The Alley Was Always This Long – Chapter 40
by Little Panda“Are You Free?”
Cheng Xiang actually heard the nervousness in Tao Tianran’s voice.
「They say that for those who still have attachments to the world, their souls will not dissipate, forever wandering the human realm.」
Lying beside Yu Yusheng’s diary was a tiny medicine bottle.
Cheng Xiang picked it up.
A line of completely incomprehensible Spanish text.
Cheng Xiang grabbed her phone, opened a translation app, and scanned it.
It was a bottle of sleeping pills.
Looking at the date, it should be the one Yu Yusheng brought back from Spain.
Cheng Xiang stood there, stunned.
Just then, Yu Yuluo poked her head in. “Shianne!”
Startled, Cheng Xiang shoved the school uniform, the diary, and the pill bottle into the closet and shut the door.
Yu Yuluo walked in. “Why haven’t you come downstairs these past few days?”
“Huh?” Cheng Xiang’s mind was still reeling.
Yu Yuluo leaned back on the sofa, exposing her belly like a little kitten. “Come here.”
Cheng Xiang walked over and sat beside her.
She shifted, resting her head on Cheng Xiang’s stomach.
“Yu Yusheng.”
“What is it.”
“Did you get fat? Why is your stomach so soft?”
Yu Yusheng twirled a strand of her hair around her fingertips and let out a nonchalant laugh.
“Whoa, seriously?” Yu Yuluo sat up abruptly. “I say you got fat and you don’t even react? Did fighting with Eldest Brother and Mom really make you that sad?”
“How do you know we fought?”
Yu Yuluo shrugged like a little adult and leaned back on her stomach again. “Your relationship was already bad. With the atmosphere at home right now, I’m not stupid, you know.”
“Mhm.”
“Why did you fight?”
“Mind your own business, kid.”
Yu Yuluo puffed her cheeks. “You always say that. You said the same thing back when you liked Qiao Zhiji.”
“Who?”
Yu Yuluo clapped her hands over her mouth. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have brought that up.”
「Qiao Zhiji」.
Cheng Xiang silently rolled these three syllables over her teeth.
She wondered which characters they were. “Zhiji”? Or “Zhiji”?1
She couldn’t guess. It was a very pretty-sounding name.
She couldn’t very well ask Yu Yuluo. That would make it too easy to give herself away.
So she only asked, “How did you find out?”
“Didn’t you receive a letter before? Mom burned it, and then you went to Spain.”
“Oh.” Cheng Xiang pondered, staring at the ceiling.
“Don’t be sad.” Yu Yuluo observed her expression and nudged her. “Haven’t Mom, Dad, and Eldest Brother always been like this? You should be used to this kind of atmosphere at home by now.”
“What kind of atmosphere?”
“It’s like,” Yu Yuluo thought about how to phrase it, “peaceful on the surface, but with every word they say, they’re actually subtly belittling you.”
She thought some more, then delivered a line of infinite philosophical depth: “Our house is like an ocean.”
“How so?”
“Doesn’t the dining room have a glass roof? The leaves from the phoenix tree fall on it, piling up in a thick layer, like leaves floating on the surface of the water. Sometimes I feel like living here is like being submerged underwater, unable to catch your breath.”
“Why is it like that?”
“Why?” Yu Yuluo repeated the question. “I don’t know either.”
This was family.
They wouldn’t beat or scold you, nor would they mistreat you materially. Even their expectations of you seemed to stem from the fact that they loved you very much.
They would merely say things with pointed implications. Or, when a room full of people was laughing and chatting, the atmosphere would suddenly fall dead silent the moment you walked in.
Cheng Xiang suddenly asked, “When I came back from Spain, how was my mood?”
“You looked pretty good.” Yu Yuluo pressed down her sharp little chin. “You should go out more. If you still want to go abroad…”
She patted her chest. “I’ll pay for it.”
Cheng Xiang laughed aloud. “How much money do you have?”
“Well, I’ve still saved up some from my yearly lucky money2.”
Cheng Xiang suddenly leaned over and rubbed her forehead against her soft, warm little cheek.
“Hey, Yu Yusheng, you’re crushing me to death.” Yu Yuluo raised a hand to wipe her cheek. “What are you doing?”
Cheng Xiang reached out and gave her a pinch. “Nothing.”
Yu Yuluo hopped off the sofa. “Come downstairs and eat dinner! Hiding in your room every day, people would think you came down with some kind of 「twilight depression3」.”
“Got it.”
“Come down in a bit, okay.” Yu Yuluo looked back three times with every step. “No tricking me.”
“Alright,” Cheng Xiang smiled.
After she left, Cheng Xiang pulled open the closet door and flipped to a certain page in the diary.
Upon closer inspection, she realized that Yu Yusheng’s words weren’t written exactly the same as hers.
Yu Yusheng had one more line than she did:
[Sorry, I still didn’t grow up to be the adult I hoped for.]
[Sorry, I didn’t grow up to be the adult you hoped for either.]
Cheng Xiang carefully folded Yu Yusheng’s old high school uniform, placed the diary back into its pocket as before, tucked the bottle of pills back in as well, and hid it deep inside the closet.
She went downstairs and walked into the dining room.
It was rare for everyone to be present tonight. Yu Song was there, Zhuwei was there, and even the constantly busy Yu Yuce was there, chatting about trivial company matters while taking off that exorbitantly expensive Richard Mille from his wrist.
Zhuwei was smiling.
But when she lifted her eyes and caught sight of Cheng Xiang, she pulled a tissue to dab the corners of her lips, and her smile faded away.
For a moment, the only sound left in the dining room was the light clinking of chopstick tips against bowls and plates.
Cheng Xiang pulled out a chair and sat down.
No one spoke. The sound of chewing was clearly audible.
Cheng Xiang picked up a piece of stir-fried egg with loofah, only remembering after she swallowed that she didn’t like eating loofah. Swallowing its slimy texture under such an atmosphere made it lodge in her throat, giving her a sense of suffocation.
She suddenly raised her eyes and glanced overhead.
On the transparent roof, phoenix tree leaves were indeed layered upon one another, fallen in a massive swath.
The evening sunlight shone in through the irregular edges of the leaves, as if shining through the surface of water.
Yu Yuluo coughed lightly.
Cheng Xiang looked over.
Yu Yuluo stealthily made a face at her, fiddled with her smartwatch for a moment, and suddenly the watch began to sing with impassioned fervor: “Fight? Fight! With the humblest of dreams!4“
Zhuwei sharply reprimanded her. “Yu Yuluo!”
She stuck out her tongue and turned off the watch.
Then, she quietly tugged at the corners of her mouth at Cheng Xiang, mouthing the words: “Cheer up, like when you just came back to the country.”
Cheng Xiang gave a faint smile.
After the meal was finished, Cheng Xiang went upstairs and returned to her room.
Lying flat on her back on the large, circular bed, she folded her hands over her lower stomach and gazed up at the soft, cloud-like canopy above.
Yu Yuluo was still young; she probably didn’t understand yet.
[Sad people are best at smiling.]
This was also a sentence Cheng Xiang had once poured into her tree hole.
It was also a sentence Yu Yusheng had once written in her diary.
Cheng Xiang could more or less guess the truth of the matter.
In truth, Cheng Xiang still didn’t know what the final straw was that crushed the seemingly infinitely glamorous Eldest Miss Yu.
But after returning from Spain, she had lain on this very bed and chosen to bid farewell to the world.
That day happened to be the exact one-year anniversary of Cheng Xiang’s accident.
Cheng Xiang had suddenly touched Yu Yuluo’s face earlier.
Because she thought of Yu Yusheng’s passing. Actually, death wasn’t a sensation of pain, but merely coldness—making one desperately crave genuine body heat, from anyone at all.
Cheng Xiang recalled that time she and Tao Tianran went traveling in Yun Province and aimlessly wandered into a temple.
A group of old women wearing ethnic headscarves were sitting at the temple entrance, sorting water shield leaves.
Pfft. Watching them, Cheng Xiang felt somewhat amused again. What a seamless integration of secular life and sacred religion this was.
The old women spoke with heavy accents. Unable to understand them, Cheng Xiang asked Tao Tianran, “What are they saying?”
“They’re chatting about the local beliefs.”
“What beliefs?”
Tao Tianran was someone with an excellent talent for languages. She tilted her head slightly and listened for a moment. Cheng Xiang stood beside her, watching the small mole at the corner of her eye shine brightly under the crystal-clear sunlight south of the clouds.
“I can only catch the gist,” Tao Tianran said. “They say that for those who still have attachments to the world, their souls will not dissipate, forever wandering the human realm.”
Cheng Xiang was amused again. “According to our traditions, aren’t souls only supposed to stay in the human realm for seven days5?”
“What are you so happy about?”
“How am I happy?”
“You’re smiling.”
Tao Tianran truly didn’t understand Cheng Xiang. How could there be so many things to be happy about? She was even happy chatting about the world after death.
“Oh.” Cheng Xiang rubbed the corners of her mouth. “I was just thinking, it’s pretty nice if a person’s soul is immortal.”
“What’s nice about it?”
Cheng Xiang choked up for a second. “Tao Tianran, have you ever heard a certain folk song? You grew up in Gangdao, so you probably haven’t. I’m tone-deaf, so just bear with me—”
Cheng Xiang cleared her throat and sang: “Who dies at ninety-seven years old, waits on the Bridge of Helplessness6 for three years.”
Tao Tianran looked at her quietly.
“Ah, forget it.” Cheng Xiang waved her hand. “I kinda, can’t explain it.”
Wearing a small backpack, she leaped down the somewhat irregular stone steps, then turned back and reached out a hand to Tao Tianran. “It’s so high, do you dare come down? I’ll hold your hand.”
Tao Tianran lowered her eyes to glance at her palm.
Her other hand was hidden behind her back, lightly rubbing.
Finally, Tao Tianran let her cold, pale, slender fingers drop into her palm.
Hand in hand, the two of them walked through the thousands of years of time nurtured within the temple, walking through the dappled sunlight spilling from the canopy of the talipot palms.
Cheng Xiang’s palm was soft. She squeezed Tao Tianran’s fingers.
How should I say this, Tao Tianran.
Whether in the human realm. Or under the apple tree in a dream. Or beside the Bridge of Helplessness.
As long as a person’s soul is immortal, I can wait for you forever.
It was just, what Cheng Xiang never expected was that she would pass away far too early.
Decades of time would pass by; even if she wanted to wait, everything would have changed everywhere, and she would no longer be able to wait for her Tao Tianran.
Cheng Xiang now lay on Yu Yusheng’s bed, gazing at the canopy overhead.
So this matter was actually true.
For those who still have attachments to the world, their souls truly did not dissipate.
After transmigrating into Yu Yusheng’s body, Cheng Xiang could no longer remember where her soul had wandered during that one year after her death.
Did she drift up into that phoenix tree in the siheyuan, and watch Director Ma scold Deputy Director Cheng for forgetting to put salt in the stir-fry so many times?
Did she drift outside Qin Ziqiao’s window, and watch Qin Ziqiao eat potato chips with a cold face while reading apocalyptic novels, occasionally going to the balcony to check on the scallions she planted?
Even, when she was bored.
Had she drifted to the utility pole at the entrance of the hutong, propping up one leg and leaning against the power lines as if too lazy to move? She was a ghost, right, so electricity couldn’t shock her anymore, hahaha.
She must have watched the boss of her favorite grilled wings shop waving a palm-leaf fan, panting as he fanned up sparks, quite a few times.
And, many times over.
When Tao Tianran came home from work, she had rested on that streetlamp on the neighborhood road that looked like an old moon.
When Tao Tianran bought coffee downstairs at her office building, she had sat on the tin roof of the coffee shop, swinging her legs back and forth, a yellow-winged bird perched beside her.
And when Tao Tianran was soaking in the bathtub—oh my, how embarrassing to look.
She would rest both hands on the edge of the bathtub and lightly sit upon it, her toes gently stirring the surface of the water, letting Tao Tianran think it was the ripples caused by her own movements, without suspecting anything else.
She would softly sing into Tao Tianran’s ear:
“Starry, starry night.
Paint your palette blue and grey,
Look out on a summer’s day…”
You definitely didn’t know, did you, Tao Tianran, that on those starlit early summer nights, I was keeping you company.
Therefore, when by a twist of fate, an undamaged body that had shared the very same feelings as her became vacant.
Cheng Xiang’s soul moved in.
Cheng Xiang sat up, crossing her legs on the bed, and opened a laptop on her lap.
She tried searching a few names.
「Qiao Zhiji」.
「Qiao Zhiji」.
She didn’t find anyone who seemed related to Yu Yusheng.
Since it was someone who appeared during Yu Yusheng’s high school years, then, was it a high school classmate?
Fortunately, the internet was highly developed nowadays. Cheng Xiang logged onto the official website of the private school Yu Yusheng used to attend and searched the student roster for Yu Yusheng’s year.
Wait… which class was Yu Yusheng in again?
This wasn’t written in the diary, either.
Go ask Yu Yuluo which class she herself had been in during high school?
That would be a bit too strange.
Cheng Xiang decided to use the stupid method, reading through the rosters class by class.
Pfft hahahaha, there really was someone named Wang Dachui7, and they even went to such a high-end private school. Cheng Xiang hugged her legs and giggled continuously, subconsciously reaching out to the side to feel for her White Rabbit flavor potato chips.
After fumbling around and grasping nothing but air, Cheng Xiang finally remembered that the Eldest Miss Yu rarely ate snacks.
She hugged her legs and thought: If Yu Yusheng had eaten a few sweet snacks, would her mood have been just a little bit better?
Sometimes the rift between a person and the world perhaps really only needed a tiny bit of sweetness to fill it.
She continued looking.
Yu Yuluo poked her head in from the doorway. “Do you want to come downstairs and eat?”
“I’m not going.”
“Alright, I won’t force you. But…” Yu Yuluo dangled her two small hands on the door handle, swinging back and forth.
“What?”
“Is… is it my imagination? Why do I feel like you’re getting a bit cross-eyed?”
“It’s not your imagination.” Cheng Xiang wearily rubbed her eyes. “I feel it too.”
Why wouldn’t such a high-end private school make a search function?
She read through the entire grade’s student roster carefully twice. She paid particular attention to anyone with the surname Qiao, checking every possible character variant.
There truly was not a single name with a pronunciation similar to “Qiao Zhiji.”
Cheng Xiang let out a long sigh and sat on the bed.
Wait a minute, wait a minute. She suddenly had a bold idea.
Could it… not be a student, but rather, a teacher?
Was… was it that thrilling?
She dug out some eye drops, applied them to her bloodshot eyes, closed her eyes to rest for a moment, and prepared to fight again.
She carefully read through the roster of teaching staff for that year twice as well.
Nothing there either.
With all clues now completely exhausted, Cheng Xiang was a bit dumbfounded.
What were the odds of finding someone in this vast world when you only knew the pronunciation of their name?
Right at that moment, Yu Yuluo poked her head in again. “You didn’t eat dinner. Are you hungry?”
Cheng Xiang thought about it, crawled out of bed, pulled open a drawer and rummaged for a while, pulling out a packet of luosifen. “Wanna eat?”
This was something Qin Ziqiao had bought for her when she went to supervise the site at Ghost Laugh Mountain. She hadn’t finished it and didn’t want it to go to waste, so she had brought it all back.
Yu Yuluo’s eyes lit up. “Yes!”
Ohoho, as if there were any kids who didn’t love strongly flavored food.
Cheng Xiang took Yu Yuluo and slipped into the kitchen to cook the luosifen. The entire family, including the nanny aunties, were already asleep. Everything was silent, and the chilling aura unique to the night seeped in.
Only a tiny pot bubbled away. As Cheng Xiang cooked the noodles, she probed tentatively, “That letter I didn’t receive last time…”
Yu Yuluo sat on a barstool by the island, resting her cheek in both hands. “What letter?”
“The one Mom burned.”
Yu Yuluo was visibly stunned for a second.
She probably found it incredibly strange that she would bring this matter up on her own initiative.
“What happened after that?”
“What do you mean, what happened?”
“Did I get in touch with her?” Cheng Xiang turned around, resting one hand on the counter, and looked at Yu Yuluo.
Yu Yuluo tapped her own nose. “You’re asking me?”
“Haha, hahaha,” Cheng Xiang said. “I’m just testing you.”
“Don’t you,” Yu Yuluo shot Cheng Xiang a glance, “never bring her up on your own?”
Which meant that these two definitely weren’t in contact at present.
Uh oh. Her clues really were completely cut off now. Yu Yuluo was clearly already suspicious; it would only be weirder if she kept asking.
She had to think of another way.
A week passed, and Cheng Xiang came up completely empty-handed for the time being. Until one day, Yi Yu gave Cheng Xiang a call: “You aren’t sitting on the toilet right now, are you?”
“…Huh?”
“Have you bathed, burned incense, and changed your clothes?”
“What?”
There was a moment of silence on the other end, and then a clear, cold voice rang out: “It’s me.”
Cheng Xiang’s movements abruptly halted.
Could someone scrape against your soul with just a single voice? Cheng Xiang thought, yes, it was possible.
When Tao Tianran’s voice sounded, cheers erupted from the school basketball court. The leaves filtered the early summer sunlight, which, swept by a soft breeze, turned into the dappled shadows beneath the phoenix tree in her bedroom. In the sky above the siheyuan outside, flocks of pigeons flew by with a flutter of wings, their fragmented feathers falling into the upturned eyes of a young girl looking around.
That was her youth, which would never come again. Every word, every sentence, was related to Tao Tianran, stuffed away by her into the tree hole of the phoenix tree.
So much so that now, upon hearing Tao Tianran’s voice after such a long time, the words that surfaced in her heart were: Long time no see, Tao Tianran.
Just like after she was hit by the truck, leaving only a wisp of a soul wandering the human realm.
The first time she found her way flying in the direction of Tao Tianran’s company, she had hidden in the dense canopy of trees beneath the office building, as if Tao Tianran would be able to see her if she just turned around.
Looking at the sight of Tao Tianran’s back as she carried a cup of coffee toward the building, she had softly said: Long time no see, Tao Tianran.
Tao Tianran could no longer hear her speak, only feeling that it was the rustling sound of the wind brushing against the leaves.
While Cheng Xiang’s heart was filled with so many thoughts, outwardly she merely offered a nonchalant: “Hi, Teacher Tao.”
Her fingers traced light, absentminded circles on the bed.
Tao Tianran said, “Your quarterly theme design draft from before you left the company.”
“Mhm.”
“Perhaps you don’t know, but you beat me.”
“Oh.” Cheng Xiang casually pulled a pillow over, hugging it to her chest as her fingertips picked at the edge of the pillowcase.
The final design draft she created before leaving the company was drawn by Cheng Xiang up on Ghost Laugh Mountain.
The night the draft was completed, a fierce storm of wind and rain raged outside her window, as if the world were on the brink of destruction.
The design Cheng Xiang proposed was—”Phoenix Tree.”
Unless one had missed out on someone, they wouldn’t understand that a tree was a profoundly sorrowful existence.
It swallowed all the time that couldn’t be overcome, turning it into rings of years.
It was also the best at recording time, like the stationery of a heartbroken person.
And so Cheng Xiang designed a brooch to be worn on a heartbroken person’s chest, covering up the hole hollowed out by “loss.”
No one else could see that hole; only oneself could. Every time they lowered their head to look at it, it was just like running the tip of their tongue over a tooth cavity.
Tao Tianran said, “So your design was put on display, and now a buyer has contacted the company. They hope to meet with the designer to discuss detail modifications before the jewelry is officially produced. Because you’ve already resigned, I’m assisting with this project.”
Tao Tianran paused, then asked, “Are you free?”
Cheng Xiang actually heard the nervousness in her voice.
Cheng Xiang said in her heart: I don’t want to see you.
But out loud, she answered, “Sure.”
Ever since that night on Ghost Laugh Mountain—when she played dumb and denied being Cheng Xiang—she hadn’t seen much of Tao Tianran.
Walking up to the Kunpu office building right now, she was still a little nervous. But since she had decided to let it go, she still had to cure herself of her stress response to Tao Tianran, right?
She detoured into the milk tea shop by the street, her fingertips lightly tapping the counter. “I’ll have a milk tea.”
“May I ask which one you would like?”
“I have a stomachache.”
Wearing the classic beast of burden subtle-alive expression8, the employee tapped clack-clack on the ordering machine. “One cup of Tibetan blue salt salty milk green tea with grass jelly, twenty-six yuan, thank you.”
“…” Cheng Xiang said, “What if I didn’t sleep well and I’m drowsy?”
“Four Seasons milk green tea with tea jelly.”
“Bad mood?”
“Black tea macchiato with mini boba.”
“Boss withholding wages?”
“Jasmine milk green tea with rice mochi.”
Cheng Xiang tutted in amazement.
Getting her salty milk green tea, she sucked on it while sitting on a street bench for fifteen minutes. Not knowing whether it was purely a psychological effect, Cheng Xiang felt that her stomachache really had eased up a little.
She went upstairs, and the receptionist greeted her. “Hi, Shianne.”
“Hi,” Cheng Xiang smiled. “I’m here to see Teacher Tao.”
“Teacher Tao is waiting for you in the conference room.”
“Alright, thanks.”
Cheng Xiang walked to the conference room door and held her breath slightly.
Seeing an ex was still something that was very hard to do naturally.
She thought of that night on Ghost Laugh Mountain, of Tao Tianran’s silhouette lying with her back turned to her.
This kind of mentality—how to say it? Cheng Xiang mulled it over and felt it was perfectly summed up by that classic saying: You’re afraid your ex is doing too well, but you’re also afraid your ex is doing terribly.
She evened out her breathing and pushed the door open.
Tao Tianran sat by the conference table, habitually holding that Montblanc fountain pen. She paused for two seconds before lifting her eyelids to look at her.
Wow. Every time Cheng Xiang saw Tao Tianran after a period of time, the first reaction in her heart was always: This woman is so beautiful.
Tao Tianran wore a white shirt that accentuated her shoulder line. Obscured by the conference table, only the waistline of her crane-gray suit pants could be seen. Her expression was forever that light and clear. Light makeup suited her best; like an ancient painting of a noblewoman, she wasn’t suited for heavy ink, only the blank space left behind. The two small moles at the corner of her eye were the only adornment on her face.
She tilted her slender chin up. “Sit.”
Cheng Xiang took a seat, thinking: Just as I expected.
Tao Tianran indeed still had this cool, clear face, looking perfectly calm and unruffled, as if she were no longer affected by emotion.
Cheng Xiang tugged the corners of her lips, feeling that her previous suspicion over the phone that Tao Tianran had been nervous was laughable.
Her gaze fell on the woman beside Tao Tianran. That woman was currently looking at her.
Cheng Xiang broke into a radiant smile at the woman.
This must be her sugar mommy. Oh, wait, no, the woman was so young, she should be a gold master sister9 instead.
Thinking this, she opened her mouth: “Sister Jin— cough, cough, cough.”
She had spoken too fast and let it slip.
But her little brain spun so fast. She piled on a smile and asked, “You dress with such great taste. At first glance, it’s obvious you’re beautiful, kind-hearted, and flush with gold. You wouldn’t happen to have the surname Jin, would you, hahaha.”
The woman gave her a deep look. Her gaze dropped, landing on the disposable Kunpu paper cup by her hand.
What was she looking at? Cheng Xiang followed her gaze. Was the bottom of the cup leaking?
The woman raised her eyes again, letting them fall back onto her face. “My surname is Qiao.”
Cheng Xiang’s heart skipped a beat.
Truly, she had grown completely sensitized to the syllable “Qiao” recently. She couldn’t even order buckwheat noodles10 for delivery anymore. The moment the delivery rider called her and said, “Your buckwheat noodles have arrived,” she would get a headache.
She carefully sized up the woman in front of her.
She looked somewhat like Tao Tianran, yet not entirely like her. They had the same plain, straight black hair, but Tao Tianran’s features were naturally sharp with a hint of seductive charm peeking through. This woman had an oval face with soft features; one could somewhat imagine her looking like a timid little sheep when she was a child.
Sitting side-by-side with Tao Tianran right now, her aura wasn’t at a disadvantage in the slightest. It was something she had tempered through later experiences.
Cheng Xiang glanced at the hand she had resting on the table again.
Director Ma used to often tell Cheng Xiang: “If you want to know whether a person has suffered hardships, you just have to look at their hands.”
Saying this, she would sigh and hold up her own hands. “Look at these hands of mine. They’re clearly hands that have suffered. They’re just not the same as the hands of a little girl like you.”
“What hardships have you suffered?”
“I’ve pickled napa cabbage!” Director Ma would glare. “You hutong kids of this generation don’t know anything about storing winter vegetables anymore. Back when we were young, to get through the winter, we had to hoard an entire wall of napa cabbage…”
“Mom, Mom, stop right there.” Back then, Cheng Xiang especially hated listening to Director Ma nag.
Now, she glanced at that hand on the conference table.
She thought: This is a hand that has suffered.
Following her gaze, the woman’s fingers curled subtly.
Cheng Xiang lifted her face and smiled. “If it’s convenient, could I have a business card?”
The woman unzipped the Birkin bag beside her, pulled out a business card, placed it on the table, and with her index and middle fingers pressed together, pushed it over to Cheng Xiang with her fingertips.
Cheng Xiang narrowed her eyes—
「Beicheng Jianshi Law Firm, Partner, Lawyer」.
「Qiao Zhiji」.
Footnotes
- Cheng Xiang is guessing the Chinese characters for the name 'Qiao Zhiji' based purely on phonetic sound, testing '之际' (Zhījì, meaning 'between' or 'time of') and '知寄' (Zhījì, meaning 'to know and entrust').
- 'Yàsuìqián' refers to the traditional red envelopes of cash given to children during the Lunar New Year to suppress evil spirits and bring good luck.
- A poetic or pseudo-medical term referring to sundown syndrome or evening melancholy, describing someone who isolates themselves as night approaches.
- Lyrics from Eason Chan's highly popular song 'Lonely Warrior' (《孤勇者》).
- In Chinese folk belief, the 'First Seven' (Tōuqī) refers to the first seven days after death, when the deceased's spirit is believed to return home one last time before moving on.
- In Chinese mythology, the Bridge of Helplessness (Nàihé Bridge) is the bridge souls must cross in the underworld before entering reincarnation.
- 'Wáng Dàchuí' is the protagonist of the popular Chinese comedy web series 'Surprise' (Wàn Wàn Méi Xiǎng Dào), known for his deadpan humor and string of absurd bad luck.
- Modern Chinese internet slang self-deprecation. A 'beast of burden' refers to an exploited corporate worker, while 'subtle-alive' describes the dead-eyed, barely-functioning facial expression of someone utterly exhausted by work.
- A pun playing on 'jīnzhǔ' (gold master), which is internet slang for a financial sponsor or major client. Cheng Xiang catches herself mid-word and pretends she was guessing the client's surname is 'Jin' (Gold).
- 'Qiáomài' is the Chinese word for buckwheat, sharing the same phonetic syllable 'qiao' as the surname.
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