Xie Chun sighed. “Anyway, with my own ability, it’s impossible to pay off these debts…”
Xu Yanghe let out a long sigh as well.
“There’s only one way left,” Xie Chun said with a smile. “Hoping this loan shark company goes bust. I’ve been using every channel to complain every month. I just discovered a Mayor’s Mailbox last month.”
Xu Yanghe said, “Next time before you send a letter, let me polish it for you first.”
“Is your writing that good?” Xie Chun asked seriously.
“…” Not exactly. Xu Yanghe said, “Your talent for looking for trouble isn’t inferior to Yu Dashan’s.”
He wasn’t sure how he ended up bringing Xie Chun along, but it wasn’t until the car pulled up to the cemetery entrance that Xu Yanghe felt something was off.
Seeing the destination, Xie Chun became slightly wary.
Xu Yanghe sighed. “Come with me, to see my mother.”
Lian Xin’s tombstone was in a very remote corner, likely one of the oldest sections of the cemetery. Several spots around her had been moved because maintenance fees had stopped being paid. The stone path was covered in moss so dark it was almost black, and tall, ancient evergreens loomed overhead. It had snowed the previous night, leaving only a thin, sparse layer of white. By rights, a once-famous star and the second wife of Xu Qian should not be resting in such a desolate place.
But she liked the quiet.
Xu Yanghe led Xie Chun over and saw that Lian Xin’s tombstone and funeral photo had been wiped clean. Only one bouquet sat before the grave, somewhat withered—likely left by Xu Jin a few days ago.
Xu Yanghe stepped forward, placed the white chrysanthemums next to Xu Jin’s flowers, and sat down before the tombstone.
Xie Chun watched Xu Yanghe’s movements, placed his own flowers down, and sat right next to him.
Xu Yanghe called out softly, “Mom.”
Then Xie Chun said, “Hello.”
Xu Yanghe: “…”
That really wasn’t necessary.
Although Xu Yanghe hadn’t originally intended to say much to his mother, Xie Chun’s presence made his silence feel particularly abrupt.
He looked at Xie Chun and raised a hand in a gesture. “Go ahead, you speak first.”
He wanted to hear what kind of “Hello” Xie Chun was going to follow up with.
“Hello,” Xie Chun greeted the tombstone again, then added, “I know you.”
Xu Yanghe’s brow furrowed slightly. Sensationalist internet headlines describing Lian Xin flashed before his eyes, and for a moment, he couldn’t guess what Xie Chun would say next.
“My mother always loved the TV dramas you acted in,” Xie Chun said.
Xu Yanghe let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. His mood softened, but he couldn’t help asking, “For example?”
Xie Chun said earnestly, “At nineteen, you played the supporting role ‘Brother Qiao’ in Director Wu’s arthouse film Grass Sheep, winning the International Gold Award for Best Supporting Actor. At twenty-two, you graduated from the Capital Film Academy. That same year, you became a household name playing the lead, Jiang Lin, in the drama Heavenly. The following year, you starred in three works: the dramas Sparkling Trees and Silver Flowers and Song of Cessation, and the movie Mist City, winning the International Gold Award again for Mist City. At twenty-five, you announced your retirement and married a wealthy man surnamed Xu from Haicheng. Date of death unknown.”
Snowflakes sparkled in Xu Yanghe’s eyes. He rubbed his hands together. “These things… even though I don’t really remember them.”
“…” Xie Chun pulled out his phone. “Make good use of search engines.”
Xu Yanghe fell silent for a while.
Xie Chun said, “My mother watches Sparkling Trees and Silver Flowers and Song of Cessation every winter. I can recite them.”
Xu Yanghe stopped him just in time.
He looked at Xie Chun’s phone. At the top of the webpage was a promotional still of Lian Xin. She was wearing a military-green padded coat with a fur collar, her hair grown long, clutching a hot water bottle, laughing wide-mouthed.
This was extremely foreign to Xu Yanghe. His impression of Lian Xin was never lively; she spent her days sitting in a dim room. He rarely saw a hint of a smile, and even those rare smiles had been erased by time in the decade since they were parted by death. Xu Yanghe had gradually forgotten Lian Xin through the years, allowing him to live freely and feel joy. His mother’s image had ultimately shriveled into a single photo on a tombstone—frozen in time as an expressionless, thin, withered, and bitter face.
The two stayed for another ten minutes before Xu Yanghe drove Xie Chun home.
Watching Xie Chun get out of the car, he spoke up on an impulse. “Are you free lately?”
Xie Chun squinted and thought for a few seconds. “How ‘lately’ is lately?”
“Before school starts.” Xu Yanghe’s gaze drifted aimlessly.
Xie Chun counted on his fingers. “I work at the convenience store from 8:00 to 18:00 every day. I tutor from 19:00 to 21:00 two days a week, and from 22:00 to 3:00 AM, I’m at Blue Sea…”
Xu Yanghe gave a small smile and said, “Forget it.”
…
In the days after the Lunar New Year, Zhou Lan and Yu Dashan were both caught in “war zones” at their respective ancestral homes. Usually, they weren’t seen until the fifth day of the New Year.
With no one to hang out with, Xu Yanghe stayed home for another two days.
On the fifth day, Yu Dashan reported that Yu Tianhe still hadn’t let him go.
Zhou Lan, however, sent Xu Yanghe a useful piece of information.
Zhou Lan: I found a suitable candidate for that person you were looking for. Zhou Lan: Recommended Business Card [Qin Zicheng]
This was something Xu Yanghe had told Zhou Lan the day after the old man cut off his finances: he wanted to start a company.
Of course, he didn’t really want to start one; he just needed a company to facilitate certain operations. If the plan went smoothly, the company would be transferred directly to Xu Jin after six months. As a university student, Xu Yanghe didn’t have the time or the desire to waste his energy on a shell company. He needed a professional manager familiar with equity operations.
Zhou Lan: This guy meets your “god-tier” requirements, but he just resigned before the New Year and said he wanted to rest. I contacted him through someone else; he’s currently very resistant to working. You’ll have to invite him yourself.
Xu Yanghe thanked Zhou Lan profusely and spent two hours badgering Qin Zicheng with a sincere attitude, eventually getting him to agree to a meeting to discuss the details.
Another step completed. Xu Yanghe’s mood lightened significantly, and before he knew it, he had walked to the convenience store where Xie Chun worked.
On the fifth day of the New Year, the convenience store was still quiet. Xie Chun stood behind the counter. He looked very casual, wearing a black varsity jacket with white shirt cuffs peeking out. He wasn’t wearing his logo cap or apron, leaning slightly against the cigarette and liquor cabinet while looking at his phone.
He only glanced over when he noticed someone entering.
Xu Yanghe met his gaze and reached back to pull the door curtain closed.
He walked up to Xie Chun in a few steps. The tiny snow crystals on his body melted into mist under the warm air conditioning. Only then did Xie Chun speak: “Welcome.”
Xu Yanghe really didn’t know why he had walked in.
He swore he had only intended to pass by, but seeing the door, he had moved toward it as if possessed. Then, seeing Xie Chun’s white cuffs, his legs had moved on their own.
His eyes darted around until he saw the steaming Oden nearby. “How much is this?”
Xie Chun said, “Disposable paper bowls are over there. Help yourself, then let me count the skewers. It’s 0.50 per skewer, seven-yuan minimum.”
As he spoke, he lowered his phone screen slightly. Xu Yanghe caught a glimpse. He was writing code on his phone—terrifying.
As Xu Yanghe went to pick out his Oden, there was a rustling sound behind him. Half a head popped up from over the shelf, then moved horizontally between the aisles.
“Xie Chun.” Zhou Lan walked out carrying a cardboard box.
He looked up and froze.
Xu Yanghe smiled, saying with a hint of mockery, “Good evening.”
Zhou Lan had never seen Xu Yanghe smile in such a strange way. He just nodded and didn’t pay much attention to Xu Yanghe, looking instead at Xie Chun. “Give me the box, it’ll make it easier to carry this stuff home.”
Xu Yanghe glanced over. Zhou Lan had picked out a pile of snacks.
During their online chat earlier that day, Xu Yanghe had assumed Zhou Lan was stuck like Yu Dashan. Otherwise, given their relationship, the proximity of their homes, and the importance of the conversation, they should have met in person.
Xu Yanghe didn’t pay them too much obvious attention, just picking his Oden and listening to them talk.
Xie Chun held the scanner, which made rhythmic beeps.
Zhou Lan kept bringing up topics related to their major to chat with Xie Chun—things like ordinary differential equations, complex variables, and… MATLAB? Xu Yanghe couldn’t understand a word of it.
Xu Yanghe smiled to himself. If Zhou Lan actually understood that stuff, he’d eat his hat. No wonder he spent so much time in the study hall.
Xie Chun finished scanning the pile. “Three hundred and twenty-seven.”
Zhou Lan suddenly asked in a low voice, “Do you get a commission?”
Xie Chun presumably shook his head. “But during the New Year holiday, my wages are calculated by the hour,” he made a gesture, “Triple.”
“That’s pretty good,” Zhou Lan chuckled. “There’s still some time before next month’s repayment date, you can relax a bit.”
Xu Yanghe looked over. He was certain Zhou Lan was guarding against him; the words “repayment date” were so quiet he doubted Xie Chun, who was right in front of him, could even hear them.
“I can’t. Rent is due at the end of the month again,” Xie Chun said lightly.
Zhou Lan replied in a low, breathy voice, “I see…”
Meanwhile, a bell went off in Xu Yanghe’s mind. That apartment Xie Chun lived in… was rented?
He took his selected Oden to the counter. He didn’t speak, acting like a normal customer. Xie Chun put on a disposable glove to pull out the skewers.
Zhou Lan stepped aside, watching Xu Yanghe warily.
“Do you come here often?” he said, practically through gritted teeth.
Xu Yanghe raised an eyebrow, feigning surprise. “I live nearby too.”
Zhou Lan went to a table. His bag was there, with a tablet and several sheets of scratch paper spread out. It seemed he had been pretending to study there for a while.
Xu Yanghe pulled out his phone and quickly found Xu Jin’s contact.
Xu Yanghe: Bro, do you know if the old spinning mill near K University is being demolished for redevelopment?
Xie Chun finished counting the skewers. “Twenty-six.”
Xu Yanghe scanned the code to pay. At the same time, a message from Xu Jin popped up.
Xu Jin: The one Zhou Yi is pushing?
Xu Yanghe’s brow furrowed. This was actually a project of the Zhou family, and Zhou Lan’s older sister, Zhou Yi, was in charge of it. Zhou Lan was closer to his sister than he was to his own mother. Even if Zhou Lan’s mother were doing it, he might not know, but given how Zhou Lan and Zhou Yi told each other everything, Zhou Lan might have even helped her or given her advice on this project.
Xu Yanghe took the disposable utensils and began to eat quietly, like an ordinary customer.
Xu Yanghe: Yes. Got any more info?