
Qin Ziqiao: 【???】
Cheng Xiang glanced at Tao Tianran’s office, suddenly remembering that with all the chaos this morning, Tao Tianran probably hadn’t had coffee yet.
So she went to the break room and made a cup, regardless of what day it was or whether it was Qin Ziqiao’s turn to make Tao Tianran’s coffee, and brought it into Tao Tianran’s office.
Tao Tianran’s assistant was discussing work with her. When she saw Cheng Xiang enter, she smiled: “The Big Boss was just joking earlier, saying you two are dressed like a couple today.”
Cheng Xiang smiled.
Ah, she didn’t know what to feel when she heard things like that.
The world was truly absurd. How could a goal so close to self-abandonment exist? How could a success so close to defeat exist?
Tao Tianran didn’t look at Cheng Xiang. She raised her eyes to the assistant: “Isn’t this your job?”
The assistant froze: “Huh?”
Tao Tianran curled her fingers and tapped lightly on the table near the mug.
“Oh, oh.” The assistant looked up at Cheng Xiang: “Thanks, Shianne. I’ll handle Teacher Tao’s coffee from now on.”
Cheng Xiang also paused for a moment.
She smiled, said nothing, and turned to leave.
Back at her desk, she stared blankly for a few seconds: Lately she’d been bringing Tao Tianran coffee from time to time. Since she was working on the Gangdao President Lin project with Tao Tianran, no one had said anything—including Tao Tianran herself.
What was this now?
Keeping her distance?
Cheng Xiang’s slender fingers tapped unconsciously on the edge of the desk. She thought of that day at the zoo, of Tao Tianran’s nose tip, slightly red from the cold.
In the gray sky, like dove feathers, snow fell in a hush.
She opened her drawing tablet. Lately she’d been working on the project with Tao Tianran. How to put it—she didn’t feel it was a waste of time like the other colleagues did, even though this project was entirely Tao Tianran’s vision.
But Tao Tianran at work was captivating.
She had a kind of immersion. Holding her Montblanc fountain pen, her elegant jaw lowered, the world flowed past behind her like a slideshow.
Everyone changed with the world.
We talk about growth, about transformation, about all kinds of dispensable reasons. But deep down we know clearly—we’re being polished by the world, reshaping ourselves to fit better into its cracks.
We curl up inside, pretending to forget the shape we once had.
How many people are truly like Tao Tianran?
Cheng Xiang held her stylus and opened her previous design sketches on the theme of “regret.”
She wanted to be appreciated by Tao Tianran.
This desperate desire to be appreciated by someone like Tao Tianran had started ten years ago.
The Attached Seventh High School sports meet.
By then, Cheng Xiang’s great project of pursuing Tao Tianran was in full swing. Everyone in the grade knew that the woman who’d been stunned by Tao Tianran’s beauty was pursuing her.
Before signing up for events, Qin Ziqiao went to ask the sports rep. The sports rep looked at her sideways: “Xiangzi wants to know what event Tao Tianran signed up for, right?”
“Mm-hm.” Qin Ziqiao stuffed a box of Pocky3 at her with the gesture of someone slipping contraband.
The sports rep glanced at the registration form: “High jump. Tao Tianran signed up for high jump.”
Qin Ziqiao suggested to Cheng Xiang: “You should sign up for high jump too.”
“If she can beat the others, you pretend to lose to her. If she can’t, you avenge her.”
“Mm-hm.” Cheng Xiang agreed wholeheartedly.
On the day of the sports meet.
Cheng Xiang, with her thin arms and legs, put on the tight high-jump vest and shorts, looking like a bean sprout fluttering in the wind.
When Tao Tianran walked over, she saw her standing at the warm-up area, pouting and blowing at the fine bangs that the small clips hadn’t managed to pin up.
A girl so thin, but with eyes startlingly round—amber-colored, with thick, dense lashes that filtered the autumn sunlight carrying the scent of grass.
Cheng Xiang looked at Tao Tianran and froze.
Tao Tianran was 1.72 meters tall. On ordinary days she looked like a slender model.
But Cheng Xiang hadn’t expected her to be so… full.
Her thighs had the rounded fullness of a young woman. Her calves were slender but not thin, wrapped in knee-high white athletic socks. Her chest rose in gentle curves behind the pinned number bib.
Her long straight black hair, usually worn down, was now tied in a high ponytail at the back of her head, with one earbud in her ear. For some reason she used wired headphones—one side dangled down, the white cord swaying before her full chest. A dragonfly flew past her.
Cheng Xiang swallowed.
Tao Tianran signed her name at the check-in, walked to the warm-up area, and bent down to pat her own thighs.
Qin Ziqiao slipped over from the track field to bring Cheng Xiang water, coaching her: “Warm up properly. See that 1.8-meter woman from Class Two? Can Tao Tianran beat her? I doubt it.”
Cheng Xiang and Qin Ziqiao had been climbing and scrambling since childhood—the skills of a true hutong kid4.
“Mm-hm.” Cheng Xiang agreed enthusiastically.
Qin Ziqiao, in order to cheer for Cheng Xiang up close, had even gone OOC5 and joined the school broadcasting station. When she read coldly from the track field, “On the red track you are like a flame,” the women’s high jump competition began.
“Wow…” Qin Ziqiao almost stumbled over the microphone.
Tao Tianran’s lottery number was 1.
At three in the afternoon, her form as she leaped through the air was clean as a crane, lips slightly pressed, her expression still cold.
Cheng Xiang had been joking around with classmates who came to cheer her on, but now she suddenly stopped.
The autumn sunlight carrying the scent of grass, reflected by the white paint on the track, shone into Cheng Xiang’s eyes. Cheng Xiang rubbed her nose.
A classmate asked: “What are you doing?”
“Oh.” Cheng Xiang said: “Is there grass seed in this wind? My nose itches.”
How to describe it? This sudden urge to cry in this moment.
She had already reconciled with Director Ma. When Qin Ziqiao asked “Not taking the art exam, not drawing comics anymore?” she smiled and said “Director Ma has a point, my family has no artistic genes.”
All those cautious feelings.
All those hesitations about gain and loss.
All became small and insignificant before this moment of a girl leaping into the air.
Tao Tianran landed on the mat, rolled with the momentum, her black hair coming loose. She simply pulled off the hair tie and wrapped it around her thin wrist. When she stepped off the mat, a man came to offer her water. She kept her face cold and waved him off, putting one earbud in.
That leap of Tao Tianran’s, containing no impure motives, shook Cheng Xiang for many, many years.
Adolescent crushes are perhaps like this. Carrying some randomness and chance, like a puzzle piece of just the right shape embedding itself into a heart that hasn’t yet grown complete.
If the earlier crush and pursuit had carried some impulsive meaning.
Then from this moment on, Tao Tianran.
I have so purely fallen for the pure you.
Qin Ziqiao finished reading the broadcast script and slipped to Cheng Xiang’s side: “Hold back a little, hold back. I think Tao Tianran’s got first place in the bag. Why don’t you just end the competition early and go hand her a towel and water? See, that guy just offered her water and she didn’t take it.”
Then she slipped back to the broadcasting station.
When Cheng Xiang leaped into the air, Qin Ziqiao was reading “As long as you’ve tried, everyone is a hero,” and her jaw dropped so far she almost swallowed the microphone.
She and Cheng Xiang had grown up together.
She’d seen Cheng Xiang pretend to cry when Director Ma hit her. She’d seen Cheng Xiang squat at the hutong entrance watching ants for half a day. She’d seen Cheng Xiang leaning against the indoor paulownia tree reading comics. She’d seen Cheng Xiang smile and say “If I don’t draw comics, I don’t draw—what’s the point of fighting with my mom?”
In that moment, the girl stood at the hutong entrance, gazing at the wild grass on the rooftops that stretched to the sky.
Qin Ziqiao knew what she was really saying was—”What’s the point of fighting with the world?”
But now, Cheng Xiang’s form as she leaped into the air seemed to say: Go ahead and fight the world.
After one round, three rounds, five rounds, the 1.8-meter woman was eliminated. Only Tao Tianran and Cheng Xiang remained on the field.
Qin Ziqiao didn’t care about reading scripts anymore, didn’t care whether Cheng Xiang was pursuing Tao Tianran—she ran to the edge of the field and screamed herself hoarse: “Xiao Xiang, go!”
Cheng Xiang turned and gave her a thumbs up, smiling to reveal two rows of fine white teeth.
But the next moment, the girl turned. Her arms pulled back like drawing a bow, her body followed, and she ran lightly, leaped high into the air—
Cheng Xiang closed her eyes in mid-air.
Please, please, just this once. When I’m trying my hardest, let me win.
She landed heavily on the mat. Behind her, the crossbar position was silent. Her fine hair had already scattered into a mess, sticking together with sweat and maybe tears.
Cheng Xiang breathed heavily: I did it.
But then behind her, the crossbar swayed once, twice, as if blown by a gentle wind, and fell.
Cheng Xiang rubbed her eyes, wiping away sweat and tears together, and stood up, smiling as she stepped off the mat.
Qin Ziqiao was crying uncontrollably beside her.
Cheng Xiang smiled and was about to say “What are you crying about? Aren’t you supposed to be cool?” when her legs went weak and she collapsed by the mat.
Great, her image was ruined.
Qin Ziqiao was about to run toward Cheng Xiang when a backlit silhouette appeared before her.
The warm autumn seasonal wind blew through the lush vegetation. Cheng Xiang recognized the person standing before her by those white knee socks—Tao Tianran.
A cold, pale arm extended, offering her a bottle of water still beaded with ice.
Cheng Xiang froze: “I don’t want water some other man bought for you.”
“I bought it myself.”
“Oh.” Cheng Xiang wrinkled her nose and took it.
Tao Tianran extended her hand toward her again.
Cheng Xiang froze again, pressed her lips together, reached out, and took Tao Tianran’s hand.
She held it carefully, only grasping two-thirds of Tao Tianran’s fingers. Tao Tianran’s hand was so cold—cold enough to make one’s heart tremble.
Tao Tianran pulled Cheng Xiang up. When Cheng Xiang barely stood steady, she withdrew her hand, turned, and walked away.
What a pity, Cheng Xiang stood in place.
The sunlight that day was too blinding, so she never had the chance to see clearly whether Tao Tianran had ever cast a look of appreciation toward her, who had tried her hardest.
Everyone is rewritten by a single awakening—that only happens in movies.
In reality, we all grow into mediocre adults under the banner of “making peace with the world.”
Cheng Xiang ultimately didn’t take the art exam. She got into a comprehensive second-tier university 500 meters from Tao Tianran’s school.
In her junior year, she started teaching herself CG, hand-drawing, modeling. During that time she saved her living expenses to buy software, surviving on Qin Ziqiao’s support.
Near graduation, she fell into the panic of not finding work. Director Ma talked her into taking the civil service exam.
At the last moment, she still couldn’t bring herself to let her life pass like that. After countless failed interviews, she joined a game company as a concept artist.
Her life seemed to be like this—hesitant, cautious.
Until this moment, sitting before the computer, holding her stylus.
She thought: Is talent what determines a person’s fate?
Maybe not.
She really wanted to win. Against someone like Tao Tianran, even once would be enough. Cheng Xiang lowered her head and worked.
When Tao Tianran got off work, the lights in the common area were all off.
With a boss like Yi Yu, Kunpu’s company culture didn’t encourage overtime.
Only Cheng Xiang’s desk had a light on.
Tao Tianran noticed that this person had a lot of rituals when working.
Unlike Tao Tianran, who only needed one navy-blue fountain pen.
She wore noise-canceling headphones, had an aromatherapy diffuser on her desk, chewed gum, and since returning to the company, her desktop had already filled with a row of blind box figurines.
The last time Tao Tianran saw someone who needed this many rituals to study or work, it was Cheng Xiang.
When that name surfaced in her mind, Tao Tianran lowered her eyelashes.
She picked up her Bolide6 and walked out. Cheng Xiang was completely focused on the computer screen.
Until Tao Tianran reached the door.
“Teacher Tao.” Her lazy, charming voice rose from behind.
Tao Tianran looked back.
She had removed one earbud and hung it on the side of her cat-like face with its heavy makeup. She chewed her gum twice, her lashes thick and soft. When she lifted her eyes to look at someone, there was a languid quality, gazing upward.
Her voice was low too, echoing in the empty office, drifting to the ear, tickling the eardrum: “Avoiding me?”
Tao Tianran looked at her: “Why would I avoid you?”
Cheng Xiang waved her stylus, smiled, and lowered her head: “That’s good then.”
When Tao Tianran reached the parking garage, a client called. She opened her laptop, put on her Bluetooth earphones, and took notes on her understanding while talking.
When she hung up, her phone was slightly warm—the call had lasted an hour.
Driving out of the garage, the night was thick. The city had fallen asleep. Tao Tianran noticed someone standing by the bus stop at the roadside.
It was Cheng Xiang. She had finally deigned to get off work.
Tao Tianran remembered she drove a mustard-yellow Maserati, bright enough to hurt people’s eyes. For some reason she didn’t drive to and from work, standing here waiting for the bus.
Considering her driving skills… not driving was normal.
Tao Tianran glanced at her one more time.
In the company, because of Yi Yu’s personal taste, there were many beautiful people. But everyone said Yu Yusheng was the most striking.
She had overly thick long curly hair, but her facial bone structure was very Eastern. A delicate cat-face the size of a palm, pupils like light amber cat’s-eye stones that shimmered with light.
After she joined, Tao Tianran had gone abroad for training for a while.
When Tao Tianran returned, it was her turn to go abroad.
The two never really had the chance to work together. When Yu Yusheng was mentioned, Tao Tianran only remembered the fleeting glimpse of her presenting a proposal when she first joined. As for Yu Yusheng’s appearance, she didn’t have much impression.
Tao Tianran had the typical eyes of an artist—she didn’t look at the whole person, only at the minute details ordinary people wouldn’t notice.
For example, when Cheng Xiang was mentioned, Tao Tianran would always think of her small-animal gaze, and her overly thick, fuzzy lashes.
But when Yu Yusheng was mentioned, the impression in her mind was vague.
Until tonight, Yu Yusheng stood by the bus stop.
Her cashmere coat, high heels, luxury-brand handbag, and the overly gorgeous cityscape all blended together and blurred, making her eyes stand out instead.
Did she always have such eyes?
When she gazed vaguely into the distance, she made people feel she was looking at the old hutongs from years past, at the wild grass growing on rooftops, at pigeon feathers falling from above.
How could this be?
Cheng Xiang saw Tao Tianran.
She pressed her lips together, meeting Tao Tianran’s gaze through the windshield.
She watched Tao Tianran grip the steering wheel, accelerate, and drive straight past her.
Drove right past…
Footnotes
- Jiānbǐng guǒzi is a popular Chinese breakfast crepe made from wheat flour, eggs, and various fillings such as pickled vegetables, cilantro, and crispy fried dough.
- PUA refers to 'Pick-Up Artist' manipulation tactics. In Chinese internet slang, it has broadened to describe any relationship dynamic involving emotional manipulation, gaslighting, or systematic undermining of self-worth.
- Pocky is a Japanese snack brand of biscuit sticks coated in chocolate or other flavors, popular across Asia.
- 'Hútòng chuànzi' refers to someone who grew up running wild through the 'hutongs'—the traditional, narrow residential alleyways iconic to Beicheng (Beijing).
- OOC stands for 'Out of Character,' a term from fandom culture meaning a character acting inconsistently with their established personality. Here it means Qin Ziqiao did something completely unlike herself.
- The Hermès Bolide is a classic luxury handbag design, known for its rounded shape and zipper closure.
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