The Alley Was Always This Long – Chapter 23
by Little PandaNew Year
Once you’ve had a taste of excitement, you crave even more.
[Busy. Accomplished nothing. Won the lottery once. Good at drawing manga.
Among all the adjectives describing “life,”
I never imagined one—”without Tao Tianran.”]
New Year’s Eve.
Cheng Xiang never imagined she’d have another chance to celebrate New Year’s Eve. So when she stood by the window of the Yu family villa, watching neighborhood children set off dud fireworks, she found herself moved to tears.
Yu Yuluo stood beside her, arms crossed. “What’s wrong with you?”
She wiped her eyes with a little sniffle. “What would you know.”
Zhuwei was busy in the kitchen with the housekeeper. Yu Yuce had gone to the office even on New Year’s Eve, and when he returned, he handed his coat to Auntie Su and walked toward the kitchen, rolling up his shirt sleeves.
The lunch spread wasn’t as elaborate as Cheng Xiang had expected. Perhaps after too many year-end social engagements, they craved something light and simple.
After some casual conversation, Yu Yuce ladled himself a bowl of plain porridge and asked Cheng Xiang, “How’s work since you’ve been back?”
“Not bad.” The Eldest Miss Yu did have talent.
Yu Yuce smiled. “Perhaps this kind of life suits you better.”
Cheng Xiang paused slightly.
There was something beneath those words. Back when she was an ordinary kid without much talent, reading between the lines had been her specialty.
She sucked lightly on the tip of her chopsticks. “Being able to do what I love and what I’m good at—I think that’s pretty good.”
“Is that so.” Yu Yuce picked up another morsel with his chopsticks.
In Beicheng, the real importance lay in the New Year’s Eve dinner. She mentioned to Zhuwei, “I won’t be home for dinner tonight. I’m meeting a friend.”
Zhuwei simply said, “Oh.”
Cheng Xiang gradually sensed that the Eldest Miss Yu’s position in this family had been somewhat delicate.
She gathered her coat and went out.
After realizing she had absolutely no talent for driving, she rarely got behind the wheel anymore. The buses on New Year’s Eve didn’t stop running, but when she stepped aboard, the entire carriage was empty, not a soul in sight.
The driver called out to her, “Young lady, Happy Spring Festival!”
Cheng Xiang smiled back. “Happy Spring Festival to you too.”
She got off at the entrance to the hutong1. In her hands, she carried abalone, cordyceps2, and a packaged Australian lobster, plus a box of cherries—the kind graded 5J, each one palm-sized.
The old siheyuan3‘s gate studs were worn, the red lacquer on the door panels peeling and mottled. The couplets pasted up had a slightly uneven look.
Cheng Xiang stood at the entrance, hesitating again.
Behind her stretched the vast night. Occasionally children ran past waving handheld sparklers. Her lips were numb from the cold, and she was just about to turn and leave.
The door behind her creaked open. Director Ma stood there with a bag of kitchen scraps from preparing the New Year’s Eve dinner, about to take it outside.
Director Ma glanced at her. Cheng Xiang pressed her lips together.
Director Ma turned and walked back into the courtyard, tossing over her shoulder, “Come in.”
Cheng Xiang, hands full, followed behind Director Ma.
When Director Ma looked back, she saw Cheng Xiang glancing around.
Director Ma said, “Never seen anything like this, have you? This shabby little courtyard. Let me tell you, that’s nothing. In our… our side bedroom, there’s a parasol tree growing right through the roof.”
Cheng Xiang’s lips curved into a smile.
How could she not have seen it? It had only been a little over a year, yet somehow there seemed to be more broken flowerpots in the corners, the tiles covered in a layer of dust that wouldn’t wipe away, the roof thick with withered grass and feeling more cramped than she remembered. If she’d come at dusk, she would have seen Uncle Wang’s flock of pigeons, their whistles filling the sky.
Director Ma led her inside. Deputy Director Cheng looked surprised. “You’re…”
Cheng Xiang set her things on the table and unwound her cashmere scarf. “My family reunion was too crowded, so I snuck out.”
Deputy Director Cheng rubbed his hands together. Director Ma said, “What are you standing around for? Let’s get dinner started.”
The television was playing the Spring Festival Gala4 with its sea of performers. Cheng Xiang followed Director Ma toward the kitchen with practiced ease, then realized her steps were too familiar, and slowed down.
The New Year’s Eve dinner featured Director Ma’s specialties: fried meatballs, sweet and sour spareribs, and mustard green rolls. When Cheng Xiang saw the candied sweet potato5, she lit up: “I love that the most…”
When she was little, she’d eaten too fast during New Year’s and burned the roof of her mouth.
But when Director Ma glanced over, she didn’t finish the sentence.
Director Ma said, “You like candied sweet potato too?”
Cheng Xiang nodded. “Mm.”
Director Ma smiled and said nothing more. She didn’t explain who that “too” referred to—whose tastes this “too” matched.
The three of them sat around the New Year’s Eve dinner table. Cheng Xiang opened the Australian lobster she’d ordered from a five-star hotel. “Let’s add a dish.”
She used to joke that when she struck it rich, she’d treat Director Ma and Deputy Director Cheng to Australian lobster every day.
She looked around the table. “No liangpi6?”
Deputy Director Cheng loved liangpi passionately, always complaining that northern heating made the air too dry.
Deputy Director Cheng smiled. “I don’t eat liangpi anymore.”
Cheng Xiang’s heart seized.
Every sentence was perfectly ordinary, yet each one, examined closely, was like a black hole. “Anymore”—when did “anymore” begin?
Cheng Xiang thought it better not to speak, stirring the candied sweet potato with her chopstick tip.
Deputy Director Cheng glanced at her. “I didn’t ask properly last time. Young lady, you said you’re around twenty-five—exactly how old?”
“Twenty-six.”
Deputy Director Cheng nodded. “The exact same age.”
He studied her carefully. “After the new year, you’ll be twenty-seven, then twenty-eight the year after. Young lady, do you have a partner?”
Director Ma tapped his hand with her chopstick. “Young people don’t like being asked that. You old man, always being a bother.”
“It’s fine.” Cheng Xiang’s eyes curved into a smile. “I haven’t.”
“Oh.” Deputy Director Cheng nodded. “Haven’t, I see.”
He asked Director Ma, “That girl who came to our house for New Year’s Eve dinner before, what was her name?”
Director Ma answered, “Tao Tianran.”
Cheng Xiang’s heart skipped a beat.
Deputy Director Cheng sipped his homemade yellow wine. “That girl was truly beautiful. I wonder if she’s found someone.”
Cheng Xiang certainly remembered. In their senior year of university, Tao Tianran hadn’t returned to Gangdao for New Year’s.
When Cheng Xiang asked why, she only said she couldn’t be bothered with the hassle.
“Then how will you spend New Year’s alone?” Cheng Xiang was worried.
Tao Tianran glanced at her with cool eyes. “Just spend it.”
On New Year’s Eve, Cheng Xiang packed up to return from their rented apartment to the siheyuan.
She asked Tao Tianran, “You’re really not coming with me? You’re so pretty, my mom would definitely love you. My mom is shallow like me.”
She laughed as she said it.
Tao Tianran shook her head. “I’m not going.”
So Cheng Xiang set off alone with her little backpack. Inside was stuffed with the scarf she’d bought for Director Ma, the wool back brace for Deputy Director Cheng, and the door-nail meat pies7 from near their apartment—Director Ma’s favorite.
She wrinkled her nose worriedly and sniffed. “Stuffed in my backpack, won’t it smell?”
The room fell quiet.
Tao Tianran wandered around and found that this fifty-square-meter apartment wasn’t as lively as usual.
Usually, it was filled to the brim with Cheng Xiang’s chattering.
Tao Tianran read for a while, then sat by the window full of succulents and sketched for a bit. The sky gradually darkened. Northern dusks weren’t romantic—the heavens were high and vast, and sitting beneath them, one occasionally felt one’s own insignificance.
Cheng Xiang called. “What are you eating tonight?”
“Noodles, I suppose.” Tao Tianran pressed her fingertip against the edge of the draft paper, noticing a faint blue stain on her middle finger.
“Do you know how to cook noodles?” Cheng Xiang gave a little snort of laughter. “Let me tell you something, Tao Tianran!”
Tao Tianran said nothing, her knuckles tapping lightly on the desk as she waited.
“I ordered you KFC!”
In Cheng Xiang’s mind, KFC was the liveliest place in the world. The lights were always bright, the egg tarts always sweet, the fried chicken always fragrant, and happiness never closed.
“And I swapped the cola in your family bucket for nine-treasure juice8. KFC’s cola is Pepsi, and how can anyone drink Pepsi?”
Listening to her small, triumphant tone, Tao Tianran said, “Alright.”
When the doorbell rang, Tao Tianran put down her fountain pen to answer.
A delivery worker in a blue uniform stood outside. Just as she was handing the family bucket to Tao Tianran, a thin girl who darted out from behind startled her.
Cheng Xiang grabbed the bucket with one hand, reached inside to snatch Tao Tianran’s coat from the entryway, and shoved it into her arms. “Let’s go!”
She pulled the door shut, grabbed Tao Tianran’s wrist, and ran downstairs.
“Tao Tianran, put on your coat. Oh no, the juice is going to spill—hold it properly.”
“Where?”
“I thought about it and I just couldn’t let you spend New Year’s alone!” Cheng Xiang looked back with curved smiling eyes as she ran. “Tao Tianran, we’re going to spend New Year’s together!”
While waiting for a taxi by the roadside, she stomped her feet slightly, as if that would make the car come faster.
After getting out, she grabbed Tao Tianran’s wrist again. “Run faster! Director Ma is very traditional. If we miss the New Year’s Eve dinner, she’ll be angry.”
“Then why did you come to get me?”
“I had to! Of course I had to.”
Tao Tianran’s coat sash came loose, fluttering in the dimly lit hutong as Cheng Xiang dragged her along at a run.
They ran all the way to the siheyuan entrance, where Cheng Xiang came to an abrupt halt. “I’m… I’m exhausted.”
Tao Tianran composed herself and was about to follow her inside when Cheng Xiang suddenly called softly, “Tao Tianran.”
At the hutong entrance hung a paper red lantern, swaying beneath a gray iron lampshade. Cheng Xiang rose on her toes, her breath still uneven from running, warm as she pressed her lips almost recklessly against the corner of Tao Tianran’s mouth.
When Director Ma opened the door, Cheng Xiang had just lowered herself from her tiptoes.
She put on a perfectly serious face in front of Director Ma. “Mom, this is Tianran. Tao Tianran.”
Tao Tianran pressed her lips together. “Hello, Auntie.”
“Hello, hello.” Director Ma looked her up and down. “You’re Xiao Xiang’s friend?”
“She’s from Gangdao, didn’t go back for New Year’s.” Cheng Xiang led Tao Tianran inside by the hand. “She’s here to scrounge a meal. Oh, this KFC—she bought it for you.”
“That’s wonderful! I like fried chicken.”
“Tao Tianran, let me show you my bedroom. You’ll never guess—there’s a tree inside, it’s so cool.”
She closed the door and leaned back against the lock. “Whew, that was thrilling.”
“What was thrilling?”
“Bringing you home.”
Director Ma and Deputy Director Cheng were extremely traditional. Cheng Xiang and Tao Tianran’s relationship hadn’t been revealed to the family yet.
Tao Tianran lowered her thin eyelids, one hand held by Cheng Xiang.
After catching her breath, Cheng Xiang’s lips curved up. “Heh heh heh.”
Tao Tianran: “?”
Cheng Xiang said, “You know how it is—once you’ve had a taste of excitement, you crave even more.”
Her hand slipped inside Tao Tianran’s coat, found the edge of her sweater, and quietly pressed against her slender waist.
She looked up and asked, “Cold?”
Tao Tianran said, “Cold.”
Cheng Xiang didn’t pull her hand away. She tilted her head up, seeking Tao Tianran’s kiss. Director Ma’s footsteps sounded in the courtyard as she carried a stainless steel basin, ready to fry meatballs.
Cheng Xiang’s heart pounded in her throat.
Tao Tianran stepped back, putting some distance between them. “Your mouth.”
“What?” Cheng Xiang’s hand moved up, reaching toward Tao Tianran’s bra clasp.
“Tastes like milk candy.” From when she’d just kissed her.
Cheng Xiang smiled slyly. “We were out of gum, so I used milk candy instead.”
Tao Tianran tilted her head back, looking down at her.
“Tao Tianran.” Cheng Xiang was getting impatient. “Are you going to kiss me or not? My mom’s almost done with the last batch of meatballs, she’ll be knocking on my door any second.”
Director Ma’s last batch indeed had only a few meatballs left. In the midst of conversation, they heard her calling from the courtyard, “Old Cheng! Go call your daughter for dinner.”
Deputy Director Cheng’s voice: “I’m watering the flowers.”
“What’s there to water with those pathetic flowers. Fine, I’ll go myself.”
Director Ma’s hurried footsteps.
The door Cheng Xiang was leaning against was knocked—thud. The door panel was thin, and Cheng Xiang’s heart jumped with it.
“Xiao Xiang, Tianran, dinner.”
“Coming…” As Cheng Xiang turned her head to answer, Tao Tianran’s kiss landed. Because she’d turned, it fell precisely on her ear.
Warm breath washed over her, and Cheng Xiang nearly cried out. She turned back, and Tao Tianran captured her lips.
Director Ma was still knocking outside. “If you heard me, come out quickly.”
Tao Tianran’s tongue slipped in.
“Did you hear me?”
Cheng Xiang’s back pressed against the door as Tao Tianran’s kiss tilted her chin up. This was the first time she’d kept her eyes open while kissing Tao Tianran—first she saw Tao Tianran’s closed eyes, her delicate lashes, and beyond them, the bedroom where she’d grown up.
Here, since childhood, she had imagined what the first person she ever loved in this life would look like.
Her hand reached along Tao Tianran’s slender back, her fingertips hooking the bra clasp, lifting it.
“Cheng Xiang!” Director Ma suddenly pounded hard on the door. “My fried meatballs are getting cold!”
As if there were nothing more important in all the world than her fried meatballs!
Cheng Xiang’s finger slipped, and the clasp snapped back against Tao Tianran’s thin back with a soft click.
She withdrew her hand. Tao Tianran quickly straightened her sweater, reached past her shoulder to open the door, and called out with perfect composure, “Auntie.”
“Oh, I thought you didn’t hear me.” Director Ma walked briskly toward the dining room. “Come eat your New Year’s Eve dinner!”
Later, when Cheng Xiang recalled this moment with Qin Ziqiao, she was filled with regret. “We were one step away!”
At that time, she and Tao Tianran hadn’t yet taken that final step.
Now, hearing Director Ma suddenly mention Tao Tianran, she fell into a daze.
“And Ziqiao,” Deputy Director Cheng added. “I wonder if Ziqiao has found someone.”
As they spoke, Director Ma’s phone rang.
Director Ma answered. “Oh, Ziqiao, what a coincidence—your Uncle Cheng was just talking about you.”
“Ah, we’re all fine. Mm, health is good too. We’re having New Year’s Eve dinner, what about you? Ah, that’s good.”
“Alright, Happy Spring Festival to you too. Give my regards to your mom.”
Director Ma hung up. Deputy Director Cheng asked, “Ziqiao?”
“Mm.”
Deputy Director Cheng set down his wine glass and rubbed his fingers. “She came to pay New Year’s calls last year. Why just a phone call this year?”
Director Ma smiled gently. “What’s not to understand? She doesn’t want to remember. Seeing us hurts her the same way seeing her hurts us.”
Cheng Xiang sat to the side, her heart twisting.
Director Ma placed a fried meatball in her bowl. “Young lady, you… don’t come again. To be honest, my daughter was exactly your age.”
Cheng Xiang stared at the fried meatball for a moment.
She lifted her lips into a smile. “I wouldn’t be able to come anyway. I’m going to Thailand for a business trip.”
Hearing “Thailand,” Deputy Director Cheng suddenly slapped the table. “I knew it! I knew it!”
He pointed shakily at Cheng Xiang. “All that money you send us every month—is it from Xiao Xiang running phone scams?”
“…” Cheng Xiang said, “Don’t worry. From what I know of Cheng Xiang, she really couldn’t pull that off.”
She hadn’t sent that much anyway. It was all money she’d earned herself after transmigrating. Yu Yusheng’s original funds were still saved, untouched.
She stood up. “Then I’ll be going.”
She pointed to the things she’d brought. “Some people say cordyceps cause internal heat, so make more pear soup. The abalone needs to be properly rehydrated—many people can’t handle the fishy taste, so cooking it in a pot is better. Keep the cherries refrigerated, don’t freeze them. Eat some every day, but not too many or you’ll get nosebleeds. And don’t be stingy about eating them, or they’ll go bad…”
Director Ma watched her.
Cheng Xiang stopped. She bit her lower lip, smiled. “I’m going.”
She walked out of the hutong. Two streetlights were broken, leaving a long, misty darkness—a river filled with memories.
Snow remained beneath the utility pole. Cheng Xiang leaped over it and landed lightly.
She remembered New Year’s four years ago, when she’d held Tao Tianran’s hand right here, carrying a bucket of KFC, running all the way. The wind in her ears, the air frozen as if about to snow, the scent of fried chicken at her nose—so lively, yet so lonely.
Being with Tao Tianran felt something like that.
So lively, yet so lonely.
She walked to the hutong entrance to wait for the bus, took out her phone, opened the delivery app, and searched for the KFC family bucket.
Her fingertip tapped twice, then she swiped out.
When she looked up, a firework suddenly bloomed in the distance, leaping over the low rooftops of the siheyuans.
Qin Ziqiao leaned against the window.
Her mother’s home was close to Cheng Xiang’s, so she could see those fireworks too.
Her mother was behind her, wrapping dumplings. “Not going to Xiao Xiang’s house this year? If you go, bring some dumplings to Sister Ma.”
“Not going.” Qin Ziqiao rested her chin on one hand, the other tracing circles on the windowsill.
Meanwhile, at Tao Tianran’s home.
She opened KFC in the app, found the family bucket, and tapped for a long time, but couldn’t find how to swap the cola for nine-treasure juice.
So she placed the order and called. “Hello.”
“Hello, ma’am.”
“I’d like to swap the cola in the combo for nine-treasure juice.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am, that’s not possible.”
Tao Tianran pressed her tongue against the back of her teeth. “Then what should I do?”
“If you really need to, you can cancel the order.”
Tao Tianran was silent for a moment. She hung up and canceled the order in the app.
She poured herself a glass of red wine and leaned against the terrace doorframe. Faint fireworks sounded in the distance, but the complex was too densely planted with greenery—from her angle, she couldn’t see them.
On the second day of the New Year, Cheng Xiang set off with Yi Yu.
Yi Yu had booked first-class seats with impressive generosity. So when the plane took off, Cheng Xiang transformed from a nervous quail about to be launched into a nervous quail about to be launched in first class.
Yi Yu covered her mouth beside her. “Why are you so funny?”
Cheng Xiang gripped the armrest tightly. “What’s so funny?”
Yi Yu called the flight attendant. “Could I have a glass of champagne?”
“I’m sorry, ma’am. We can serve alcohol once we reach cruising altitude.”
Yi Yu lifted the dZi bead hanging at her neck—the box of beads from last time had indeed been thoroughly plundered; she’d made herself a necklace.
“Would giving you one make it possible?”
“…” The flight attendant said, “No.”
“Then,” Yi Yu flipped her hair and winked at the flight attendant, “what about this?”
“…That makes it even more impossible.”
Yi Yu tapped her finger on the armrest. “What do you mean by ‘even more’? Let’s discuss this properly.”
She didn’t really want champagne; she just wanted to tease Cheng Xiang to help her relax.
Cheng Xiang laughed as she listened, feeling that Yi Yu had practically cured her fear of flying.
“What are you laughing at?” Yi Yu glanced at her. “I thought you’d turn me down.”
“Hmm?”
“About coming to Thailand.” Yi Yu played with the ends of her hair. “I thought you couldn’t bear to leave Teacher Tao behind.”
Cheng Xiang paused.
Yi Yu lifted one corner of her lips. “Did you really think I’m just rich and stupid? Without some perception, how could I have kept Kunpu standing tall all these years?”
“No, no, who said anything about you being rich and stupid.” Cheng Xiang waved her hands repeatedly. “I just…”
“Got scared, wanted to run.” Yi Yu concluded for her.
Cheng Xiang said nothing.
“You’re just not smart enough.” Yi Yu clicked her tongue. “Look at me—I understand deeply that some beauties are only meant to be admired from afar. Like your Teacher Tao.”
“Humans worship gemstones because they’re utterly helpless before them. We use our sharpest machines to cut them, but we can only alter their outermost form. As for what lies within, we don’t truly know what miracles occurred over billions of years deep in the earth’s crust.”
“We exhaust ourselves trying to simulate and rewrite, yet we can only produce crude synthetic gems. The very existence of gemstones is a mockery of humanity—mocking our weakness, mocking our deep affection, yet being endowed by humans with so-called ‘eternal’ value.”
Yi Yu’s lips curled in self-mockery. “Heh.”
Cheng Xiang looked at her.
“What,” Yi Yu flipped her long hair, “bowled over by your big sister’s philosophy?”
“Boss.”
“Hmm?”
“If I weren’t waiting for you to pay me, I’d throw you off this plane.” Cheng Xiang turned to look out the window.
“Hey.” Yi Yu called to her from the side. “Don’t worry about Teacher Tao not having feelings for you. Once you’re gone, stop thinking about it. Big sister will take you to Thailand to eat and drink to your heart’s content.”
Cheng Xiang gazed out the window, her thumb rubbing against her index finger.
Her dilemma now was that she was both afraid Tao Tianran wouldn’t develop feelings for her, and afraid that she would.
That was why she had to run.
Sob Thailand is so delicious.
Cheng Xiang stuffed tom yum soup and sticky rice into her mouth. She was about to free her hands to call Qin Ziqiao, but paused and put her phone away.
Looking outside the restaurant, a tropical monsoon wind brushed past the coconut groves with romantic colors.
One earbud in, a Cantonese female singer sang with a stubborn voice:
“No matter the corner, I won’t assume you might be there.9
I too can wander foreign lands, eating and drinking without a care.”
Her lips curved.
This seemed to be the first time since transmigrating that she considered—perhaps she could distance herself a bit from Cheng Xiang’s past life.
Perhaps she didn’t have to put herself in such a difficult position.
The past Cheng Xiang had become a scar on many people’s hearts—her parents’, Qin Ziqiao’s.
As for whether she was a scar on Tao Tianran’s heart, she didn’t know.
Perhaps she should make things easier for everyone?
During three months in Thailand, Cheng Xiang didn’t call Qin Ziqiao again, and naturally didn’t contact Director Ma or Deputy Director Cheng.
Her mannerisms seemed to grow more and more like the original Yu Yusheng. During the day she worked hard; at night she’d change into a camisole and go clubbing with Yi Yu.
Her features were bold, well-suited to the defined contours of Thai-style makeup.
The club lights were eerie, the music loud enough to damage ears. She leaned over the table and shouted to Yi Yu, “Don’t let your drink leave your hand!”
“What!” Yi Yu shouted back.
“I said!” Cheng Xiang felt her throat burning. “Don’t let your drink leave your hand! I’m afraid someone might put something in it!”
“Look at you, so young!” Yi Yu continued shouting. “How can you worry so much?”
Heh…
Cheng Xiang sipped her fruit wine and pressed her lips together: Should she stop mentioning she was the Neighborhood Committee Director’s daughter?
She carefully reviewed Yu Yusheng’s background again—the young lady had studied business, then somehow switched mid-stream to jewelry design. And she had such talent, quickly winning international awards. Comparing people really was infuriating.
Yu Yuluo secretly called her. “When are you coming back?”
“Not yet, another three months.” Cheng Xiang drawled.
“I kind of…” Yu Yuluo raised her voice, as if to cover her embarrassment. “Miss you so when you come back remember to bring me coconut rolls pork floss crispy rice pork paper and also get me a lipstick but don’t tell mom okay I’m hanging up now.”
After she hung up, Cheng Xiang felt a bit dizzy from the carbon dioxide.
Saying all that in one breath—this kid had impressive lung capacity.
She rubbed her phone case—not the cartoon lucky cat she liked, but the abstract art style the Eldest Miss Yu preferred.
It seemed that Miss Yu’s life was also worth living.
It seemed that a life without Tao Tianran was also worth living.
Right?
Footnotes
- A 'hutong' is a traditional narrow alleyway characteristic of old Beijing, lined with courtyard homes and small shops. These winding lanes form the historic fabric of old Beicheng.
- 'Cordyceps' (dongchong xiacao, 'winter worm, summer grass') is a prized Chinese medicinal fungus that grows on caterpillars in high-altitude regions. Valued in traditional medicine, it is one of the most expensive ingredients in Chinese cuisine.
- A 'siheyuan' is a traditional Chinese courtyard residence, typically rectangular with rooms arranged around a central courtyard. Once the standard housing for Beijing families, these historic homes feature distinctive architectural elements like carved gate studs and painted eaves.
- The 'Spring Festival Gala' (Chunwan) is China's most-watched annual television variety show, broadcast live on New Year's Eve. Featuring singing, dancing, comedy sketches, and elaborate performances, it has been a national tradition since 1983 and is watched by hundreds of millions.
- 'Candied sweet potato' (basi digua) is a classic northern Chinese dish where sweet potato pieces are coated in hot sugar syrup. When lifted, the sugar forms thin golden threads—hence 'basi' or 'pulled silk.' Diners dip the pieces in cold water to harden the coating before eating.
- 'Liangpi' (cold skin noodles) is a Chinese street food made from wheat or rice flour, served cold with chili oil, vinegar, and various toppings. A specialty of northwestern China, it is especially popular in summer.
- 'Door-nail meat pie' (mending roubing) is a Beijing specialty—a round, thick meat-filled pastry named after the brass studs on palace gates. Crispy outside and juicy inside, it is a beloved street food.
- 'Nine-treasure juice' (jiuzhen guozhi) is a fruit beverage exclusive to KFC China, made from a blend of nine fruit juices. It has become a popular alternative to cola in the Chinese KFC menu.
- These lyrics are from 'Zaijian Er Dingmu' (Goodbye, Yankee Town), a 1997 Cantonese ballad by singer Yang Qianhua. The song describes finding peace and independence after letting go of someone you love—the narrator learns to travel and enjoy life without assuming that person might appear. It is a beloved anthem of emotional self-sufficiency.
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