Qi Ran turned on her cell phone’s flashlight. The stark white light pierced the dim, narrow path. The road surface was pitted and uneven. Utility poles, tangled in countless black wires, leaned slightly askew, their surface layered with advertising stickers so thick they formed a second skin, the overlap astonishing.
She had researched Pingjiang Old City online long before, but this was her first time actually entering it. The houses, built so close together on either side, felt deeply oppressive. The couplets on iron gates were so blurred they were nearly illegible. Bicycles and electric scooters parked in clusters were coated in dust. The clear sound of water flowing occasionally echoed from exposed pipes. Liu Xu had said the Old City District covered less than fifteen percent of Pingjiang’s total area, yet nearly eight million people lived here. That number exceeded a third of Pingjiang’s population, close to half—a truly shocking figure.
“So dark,” Jiang Zhique’s voice came through the communicator, sounding puzzled. “Why does it feel… empty? It’s only just gotten dark, why is everyone asleep so early?”
Truthfully, the sensation was somewhat strange, Qi Ran thought. Hearing a voice in reality and through the communicator simultaneously, fortunately without any noticeable delay, made it acceptable. To prevent sudden separation and maintain the ability to communicate in noisy environments, she had no choice but to adapt to this odd feeling.
“It’s not even nine yet,” Qi Ran glanced at her phone screen and said quietly. “Most people living here are migrant workers from other regions. They probably just got off work and are still packed onto the subway.”
Jiang Zhique paused, slightly speechless, then seemed to understand something. “Is the rent very cheap here?”
Qi Ran nodded. “Generally, it’s between three hundred and five hundred a month.”
“Three hundred?” Jiang Zhique furrowed her brows. “Only ten yuan a day? How does the landlord make money? You mean those rooms with shared bathrooms and showers, with just a single bed?”
Images flashed through her mind: filthy, blackened mattresses and rotting, broken wooden doors… But the environment here didn’t look that terrible. Why so cheap? It sounded like prices from over a decade ago. As far as she knew, the average rent in Pingjiang had long since reached around two thousand, hadn’t it?
“No, those types generally cost around two hundred or so,” Qi Ran shook her head, adding, “The ones I mentioned, the three to five hundred range, have their own toilet and kitchen.”
“You’re almost making me tempted,” Jiang Zhique chuckled softly.
“The rent is cheap, but there are extra charges, and those can get expensive—things like water, electricity, internet fees, management fees… And these prices are usually for long-term leases; the deposit is another issue,” Qi Ran said.
“But even with those things marked up, the overall cost is still very cheap,” Jiang Zhique spoke slowly. “Whether it’s three hundred or six hundred a month, in today’s Pingjiang, it’s still unbelievably cheap.”
Qi Ran didn’t deny it, simply nodding. “That’s why the Old City has never been able to be renovated. Over sixty percent of Pingjiang’s crimes happen here. Living here, having your things stolen is just part of daily life.”
Jiang Zhique paused briefly, then said softly, “It’s so similar.”
“You mean similar to The Circle?” Qi Ran quickly grasped her meaning.
Jiang Zhique nodded, her gaze falling upon the strip of sleepless neon-lit street visible through a gap between buildings. Her voice was light: “Those Executors must see us the same way, right? Like a patch of stubborn ringworm—an eyesore they’d love to cut out immediately, but if they actually tried to dig it out for removal, they’d inevitably tear out a huge chunk of flesh… So it remains in this awkward state, neither going up nor down.”
She reached into her inner pocket, took out a cigarette case, and carefully retrieved a slender cigarette. The lighter flared in the darkness. A wisp of blue smoke curled gently upward. The brief firelight illuminated her pale cheeks, reflected deep within her dark pupils.
“…When did you start smoking?” Qi Ran hesitated, then asked quietly.
Jiang Zhique gave it some thought. “It would have been 2013, I think… if I’m not mistaken.”
“Twelve years old?” Qi Ran froze, utterly unable to imagine how a twelve-year-old Jiang Zhique had learned to smoke.
Jiang Zhique smiled soundlessly. “You know, you’re the one I find more surprising. I’ve seen your past record. Average grades, followed all the rules. You didn’t get your first disciplinary mark until high school, and that was just for an inner dye-job on your hair. You’re practically like a… pure, innocent little goody-two-shoes. Don’t take it the wrong way, I’m not being sarcastic.”
Qi Ran was silent for a moment before speaking quietly. “I have two friends, childhood friends really. We were always in school together. I guess good company rubs off on you?”
“What are they like?” Jiang Zhique asked, a hint of curiosity in her eyes, and maybe a trace of envy. “Having two friends you grew up with, that sounds really fortunate.”
“The guy is called Liu Xu. Liu like the willow tree, Xu like a train of thought. His grades were a bit better than mine—the clever type who just doesn’t apply himself…”
Qi Ran hadn’t meant to share so much, but once the words started flowing, it was like opening a box that couldn’t be closed again. The dimly lit street was so quiet it was the perfect time for storytelling. She simply emptied her mind and let the words and memories pour out, swallowing her whole.
“He’s like that in many things. Teachers always said if only he’d put a little more effort into his studies, but he’s just not interested. He’d rather learn a whole bunch of things that seem useless, but are interesting to him. He can ski, play billiards, fix bicycles, assemble computers, skateboard. He even has a bit of minor talent in drawing and writing. He’s great at video games too. I heard he and some guys from our high school contacted a few nearby schools to organize an inter-school e-sports league,” Qi Ran said slowly. “The scale of it was supposedly pretty impressive. He’s always been so good with people, strong organizational and execution skills. So sometimes I think his future life is bound to be wide open—all he needs is one opportunity to take off.”
She paused, then continued. “The girl’s name is Xu Yan. Xu as in promise, Yan as in color. Compared to Liu Xu, she’s his exact opposite. She’s not the clever, naturally smart type, but she’s incredibly hardworking. So her grades are the best among us. She’s the kind of person who, once she sets a goal, will dedicate one hundred percent of her effort to it. Very gentle, and very responsible. I think maybe it’s because of her family. Her mother is a police officer, her father a university professor—both are really good people.”
She paused again before continuing. “In middle school, I stayed at her place for a while. Her parents both have that gentle, principled nature. Her mother makes curry with carrots and potato chunks, and loves making soup. Her father likes sitting on the balcony brewing tea, going fishing, and doing those so-called ‘family activities’ on holidays…”
“Family activities?” Jiang Zhique was a bit puzzled.
Qi Ran patiently explained. “You know, when the whole family goes out together neatly—to an amusement park, the cinema, a fancy dinner, or a seaside trip—to bond and strengthen their feelings for each other. Xu Yan’s father loves road trips, where he drives and the whole family chats and laughs together, promoting family affection and all that.”
“That sounds so nice,” Jiang Zhique said softly.
Qi Ran didn’t answer, just nodded, and continued. “So sometimes, I’m actually a little jealous of her. Why is she so happy in everything? It all seems too perfect, too unreal. Why can she have that kind of life? But I actually know the answer. It’s because Xu Yan is such a good, kind child. Gentle, like an ice cube under the sun. Practically a god-like good child. She’s so hardworking and so kind, of course she deserves such a wonderful family and such a wonderful life.”
Jiang Zhique glanced subconsciously at Qi Ran. The girl’s long, curved eyelashes were lowered, casting clear shadows on her pale cheeks. Though her tone was calm, it contained a faint, shallow sadness. Jiang Zhique’s heart clenched slightly.
She thought to herself, These truly are very good, very cherished friends. Language is just a vessel. Only words filled with precious, genuine emotion can have this kind of power, pulling at the audience’s heartstrings, making them feel joy, or making them cry.
