The market had already closed.
By the time Shen Qingqing pedaled the tricycle into the road outside the market entrance, the last tofu vendor was dumping dirty water into a plastic bucket. The iron gate had already been pulled halfway down, and the inside was dark.
“Wait, wait, wait! You’re not closed yet, right?” Shen Qingqing jumped off the tricycle and rushed over, nearly doing the splits when her flip-flops slid across the wet ground.
The tofu lady glanced at her and pulled the gate another few inches lower.
“Closed, come back tomorrow morning.”
Shen Qingqing grabbed the gate and peeked inside. The stalls were empty. Not even a rotten vegetable leaf remained.
She let go and stood at the market entrance with both hands on her hips, tilting her head up toward the sky.
It was almost dark.
Turning around, she walked back to the tricycle parked by the roadside. Huo Yan was still curled up inside the cargo bed, knees pressed to his chin, head angled toward the market.
“Couldn’t buy anything?” he asked.
“It’s closed.” Shen Qingqing plopped down onto the tricycle seat, making the springs squeal again.
She pulled out her phone. Light leaked through the cracked screen and illuminated her face while her fingers swiped rapidly.
This was the only market near the urban village, and it closed at six sharp every day without fail. There were a few independent vegetable peddlers with pushcarts, but at this hour they’d already gone home.
If she wanted cheap ingredients, she would have to go to the wholesale market in the suburbs.
Shen Qingqing searched the map app. The nearest wholesale market was in the south side of the city. Forty minutes by bus, opening at five in the morning.
She checked the time. Six twenty.
“We’ll go tomorrow morning.” She tucked her phone away and glanced at Huo Yan.
“The wholesale market in the south district. We’ll take the bus there. Ingredients are way cheaper, at least half the price.”
Huo Yan said nothing.
Shen Qingqing hopped off the tricycle, turned the handlebars around, and prepared to head back.
“Come on, we’ll go home first and leave early tomorrow.”
She rode the squeaky tricycle back to the rental building, locked it to the utility pole downstairs with a piece of scavenged wire twisted into a makeshift clasp.
Dinner was another problem.
After turning the room upside down, Shen Qingqing found half a bag of instant noodles that had expired two months ago. She sniffed them. Not spoiled.
She boiled a kettle of water and cooked two clumps of noodles in an enamel mug. There were no seasonings, not even salt. Plain boiled noodles so bland they could numb a tongue.
She carried the enamel mug over to Huo Yan and shoved it into his hands.
“Eat.”
His fingers brushed the mug. The temperature was just right.
He held it without moving and tilted his head slightly.
“What about you?”
“I already ate.”
She hadn’t. There was only half a handful of noodles left in the pot, and every strand was inside that mug now. Her stomach growled loudly enough to sound like a drum, but thankfully the room was noisy enough to cover it.
Huo Yan tapped the side of the mug twice before lifting it and taking a sip of noodle soup.
Shen Qingqing sat on the plastic stool with her knees hugged to her chest, mentally reviewing tomorrow’s plan over and over again.
Wake up at four thirty. Ride the tricycle to the bus stop outside the urban village. Catch the first bus to the wholesale market in the south district. Buy all the ingredients. Come back and set up a food stall at a busy intersection.
After subtracting the seventy-five yuan spent on the tricycle, she still had seventy-seven yuan and fifty cents left.
Enough!
She repeated the ingredient list in her mind one more time before eventually falling asleep against her knees.
At 4:15 a.m., Shen Qingqing’s alarm rang.
Light flickered through the cracked phone screen, and the vibration rattled the enamel mug against the edge of the table.
She shot upright from the plastic stool. Her neck had been bent awkwardly all night, and when she turned her head, it cracked loudly, making her grimace in pain.
The bed was empty.
Startled, she turned her head and found Huo Yan sitting on the floor against the wall. His legs were stretched out straight, both bandaged hands resting over his abdomen, head tilted to the side, eyes closed.
Had he given her the bed?
No. She had fallen asleep on the stool last night. She had never gotten into bed.
Then why was he on the floor?
Shen Qingqing crouched beside him. His breathing was shallow, his chest barely moving at all. His eyelashes didn’t twitch. Either he was sleeping lightly, or he had never truly fallen asleep.
“Wake up.” She patted his shoulder.
Huo Yan opened his eyes.
Those gray-fogged eyes held no light in the darkness at all. Empty.
“What time is it?”
“Four fifteen. Come on, we’re going to the wholesale market.”
Shen Qingqing changed in the dark into the last T-shirt the original owner hadn’t torn into bandages. Gray, stretched-out collar, two sizes too big and hanging loosely on her body.
She slipped on yesterday’s flip-flops and nudged Huo Yan’s sneakers toward his feet.
Downstairs. Unlock the tricycle. Push it out.
The alleys of the urban village at four in the morning were pitch-black. Only the streetlamp at the alley entrance remained lit, casting dim yellow light over puddles and garbage scattered across the ground.
Shen Qingqing pushed the tricycle toward the alley exit while Huo Yan followed behind with one hand against the wall.
Once they turned onto the main road, more streetlights appeared. Early morning sanitation workers had already started sweeping the streets, their brooms scraping softly against the asphalt.
“Get on.” Shen Qingqing slapped the side of the cargo bed.
Huo Yan stood beside the tricycle without moving.
His head tilted slightly, nostrils flaring twice.
The air before dawn was cleaner than during the day. The rust smell wasn’t as overpowering anymore, but the scent of machine oil lingering on the cargo bed remained, mixed with yesterday’s dust and grime, scraping unpleasantly at his senses.
“I’m not going.”
Three simple words, crisp and direct.
Shen Qingqing’s hand froze against the side of the cargo bed.
“What did you say?”
“I’m not going.” Huo Yan’s voice rolled out flatly from his throat, emotionless. “You go by yourself.”
After speaking, he turned around. One hand slid along the roadside wall as he started moving back toward the alley.
He didn’t walk quickly, but his sense of direction was frighteningly precise. His toes lightly tapped the ground twice before locating the edge of the curb, and he continued along the wall.
Shen Qingqing stared at him for two seconds.
At four in the morning there weren’t many cars on the road, but there were still some. In the distance, a delivery van turned out from a side street. Headlights swept across the pavement as the engine rumbled closer.
Huo Yan continued walking along the wall, but the wall ended there. Ahead was the entrance to an open parking lot. His hand suddenly met empty air, and his steps paused before drifting half a step to the left.
To the left was the road.
Shen Qingqing’s heart clenched.
She sprinted forward, covering the distance in two quick strides, her flip-flops slapping against the pavement like firecrackers.
“Where the hell are you going?!” She grabbed the back of his collar.
Huo Yan was yanked to a stop, stumbling backward, nearly crashing into her.
The van passed two meters from his left side. The driver cursed through the open window as exhaust blasted into their faces.
Shen Qingqing’s legs were trembling.
“Are you trying to die? This is the road!”
“I know.”
“You know my ass! Your eyes…” She swallowed the rest of the sentence, suddenly realizing how wrong it sounded.
Huo Yan stood there motionless while she gripped his collar. A red mark appeared around his neck from the pressure, but he neither struggled nor turned around.
“Let go.”
“No.”
“Shen Yaning.”
“Who are you calling?”
Huo Yan’s brow twitched.
Shen Qingqing’s mind jolted. Right! That was the original owner’s name.
“…Fine, call whoever you want. I’m still not letting go today.”
She refused to release his collar while her other hand searched through her pocket.
What was in there?
Yesterday, outside the market, an old vegetable vendor had given her a small bunch of scallions. The scallions had been tied together with a red nylon string, and she had stuffed it into her pocket absentmindedly.
Her fingers found the string and pulled it out.
Red, thin, nylon material, with a couple of dried scallion skins still stuck to it.
Shen Qingqing let go of his collar and grabbed his left wrist instead.
Huo Yan’s arm jerked violently as he tried to pull back.
She held on tightly, all ten fingers digging around his wrist bones, her nails catching in the gaps of the bandages.
“Don’t move!”
She bit one end of the red string between her teeth while wrapping the other end twice around his wrist. Then she tied a dead knot and yanked it tight.
The rough nylon cord cinched around Huo Yan’s wrist, its fibers grinding against the outside of the bandages and embedding themselves into the fabric thread by thread.
His fingers opened and clenched again, the tendons in his arm tightening into sharp lines beneath the skin.
With just a little more force, the cheap string would snap cleanly in half.
Shen Qingqing gave him no chance.
She swiftly wrapped the other end around her own left wrist three times, tied one knot, then another, tightening them with her teeth.
Between their wrists stretched a red cord still speckled with dried scallion skin, pulled taut at roughly half a meter long.
“Stop running around blind!” Shen Qingqing shouted at him, her voice bouncing through the empty predawn streets. “If you get hit by a car today, who’s paying the hospital bills? I’ve only got seventy-seven yuan and fifty cents left! Can you afford that?”
Huo Yan tugged once at the string around his wrist.
The cord tightened.
Her side didn’t loosen. Instead, she was dragged forward half a step by the pull, nearly losing one of her flip-flops.
“What are you yanking for? You can’t break it! I tied a dead knot!”
Huo Yan’s jaw tightened, and his breathing deepened slightly.
He pulled again.
The cord still didn’t snap. Cheap as it was, nylon string had excellent durability. Vegetable vendors used it to tie up entire crates of winter melons.
A red mark appeared around Shen Qingqing’s wrist from the friction, but she didn’t complain. Instead, she grabbed the cord and tugged it toward herself.
“Come with me.”
Huo Yan’s feet remained planted.
The string stretched between them. He stood taller, she shorter, leaving the red cord slanting diagonally beneath the streetlamp. The dried scallion skin hanging from it fluttered twice in the wind.
“My stall will fall apart if I lose you today.” Shen Qingqing’s voice softened slightly, breathless now, sweat beading at the tip of her nose. “You think I can carry all those vegetables by myself? A sack of rice noodles weighs twenty pounds. A crate of eggs weighs thirty. Who’s going to help me?”
Huo Yan’s lips moved faintly.
“You need me to carry things.”
“Yes, I need you to carry things. I know your hands are hurt, but you can still handle lighter stuff. You can carry eggs. If you don’t come, who else am I supposed to ask?”
Huo Yan rubbed the texture of the red cord against his wrist with his thumb. Cheap nylon. Rough woven fibers spaced evenly apart.
The strength in his arm eased.
Not because he couldn’t break free.
But because the pull from the other end was steady and firm, neither painful nor forceful, like someone leading along a disobedient dog.
No! Not like leading a dog.
People held dog leashes loosely, always ready to let go.
She was gripping this one far too tightly. She had no intention of letting go.
“Get on.” Shen Qingqing tugged the cord and walked toward the tricycle. The red string swayed between them. Every step she took dragged him half a step forward.
The heels of Huo Yan’s shoes scraped across the ground twice before finally lifting.
His stride was longer than hers. Two of his steps matched three of hers, and the red cord gradually shifted from taut to loose, dangling between them.
Once they reached the tricycle, Shen Qingqing slapped the side of the cargo bed again.
“Get in.”
Huo Yan touched the rusted edge of the cargo bed with his fingers.
He didn’t climb in. Shen Qingqing waited three seconds.
“Do I need to carry you in myself?”
Huo Yan’s Adam’s apple bobbed once.
Then he climbed into the cargo bed.
Much smoother than yesterday. One hand braced against the side while he swung a leg over cleanly. His knees didn’t hit the metal this time. He settled down against the side panel with a dull thud.
He sat curled inside the cargo bed, long legs bent, left hand resting on his knee. The red string tied around his wrist extended out from the back and connected to Shen Qingqing at the front seat.
Shen Qingqing climbed onto the seat, gripping the handlebars with her left hand. The red cord wrapped once around the crossbar before continuing back to the man seated behind her.
She stomped down on the pedal. The chain tightened with a click, and the tricycle lurched forward.
“Sit tight.”
The crooked tricycle rattled onto the main road.
At four-thirty in the morning, the urban village was still wrapped in dim yellow streetlight. Breakfast stalls near the alley entrances had only just begun stacking steamers, white vapor rising into the air with the scent of alkaline dough.
The wheels splashed through puddles, dirty water spraying against the cargo bed and soaking one leg of Huo Yan’s pants. He didn’t react.
Wind rushed in head-on. The late-April air was no longer cold, carrying only a damp stickiness against the skin.
Shen Qingqing pedaled noisily, breathing hard. The tricycle had no gears. Everything relied entirely on leg strength. One hundred twenty pounds of her own weight, another hundred forty pounds of man in the back, plus the weight of the vehicle itself. Every pedal felt like stomping into cotton.
“Did you… eat anything?” Huo Yan’s voice drifted from behind her.
“I ate.”
“You’re lying.”
Shen Qingqing’s foot paused on the pedal, and the tricycle swerved briefly.
“When you cooked the noodles last night, you poured exactly one kettle of water. A full enamel mug equals two portions of noodles. The bowl you gave me was full. There was nothing left in the pot.”
Shen Qingqing shut her mouth and pedaled harder.
Huo Yan sat in the cargo bed with his left hand resting over his knee. The red cord around his wrist swayed tighter and looser with every bump in the road.
His thumb began rubbing the cord again.
The nylon fibers he kept stroking had already started fraying, tiny strands poking against his fingerprints.
Ahead came Shen Qingqing’s heavy breathing, steady and rhythmic. The sound of her feet slapping the pedals, the rattling chain, the dry squeal of worn-out wheel bearings.
The wind lifted her hair, and several strands drifted backward, brushing against the edge of the cargo bed.
Huo Yan’s shoulders lowered slightly. Not the sinking tension of exhaustion.
The kind that came from relaxing.
He didn’t even notice the change himself.
After about fifteen minutes, they finally left the urban village behind and reached a two-lane road. The pavement became smoother. The tricycle rattled less, and Shen Qingqing’s pedaling slowed.
The red cord around her wrist sagged loosely against the handlebar.
Five more minutes passed.
Her pedaling became slower and heavier. The chain shifted from rattling to groaning, and the tricycle visibly lost speed.
“What’s wrong?” Huo Yan lifted his head slightly.
Shen Qingqing collapsed forward against the handlebars, panting. Her legs were trembling violently. The muscles in her thighs burned, and her calves had tightened into hard knots.
From the urban village to here was over two kilometers, entirely uphill, while hauling around a six-foot-one man in the back.
She had never ridden a cargo tricycle before.
In her previous life she had driven forklifts, pushed construction carts, swung sledgehammers. This thing looked simple, but pedaling it was murderous.
“We’re here.” She lifted her head from the handlebars and looked toward the roadside.
The bus stop.
A crooked metal pole held up a faded plastic sign. The schedule underneath had long been bleached by the sun until the words were barely legible.
Shen Qingqing jumped off the tricycle. The moment her feet hit the ground, her knees nearly buckled. She clung to the handlebars for two seconds before recovering.
“Get off, I can’t pedal anymore.”
Huo Yan tilted his head inside the cargo bed.
“You can’t pedal anymore?”
“We’ll take the bus from here to the wholesale market. Leave the tricycle here and ride it back later.”
She walked beside the cargo bed. The red string stretched taut between them again.
Huo Yan braced himself against the side and climbed out. When his feet landed, his balance remained perfectly steady.
Shen Qingqing pushed the tricycle beneath a tree behind the bus stop and locked it to the trunk with wire wrapped three times around.
Straightening up, she checked her phone.
4:52 a.m!
The first bus would arrive at 5:10.
Eighteen more minutes.
She glanced at the operation schedule posted at the bus stop. Route 7 bus. First departure at 5:10, last at 9 p.m. Eleven stops to the wholesale market in the south district. Forty minutes total.
Then she looked toward the other end of the road.
The intersection across the street was already getting crowded.
Electric bikes, bicycles, vans, one after another pouring out from the side streets. Horns blared nonstop. Factory workers around the urban village had already started changing shifts, and commuters flooded toward the bus stop like a tide.
Shen Qingqing stared at the growing crowd and swallowed hard.
Rush hour.
She looked down at the red cord tied around her wrist, then at the cord tied around Huo Yan’s.
Half a meter.
Only half a meter between them.
When they had to squeeze onto the bus later…
“Is it crowded?” Huo Yan’s voice drifted over from beside her. His ears twitched slightly, catching footsteps, conversations, engines, all the sounds surging in from every direction.
Shen Qingqing stared at the increasingly dense crowd gathering near the intersection, and the corner of her mouth twitched.
“Not too bad.”
In the distance, the low rumble of a bus engine approached.