The Alley Was Always This Long – Chapter 58
by Little PandaTao Tianran Asks
“Want to come to my house?”
[I hope next time, you no longer understand the sorrow of trees.]
Ah? Cheng Xiang was a bit dazed.
Normally when you ask someone if they’re cold, they’ll politely say, “No, not at all, I’m fine,” right? But if she actually felt cold, why’d she wear so little?
“Hahaha,” Cheng Xiang said. “The weather’s still a bit cold, huh? Even wearing this much, I still feel a bit chilly.”
How considerate of you, Xiangzi! Look at you, empathizing so well and providing such great emotional value!
Tao Tianran’s fingers curled slightly, and she fell silent.
The two of them walked together toward the theater.
Cheng Xiang searched for a topic to chat about. “This theater’s name is 「Wutong」. I really like it.”
Tao Tianran asked, “Why?”
Her tone when asking was a bit strange, as if she was already entirely sure of the answer.
Cheng Xiang suddenly went quiet.
Tao Tianran cast a gentle glance at her.
“You aren’t even curious about my answer,” Cheng Xiang said, feeling a bit deflated.
Ah, she was such a chatterbox. How could anyone not be curious about what she had to say?
Tao Tianran cooperatively adjusted her tone. “Why?”
Wow, Cheng Xiang was happy again.
She fluttered her thick eyelashes. “Because I live in a siheyuan1 in an old alley. Have you ever heard of Hundred Flowers Alley2? In those old courtyard houses, people used to build unauthorized little rooms and sheds. My bedroom practically counts as an illegal structure itself—it was built around a phoenix tree. My mom says that tree’s over a century old and it’d be a pity to chop it down. Sometimes when I lift my foot, I stub it right against the trunk. Stings like crazy. Oh, right, where’re you from?”
The moment the words left her mouth, she regretted them. Her neighborhood committee instincts were acting up again!
She waved her hands in a flurry, explaining, “I’m not trying to pry into your privacy! It’s just that my mom’s the Neighborhood Committee3 Director, so I’m used to it. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”
Tao Tianran asked, “Don’t I look like I’m from Beicheng?”
“Definitely not,” Cheng Xiang laughed. “You don’t have any erhua4 in your speech.”
Wow, Cheng Xiang was stunned.
For kids of their generation who grew up during the tail end of the golden age of TVB and Hong Kong cinema, a beautiful girl from Gangdao was the epitome of chic, cool, and effortless “madam” style. It came with an automatic, built-in filter of admiration.
Looking at her now, Tao Tianran really did fit that description, though she barely had any accent when she spoke.
Tao Tianran suddenly added, “But I don’t plan on returning to Gangdao.”
“Ah?”
“I’m going to stay in Beicheng. For work, life, and everything in the future.”
“Oh…”
Frankly, Cheng Xiang found it a bit baffling. Why was she suddenly talking about her future plans?
Without thinking, she blurted out, “If you’re from Gangdao, you’ve probably never seen those old-style courtyard houses before—not the tourist spots, but the actual, slightly run-down residential ones. And you definitely haven’t seen a room with a tree growing inside it.”
She chuckled. “I should show you my bedroom sometime.”
Oh my god, Cheng Xiang wanted to bite her own tongue off.
What was she saying? Someone save her!
She’d not only offered to bring Tao Tianran to her house, but she’d even invited her into her bedroom! But hadn’t she just let herself get carried away by the flow of the conversation?
“I mean… That’s not what I meant…” Ugh, she wasn’t usually someone with such a lack of boundaries. She just got so incredibly nervous whenever she faced Tao Tianran.
“Am I not welcome at your house?”
Well, that was even less what she meant! Cheng Xiang suddenly stomped her foot in frustration, making Tao Tianran break into a soft smile.
“Are you teasing me?” Cheng Xiang realized. “I’ve noticed that you’re quite different from what I imagined.”
“Hmm?”
“I’ve noticed that you actually smile quite a lot.”
Tao Tianran paused for two seconds. “Actually, I don’t.”
Cheng Xiang froze slightly.
This yujie6… was playing dirty. How could such a plain, ordinary sentence sound so incredibly flirtatious when coming from her?
The sentence could be interpreted as: “I don’t normally smile much.”
“Only when I’m with you.”
But that might just be overthinking it. The yujie might literally just mean: “I don’t like to smile, you’re reading too much into it.”
The two of them walked into the theater together. Tao Tianran pulled two tickets from her pocket. Cheng Xiang looked down and noticed a tiny pinky ring resting on her right little finger.
It was a simple, plain band, but it looked very elegant. Of course, it was mostly because Tao Tianran’s hands were exceptionally beautiful, slender and long.
Cheng Xiang suddenly thought: What does wearing a pinky ring mean again?
She had forgotten.
Inside the theater, she noticed they weren’t selling alcohol for this show, but there were far more people than last time. Everyone sat on three rows of semi-circular benches, crowding around a small stage.
This play, titled 《The Tide》, was about two girls.
Back in school, Cheng Xiang had heard rumors about someone from Class Three and someone from Class Five being together—two girls. She had never experienced it herself. Going to “Afterglow” had been her very first time stepping into that world, and though she hadn’t witnessed anything dramatic, she had just seen many girls sitting together, chatting and drinking. It had felt peaceful and beautiful.
Wait… Wait a minute…
Tao Tianran went to “Afterglow” too? Did that mean…?
In the dimming lights, Cheng Xiang turned her head to look at Tao Tianran.
She realized she had never imagined what Tao Tianran would look like being with someone, whether a guy or a girl. Tao Tianran was too detached, too pure. Just like her name “Tianran,” which meant natural, she seemed as though she should exist in this world entirely solitary and untouched.
“Why’re you looking at me?” Tao Tianran whispered. “Watch the play.”
“Oh,” Cheng Xiang replied in a tiny voice, turning her gaze back to the stage.
The two girls had met in high school, developing a subtle, quiet affection for each other, only for the parents of one girl to find out and force her to transfer to a school in another city. Later, they reunited after graduating from university. Standing by the sea, both dressed in white skirts and bathed in the moonlight, one of them gently kissed the other’s cheek.
In reality, both of them already had their own separate lives, and there was absolutely no future for them. That soft kiss felt like a quiet farewell to their youth, which was filled with endless melancholy.
Soft sniffling and crying echoed around them.
Cheng Xiang turned her head to look. Uh, she discovered that a lot of people were actually crying.
Tao Tianran glanced at her and saw she didn’t look like she was about to cry at all. Instead, she was just blinking her eyes, curiously staring at the weeping people around her.
Tao Tianran quietly stuffed the tissue she had been clutching in her palm back into her pocket.
After the play ended, the lead actresses gave a sincere, ninety-degree bow during the curtain call. Cheng Xiang clapped along enthusiastically.
Walking out of the theater with the crowd, Tao Tianran moved very slowly, gradually falling behind everyone else.
Cheng Xiang thought about it but didn’t ask why. She simply kept pace with her, walking slowly by her side.
Once the rest of the exiting crowd dispersed, the surroundings grew quiet. Tao Tianran looked up at the side of the road. “Is this a phoenix tree?”
Cheng Xiang followed her gaze. “Yes.”
Thinking about how she had randomly invited Tao Tianran to her bedroom earlier, she didn’t know how to keep the conversation going.
For a chatterbox like Cheng Xiang, instances where she let the conversation fall completely flat like this were actually quite rare.
It was Tao Tianran who spoke up again. “You’re different from what I expected, too.”
“How so?”
“I thought you’d cry.”
“Oh, you mean the play just now.” Cheng Xiang crinkled her nose and smiled. “I thought it was pretty good, but I don’t usually watch these kinds of artsy plays, so I don’t really know if it was actually good or not. But yeah, I didn’t feel like crying. I was honestly surprised to see so many people crying. Maybe…”
Cheng Xiang reflected for a moment. “It’s because I’ve never liked anyone? So I didn’t feel that deeply touched?”
Tao Tianran fell quiet for two seconds, then suddenly asked, “You’ve never liked anyone?”
“Yeah.” Cheng Xiang nodded. “Never.”
Tao Tianran’s lips twitched upward ever so slightly. “Why?”
“Why?” Cheng Xiang repeated after her. “I don’t know why either. In high school, didn’t lots of people start puppy love7? But my best friend and I—she’s a total homebody who loves reading apocalyptic novels and growing green onions, hahaha. Oh, I’m getting off track. Anyway, the two of us just never seemed to think any guy was handsome or any girl was pretty.”
“Maybe,” Cheng Xiang tilted her head, “we just haven’t met the right person?”
Tao Tianran nodded.
The road was narrow, and her shadow cast against the wall was bent at an angle, swaying gently as she nodded.
Cheng Xiang instantly felt the distance between them shrink. After all, ever since their school days, being able to talk about relationships meant that two people were on pretty good terms, right?
Cheng Xiang plucked up her courage and asked, “What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Have you ever met someone you liked, or anything?”
Tao Tianran paused for a long moment, then said, “I’ll meet them.”
Cheng Xiang was amused. “How’d you know? Can you predict the future?”
To her surprise, Tao Tianran nodded. “Yes.”
Cheng Xiang found this even funnier. “Then read my future too! Will I ever meet someone? Sometimes I wonder if I’m just going to be single since birth8 forever.”
Tao Tianran gave her a soft, sideways glance. “I hope you do.”
Cheng Xiang’s heart skipped another beat.
Tao Tianran’s tone was very restrained, yet she had said—she hoped she would.
As if the person who would make her heart flutter was already on her way.
Cheng Xiang walked with Tao Tianran to the parking spot. This time, without waiting for Tao Tianran to ask, she proactively waved and said, “I’ll head out first then. Bye-bye!”
She took the subway home and showered. Director Ma banged on the door from outside: “Xiao Xiang! Have you blown your hair dry yet?”
Cheng Xiang rolled out of bed and slipped out the door.
Director Ma followed behind her, nagging, “I knew you were slacking off again!”
Once her hair was dry, Cheng Xiang climbed back onto the bed and picked up the phone she’d just tossed aside. She was searching Little X Book9 for posts about the play they had watched tonight, and quite a few people had posted reviews.
Taking photos during the performance wasn’t allowed, so most of the pictures were of the curtain call. A single, artistic spotlight cut through the dark stage, making it look like a film still or a postcard.
Suddenly, Cheng Xiang hugged her phone, rolled around on the bed, and kicked her legs in the air.
Then she climbed up and sat cross-legged.
The fair ankles of the lead actress peeking out from under her white dress in the stage photos reminded her of Tao Tianran’s slender, pale ankles beneath her suit trousers.
Oh, right, what did it mean when someone wore a pinky ring?
She lowered her head to look it up.
The search results popped up—oh, it meant wanting to stay single.
Cheng Xiang tapped the phone against her palm, zoning out for a moment.
For some reason, every time after she saw Tao Tianran, she felt as though she had just experienced a Cinderella fairytale.
The crystal carriage turning back into a pumpkin. The coachman turning back into a squeaking little mouse.
The stage photo of tonight’s play 《The Tide》 lay quietly on her phone, like a glass slipper left behind to commemorate the night.
Yet her heart knew clearly: such a magical night wouldn’t happen again.
Every time she met Tao Tianran, she felt a lingering sense that it would be the very last time she would ever see her.
And it made sense. Someone from Gangdao, wealthy, a stunning beauty—to Cheng Xiang, who had grown up in the alleyways and had never even been abroad, she was simply someone from a world too far away.
This person lay quietly in Cheng Xiang’s contact list, never making a sound.
Only to pop up suddenly right when Cheng Xiang was about to forget her.
This time, she sent another photo, which was once again a picture of two tickets.
Along with a text message: 【This time, I didn’t invite any other friends either.】
This… Cheng Xiang thought, Why does she keep asking me to watch plays with her?
Holding her phone, she thought for two minutes before typing back: 【Shall I treat you to malatang again?】
Tao Tianran replied: 【I’ve got to work overtime tomorrow night, so we might be short on time. Meet at the theater entrance?】
What a strange person.
Cheng Xiang thought, She seems so busy, yet she’s so obsessed with watching these niche plays. If she’s this busy, are these plays really that unmissable?
The relaxation methods of the wealthy were truly incomprehensible.
Early the next morning, when Director Ma walked into the kitchen rubbing her sleepy eyes, she vaguely caught sight of a figure. Startled, she was about to grab the rolling pin nearby.
Cheng Xiang mumbled in a lazy drawl, “Mom, it’s me.”
“What’re you doing up so early?”
“Oh, just… couldn’t sleep.”
Director Ma shuffled into the kitchen in her slippers to take a look. “What’re you messing around with?”
“Nothing, just making some sandwiches10.”
“Sandwiches?” Director Ma raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you love deep-fried chive pockets11? Since when did you like sandwiches?”
“Chive pockets smell too strong.”
“So what if they smell?”
“Nothing, nothing.” Cheng Xiang wrapped the sandwich in plastic wrap and looked around for a knife to cut it.
“Look at how clumsy you’re being. Let me do it.”
“Don’t touch it!”
“Why’re you shouting so suddenly, you child!” Director Ma clutched her chest and took a step back. “Scared me half to death.”
“Ah, I just meant I’m already done, so you don’t need to help.” Cheng Xiang sliced the sandwiches, packed them carefully into a glass container, and slid it into her lunch bag. She grabbed it and headed out. “I’m leaving! I’ll be late for work.”
“Normally you refuse to bring lunch no matter how much I ask, complaining that it’s too much trouble. Why’re you suddenly willing to bring food today?”
Cheng Xiang didn’t answer. Slinging her canvas bag over her shoulder and carrying her lunch bag, she flew out the door.
Her slender shadow stretched out in the morning light of the alleyway, as a flock of pigeons took flight behind her, wings fluttering.
At noon, she went downstairs with a colleague for claypot rice. Five minutes before it was time to clock out in the evening, the boss poked his head out of his office and called, “Little Cheng.”
Cheng Xiang wondered if all bosses in the world were the same, loving nothing more than calling people right before lunch or just before they were about to clock out.
Steeling herself, she stood up. “Yes, Boss?”
“After Nisanna12 went live, quite a few players complained that she didn’t fit her character concept. Do some quick overtime tonight and change her design.”
In Cheng Xiang’s mind, ten thousand grass mud horses13 galloped past.
“When do you need it?”
The boss glanced at her with surprise. “I’m telling you about it now, so of course I need it tonight.”
“Can’t I give it to you tomorrow morning?”
The boss glanced at her again. “Little Cheng, with the way things are in the industry right now, you know how hard it’s to find a job, right?”
Yes, she knew. It was so annoying.
Cheng Xiang couldn’t be bothered to waste her breath on him. She went back to her desk and picked up her drawing tablet.
She glanced at the time while drawing.
Tonight’s play was scheduled for 8:30 PM. The ticket stub Tao Tianran had sent a photo of said 「immersive theater」, but she didn’t even know what that meant.
She wanted to look it up, but carrying the feeling of not wanting to open a gift ahead of time, she didn’t.
Tao Tianran was also working overtime tonight, and they had agreed to meet at the theater entrance. Cheng Xiang calculated the time: it would take her about twenty minutes to walk there, which meant she had to leave the office by 8:00 PM at the latest.
She should have enough time.
By 7:30 PM, she finished the revisions and sent them over. The boss had already clocked out to enjoy the city’s nightlife, leaving her alone to fight the battle in the office.
She waited for five minutes, but the boss didn’t reply.
To be honest, she was usually quite a coward, the type who would avoid the boss at all costs and never proactively speak to him. But at this moment, she actually dialed his number. “Boss, have you looked at the drafts?”
The boss sounded like he was at a KTV lounge, with ghostly wails and howling singing in the background.
The boss said in a slow, leisurely drawl, “Hang on a second—”
Wait? Wait her foot.
Finally, the boss spoke. “Isn’t this even worse than the first draft?”
Cheng Xiang almost coughed up a mouthful of blood.
Boss: “Draw another version that’s a bit different, so I can compare them.”
Cheng Xiang hung up on him. She powered up her drawing tablet and buried herself in her work.
By 8:15 PM, she saved the image, sent it to the boss, and as expected, received a reply: 【Let’s stick with the first draft.】
She immediately shut down her computer, slung her bag, grabbed her lunch bag, and sprinted out of the office.
She dashed all the way toward the 「Wutong」 theater, clutching her phone and checking the time every now and then.
Turning the final corner, she spotted a slender silhouette standing outside the theater entrance.
It was already 8:29 PM. All the other audience members had entered.
Cheng Xiang didn’t stop for breath. She ran over, switched the lunch bag from her right hand to her left, and quickly rushed up to gently grab Tao Tianran’s wrist. “Let’s go.”
Tao Tianran was slightly startled.
The bird-like girl had sprinted toward her, carrying a warm breeze of the spring night. Cheng Xiang didn’t wear perfume, but her fluttering hair carried a scent of grapefruit shampoo, and her slender, warm fingertips pressed against Tao Tianran’s cool, steady pulse.
She pulled her along, heading straight into the theater.
Racing all the way to the ticket gate, Cheng Xiang let go of Tao Tianran. “S-sorry, I was worried they wouldn’t let us in if we were late.”
“They allow entry up to fifteen minutes after it starts.”
“O-oh, really?” Cheng Xiang wiped her forehead. She thought she was sweating, but when she wiped her skin, there was nothing there. Her soft, fine bangs had just gotten a bit messy from running, so she used her fingers to comb them back into place.
But they had arrived just as the show was starting. By the time they finished checking their tickets and walked inside, the theater was already dark.
Cheng Xiang felt a bit flustered when she realized that, unlike last time, the audience wasn’t seated. Instead, they were all standing, surrounding a tiny stage.
She asked Tao Tianran, “Um…”
“What’s an immersive play?” How embarrassing—she should have looked it up beforehand.
Tao Tianran leaned in slightly. “It means after you watch a segment of the performance, there’ll be two options, A and B, for how the plot progresses. You choose one based on what you think. Then you watch the next segment and get another choice between A and B, and so on, until the final ending.”
“Oh, I see.” Cheng Xiang found this quite interesting.
They had to move closer to the stage in the dark, and Cheng Xiang nearly tripped over her own feet.
“Careful,” Tao Tianran murmured, catching her. Because she had been leaning slightly to speak to her, her suit jacket brushed against Cheng Xiang’s denim jacket, making a soft rustle.
Overlapping with Cheng Xiang’s whispered “thank you,” Tao Tianran’s fingers lingered for a moment before she withdrew them.
After the first segment ended, the crowd began moving toward two exits labeled A and B.
The theater troupe had put a lot of care into it. The play wasn’t restricted to the theater; nearby apartment buildings, restaurants, and the shade of a phoenix tree had all been decorated and transformed into stage sets. The actors led the audience to these locations to perform the next parts of the story.
Cheng Xiang whispered to Tao Tianran, “What’re you choosing?”
“A. You?”
A bit disappointed, Cheng Xiang said, “I’m choosing B.”
“Then let’s split up.”
“Okay.”
This was Cheng Xiang’s first time experiencing an immersive play, and any lingering disappointment was quickly overshadowed by the novelty of the experience.
BBBA. She mentally noted her path of choices.
In truth, there were only two final endings: either returning to the theater, or gathering under the phoenix tree. This meant that despite choosing different paths, some people would eventually meet at the same end.
After some thought, Cheng Xiang chose Ending B, under the phoenix tree.
She arrived relatively late, and a crowd of spectators had already gathered around the set beneath the phoenix tree.
She stepped forward, standing at the outer edge of the crowd, when her heart suddenly skipped a beat.
She saw her.
She spotted Tao Tianran’s slender, tall figure standing in a corner of the front row. She couldn’t explain why, but this simple discovery suddenly made her incredibly happy.
She didn’t call out to Tao Tianran, instead choosing to quietly watch the final scene unfold. Suddenly, Tao Tianran turned her head from the front row.
Just as the female lead beneath the phoenix tree delivered her line: “You once asked me how far love can take us.”
“I don’t know how far love can take us. I only hope love makes us meet at the same end despite different paths.”
Tao Tianran quietly looked back. Across the crowd, across the lights, and through the falling leaves of the phoenix tree, her gaze locked onto Cheng Xiang.
After the play ended, the audience filed out in an orderly fashion, excitedly discussing the plot.
Cheng Xiang would normally have been chattering away with plenty to say, but with her mind occupied by that single glance Tao Tianran had cast her way, she merely walked up to her in silence.
Tao Tianran looked down at her and asked softly, “What’s wrong?”
“Uh, I can’t quite put it into words. It’s just that this play really resonated with me.”
“Why?”
“How should I say it… I mean, life offers so many different choices, right? How do you know which choice to make so you can walk all the way to the end with someone?”
Look at you getting all artsy, Xiangzi! Elevating the theme!
Yet just as Cheng Xiang uttered those poetic words, her stomach rumbled—”Grumble—”—completely refusing to show her any respect.
Because there was no one else around, the loud noise was heard clear as day by both herself and Tao Tianran.
With the speed of someone drawing a sword, Cheng Xiang slapped her hand over her stomach, her face instantly turning bright red.
Tao Tianran smiled softly again. “Didn’t eat dinner?”
“Uh, actually, I had to work overtime tonight too.” Clutching her stomach, Cheng Xiang suddenly felt a wave of embarrassed annoyance. “It’s all because my boss insisted I redesign a character. I design characters for a game company, you know?”
“My boss completely ignored the character’s personality and made me revise her drafts countless times. I was cursing him out in my head. Like, what is wrong with him? This is a character! She actually exists in the game world, with her own lore, her own beliefs, her own glory. How can he just change her appearance back and forth like that? It’s so out-of-character!”
Cheng Xiang grew more and more indignant as she spoke.
If her boss hadn’t suddenly forced her to work overtime, she wouldn’t have run out of time to eat. And if she’d had time to eat, her stomach wouldn’t have rumbled so embarrassingly.
It was infuriating!
She asked Tao Tianran, “Did you eat dinner?”
“No.”
“Then why isn’t your stomach rumbling?”
Tao Tianran paused, then said, “Why don’t you ask it?”
Cheng Xiang cast her gaze sideways toward the street. “Actually, I’ve got some sandwiches here. Want some?”
“Sure.”
Tao Tianran scanned the area and pointed to a bench by the road. “Shall we sit over there?”
The two of them walked over together.
The massive canopy of the phoenix tree spread out above them like a giant open umbrella. Unzipping her lunch bag, Cheng Xiang looked up. “The phoenix tree over my bedroom is just as big. Sometimes I imagine it’s an umbrella held over my head, but the roof blocks the view. Hehe, so this’s what it feels like.”
Tao Tianran suddenly asked, “Do you ever think trees are sad?”
Cheng Xiang found the question odd. “Why’d a tree be sad?”
Tao Tianran shook her head. “I was just speaking nonsense.”
Cheng Xiang pulled out a transparent glass container. At this point, she started feeling a bit regretful again.
Her lunch bag wasn’t very pretty—it was gray with a pattern of pink triangles. And the rubber ring on the lid of her glass container had turned slightly yellow from long use.
Her sandwiches, too, were simply wrapped in plastic wrap before being sliced, unlike the ones made by those aesthetic influencers on Little X Book who wrapped theirs in beautiful, decorative paper.
Tao Tianran asked her, “Did you make them yourself?”
“Yeah.” Cheng Xiang rubbed her nose. “I originally made them planning to share them with a colleague for dinner, but I didn’t even get a chance to eat. Don’t worry, they haven’t gone bad. I kept them in the company fridge the whole time.”
Her company’s fridge didn’t smell very nice, packed as it was with lunchboxes and kimchi stored by other coworkers, so Cheng Xiang had done her best to tuck her sandwiches away in a corner.
Tao Tianran asked, “Which colleague were you going to share them with?”
Cheng Xiang froze.
What kind of bizarre question was that? Was which colleague she was sharing them with really the main point here?
She hadn’t prepared for this question.
“Uh, just… Whoever was free, I guess…”
Tao Tianran let out a soft breath from her chest and took a piece of sandwich from Cheng Xiang’s container.
She turned her head to look at Cheng Xiang. “This weekend.”
“Hmm?” Cheng Xiang looked back at her with a bite of sandwich in her mouth.
“Want to come to my house?” Tao Tianran asked.
“Cough, cough, cough, cough…” The sandwich went straight down Cheng Xiang’s windpipe.
Footnotes
- Sìhéyuàn are traditional Chinese courtyard residences featuring a central courtyard surrounded by buildings on four sides, typical of old Beicheng housing.
- Bǎihuā Hútóng, or Hundred Flowers Alley, is a fictionalized, historic narrow alleyway located in old Beicheng, known for preserving the traditional layout of old residential neighborhoods.
- The Neighborhood Committee (jūwěihuì) is a grassroots administrative organization in China responsible for local community affairs, mediation, and neighborhood welfare.
- Érhuàyīn refers to the rhotacization or 'r-suffixing' of words characteristic of the Beicheng dialect, where an 'r' sound is added to the end of syllables.
- Gǎngdǎo is a fictionalized counterpart to Hong Kong Island, representing a modern, wealthy, and culturally distinct metropolitan coastal region.
- Yùjiě is modern Chinese slang deriving from Japanese 'onee-sama', describing a cool, mature, elegant, and independent older-sister archetype.
- Zǎoliàn, literally 'early love', refers to romantic dating among middle or high school students, which is traditionally heavily discouraged by Chinese parents and schools.
- Mǔdān, short for 'single since birth' (mǔtā dānshēn), is modern slang for someone who has never been in a relationship since leaving their mother's womb.
- Xiǎo Mǒu Shū (Little X Book) is a self-censored or playful way of referring to Xiaohongshu (Red), a highly popular Chinese social media and lifestyle-sharing platform.
- Sānmíngzhì are standard Western-style egg and ham sandwiches prepared here as a lighter, less pungent alternative to traditional Chinese breakfast items.
- Jiǔcài hézi are pan-fried or deep-fried turnovers stuffed with chives, eggs, and vermicelli, known for their savory, highly aromatic garlic-chive scent.
- Nīsānnà (also written with a character transposition typo as Sānǐnà in the raw text) is a highly agile, dual-blade wielding game character designed by Cheng Xiang.
- Cǎonímǎ, literally 'grass mud horse', is a famous Chinese internet homophonic pun for a severe profanity, representing extreme frustration or annoyance.
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