Chapter 11: MAMA-11

MAMA-11: It’s not right to make someone a tool.

“Help you sleep?” Jian Wanji asked. “What does that mean?”

An image of female college students going to the bathroom in groups popped into her head. Was it the same concept as helping someone go to the bathroom together?

“It’s nothing,” Mi Shanxin shovelled a few more bites of rice into her mouth. “I’m almost full. Let’s go soon.”

Mi Shanxin had eaten almost all the food on the table. She looked at Jian Wanji, puzzled. “You’re not eating a single bite of rice?”

“I already had afternoon tea.”

The woman shook her head. Her two slightly curled side bangs were too striking, drifting past her beauty mark; Mi Shanxin had licked it in her dream.

Several hours had passed since Mi Shanxin’s afternoon class. Mi Shanxin asked, “Do you want to pack it up and take it home?”

“No need.” Jian Wanji said. “I don’t have much of an appetite.”

Mi Shanxin asked, “Are you sick?”

Jian Wanji was choked up for a few seconds, auto-translated the sentence, and laughed. “Yes, a very common stomach ailment. I have to eat less.”

Mi Shanxin made an “oh” sound. As she nodded, her slightly long bangs hid her brows and eyes, and the ends of her hair swayed in another arc. Besides looking like an octopus, it also resembled a blooming sausage.

Jian Wanji suddenly burst out laughing. Mi Shanxin looked at her strangely. “Do you have no other problems?”

This probably didn’t need translation; it was purely an insult.

Jian Wanji nodded, helping Mi Shanxin close the takeout boxes. “Yes, I have many problems.”

Mi Shanxin paused. Jian Wanji leaned closer to her, blinking pleadingly. “Still looking for a mother.”

Mi Shanxin: “Boring.”

When paying the bill, the female boss stared at Mi Shanxin, who had removed her mask and was unwrapping a piece of gum, for a long time. She whispered to Jian Wanji, “She does resemble her a bit. Where did you find her?”

“She fell from the sky.” Hearing the Alipay transaction notification, Jian Wanji said goodbye to the boss. “I’ll come back for the Water Shield Soup next time. I haven’t had it in so long.”

“Got it. I’ll throw in an extra Eight-Treasure Duck for you.”

“We’re off.”

“Do you really not need a moment to digest?” Jian Wanji opened the door for Mi Shanxin, still carrying those packed leftovers. Seeing that Mi Shanxin liked the candy sold at the counter, she grabbed two extra boxes. “I’m afraid you might throw up.”

“You have quite an appetite. I thought little girls your age ate very little.”

Mi Shanxin got into the car. “Who else do you know?”

Jian Wanji leaned against the car. The collar of her dark sandalwood grey double-breasted coat fluttered in the wind, tangled with her hair. The woman wasn’t in a hurry to drive; she insisted on talking to Mi Shanxin through the car window. It felt less like a chat-up and more like a sales pitch. “My older male cousin’s daughter is about your age. What school did you say you were from again?”

“I already know you’re very old. No need to emphasize the generational gap.” Mi Shanxin didn’t take the bait and slowly rolled up the window, shutting the car owner outside. She enjoyed watching Jian Wanji sigh, walk around to the other side, and get in. Jian Wanji complained, “Really not cute at all. You’ll know what it feels like when you reach my age.”

The girl, however, glanced at the mobile phone in her hand. “Maybe I won’t live that long.”

Jian Wanji made several “tsk” sounds. “What are you talking about?! So little confidence?”

Mi Shanxin knew Jian Wanji was persistent, but she hadn’t expected her pleasant voice to also be so noisy. Yet, compared to her mother’s bombing WeChat voice messages, it wasn’t annoying. “You’re so annoying. Just drive your car.”

Jian Wanji wasn’t angry either and criticized the kid to her face: “Looks so sullen, but so fierce.”

The car drove towards the hospital. Mi Shanxin was reading the group chat messages.

They had a small high school group. Li Yin, a few close friends, plus Mi Shanxin were all in it. They often shared things and chatted idly.

Unless someone tagged her, Mi Shanxin almost never initiated conversation in it. But she wouldn’t mute it either, quietly watching the 99+ messages, as if someone was looking for her too. When she saw a funny share, she would laugh too.

Jian Wanji noticed. “What are you laughing at? I think this is the first time I’ve seen you laugh. You’re way too cool, aren’t you?”

Mi Shanxin kept her head down, ignoring her teasing.

Jian Wanji changed the subject again. “It’s best not to eat these leftovers for too many days.”

Mi Shanxin: “I can finish them very quickly.”

Jian Wanji smiled and said, “I know. You have a pretty big appetite. How are you still so small…”

She stopped mid-sentence, remembering that Mi Shanxin’s parents were divorced, the older generation she’d lived with had passed away, and this kid living alone seemed to be in poor health. Being able to raise herself like this was already pretty good.

Realizing Jian Wanji’s words had gotten stuck, Mi Shanxin, still staring at the chat log on the screen, asked: “Why did you stop talking?”

Jian Wanji: “I don’t know what to say.”

She was easily rendered speechless in front of Mi Shanxin. Maybe the age gap was too large, many normal teases were hard to voice, and Mi Shanxin wouldn’t actively chat. Jian Wanji’s car music was all intense DJ tracks, not fitting her elite persona, and totally mismatched with Mi Shanxin.

Jian Wanji’s phone was placed to the side, the screen lit up; still messages from Zeng Baian.

[Why aren’t you replying? What did you take the little kid to do?]

[Don’t make me see you on the news.]

Seeing the message, Mi Shanxin asked: “Do you have a criminal record?”

Her sudden question made even Jian Wanji’s Smile-Lip Surgery seem to fail. “What?”

“Do you have a criminal record?” Mi Shanxin repeated. “Don’t-make-me-see-you-on-the-news. Your friend sent it on WeChat.”

“You… really,” Jian Wanji truly didn’t know whether to say ‘how can you look at my messages, it’s very rude,’ or to explain that sentence. It finally turned into a sigh at her lips. “Forget it. If you’re not at ease, I can go get a non-criminal record certificate for you.”

Mi Shanxin stared at her lips. Unlike Mi Shanxin, who faced the world with a bare face and even cut open her facial cleanser tube to use the last drop…

Jian Wanji looked very much like a portrait figure who frequented expensive venues; her quality was written on her exterior.

Even when she smiled, she had wrinkles. But when her lips opened and closed, even her lip lines were alluring. Mi Shanxin couldn’t help but imagine the mark she’d left on the back of her hand.

Maybe it should be imprinted elsewhere too.

She was scorched by her own thoughts and shrank back, lowering her head slightly.

“I’m talking to you. How come you’re online one second and offline the next?” Jian Wanji considered herself experienced with people, having dealt with very difficult clients. Kids were rarer, but clients’ children were also around this age.

Mi Shanxin was too special; she didn’t match the vitality a college student should have. Kids nowadays were generally anxious. The company had an employee whose child, depressed from the primary-to-junior-high transition, often took leave. Mi Shanxin’s lifelessness was also unique, a bit like a dud firecracker. Talking to her was practically like sitting at a gambling table pointing a gun at her own head, never knowing if the next trigger pull had a bullet. So far, Jian Wanji had taken countless bullets.

“Then I’m offline right now,” Mi Shanxin said.

Jian Wanji knew she was also worried. “If you’re not at ease, send your location to your friend. She can track where you are in real time. If you don’t reply to messages, have her call the police. How about that?”

Mi Shanxin shook her head: “She would actually call the police.”

Jian Wanji wasn’t afraid at all: “It’s fine. I wouldn’t do anything to you anyway.”

Mi Shanxin didn’t speak, thinking: I’m more worried about myself.

Can’t be impulsive. Tonight, I’ll test if there are other methods.

“Student Shanxin,” Jian Wanji paused, “what do you think of my proposal?”

Mi Shanxin shook her head. “No need. If something really happens, I’ll accept it.”

Jian Wanji: …

Mi Shanxin added: “The money in my WeChat, Alipay, and bank card totals 2632.76.”

How specific, down to the decimals.

“Mom just borrowed five hundred from me, so only…”

“Your mother still borrows money from you?” Jian Wanji raised her volume. “Is she your biological mother?”

Mi Shanxin made an “mm” sound. “She’s busy being someone else’s mother now.”

That sounded like some sort of insinuation, but Jian Wanji had no proof.

“What’s your hourly rate for the winter break tutoring job?”

“Eighty.”

Ning City was a first-tier city, and the number of hospice wards led the country by a wide margin. Even so, it had taken considerable effort for Jian Wanji to arrange for her grandmother to enter one.

The palliative care department had long-term waiting lists and very tight resources. Her grandmother’s days were numbered. Logically speaking, she didn’t have much time to consider other things.

Almost forty years old, Jian Wanji had long since figured out a set of principles to make her own life more comfortable.

The eight characters—mind your own business, meddle less in others’—seemed simple but weren’t easy to practice. Now she was stuck in the gaps of those eight characters again. Reason told her she should meddle less in this, stop asking. What was there to be angry about? Even if Mi Shanxin very much resembled her deceased mother, it wasn’t necessary.

A relationship, end-of-life care, buy it off with money, and that’s it.

It was precisely because Mi Shanxin so much resembled her deceased mother that Jian Wanji found it hard to be reasonable.

She had long forgotten her mother’s specific features. Although when her grandmother’s mind was still clear, she would set an extra set of chopsticks and bowls at the table every day, pretending her mother was still there.

Sprite Bitter Gourd wasn’t Grandmother’s favorite; it was Mom’s favorite.

Even though it was Grandmother’s most hated dish—the hometown cuisine taught by the man who took her daughter away.

Jian Wanji was the living person, perpetually ignored at the dining table. This neurotic life had surprisingly lasted over ten years, until she lived at the university dorms.

Zeng Baian had once eaten at Jian Wanji’s house. Back then, everyone was still in their teens, very lively.

She couldn’t stand the house’s strange, spirit-table dining atmosphere either. After closing the door, she practically ran away.

Jian Wanji swore that if she could run the 800-meter dash that fast, the school team might have selected her.

“Eighty…” Jian Wanji parked the car in the hospital’s underground parking spot and exhaled. “Are you joking?”

“Don’t you know the current market for tutoring?” Mi Shanxin was very calm. “The counselor recommended me for this.”

Oh, connections and favors.

Jian Wanji had experienced this set before. The teacher meant well. There wasn’t really much to say.

All opportunities came like this. But Mi Shanxin was too strapped for cash. Jian Wanji asked: “Haven’t you thought about doing something else?”

Mi Shanxin: “I tried ground promotion once. I fainted.”

The corners of her lips turned downwards. From lip shape to eye corners, everything about her seemed the reverse of Jian Wanji’s, just like their ages, also having no intersection.

“If I were healthier, I’d have more options.”

The age gap between Jian Wanji and her included differences in cognition, opportunity, physical fitness, and more.

Mi Shanxin had long given up hoping for true empathy. She just wanted to break the curse of sleepless nights, even if she was mediocre and tacky. She wanted healthy sleep, to withstand the nights in an old house where only the portrait didn’t need to sleep.

Jian Wanji met Mi Shanxin’s eyes. She suddenly realized the girl’s eyes weren’t so completely still and unruffled after all.

A dry well can still reflect the sun and moon; it’s just that it’s too deep inside. Mi Shanxin was trapped within, the cotton-candy clouds of youth seemingly close yet thousands of miles away. Mi Shanxin could only look out powerlessly, with no strength to follow.

What could she do? She was already trying very hard.

Jian Wanji gazed at her for a long time, then said: “I hope after you see my grandmother later, you’ll reconsider my request seriously.”

She wasn’t smiling. People with Smile-Lip Surgery seem to carry a faint smile even when they’re not smiling; that is truly a smile that doesn’t reach the eyes.

Jian Wanji’s original lip shape was identical to her father’s. Grandmother had destroyed all information about that man and forbade relatives from her father’s side from approaching Jian Wanji. When she came of age, Grandmother took her to get the Smile-Lip Surgery, saying this way she’d look more like her mother.

Her parents’ love was an oyster shell forced shut by disapproving elders, producing Jian Wanji, this ordinary stone with only a pleasing name.

Lovers’ suicide was no longer an ancient legend; the ends of the earth were the unshakeable Five Fingers Mountain pressing down on Jian Wanji.

Fragments of Mom’s diary recorded she liked Father’s light, faint smile. Jian Wanji gazed at her reflection in the mirror countless times, yet as she grew up, it was repeatedly mistaken for sarcasm. Later, the corners of her lips were artificially sculpted due to an elder’s obsession, achieving only a superficial resemblance. Instead, she figured out how to make her eyes follow her lips, projecting a false, brilliant smile.

The effect was excellent. The annoying person became the good person. She no longer stood out awkwardly, gained many relatives and friends, and could now be considered a successful person.

Yet successful people who could publish ‘How I Succeeded’ never wrote in their books: I am omnipotent.

Successful people also have worries.

Just like now, at thirty-nine, Jian Wanji didn’t know how she could help Mi Shanxin.

Zeng Baian often said giving is a very happy thing. Don’t be so stingy; it’s not just about spending money, it’s other aspects.

Jian Wanji had said at the time: Isn’t that simple? Everyone wants money if you give it.

It wasn’t simple at all.

In this world, there was money that couldn’t be spent, things that couldn’t be done, and perhaps, people who couldn’t be loved.

At least regarding the last one, Jian Wanji hadn’t experienced it yet and didn’t want to.

The pale-faced girl unbuckled her seatbelt. Her messy bangs were pushed aside and fell loose again.

Mi Shanxin was like a plush toy with very low cotton filling, or like a squashed piece of bread, her voice also weak. “If your grandmother actually mistakes me for your mother, we’ll talk then.”

She jumped out of the car first, looking at Jian Wanji through the car door, seeming to summon a lifetime of courage. “When the time comes… I might ask for other conditions.”

Jian Wanji couldn’t wish more for her to ask for money and agreed readily. “As long as I can do it.”