The Alley Was Always This Long – Chapter 54
by Little PandaLine of Sight
“Is it a gift, or are you returning it?”
[Your eyes are like the night sky.
When your gaze turns toward me, I find myself sitting in a wash of bright moonlight.]
For Cheng Xiang, going to a bar was an occasional indulgence.
After after all, a single drink cost 150 yuan. Even with a thirty percent discount, it was still quite expensive.
After fleeing to a bar to unwind when work drove her mad, she still had to drag herself back to the tedious daily grind, clutching a jianbing1 as she rushed to clock in at the office building.
And because she had bought that very expensive drink, she hadn’t even added pork loin to her jianbing this morning. It was plain.
She worked until noon, then stretched and rubbed her aching neck.
She noticed a new WeChat message waiting for her. It was from Luo Yan.
No text—just a photo of a potted foxtail fern on her desk.
Cheng Xiang bit her lower lip, pondered for a moment, and replied: 【Cute.】
Luo Yan: 【It’s actually quite a hassle. Hard to keep alive.】
Cheng Xiang: 【How so?】
Luo Yan: 【You have to constantly mist the leaves, or it starts to wither in no time.】
Cheng Xiang: 【In that case, you’d be better off keeping an arrowhead plant. It’s the ultimate slacker’s plant.】
Luo Yan: 【You really know your stuff.】
Cheng Xiang: 【No, no. I grew up in a siheyuan2, and we had all kinds of random plants in the courtyard. I just got used to taking care of them over time.】
For the past week, Luo Yan had been doing this—sending brief, casual messages every day at lunch or after work, keeping up a desultory stream of conversation.
Over the weekend, Cheng Xiang lounged in the computer chair at Qin Ziqiao’s place, biting her nails.
“What’s wrong?” Qin Ziqiao asked.
“It’s just…” Cheng Xiang sat up in the chair and grabbed a bag of milk-candy-flavored potato chips from beside her. “I’ve never experienced anything like this, you know?”
She had been ordinary her whole life—exceptionally ordinary.
No one had ever pursued her at school. She was entirely excluded from the pink bubbles of romance that drifted through middle and high school. Her sole focus had always been buried in drawing comics.
Who would have thought that a visit to an incredibly trendy bar would lead to her meeting a beautiful older sister?
Cheng Xiang wasn’t stupid. Nobody was so bored these days that they would make small talk with you every single day for no reason.
She popped a potato chip into her mouth, crunching away. Her round eyes blinked as she stared at Qin Ziqiao.
“Cheng Xiang.”
“You scared the life out of me! Can you please not use my full name?”
“If you drop any more potato chip crumbs on my computer chair, you’re going to the zoo next time to help me wash the capybaras.”
“I’ll clean it up in a bit!” Cheng Xiang hastily pulled out a tissue to wipe down the chair, her eyes still locked on Qin Ziqiao.
Qin Ziqiao pulled a throw pillow into her arms. “How do you feel about it?”
“It’s hard to say.” Cheng Xiang went back to biting her nails.
“Stop biting.”
To be honest, Cheng Xiang’s feelings were somewhat complicated.
For starters, she had gone to a bar bare-faced and makeup-free, wearing a simple hoodie after work, and a gorgeous lawyer had actually struck up a conversation with her. Once she snapped out of her daze, it would be a lie to say she didn’t feel a tiny prick of vanity.
But—sigh, even Cheng Xiang couldn’t quite explain it.
Every time Luo Yan sent her a message, she felt a little happy, yet not entirely happy either. Sometimes, she would stand in the hallway—which always smelled of stir-fried shredded pork with green peppers—clutching her phone for ages, agonizing over how to draft a proper reply.
On Monday, Cheng Xiang was at work. At lunchtime, a colleague asked, “Xiangzi, we’re ordering hot and sour sweet potato noodles today. Do you want to join the group order?”
“Yes, yes, yes!” Cheng Xiang leaned over. “Add an extra packet of vinegar for me.”
The hot and sour noodle place near the office served authentic Sichuan-Chongqing style, which was mind-numbingly spicy.
Cheng Xiang tore open the small packet of vinegar with her teeth, pouring it glug-glug-glug inside. A drop splashed onto the back of her hand, and she wiped it away. Lifting a chopstickful of sweet potato noodles from the red oil, she blew on them to cool them down while casting a sidelong glance at her phone.
Perhaps Luo Yan was busy today; she hadn’t sent any messages.
She buried her face in her bowl and sucked in the noodles, still hot enough to make her raise her eyebrows. In her heart, she let out a subtle, quiet sigh of relief.
Working overtime until eight at night made for a truly awkward time.
Director Ma sent a voice message to ask: “Are you coming home to eat?”
Just walking out of the office building, Cheng Xiang held down the voice message button: “What leftovers are there?”
“Napa cabbage stewed with meatballs. Your dad ate all the cabbage, but he left you plenty of meatballs.”
“I’ll head back, then.” Cheng Xiang kept pressing the button, resting the bottom of her phone against her lip. “I’m sick of all the food near the office anyway. I’ll grab a bottle of drinking yogurt to tide me over first.”
She ducked into a convenience store and scanned the refrigerated display.
For some reason, when her eyes fell on those small, round cartoon bottles of green grape drinking yogurt, her heart skipped a beat for no reason.
Cheng Xiang pursed her lips, grabbed a bottle, and took it to the counter to pay.
“It’s buy one, get one for an extra yuan today. Do you want it?”
“Ah, yes, yes, yes!” There was no way Cheng Xiang would pass up such a bargain.
She turned back to the cooler, grabbed another bottle, and scanned it for an extra yuan.
Walking out of the convenience store, Cheng Xiang’s conflicted nature flared up again. She glanced at the expiration date on the bottle—it was today.
Sigh, she had always loved taking advantage of these tiny bargains. Spending an extra yuan for another bottle of yogurt was pointless when she couldn’t finish it today anyway. If she took it home, neither Director Ma nor Deputy Director Cheng liked drinking it anyway.
Sipping her yogurt while carrying the extra bottle, Cheng Xiang headed toward the bus stop.
At this time of year, the sky changed rapidly. A few days ago, when she finished overtime, night had already fallen. Today, even though it was past eight, the tail end of the sunset still lingered. Broad swaths of orange-pink and warm gold light cascaded down, bathing her eyelashes in a soft, gentle glow.
Cheng Xiang glanced around and saw that eye-catching Bentley Bentayga parked by the curb.
Cheng Xiang’s eyelashes fluttered. She bit down lightly on her straw over and over, quietly scanning her surroundings. She didn’t spot the yujie3.
Her eyelashes fluttered again. She kept walking toward the bus stop without breaking her stride. Just then, the door opened and the yujie stepped out of the car, holding a phone to her ear. It seemed she had only parked by the curb to make a call.
This was the first time Cheng Xiang had seen her in daylight.
Of course, it wasn’t truly daytime, but twilight. Cheng Xiang had once thought she belonged to the night; even when her features were obscured, her crisp coolness seemed to echo the quiet moonlight.
Seeing her now at dusk, however, she felt the woman might suit the twilight even better. She was like moonlight itself, slicing open the warm, dull hues of evening to pull a cool, crisp glow through the tear, dragging a quiet night behind her.
Cheng Xiang pretended not to notice her and kept walking toward the bus stop, chewing on her straw.
She was still on the phone, dressed today in a cocoon-white cropped blazer, matching slim-fit trousers, and high heels. Even though Cheng Xiang kept her head down and pretended to focus on walking, she could still sense the passersby stealing quiet glances at her.
Someone like her shouldn’t be appearing outside an office building like theirs.
Cheng Xiang stared down at the tip of her nose. If the yujie kept talking on the phone, the two of them would simply pass each other with a few strangers between them.
Yet just as they drew close, the yujie hung up. She glanced down at her screen and pocketed her phone.
When she looked up again, Cheng Xiang felt her gaze sweep casually across the surroundings until it caught her forehead.
Uh. Although Cheng Xiang was very extroverted, she felt that given how barely acquainted she and this yujie were, the woman ought to pretend not to see her. Otherwise, it would be even more awkward than bumping into a semi-familiar colleague in an elevator.
“What a coincidence,” a clear, crisp voice sounded.
Cheng Xiang’s shoulders tensed first, feeling as if everyone around had turned to look at her.
Keeping her gaze fixed on the tip of her nose, she raised her eyes very slowly. They rested first on Tao Tianran’s elegant jawline, paused, and then climbed higher.
Tao Tianran’s calm, serene face came into view, looking far more natural than Cheng Xiang did.
Letting go of the flattened straw in her mouth, Cheng Xiang grinned. “What a coincidence.”
Why is my opening line still so lame, hahaha.
Tao Tianran nodded. Without saying anything more, she kept walking forward.
Cheng Xiang glanced after her retreating figure and realized she seemed to be heading in the direction of the tattoo parlor from last time.
This really should have been the end of it.
But after taking two steps in her own direction, Cheng Xiang suddenly spun around and ran back after her.
Normally, she could have just called out to her.
But call her what? They had met twice now, yet they had never asked how to address each other, as if tacitly assuming there would never be another meeting, that their encounters were merely coincidences.
Call her “Hey”? Or “Yo”? It all felt far too impolite.
So, carrying her bottle of yogurt, Cheng Xiang ran quickly. As she drew close to her figure, she slowed her pace, walking briskly as if nothing out of the ordinary were happening.
She walked up to her side, but she didn’t notice. Gritting her teeth, Cheng Xiang circled around to the front of her.
This time, the yujie saw her. Looking slightly surprised, she looked around first as if confirming that Cheng Xiang hadn’t run over to find someone else.
Only then did she ask, “Is something wrong?”
By now, Cheng Xiang was already starting to regret it. She felt she had approached far too abruptly.
But since she was already here…
Nudging her back teeth with her tongue, Cheng Xiang asked, “Did you get a tattoo?”
“What?”
“Are you heading to that tattoo parlor?” Cheng Xiang pointed behind her. “The one you asked me directions for last time.”
“Oh. Yes.” The yujie nodded.
“Have you gotten it done already?”
“Not yet.”
Cheng Xiang let out a breath. “Then don’t get one.”
The yujie raised her brow slightly, seemingly surprised by her bluntness.
“I mean, I don’t think tattoos really suit you.” Cheng Xiang lowered her voice. “And to be completely honest, that shop’s reputation isn’t great. You probably wouldn’t like their work anyway.”
The corner of the yujie’s lips twitched upward so quickly that before Cheng Xiang could even tell if it was a smile, it had already returned to its serene resting state.
“Thank you,” she said.
“Ah? You’re welcome, you’re welcome.” Cheng Xiang felt a sudden wave of awkwardness, wondering if she had just driven away someone’s business. “Well, I’ll be going now.”
“Wait.”
“Hmm?”
“You’re going this way, right? I’ll walk with you.”
“Ah… okay.”
Of course. The yujie’s car was parked on the curb, which was indeed in the same direction.
But this…
Cheng Xiang swore she was normally a chatterbox. Back in middle school, she had been paired with an exceptionally quiet, introverted desk mate. In just two weeks, she had successfully coaxed the girl into whispering and gossiping with her during class.
When the girl’s mother came to the school, Cheng Xiang had been scared out of her wits. Instead, the mother had grabbed her hands, sniffling and weeping, thanking her for chatting her daughter out of her adjustment disorder and helping her become bright and talkative. Cheng Xiang had been utterly dazed by the whole scene.
Yet this felt like the first time she had walked beside someone and found herself completely at a loss for words.
It was definitely the fault of the yujie’s overwhelming aura.
Keeping her hands behind her back, her fingertips rubbed the slightly ridged cap of the yogurt bottle. She looked down, matching her footsteps to the rhythmic stride of the yujie’s high heels.
So… they were just walking back to the curb together? Just because she had said not to get a tattoo, the yujie was actually calling it off?
On second thought, the yujie hadn’t gotten it done last time either. She must have been feeling conflicted about it herself.
“Why did you say tattoos don’t suit me?” the yujie’s voice suddenly rang out.
Her mind was a chaotic jumble of thoughts, and she blurted out, “Because you look too clean.”
“What does it mean to ‘look clean’?”
How was she supposed to explain that?
Because you’re like an ice field, like unsullied Xuan paper4, like a sheet of fine stationery waiting for beautiful poetry to be written upon it, Cheng Xiang thought in her heart. She had always felt that those two ink-black moles at the corners of her eyes and the ends of her brows were already the perfect adornment. Anything else would be redundant.
But saying such things aloud would sound far too intense. After all, they barely knew each other.
So Cheng Xiang said, “Isn’t that just what people say online? To compliment a pretty girl on looking clean.”
The yujie glanced at her, falling silent.
Cheng Xiang mulled it over for a moment. “Um…”
“Mm.”
“Would you like some drinking yogurt? I bought an extra bottle for a yuan at the convenience store just now, but then I realized the expiration date is today. I can’t possibly drink it all myself.” Cheng Xiang brought the yogurt out from behind her back and offered it.
The moment the words left her mouth, she regretted them.
What a stupid thing to say. Did this yujie look like the type of person who cared about a one-yuan bargain? It made it seem like she was asking the other woman to deal with her near-expired waste.
Just as she was about to pull her hand back and mutter “never mind,”
The yujie’s gaze settled on her fair, slender fingers. “Is it a gift, or are you returning it to me?”
“Huh?”
“Didn’t I give you a bottle of yogurt at the bar last time?” The yujie raised her long lashes and looked at her. “Are you returning it to me, or is it a gift?”
Cheng Xiang was slightly dazed.
Was there a difference?
“If it’s a gift, I’ll take it. But if you’re returning it…” The yujie paused. For someone who usually seemed so cold and aloof, this tiny hesitation made Cheng Xiang feel a strange tension stir between them. The woman continued, “Then I don’t want it.”
“Oh, it’s a gift for you, it’s a gift.”
The yujie accepted the yogurt. “Thank you,” she repeated.
“You’re welcome, you’re welcome.” Cheng Xiang felt like a ride-share driver tonight, repeating every single phrase into her intercom twice.
The yujie’s Bentley Bentayga was parked by the curb. As she pulled out her car keys to unlock it from a distance, she asked Cheng Xiang, “Where are you heading?”
“The bus stop.” Please don’t offer to drive me. I already had no idea what to say to you during our walk just now.
Instead, the yujie simply gave a brief nod. “In that case… goodbye.”
Cheng Xiang: “…”
You’re overthinking things, Xiangzi.
She mumbled a “goodbye” and walked off. After a short distance, she broke into a quick run all the way to the bus stop. Just as she arrived, her bus pulled up, and she hopped on.
It wasn’t as packed as the evening rush hour, but there were no empty seats. Clinging to a hand strap, she stood facing the window. The night flowed past like a kinetic stream. She reached up to loosen her multi-colored striped scarf.
Spring had truly arrived; her knit scarf felt too warm now.
This chance encounter was just like the ones before, Cheng Xiang thought. Neither of them had asked for the other’s name, nor had they exchanged contact information. It was as if they had accepted they would never cross paths again.
The next day at noon, her colleagues decided to order takeout from a newly opened xiaolongbao5 shop.
This triggered an association in Cheng Xiang’s mind, and she asked, “What about shengjianbao6? Does anyone want pan-fried buns?”
“We want to eat xiaolongbao. This new place is running a promotion.”
But that was just how Cheng Xiang was. On normal days she was fine, but once she set her heart on a particular food, she would be driven mad if she couldn’t get it. She suddenly craved the crispy bottom of a shengjianbao, so she headed downstairs on her own, clutching her phone.
Sitting in a cramped, five-square-meter eatery, she ordered a steamer of shengjianbao and a complimentary bowl of soup.
Her phone rang just as she bit through the skin of a shengjianbao. Scalding broth burst out, and she hastily sucked it in, only to burn the roof of her mouth. Nursing the burn with her tongue, she picked up her phone to look.
It was from Luo Yan: 【What are you having for lunch?】
Pressing her tongue against her burned palate, Cheng Xiang suddenly remembered hearing two girls sitting in front of her in high school gossiping. They had said that if someone constantly messaged you to ask “What are you doing?” or “What are you eating?”, they definitely had a crush on you. The girls had giggled together after saying it.
Cheng Xiang pursed her lips.
She snapped a picture of the shengjianbao in front of her, opened the chat, but then, with another press of her lips, deleted the photo.
She suddenly had an inexplicable thought: If that cool, aloof yujie were the one sending me these messages, how would I feel?
Well, there was no way to know. After all, the yujie had never messaged her, had she?
Qin Ziqiao was utterly speechless at the sight of Cheng Xiang once again slumped in her computer chair, loudly crunching on potato chips.
She asked, “Aren’t you in the middle of a flirtation phase? Why are you so free?”
Cheng Xiang instantly sat up, planting her slender legs on the floor. “Do you really think this counts as a flirtation?”
“How should I know?”
“It’s literally just sending a few WeChat messages every day, talking about random, meaningless things.”
Qin Ziqiao counted on her fingers. “Every day. A few messages. Meaningless things.”
Cheng Xiang blinked and sighed. “Sigh.”
“Why are you sighing?”
Cheng Xiang grabbed a tissue to wipe her hands clean, gripped the edge of the chair, and gave herself a gentle spin by pushing off the floor. “If I say I find it a bit of a burden, will you think I’m just showing off?”
“You find it a burden?”
“Yeah. How do I put it…”
“Are you put off by Luo Yan?”
“It’s not that I dislike her. Come on, she’s an elite lawyer, she’s gorgeous, and she took the initiative to add me on WeChat!”
“So you’re not put off?”
“Mmm…” Cheng Xiang called out to Qin Ziqiao, “Toss me a pillow.”
Qin Ziqiao threw one over. Cheng Xiang caught it, hugged it close, and buried her face in it, letting out a series of muffled groans.
Qin Ziqiao asked, “Are you constipated?”
“Shut up.” Cheng Xiang suddenly raised her head. “Maybe I should just stop messaging Luo Yan.”
“Why?”
“Didn’t I just say? I feel a bit of a burden.”
“But have you actually figured out your own thoughts? Besides, are you even sure she means it that way?”
Cheng Xiang blinked. “I… I’m not sure. I don’t have any experience with this.”
She asked Qin Ziqiao, “What do you think?”
“Me?” Qin Ziqiao replied. “I only have experience getting my pants bitten by capybaras.”
Cheng Xiang let out a long sigh.
That was the crux of the problem—both of them were complete novices when it came to romance.
By Cheng Xiang’s logic, they were all adults; surely someone wouldn’t send multiple messages a day about nothing unless they had some underlying interest? Yet as Qin Ziqiao had pointed out, Luo Yan hadn’t actually made any explicit moves. What if she was just overthinking it?
Cheng Xiang sighed again and asked, “What should I do?”
Qin Ziqiao picked up a post-apocalyptic novel from the sofa. “How should I know?”
She could only blame the absolute blank space of her school years; she had absolutely zero experience handling this kind of situation.
Cheng Xiang pointed at the tassels on the pillow. “Why do you think I never liked anyone back when we were in school?”
“Our class was only so big. If there was no spark, there was no spark.”
Cheng Xiang suddenly laughed. “Hey, do you remember? Back in our sophomore year of high school, everyone was pairing up. I remember thinking, why don’t I feel anything for anyone in or outside of class? I wished a super good-looking transfer student would show up.”
“We actually were supposed to get a transfer student in our sophomore year.” Cheng Xiang propped her elbow on the pillow, resting her chin in her hand. “I heard they were coming from Gangdao. I wonder why they suddenly didn’t transfer in the end?”
“You’re getting off track.”
“Oh, right.”
But when the topic drifted back to Luo Yan, the two inexperienced primary school chickens7 couldn’t reach any conclusion.
Cheng Xiang had no idea what it felt like to like someone.
Another week slipped by. The only change was that every time Cheng Xiang ducked into a convenience store and saw the green grape drinking yogurt in the cooler, her heart would skip a beat.
She had a sudden, baffling thought: Why is it that every single time I cross paths with that yujie, this drinking yogurt is somehow involved?
Now, even the sight of that green grape yogurt made her feel uneasy.
At noon on Friday, Cheng Xiang finally ate the takeout from that Hangzhou xiaolongbao place with her colleagues, which was supposed to be quite good.
Taking a bite, she stared in disbelief. “Do steamed buns actually have eggplant filling?!”
“Good, right? It’s not greasy at all, very fresh.”
Whether it was fresh or not, she had no idea. Because she absolutely detested eggplants!
She also hated luffa8, finding its texture far too soft and mushy.
Cheng Xiang spent a split second torn between forcing herself to finish them or ordering another meal. In the end, she decisively chose the former. After all, the group-discount price for this takeout was 13.9 yuan—not a negligible amount of money.
It was while she was frowning over a half-bitten eggplant dumpling that she received a WeChat message from Luo Yan:
【Are you free tonight?】
Cheng Xiang quietly held her breath.
What she dreaded most was being asked if she was “free.” Whether it was her boss or her colleagues—can’t you just say what it is? If you don’t tell me what’s going on, how am I supposed to know if I’m free or not!
Cheng Xiang typed back with one hand: 【What’s up?】
【Want to go to that bar from last time?】
【With your boss?】 Cheng Xiang recalled the incredibly intimidating figure from last time. Even someone as extroverted as Cheng Xiang felt small in her presence. She had a very striking name—Qiao Zhiji—which Cheng Xiang had memorized after hearing it just once.
Luo Yan laughed. Switching to a voice message, her voice carried a soft, airy chuckle: 【No, she’s too busy. Just the two of us.】
Cheng Xiang thought it over, then typed: 【Sure.】
Cheng Xiang felt that letting things drag on like this wasn’t a solution.
She needed to see Luo Yan again, sort out her own feelings, and figure out where Luo Yan stood.
Only then would she know what to do next, right?
But first of all, that bar called Afterglow was no longer running its grand opening discount. A single drink without the discount was 150 yuan.
Secondly, given Luo Yan’s quality of life, they would probably order at least a plate of nuts. She would definitely have to split the bill—she couldn’t just freeload.
Cheng Xiang sighed once more. A burden. It really felt like a bit of a burden.
Thinking of that bar filled with trendy crowds, Cheng Xiang initially considered going home to change after work. But on second thought, there was really no need to make a fuss about dressing up, so she abandoned the idea.
So after clocking out, she took the bus straight from the office.
Luo Yan sent a voice message: “I have a meeting right before leaving work. You might need to wait for me a bit?”
“No problem, no problem, no problem!” Clinging to the bus strap with one hand, Cheng Xiang replied in a rapid stream of syllables, “Take your time.”
By the time she reached the bar’s entrance, the twilight had faded, and the first hints of night were beginning to emerge.
Cheng Xiang could have gone inside to wait, but the thought of a room packed with trendy people made her feel a bit self-conscious, so she decided to wait outside.
The night descended like a rising mist, just as the crowd was beginning to flow into the bar. Cheng Xiang cast a glance at the stylish young women with impossibly long legs, then edged herself closer to a corner by the door, her canvas bag slung over her shoulder. Her fingers absentmindedly toyed with the little bear pendant hanging from it.
She felt a bit plain.
She didn’t mind Luo Yan’s delay at all, but as her eyes drifted aimlessly over her surroundings, her gaze froze.
She saw the yujie.
The yujie was walking toward the bar. Unlike the others who arrived in pairs or groups of friends, she was entirely alone. She wasn’t dressed up for a night out either, looking as though she had come straight from work.
She wore a crisp white button-down under a dusk-gray blazer, left casually open. Her trousers were her signature slim-fit cut, leaving a sliver of fair ankle exposed above her high heels—seemingly immune to the early March chill.
From this distance, her facial features were hard to distinguish, but those two ink-black moles at the corners of her eyes and the ends of her brows seemed to flicker under the flashing neon lights of the city.
For reasons she couldn’t explain, Cheng Xiang shrank a little further into the shadows of the corner. But oh, goodness—the yujie’s gaze swept casually in her direction, and by accident, she spotted her…
A nervous itch tickled Cheng Xiang’s throat, and she suddenly began to count in her head—
One, two, three… This was her fourth time running into the yujie, wasn’t it?
They say running into someone three times is fate. So what did four times make it?
Footnotes
- Jiānbing guǒzi; a savory, crispy Chinese crepe folded with a fried cracker or dough stick, eggs, and scallions.
- Sìhéyuán; a traditional Chinese courtyard residence characterized by a square compound with buildings on four sides.
- Yùjiě; a subcultural term derived from the Japanese 'onee-sama', referring to a cool, elegant, mature woman with a sophisticated and commanding aura.
- Xuān zhǐ; a high-quality, translucent handmade paper from China, traditionally used for calligraphy and ink painting.
- Xiǎolóngbāo; traditional Chinese steamed soup dumplings filled with minced meat and hot broth, typically served in bamboo steamers.
- Shēngjiānbāo; pan-fried buns stuffed with pork, featuring a thick, crispy-fried bottom crust and hot broth inside.
- Xiǎoxuějī; 'primary school chicken', a Cantonese-derived slang term widely used in modern Chinese internet culture to describe absolute beginners, amateurs, or childish novices.
- Sīguā; luffa or sponge gourd, a common Chinese vegetable known for its soft, spongy, and slightly slimy texture when cooked.
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