Su Ying took a notebook with a dark red cover out of her suitcase; the edges were slightly curled, clearly showing it had been in frequent use.
She had started using this notebook after her father passed away, using it to record her income and expenditure since then. Su Ying turned to the latest blank page, where she had drawn a large heart on the left-hand side after paying off her student loan last month.
Su Ying had never dabbled in personal finance before, nor did she believe she possessed any particular talent for it—as if she were some reincarnation of Warren Buffett. Her first thought was simply to put the money into a fixed-term deposit.
As someone who lived almost entirely online, she had read her fair share of banking news and had picked up a smattering of knowledge here and there.
With deposit insurance capped at 500,000 yuan, she didn’t hesitate to decide on placing 500,000 yuan in a large-denomination time deposit at each of the Big Four banks, opting for the longest available term of five years. Unfortunately, interest rates were poor at the moment, with the highest being just 1.95%.
But interest wasn’t the most important thing for Su Ying; her aim wasn’t to ‘beat inflation’, but simply to safeguard her principal.
Su Ying suddenly recalled a Japanese drama she’d watched previously, in which a supporting male character’s dream was to save 10 million yen before retirement. Come to think of it, 10 million yen is equivalent to 2 million RMB, isn’t it?
Su Ying decided she would never touch this 2 million RMB under any circumstances, reserving it for when she fell seriously ill or reached the age of 50.
As for the remaining 2.84 million, Su Ying came up with what she considered a brilliant plan: she would keep this sum on a bank card that didn’t require a banking app and wasn’t linked to any payment methods; if possible, she’d even prefer to keep it in a passbook. Then, on the first working day of every month, she would go to the bank and transfer 6,000 yuan to her everyday card, treating it as if she were paying herself a salary.
With no interest accruing, the 2.84 million yuan would cover 472 months’ worth of wages—roughly 39 years—by which time she would be well into her sixties.
It’s doable!
After all, based on Su Ying’s self-assessment, she wasn’t even sure she’d be able to find a job paying 6,000 yuan a month by the time she turned 30.
Actually, Su Jiayu was wrong; Su Ying only looked up things online when she didn’t understand them. If it was already within her frame of reference, she wouldn’t believe what she read online either.
For instance, the internet is full of claims that wages are bound to double within three years; that no one earns 3,000 yuan unless it’s a nine-to-five job with weekends off, after deductions for social insurance and pension contributions, and located right on their doorstep; and that someone working from the age of 22, straight out of university, until retirement at 55—a total of 33 years—could easily rake in 100 million yuan…
Su Ying’s housemate, Aunt Lin, is now in her forties and has worked at the factory all her life. Su Ying once heard her mention that ten years ago, she earned 5,000 yuan in a good month and 4,000 in a bad one. Ten years have passed, prices have risen, yet her wages haven’t increased; on the contrary, she has to work harder and is more exhausted than ever. Whilst her basic salary and seniority bonus do go up every year, the factory always finds ways to deduct money from all sorts of other random sources.
Having sorted everything out, Su Ying finally breathed a sigh of relief.
Given her spending habits, even if she were to splurge and double her usual outgoings, she’d still only spend four or five thousand a month. She could even set some money aside from her ‘wages’ to go on a holiday or see a show or something…
Speaking of travel, Su Ying slapped her forehead. She’d finally made it to the provincial capital—she simply had to make the most of it.
Su Ying immediately opened her social media app to search for travel guides for the provincial capital. She hadn’t realised until she looked, but she was taken aback by the sheer number of attractions.
No wonder people say the provincial capital is a tourist destination that needs no promotion.
Su Ying’s experience of travel was still stuck in her school days—spring and autumn outings—and during her university years, she’d merely tagged along with her dorm mates to check out parks in the city centre. She wasn’t sure if she’d actually enjoy these so-called ‘hotspots’, so she decided to visit places that genuinely interested her.
So, without a moment’s hesitation, she chose the zoo as her first stop. The provincial capital’s zoo had giant pandas, something the Chuncheng Zoo didn’t have. Su Ying had never seen a giant panda before; during the giant panda craze on short-video platforms a few years back, she’d even joined in singing ‘Little Dog, Be Good’ and calling out ‘Hua Hua, come here’—and now she’d finally get to see one in person.
Humming to herself, Su Ying ordered a bowl of the capital’s signature pig’s stomach noodles and began planning tomorrow’s itinerary.
Su Ying rose early, her excitement impossible to contain. Although this was already her third day in the provincial capital, she felt as though she were still Grandma Liu stepping into the Grand View Garden for the first time[1]is a classic, iconic scene from the 18th-century Chinese novel Dream of the Red Chamber , depicting a poor country woman’s overwhelmed yet humorous first-time visit to a wealthy, luxurious … Continue reading jQuery('#footnote_plugin_tooltip_2245230_1_1').tooltip({ tip: '#footnote_plugin_tooltip_text_2245230_1_1', tipClass: 'footnote_tooltip', effect: 'fade', predelay: 0, fadeInSpeed: 200, delay: 400, fadeOutSpeed: 200, position: 'top center', relative: true, offset: [-7, 0], });—filled with curiosity about everything, and brimming with excitement at all the possibilities that might or might not unfold.
Like going to the zoo, for instance, or taking the subway.
Su Ying felt a strange, indescribable emotion about taking the subway. Back when she was at school, she’d often fantasised about her future life—most likely sharing a two-bedroom flat in a big city with another city-dwelling woman, gradually becoming best friends, commuting to work on the subway every day, and travelling on high-speed trains with her laptop for business trips. It sounded absolutely brilliant.
For someone like Su Ying, who uses a smartphone, taking the subway is much like taking the bus—there’s just an extra security check, and you need to make sure you’re heading in the right direction.
She was only carrying her new LV mini crossbody bag, so she didn’t even need to go through security.
It wasn’t until she followed the throng down the escalator that she realised just how terrifying the morning rush hour in a big city could be.
She actually waited for two trains and still couldn’t squeeze on! She couldn’t squeeze on!
Whenever she was online, she’d always heard about the ‘death Line 3’, which led her to believe that Line 3 in every city was the most terrifying, but Line 1 turned out to be just as dreadful.
By the time she’d finally managed to squeeze onto the subway, clinging to the overhead rail, and had experienced the provincial capital’s morning rush hour first-hand, she’d lost all illusions about working in a big city.
Once she’d stepped off the subway, she could finally breathe freely again.
The smog from earlier had vanished, replaced by the joy of a ‘winter’ outing.
The zoo she’d never managed to visit as a child—at the age of 24, she could finally go.
Upon entering the zoo, Su Ying picked up a map. She’d originally planned to follow the guide and take the sightseeing tram straight to the hippo enclosure, but when she saw the giant panda enclosure just a short distance from the entrance, she chose to go there without a moment’s hesitation.
Perhaps because it was a weekday, there weren’t many visitors at the Giant Panda House, and most of them appeared to be young people.
The Giant Panda House at the provincial capital’s zoo is home to three giant pandas. When Su Ying arrived, she happened to catch the keepers feeding the pandas, and she felt incredibly lucky.
Standing on the walkway, she propped her phone up against the glass railing to take a photo. Beside her was a young woman with a ‘big camera’ slung over her shoulder. She looked at Su Ying and struck up a conversation with a smile: “This is Princess Jiu Jiu, isn’t she lovely?”
Su Ying nodded eagerly: “She’s so cute.”
The woman continued, “She’s the cutest little panda in the zoo. The other two are lovely too, but Jiu Jiu is the cutest of all.”
Su Ying turned to look at the woman, who was clearly excited and went on and on gushing about Jiu Jiu.
When she finished, she looked at Su Ying, and the two stared at each other. The woman said somewhat shyly, “Oh dear, have I gone on too long?”
Su Ying shook her head quickly: “No, no, Jiu Jiu really is adorable.”
No sooner had Su Ying finished speaking than, in the blink of an eye, the giant panda—which had been munching on bamboo on the wooden platform just moments before—deftly scrambled up a branch.
Having witnessed this with her own eyes, Su Ying found it hard to believe she’d ever associated an animal of such massive proportions with the word ‘deft’.
But watching the panda stick its tongue out playfully at the crowd from up in the tree, Su Ying realised the woman had been right—it truly deserved every bit of praise.
As Su Ying left the panda enclosure, she found the Tropical Bird House right next door. But do tropical birds really chatter away like that?
As Su Ying made her way towards the Tropical Bird House, she realised there was a parrot enclosure there; the chirping and chattering was coming from there.
Once inside, she discovered there was an interactive experience: for just 10 yuan, you could buy a portion of birdseed and go in to feed the parrots.
It’s only 10 yuan, so of course she went in.
No sooner had she stepped inside with her tray than three parrots landed on it. Their plumage was vibrant and stunning.
Almost every visitor inside had a ‘parrot bouquet’ in their hands. Some of the bolder ones even perched on people’s heads and shoulders, just like spirit pets from fantasy novels.
After Su Ying had polished off all the food on her tray, she emerged somewhat reluctantly, pondering whether to go back and buy another portion to take in. But, remembering there were still many places she hadn’t visited yet, she decided against it.
The route out of the Parrot House led through the Tropical Bird House. Su Ying was full of enthusiasm at first, but after seeing a few birds, she realised they all looked rather similar, and the rest of the journey became somewhat of a chore.
By the time she emerged from the Tropical Bird House, she felt she needed a rest.
Su Ying stood by the side of the path, staring in disbelief at her own legs. Had she even got very far? Was she already tired?
But there was still so much of the zoo left to explore—tigers, lions, elephants, koalas, red pandas…
She began to regret not following the guidebook’s advice to take the sightseeing tram right from the start, but now faced with the choice of turning back to catch the tram or pressing on, Su Ying gritted her teeth and decided to keep walking.
As she walked, Su Ying began to curse the zoo’s poor layout in her mind. Why couldn’t the exhibits be right next to one another? She’d been out of the Tropical Bird House for ages without seeing the next one; instead, she’d been climbing uphill the whole time.
She pulled out the map and gritted her teeth, pushing on until she reached a rest area.
Su Ying found a spot to sit down, munching on a grilled sausage whilst studying the map. She was just wondering whether she should just pick two attractions at random and call it a day—surely she wasn’t going to spend the whole day here?
As this thought crossed her mind, Su Ying froze. She wasn’t working at the moment; she didn’t have to go to work. Why couldn’t she just spend the whole day here?
Even if she’d missed the sightseeing bus at the entrance, why couldn’t she simply turn back instead of gritting her teeth and torturing herself?
Was it just because she’d come this far, or because she didn’t want to retrace her steps? But if this path was wrong, why couldn’t she correct her course in time?
It was as if a light had suddenly dawned on Su Ying. She stood up, brushed the dust off her trousers, and set off back the way she’d come.
The way back was all downhill, which was clearly much easier than the climb up.
From then on, Su Ying simply followed the guidebook, and it was indeed much easier. She realised once again that, whilst this place was ostensibly a zoo, it was really more like a mountain.
Su Ying no longer pushed herself; she rested when she was tired and got up to walk when she felt ready. She managed to visit every single exhibit listed in the guidebook, and by the time she emerged, it was nearly four o’clock in the afternoon.
Su Ying glanced at the itinerary she’d planned the night before. How on earth had she dared to pack six activities into a single day?
Finally, she made her way straight to the lakeside, where she stood in the breeze, gazing at the skyscrapers bathed in the afterglow of the setting sun. A sense of loneliness came over her for no apparent reason.
If only she could have come here with someone…
Just as she was thinking this, a voice rang out beside her.
“Er… Miss, could I have your WeChat?”
Su Ying turned around to see a young man wearing black semi-rimless glasses, his lips pressed together as he looked at her with a nervous, anxious expression. Behind him, two others who appeared to be his friends were making encouraging gestures.
Su Ying’s pupils contracted; she instinctively took two steps back, then turned and ran off without looking back.
References[+]