It was hard to imagine that such an alley could exist behind the high-rises on the North Third Ring Road.
All you had to do was pass through an iron gate, and you stepped into the world of everyday life. Food carts lined up one after another—grilled cold noodles, cold skin noodles, stir-fried pancakes, savory crepes… There were also small stalls selling spicy hot pot, lamb skewers, daily necessities…
Mu Wen loved this place. Here, when she wanted to try a bit of everything, she could buy small portions without worrying about not being able to afford it.
She had always had a hearty appetite since childhood, with an astonishing capacity for food. Her father, Mou Dechang, had taken up long-haul truck driving in her early years to provide for her; her mother, Ge Yunqing, ran a small bun shop, waking up before dawn to knead dough and steam buns. She often sat by the flour-dusted cutting board, stuffing buns into her mouth with one hand while quickly writing her homework with the other. When she finished, she'd toss aside her pen and go help her mother. The winters were long, filled only with yams, cabbage, and heavy snow, but she never went hungry—her father always found ways to bring her delicacies from all over the country back to that lonely little town in Inner Mongolia, where her mother would work her magic and put them into her mouth.
Later, Mu Wen passed the college entrance exam and left her hometown to study in Tianjin. On her first day, standing in the school's No. 1 canteen, she was stunned—my god, the world was this delicious!
That's exactly the feeling this little street gave Mu Wen: the world is so delicious!
Chu Ling loved food too.
She had already bought a big lamb skewer and was standing there waiting for Mu Wen. Mu Wen ran over to her with a bag of sliced sauce-flavored pancakes, and the two of them went into the skewer hot pot shop. The owner was a Sichuan woman who called out when she saw them: "Yaomei, you're here!"
The pot was surrounded by people, and she and Chu Ling squeezed into seats.
They shared the lamb skewer first, one bite each, wolfing it down. Mu Wen said, "Come home with me for New Year's. I'll treat you to our Inner Mongolian lamb skewers."
Chu Ling talked about how the team leader had criticized her today: she'd been careless in proofreading and almost let a typo make it to the front page! Mu Wen giggled at that and said, "I didn't get scolded today, but I did go meet a client."
She formed an "eight" shape with her thumb and index finger and whispered, "Eight hundred thousand."
"What?" Chu Ling asked.
"The client I met today—just the hard decoration budget alone is eight hundred thousand." Mu Wen remembered how Xie Chong had casually said "eight hundred thousand": "Eight hundred thousand! That's enough for my mom to sell buns for twenty years!"
"Eight hundred thousand!" Chu Ling was also amazed. "That's so much money!"
Mu Wen nodded eagerly, picked up a piece of pancake, and put it in her mouth. "Boss lady, I want two portions of greens and one portion of vermicelli." Then she added, "The important thing is, this client is really young."
So young, so wealthy, so polished, so beautiful.
"That's nice," Chu Ling said. "I'm most afraid of arrogant rich people. Sometimes our column does interviews, and I'm just helping on the side, always worried I'll embarrass myself."
"Me too. I didn't dare speak," Mu Wen said. "I didn't say a word the whole time—I was afraid I'd blurt out some weird question. My mentor told me to shut up and just learn."
The Sichuan boss lady glanced at them with a smile and placed the cooked vermicelli and greens on the round tray in front of them, making them forget the sudden feeling of "inferiority" that had crept in.
Mu Wen couldn't accurately describe whether that feeling was inferiority or something else. It was like when she walked along the roadside and a luxury car approached, she would unconsciously straighten her back. As if the person in the car might be looking at her, or perhaps she was seeking a kind of "equality" through that posture.
"Chu Ling, today I became certain that there really is an invisible class divide between people. If you can call it class."
After finishing the skewer hot pot, they walked hand in hand to the Chengxiang Warehouse supermarket across the street. At this hour, many things in the supermarket were discounted, and they would mix in with the crowd of elderly shoppers to buy yogurt, bread, and fruit.
To get to the supermarket, they had to cross a pedestrian bridge.
They always lingered on the bridge for a while, watching the lights of the congested evening traffic stretch out like a galaxy, all the way to the Fourth Ring, the Fifth Ring, and beyond to where they could no longer see. Beijing's night was so beautiful.
Whenever this happened, Mu Wen would sigh: "The traffic jam is so beautiful! Driving is such a pain! I wonder if my eight-hundred-thousand client is stuck in this traffic too?"
Because Xie Chong was the first client she'd ever met in her life, she casually used him to round out her joke, unaware that Xie Chong's car was indeed one of the many stuck in that massive traffic jam. He was on the phone: "Yeah, less than a kilometer away. You all start eating first. I'm not drinking."
"I don't like their roast duck."
"I don't want to watch that awkward performance either."
"Eating is eating—can't we skip all the extra theatrics?"
"And this godforsaken place has terrible parking."
He was irritated by the traffic, and the thought of having to eat that awful imperial cuisine killed his mood even further. His friend sensed his displeasure and tried to soothe him: "Alright, alright, just bear with it. Once the business dinner is over, we'll go eat something else."
"Mm." That was how Xie Chong acknowledged it. Jiang Wu's call came in, and he hung up. Jiang Wu called again, and he hung up again.
"Are you still angry?" Jiang Wu texted him. "Alright, I apologize. Next time I'll definitely accompany you to go over the renovation plans, okay?"
Xie Chong's anger subsided a bit, and he finally agreed to take Jiang Wu's call. "Jiang Wu, you know what? What you look down on is what others can never reach. You don't love money, you don't care about Wanliu, but someone else does."
He suddenly thought of that little assistant, the "800,000" she had circled, and the way she tried so hard to appear calm. The gap between people was just laid out plainly on the table.
"What? Someone's got their eye on you again?" Jiang Wu laughed on the other end of the line. "Then you'd better be clear: are they after your money or after you?"
Xie Chong suddenly didn't want to talk anymore.
Jiang Wu was always like this—money meant nothing in her eyes. She liked Xie Chong, but she held his wealth in utter contempt.
"Still there?" Jiang Wu asked.
"No." Xie Chong hung up the phone directly.
His gathering spot was right by Suzhou Street.
Young servers dressed as palace maids and eunuchs stood before the antique-style gate, not calling out "Welcome," but "Greetings, Your Highness." Then someone carrying a lantern led you through a quiet path, turning into a place like an "Imperial Garden." Inside the courtyard, wine cups floated along a winding stream, koi fish swam vigorously in the pond, and one or two tried to leap toward the shore, creating the illusion of "carp leaping over the dragon gate."
As he entered, a "palace maid" reached out to take his coat, and another led him to his seat. Xie Chong put on a different face—before even taking his seat, his voice arrived first: "Sorry I'm late, I'll punish myself with three cups."
Others rose to welcome him, but he didn't sit down. The "Imperial Jade Liquor" was already poured into the serving vessel. He picked up the small wine cup and drank three in a row. Only when the others applauded did he take his seat. Naturally, business was discussed at the table—he brokered art deals both domestic and international, occasionally weaving in futures, stocks, and large-scale import-export trade.
Glasses clinked, cups were raised and exchanged, and after several rounds, the deal began to take shape. While still sober enough, he timely proposed wrapping up and invited everyone to the next venue. The next stop would be more refined—a private wine cellar with exclusive red wines. Spending over a hundred thousand in one night was just ordinary consumption.
For business, Xie Chong was willing to go all out. This was thanks to his parents, who had brought him up from a young age, building him a thick family foundation and teaching him a philosophy of survival.
By the time he got home, it was nearly midnight. After washing up, he felt especially clear-headed, so he went out to have breakfast.
Xie Chong's night was completely different from Mu Wen's, just as Mu Wen had said: everyone shouts the slogan of equality, but between people, there are chasms that are hard to cross!
Mu Wen stayed up late into the night again, yet the next day she went to the office like she'd had a shot of adrenaline. She circled around Lin Weisen's desk several times, mulling over how to broach the subject with him.
"What's wrong?" Lin Weisen asked her with a smile. "Why are you pacing around? That's not like you."
Mu Wen let out a sheepish laugh, leaned in close to Lin Weisen, and whispered, "Master, I want to bring someone to Mr. Xie's place to re-measure."
"Measured wrong?" Lin Weisen asked her. "That can't be."
"No, no!" Mu Wen quickly waved her hands. "I want to go find some inspiration again. Didn't you say I'd draft the initial plan? I don't have any inspiration."
Lin Weisen looked up at Mu Wen.
The young woman's face couldn't hide anything. The first "nice house" she'd ever seen in her life had gotten under her skin, even carrying a vague sense of possessiveness. Lin Weisen understood that feeling, of course. When he came across a house he liked, he'd also think: what if this were mine? Besides, Mr. Xie's charm was its own breed—young girls could easily be swayed by him.
"Go ahead. Take Xiao Gu with you, and you can also ask the client if he has any other needs."
Mu Wen jumped with joy. "Thank you, Master!"
Last night, whenever she closed her eyes, she saw the western sunlight in that house, the open, fully bright layout—she was completely satisfied with all of it.
She called Xie Chong, and the moment the call connected, Mu Wen stammered: "Hello, hello, hi…" She didn't know why she was suddenly so nervous. She pressed her hand over the receiver, took a deep breath, and then spoke again: "Is this Mr. Xie?"
"Yes, who's this?"
"I'm Mu Wen, Assistant to Engineer Lin. I measured your home yesterday and wanted to come by today to re-measure. Would that be convenient for you?"
Xie Chong set a time with her. When he hung up, to avoid the embarrassment of forgetting her name when they met again, he repeated it to himself: Mu Wen.
That evening, the wind finally died down.
If Beijing's autumn doesn't blow, it becomes another beautiful scene entirely. Mu Wen could finally let her hair down. Afraid it would cover her face when she lowered her head, she clipped a small flower-adorned barrette on the side.
She walked through the autumn, stepping on the occasional fallen leaf. When a breeze lifted her hair, she'd toss it along with the wind's whim. Bright and cheerful.
Xiao Gu asked her why she was so happy, and she said, "I don't know—it feels like I'm going home."
Xiao Gu had just finished her breastfeeding period, earning a very low salary, accompanying designers to measure rooms in all kinds of homes. She had long lost the kind of mindset Mu Wen had. But that day, watching the radiance on Mu Wen's face, she unexpectedly understood her.
She said, "Yes, this place has a good location, a good residential environment, a good layout, and even the homeowner seems quite nice. If I were a few years younger, I'd definitely be as happy as you."
Mu Wen laughed heartily, intimately linking her arm through Xiao Gu's as they headed upstairs together.
The door was still open, and Xie Chong had arrived first. As they were putting on shoe covers, Xie Chong stood waiting at the door.
Mu Wen bent slightly, and Xie Chong caught sight of her flower-shaped hair clip and the soft waves of long hair scattered over her shoulders. By the time she straightened up, he had already averted his gaze.
"Thank you for your trouble, Miss Mu," he said. "You're the only company that came back this quickly for a re-measurement." His tone was calm, and it would be hard for others to discern the emotion beneath. He was actually speaking to Mu Wen, letting her know he had long seen through this re-measurement—it was because of this Miss Mu's longing for this house.
Mu Wen was taken aback. All the opening lines she had prepared before coming suddenly slipped her mind. Fortunately, she reacted quickly, immediately breaking into a warm, sunlit smile: "It's my first time doing a preliminary design draft. I was afraid of making mistakes."
She was so honest, not even fabricating a high-sounding excuse. But this pleased Xie Chong. As a businessman, he hated dealing with people who said one thing and meant another. The simpler, the better.
Xiao Gu had already gone off to measure the rooms, and Mu Wen took out her notebook again, ready to chat more with Xie Chong.
But Xie Chong thought to himself, "Here we go again." He hated repeating things over and over, so he said directly, "I already stated all my requirements yesterday. There's nothing to add."
Mu Wen suddenly realized that the amiability and politeness he had shown yesterday were merely a facade. In private, he was probably a very difficult person to get along with. Since he was resistant to her asking more questions, she stopped asking and put her notebook away.
"Sorry about that, then. I originally wanted to understand a bit more, to help us with the design."
"Like what? Understand what?" Xie Chong said. "Style? Preferences? Or something else?" Then he smiled. "That would be a long story." With that, he extended his hand toward her.
"What?" Mu Wen asked.
"Your phone," Xie Chong said. "Give me your phone."
Mu Wen took out her phone. It was a 5300 she had used for three years, a red-and-white two-tone phone with her favorite music downloaded on it, and white earphone cords neatly wrapped around it. Xie Chong unwound the earphone cords, slid open the cover, typed a number on the keypad, and dialed it directly to his own phone.
"If you run into any problems during the design process, you can call my private number," Xie Chong said as he carefully rewound the earphone cords for her and handed the phone back.
It was the first time in Mu Wen's life that she had received a client's private number, and for a moment she felt flattered and a little overwhelmed. There was also a secret delight in her heart, though she didn't know where it came from.
"Are you naturally quiet?" Xie Chong suddenly asked her. Yesterday downstairs, and just now before coming up, she had been full of vitality—he had seen it all from upstairs—yet in front of him, she was so reticent.
His question perked Mu Wen right up. She muttered in a slightly aggrieved tone, "Because from the moment I walked in, Mr. Xie hasn't given me a chance to speak!"
Xie Chong suddenly laughed.
How amusing, he thought. She actually seemed quite wronged.
He was a man with a rather "dark" temperament, always unconsciously putting pressure on others: endure if you can, and if you can't, you'll naturally leave. He always held that mindset, which was why women both feared him and loved him.
This was the first time he had heard such a natural complaint—complaining that he didn't give others a chance to speak. This naive, "poor" girl before him, though she envied everything he had and made no secret of her longing, could still accurately voice her dissatisfaction with him.
She was the opposite of Jiang Wu.
That stirred a hint of compassion in him.
"Where do you live?" Xie Chong casually found a topic.
"I live not far from here, on Suzhou Street."
"Where on Suzhou Street?" Xie Chong didn't really want to think of another topic, so he kept asking.
"Across from the big supermarket."
"Rent must be expensive, right?" Xie Chong asked again.
"350 for a bed, I have the top bunk." Mu Wen answered frankly, even unable to resist spreading her arms and legs on the floor to measure it out for Xie Chong—a top bunk this big. Then she looked up and smiled at Xie Chong. "It's enough for me. We 'drafters' often pull all-nighters, so home is just a bed to us."
Xie Chong suddenly understood what she had been saying to her mentor downstairs yesterday—she had been describing her own bed and his home.
"Is it clean?" he asked again.
"…It's quite messy, with a lot of stuff. The living room and balcony are piled with suitcases and miscellaneous items…"
Xie Chong finally stopped asking.
His eyes first fell on her hair clip, then met her gaze. She was startled by his stare and hastily looked away.
"Your hairpin has lost a flower," Xie Chong said.
Her hand reached up and touched the broken hairpin, a nameless anger welling up in her heart, but it quickly dissipated.
"It's still usable!" she said.