The Alley Was Always This Long – Chapter 24
by Little PandaPublic Disclosure
Zero-frame startup.
[“I’m doing well now.”
This is the sentence I practiced most after we broke up.]
Another three months passed. Hot-season downpours. After Cheng Xiang and Yi Yu finished meeting with local artists, they huddled under the eaves to escape the rain. They had agreed to eat green curry, but the streets were flooded too deep to drive.
Cheng Xiang spotted a KFC behind her. “Let’s eat this.”
Yi Yu refused. “Did I claw my way to the top of the wealth chain just to eat this?!”
“Then I’ll go myself. I’m starving.” Cheng Xiang turned away on her own.
“Hey!” Yi Yu stamped her foot behind her, but in the end, she followed her into the KFC.
By then it was late evening. The KFC had almost no customers. The air conditioning was cranked too high, and the staff behind the counter looked listless. They glanced at the order, retrieved fried chicken from the warming cabinet, and poured two cups of cola.
Yi Yu was dissatisfied. “This fried chicken—the skin’s gone all soggy.”
Cheng Xiang lifted the corner of her mouth, nudging the chicken pieces in their paper tray. “I used to.”
“Used to what?”
“Think KFC was the happiest place on earth.”
She gazed out the window. Rain poured down in sheets, the streets transformed into a somber gray sea, streetlamps scattered like stars across its surface. And on the window glass, her own face was reflected—beautiful, and utterly unfamiliar.
So fried chicken could lose its crispness.
So cola bubbles could run out, leaving a faint sour aftertaste.
Yi Yu took a bite of fried chicken. “There’s something I don’t know if I should say.”
“Then don’t say it.”
“Hey, why won’t you play by the script! Here’s the thing—there’s this variety show back home. They got jewelry designers and celebrities to participate together. Based on dramatic scenarios the celebrities draw, you design pieces. See? Pretty marketable, right?”
Yi Yu pulled a napkin to wipe her fingers. “Naturally, I asked Teacher Tao. Her image is perfect—great publicity for the company. The show pairs people up, so someone had to partner with Teacher Tao. I told her to figure it out herself, and she recommended you.”
“So… what do you think?”
Cheng Xiang bit into a piece of soggy fried chicken.
“What do I think?”
“We’re almost done with business here, heading back to China soon. Are you prepared for close contact with her?”
Cheng Xiang said nothing. She walked out of the KFC with Yi Yu.
There were still people under the eaves taking shelter. One of them had long straight black hair, a plain shirt, a cool, spare half-profile.
Yi Yu grabbed Cheng Xiang’s forearm. “Whoa, scared me. Thought Teacher Tao chased me all the way to Thailand.”
“…You’re the boss. She’s the boss. Which one of you is actually the boss?”
Yi Yu laughed dryly. “She’s the stricter one.”
Cheng Xiang let her pinch her forearm and walked forward a couple steps, then suddenly said, “I’ll do it.”
“What?”
“That variety show.”
“Why? You think you’re ready?”
“Mm.”
“Why?”
Cheng Xiang lifted the corner of her mouth. “Because… I also mistook that silhouette back there for her.”
For the old Cheng Xiang, that would have been completely impossible.
The day they flew back, they hit strong winds. The plane swayed and rattled. Cheng Xiang had thought her fear of flying was mostly cured, but now it came rushing back.
When they landed, Yi Yu steered her toward the restroom. “Don’t rush out. Wait till I touch up my makeup. Beauty persona can’t collapse.”
Cheng Xiang couldn’t be bothered. She leaned against a thick round pillar outside, playing on her phone.
When Yi Yu finally emerged: “Let’s go.”
They each pushed heavy luggage carts toward the parking lot. Yi Yu suddenly shoved Cheng Xiang from behind. “I didn’t tell her to come! I really didn’t.”
Cheng Xiang had been thinking about when to give the souvenirs from her suitcase to Director Ma and Qin Ziqiao.
She lifted her gaze. Beicheng’s midsummer wind was different from Thailand’s—golden light radiating between peaks, carrying something solemn, sweeping past ancient towers where morning bells and evening drums echoed, past grey tiled roofs with thatch reaching to the sky, past pigeon flocks wheeling overhead, wings beating stories from years gone by.
Wind blew a strand of hair across Cheng Xiang’s lips. She caught it with her teeth. She’d gotten her lipstick smudged drinking champagne with Yi Yu on the plane, and now fine beads of sweat crept down her spine, plastering the soft shirt to her back.
But there in the distance, cool and clear, stood Tao Tianran.
She wore a white shirt with loose white canvas trousers, slightly high-waisted, a wide canvas belt cinched at her waist. Cheng Xiang remembered it was Saturday—so Tao Tianran was dressed casually, her spare face completely bare of makeup.
Like a glacier beneath a blazing sun. An unspeakable miracle.
Behind her sat that glacier-white Bentley. One hand in her pocket, the other holding her phone, looking down to type, long black hair falling forward.
When she finished typing, she looked up. By chance, she saw Yi Yu and Cheng Xiang pushing luggage. She didn’t wave—just lifted her chin slightly. A strand of ink-black hair fell beside her face. Still distant, still without a smile.
Yi Yu asked, “Teacher Tao, why did you come personally? Where’s the driver? Is my company going bankrupt?”
“The driver’s here too. I came to pick you up.”
The cool tone slipped from her thin lips, like grapes frosting over in high summer. A slight pause between the two short sentences—the second one directed at Cheng Xiang.
“Hahahaha, then I’m leaving.” Yi Yu pushed her luggage and took off running in her heels, so fast Cheng Xiang suspected she was secretly an ostrich.
Before running, she gave Cheng Xiang a hard shove on the back.
Cheng Xiang stumbled forward a few steps, cursing inwardly. Was this woman afraid her little scheme wasn’t obvious enough or what?
But by now, her feelings toward Tao Tianran were no longer what they had been.
She tucked the long curls the wind had scattered behind her ear. “Why would Teacher Tao come pick me up? Since when do I rate such treatment?”
Tao Tianran: “Didn’t the Big Boss tell you?”
“What?” Cheng Xiang was genuinely confused for a moment.
“The variety show. Boot camp starts today. Concentrated housing.”
Cheng Xiang remembered the day she’d been drinking with Yi Yu at that bar.
Yi Yu’s phone had buzzed several times. She’d opened it with bleary, drunken eyes. Cheng Xiang, beside her, had inadvertently glimpsed a long document.
Yi Yu had flipped the phone face-down on the table, waving her grand hand magnanimously. “Whatever nonsense. Drink!”
Now, thinking back…
Heh, heh. Cheng Xiang sneered coldly in her heart, fingers clenching into a fist.
Tao Tianran called to her: “Get in the car.”
“Mm.” Cheng Xiang loaded her suitcase into Tao Tianran’s understated luxury vehicle.
Tao Tianran just stood there looking at her phone, didn’t offer to help.
Not until Cheng Xiang, sweating, threw herself into the passenger seat. She’d gotten used to wearing camisoles in Thailand and hadn’t changed out of one—just added a sheer soft shirt over it on the plane because of the cold air. Now fine sweat beads clung above her collarbone.
The car was filled with that cool fragrance that clung to Tao Tianran. Cheng Xiang felt uneasy. She rolled down the window. “Mind if I get some air? It’s a bit stuffy.”
Tao Tianran got into the driver’s seat. Cheng Xiang leaned against the window frame, one arm supporting her seaweed-like curls as sunlight streamed in, gilding her thick, heavy lashes into pure gold.
Her fingertip wound around the end of her hair. She asked Tao Tianran, “How has Teacher Tao been lately?”
Tao Tianran didn’t answer, just glanced at her. “You?”
“Me?” Cheng Xiang curled the tip of her tongue, gazing out the window. “Of course I’m doing very well.”
You definitely don’t know, Tao Tianran.
“I’m doing well now”—this is the sentence I practiced most after breaking up with you.
Thanks to Tao Tianran picking her up, Cheng Xiang barely made it to the show’s opening boot camp.
Tao Tianran first took Cheng Xiang to drop off her luggage.
Cheng Xiang pushed open the door. Small space, but everything necessary. Crab-shell grey loveseat, low mini-fridge. A long table by the wall held a fruit platter, power strip and internet cable already set up. Two narrow single beds.
Huh…?! Two beds?
Cheng Xiang asked, “Who-who-who’s staying here with me?”
Terrified Tao Tianran would answer in her cold voice: “Me.”
Good lord, she’d already resolved not to live as Cheng Xiang anymore—did the universe have to play her like this?
Fortunately, Tao Tianran named another jewelry designer.
Cheng Xiang let out a breath. “What about you?”
Tao Tianran gave her room number.
“So you’re right next to me?” Cheng Xiang raised an eyebrow. “Who are you staying with?”
“Single room.”
“Why do you get a single room?” Cheng Xiang’s eyebrow climbed higher. “Did you draw lots?”
“No.”
Fine, fine, fine. Beautiful people’s privilege, right? Wasn’t she supposed to count as a beauty in this life too?!
Cheng Xiang asked, “So we’re basically locked in now? Can’t go out?”
“Correct.”
“…”
Great, just great. Her suitcase was full of little camisoles brought back from Thailand, plus some shirts she’d crumpled up and hadn’t had time to send to the cleaners.
“Teacher Tao.” Cheng Xiang gripped the door handle to usher her out. “I’ll get ready.”
Tao Tianran cooperated and left.
No time for a shower. Cheng Xiang washed off the makeup that had gotten sticky and smeared in the plane cabin. Redoing everything would take too long, so she skipped foundation—just outlined a small upward-pointing triangle at the corner of each eye, then leaned close to the mirror to swipe on blue-toned true-red lipstick.
She hadn’t gotten particularly tanned in Thailand, just acquired a faint honey-brown glow. Those rich lips were enough to illuminate her entire face.
She found a relatively unwrinkled satin shirt and trousers, changed into them. Her hair—whether she’d washed it the night before or not—looked greasy after being trapped in the plane cabin. She had no dry shampoo, so she gathered it up and twisted it behind her head. She rummaged around but couldn’t find a hair tie or elastic band.
She spotted a wooden pencil in a cup, picked it up, and stuck it into her bun.
Her curls were too thick—one pencil couldn’t hold them all. A few strands tumbled loose, framing her face like golden chain-flowers.
She stepped out in heels, and Tao Tianran happened to emerge from the next room at the same moment.
Tao Tianran was even more casual.
Same linen-textured shirt from before, just changed into white trousers—giving her a carelessly rakish air. Hair hanging loose, a layer of earth-toned lipstick, nothing more.
“Shall we?” Cheng Xiang called to her.
Heels on Cheng Xiang made her graceful. On Tao Tianran, they were pure presence. After her transmigration, Cheng Xiang felt like her legs were two meters long—yet walking beside Tao Tianran, she still somehow felt shorter.
Presence. It was all about presence.
They walked into the interview room one after the other.
One cool as frost after snow, one languid as a desert rose. Both tall, wearing formal clothes with utterly different styles.
The director’s eyes lit up. She mouthed to the cameraman: “Film them!”
Cheng Xiang sat down with a smile. Other designers arrived in twos and threes, all talking with their partners. In the center of the oval table sat a platter of washed red grapes—whether for the visual pop on camera or not.
The old Cheng Xiang would have been timid and cautious in this kind of setting—because she was a coward.
But Eldest Miss Yu had presumably seen her share of grand occasions.
Cheng Xiang’s soul, settled into this body, carried its own natural ease. She plucked a grape, fingertips competing with the glass for translucence, and lazily brought it to her lips. Teeth pressed lightly against the skin.
The instant the skin cracked, a crisp sound soaked into her soul.
She tilted her head slightly. More curls tumbled loose, pressing against her enchanting face. “Teacher Tao.”
“They seem to be shipping our CP.”
Fingertips winding gently, still carrying moisture from the grapes.
Cheng Xiang thought: Perhaps there would be such a day?
When she could really say such a thing with perfect nonchalance.
Tao Tianran just sat there. The overhead light was too harsh; she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, revealing ear cartilage white as porcelain.
“Excuse me, are you Teacher Tao Tianran?” A young woman with curly wool-like hair asked in a delicate voice.
Oh, a fan. Cheng Xiang narrowed her eyes slightly.
Tao Tianran nodded.
The woman pressed her hands together. “Ah, I really, really like your design work.”
“No need for such formality. Just ‘you’ is fine.” Tao Tianran’s fingertip tapped lightly on the table.
The other woman’s ears went red.
Cheng Xiang was discovering that Tao Tianran wasn’t incapable of flirting—every little gesture just happened unconsciously. Like cracks on a glacier. You couldn’t help wondering if they hid some special meaning.
“Teacher Tao’s ears are so beautiful.”
Cheng Xiang, who’d been idly eating grapes, suddenly choked.
Little sister, you look so quiet on the surface—who knew you were a straight ball player too.
Back in the day, even when Cheng Xiang was tangled in bed with Tao Tianran, she’d been too embarrassed to kiss her ears. Always felt like overstepping.
Tao Tianran shot her a glance.
The woman added, “I heard after the show there’s a segment where we design jewelry for each other. I wonder if there might be a chance to design earrings for Teacher Tao.”
Tao Tianran’s brows and eyes lowered as she answered, “I rarely wear jewelry.”
She really did rarely wear jewelry—sat among all those designers looking too bare.
Just the plain ring on her right pinky. A black elastic band on her slender wrist bone.
The other woman’s gaze fell on the two cool moles by her eye, and her ears went red again.
Cheng Xiang bit into her grape, sneering inside: Don’t be fooled by this face, little sister.
If you really fell for her, you’d be in for heartbreak.
「Heartbreak」.
When the word surfaced in her mind, Cheng Xiang’s tongue curled around the half-grape between her teeth.
After breaking up with Tao Tianran, she didn’t think she’d ever wondered whether she was heartbroken. She hadn’t cried either.
She just sat for a very, very long time in a KFC in Thailand late at night, rain pouring outside, the whole world turned into a gray sea. And she thought: The fried chicken isn’t crisp anymore.
A cool fragrance drifted over. Cheng Xiang realized Tao Tianran had leaned slightly toward her, then left exactly the right amount of distance.
“You ate all the seeds.”
“What?” Cheng Xiang froze.
These grapes had seeds?
Tao Tianran had already leaned back against the chair.
Cheng Xiang looked up across from her.
Several young women were flushed, whispering behind their hands, eyes bright.
“Ahhhhh did you see that? She turned her head to talk to her!”
Hey girl, do you know your voice is actually pretty loud?
“They’re from the same company, Kunpu, really prestigious in the industry, they must be close!”
No, no, not close at all—in fact, extra not close.
Cheng Xiang smiled bitterly inside: Back when she was Cheng Xiang, anyone saying she and Tao Tianran made a good match could make her happy for half a day.
Now, when she wanted to retreat, she kept being pushed into the position of being most perfectly matched with Tao Tianran.
On camera now:
One sat primly looking at her phone, the bridge of her nose catching a cold white point of light. The other lounged in an armchair, half-turning, waist slack and soft, one slender finger winding the end of a curl, gazing forward through lowered lashes.
When the cameraman had enough footage, the director cleared her throat:
“Thank you all for coming today.”
Then came each designer’s introduction.
Everyone’s profile was projected on screen, carefully designed in post-production. The others had long lists of credits displayed. When it came to Tao Tianran, first came sound effects mimicking a mechanical keyboard, like typing from some bygone era.
A minimalist name appeared on screen: Tao Tianran.
Anyone would wonder what kind of face went with such a name. Only when her photo surfaced beside it—half black-and-white tones, capturing her in her studio wearing gold-rimmed glasses to block dust, leaning slightly to examine a polished raw gemstone on her workbench—did the question resolve.
Long hair loosely tied behind her, thin lips slightly pressed, eyes focused.
Reminded you of old photographs from years past. And now she sat here in person, the screen’s pale light illuminating her distant face, light and shadow flowing across it. She had no expression.
Just her thin hand holding her phone, knuckles lightly rapping against the table.
On screen, her profile continued typing out: 「AGTA Spectrum Award-winning designer」.
Nothing else.
That single line made all other introductions redundant. Everyone knew that at twenty-six, she was the first Chinese designer to claim this award.
The room went silent. Everyone’s gaze kept drifting toward her—”that Tao Tianran.”
Only Cheng Xiang lounged against her chair back, watching her own profile appear on screen.
Who prepared this? She’d never been informed—probably her assistant handled it.
Her profile wasn’t as cool as Tao Tianran’s. Various items listed, but the final line ended cleanly: 「European DCAC Goldsmith Award1-winning designer」.
If anyone in the room could stand on equal footing with Tao Tianran, it was her.
Everyone said Kunpu’s President Yi was skilled at finding treasures.
And Yi Yu herself, in an interview with “Style” magazine, when asked how she scouted talent, had propped her chin in her hand and thought: “Look at the face?”
The initial interview was simple enough. After introducing each designer, they’d get familiar with each other briefly, then disperse.
At the same time, the first round design competition theme was announced: 「First Meeting」.
A designer raised her hand. “When do the celebrities meet us?”
The director smiled. “Not until the fourth round.”
Heh. Just a gimmick.
Designers filed out. Tao Tianran didn’t like crowds, so she dragged behind at the end. Cheng Xiang was even lazier—having been dragged here straight off a plane, she walked at an unhurried pace.
Tao Tianran suddenly turned around. Cheng Xiang had been lost in thought.
She stopped just in time. “What?”
Tao Tianran’s cool face: “Don’t hold me back.”
Cheng Xiang lifted the corner of her lips.
Tao Tianran: “I don’t like losing.”
Cheng Xiang raised an eyebrow, flirtatious. “Teacher Tao, from such a wealthy family—didn’t expect you to be so ambitious.”
“No.” Tao Tianran’s tone was flat. “Losing is just boring.”
Cheng Xiang looked into her dark-pool eyes and pressed her lips together.
Senior year of college, after she’d found a job, she and Tao Tianran had rented a small apartment and moved out.
The excuse to Director Ma: Close to the company. Sharing with a classmate.
Director Ma had never questioned it.
One Sunday afternoon, she and Tao Tianran were curled up under the covers. Back then, she was into little romantic touches. She put on an English song using the cheap Bluetooth speaker her company had given as a welcome gift.
The lyrics sang:
“Forget all that bullshit,
Let’s just focus on this,
I just wanna be the one you want to move with…”
Tao Tianran’s back was smooth, like fine porcelain under her fingertips. Porcelain held no grief or joy—only when human warmth seeped into it, when the flush of a cheek reflected into it.
Cheng Xiang’s fingertips traced repeatedly over the two dark moles by Tao Tianran’s butterfly bones.
She leaned down, lowered her head, and kissed softly. Tao Tianran’s thin frame barely had presence. She slipped down under the covers, kissing downward.
“Tao Tianran.” The voice came out muffled.
“Hm?” Tao Tianran lay on the pillow, turned her head.
“I really want to see you cry.” That was the first time Cheng Xiang said those words to her.
She felt herself sweating all over, trapped beneath the heavy winter quilt. Water vapor seeping through every pore. Below and behind her eyes. She felt like a fish in a drying pond—while Tao Tianran still looked calm, like porcelain that couldn’t be warmed.
“You can.” A slight catch in Tao Tianran’s throat.
But in the end, Cheng Xiang was the one who chickened out. Back then, she held Tao Tianran in her palm—could an ordinary person hold a gem, even if the raw stone’s sharp edges might cut her palm lines?
“That would be so transgressive.” She said it softly.
Finally, Tao Tianran covered her.
Tao Tianran’s forearm was long and slender, her fingers the same. Cheng Xiang thought about that small ink stain by her middle finger that never quite washed clean—felt like she too was being dyed into a blue sea.
She whispered, “Can we not use…?”
“Hm?” Tao Tianran lifted her cool-white eyelids.
Cheng Xiang’s teeth grazed her lower lip. “Did you… did you wash your hands clean?”
“If you don’t count that little ink stain.”
“Oh.” Cheng Xiang released her lip, licked it. “That won’t wash out.”
She didn’t know how to get any closer to Tao Tianran.
Her hair was too fine. Tears she couldn’t hide slipped into it. She hooked her arms around Tao Tianran’s neck, burying her face in the hollow of her throat. That plain ring on Tao Tianran’s right pinky had such presence, scraping against the softest skin of Cheng Xiang’s inner thigh.
She felt that pinky ring, all the sounds from her throat captured in the hollow of Tao Tianran’s neck.
Tao Tianran’s deep neck hollow couldn’t hold it all; it overflowed and scattered. Cheng Xiang thought it didn’t matter—she knew there were no neighbors next door.
She never expected someone to suddenly open the door.
Cheng Xiang’s heart nearly leaped out of her throat. She reflexively pulled the blanket over Tao Tianran.
In that panicked glance—Tao Tianran fallen into the pillow, long hair like smooth satin covering her profile, two dark moles revealed. A sickly flush on her pale face. Rarely, she looked softly, secretly enchanting.
The fifty-square-meter apartment had no separate bedroom—one double bed in the loft-style living room.
Cheng Xiang jumped out of bed, wrapped herself in a one-piece pajama suit, and rushed over to push against the door before the security door could fully swing open.
Director Ma’s face appeared. “Cheng Xiang!”
A law Chinese children learn early: When parents call your full name, nothing good follows.
She grabbed the down coat hanging by the entrance, wrapped it around herself, and pushed Director Ma out. “Go, go, go.”
Director Ma confronted her head-on. “What are you doing?”
Cheng Xiang clutched the down coat tight around herself. “Massage.”
Cheng Xiang’s forced coming-out process was nothing short of heart-stopping.
Director Ma leaned on the corridor railing, cold wind whistling past. “Give me a cigarette. I need to smoke.”
“I… I don’t have any.” Cheng Xiang said.
Director Ma shot her a sidelong glance. “I was bluffing! Just wanted to see what else you’re hiding!”
Behind them, the security door clicked softly.
Cheng Xiang’s heart jumped again.
Tao Tianran came out wrapped in a coat, standing in the corridor wind. “Auntie.”
Director Ma turned to look at her, swallowed, smiled. “Tianran. I really didn’t expect you two to have this kind of relationship.”
A knife thrust straight out.
Tao Tianran nodded. “Yes.”
And just like that—zero-frame startup2—Tao Tianran caught it directly.
Two masters crossing blades—Cheng Xiang nearly suffocated on the sidelines.
She gently pulled Tao Tianran back. “Go inside first.”
After Tao Tianran went in, Director Ma leaned on the corridor railing watching children play soccer below. “Are you stupid?”
Cheng Xiang rubbed her hands together.
Director Ma turned around. “What if you hold her back? She’ll end up resenting you.”
Two days after Tao Tianran had New Year’s dinner at Cheng Xiang’s home, Director Ma finally had her delayed realization: this Tao Tianran was the same one who had donated a library to Cheng Xiang’s high school.
“You’re capable, alright.” Director Ma patted Cheng Xiang’s shoulder. “You’re friends with her?”
She had no idea just how capable.
Not just friends with Tao Tianran—doing this and that with Tao Tianran.
Cheng Xiang opened her mouth, swallowed a bellyful of cold wind, closed it.
She didn’t know what to say. What could she say.
She wanted to argue: “How could I possibly hold her back?”
But.
After Director Ma left, she opened the door and went back inside. She heard Tao Tianran standing in the corner, on the phone, coat removed, wearing fuzzy coral-fleece pajamas.
After separating from Cheng Xiang, Tao Tianran never wore that kind of fuzzy cartoon-print pajamas again.
It would be years later that Cheng Xiang transmigrated into Yu Yusheng’s body.
Tao Tianran had won world-renowned awards. So had she. Tao Tianran’s brush birthed flowers; she was no less accomplished.
She smiled, pulled the pencil from behind her head, reached up to loosen her near-collapsed bun, and walked step by step in her heels toward Tao Tianran.
She handed the pencil to Tao Tianran. Her red lips, perfectly smudged from eating grapes, overflowed with scattered charm.
“How could I possibly hold you back?”
She could finally say those words to Tao Tianran with a smile lifting the corner of her mouth.
Footnotes
- Referred to as the 'Golden Palm' of European jewelry design, comparable in prestige to the AGTA Spectrum Award.
- A term from fighting games meaning a move with no startup animation, executed instantly. In internet slang, it describes someone who acts or responds immediately without hesitation, preparation, or visible thought process. Used metaphorically for Tao Tianran's instant acceptance when confronted.
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