Chapter 22: MAMA-22 Part 2

“Didn’t you say he’s living abroad with his new wife and kid, and might visit China for New Year’s to see you?”

“He’d visit his new wife and kid, not me.”

“Then what’s there to be afraid of? If you can’t hide it, just say you won it in a lucky draw.” Jian Wanji smiled. “If you need proof, I can provide it. Our company has investments in some supermarkets too. No problem.”

It seemed like no difficult or strange ailment was an issue for Jian Wanji.

“I’m just afraid he’ll say, why didn’t you just take the cash.” Clearly, Mi Shanxin had deep experience with her father’s stinginess.

Jian Wanji was speechless. Her smile was visibly strained. With a sigh, she remarked, “Stingy to that degree and he still found a wife. Your mom really wasn’t picky.”

What surprised Jian Wanji was that Mi Shanxin didn’t side with her mother. With a touch of melancholy, she said, “If you saw them, you’d know what I mean.”

The woman laughed. “If I get the chance.”

She thought to herself: Why would I need to see them? I hope we never meet.

As the client, meeting the other party’s family was truly not a good thing.

Vivid examples from the industry were all too clear in her mind—funeral wreaths placed downstairs at the company, big-character posters and banners everywhere. The thought still made Jian Wanji’s heart race.

“Alright, let’s eat.”

The old lady kept a fixed daily schedule. She was early to bed and early to rise. Her most active period was from afternoon until just before dinner, which was also perfect for Mi Shanxin to come play the daughter.

“I’m not a picky eater,” Mi Shanxin said. “You? Are you eating with us?”

Jian Wanji was holding her phone, her long fingers fluttering over it. The gem on the ring she hadn’t removed sparkled in the light. Mi Shanxin glanced at it a couple more times and asked, “Do you have another date?”

Even without snooping on Jian Wanji’s phone, just sitting in her passenger seat, you could see her new message notifications. Some important schedule, a meeting, a person to meet, some “President This” or “Manager That,” even an English name, at a very high-end location. In Mi Shanxin’s imagination, it was all very “adult.”

Jian Wanji was the epitome of maturity. Unlike Zeng Baian or the Lawyer Sister, she had no family and moved through opulent, glamorous circles.

Mi Shanxin knew for sure there was no outcome between them. There was no need to express good feelings or affection, and leading the other party to think she liked married women was also fine.

The root of it all was that she desperately wanted a good night’s sleep.

More than fondness, affection, or love, Mi Shanxin’s most urgent need right now was physiological: sleep.

She just hoped Jian Wanji would fulfill her promise. Beyond that, she didn’t care, nor was she in a position to.

“A gathering,” Jian Wanji rubbed her temple. “Most of our work gets talked out.”

“Like they show on TV? Playing golf together, talking about projects?” Mi Shanxin asked curiously.

“Hardly anyone plays golf anymore.” The old lady was calling them to come eat. Jian Wanji opened the fruit platter and nudged Mi Shanxin forward. “If you want to play, I’ll take you some other day.”

“Lingling, Changchang, come eat!” the old lady called again.

Mi Shanxin asked Jian Wanji, “Your nickname really is Changchang?”

Jian Wanji’s facial expressions were very rich. She could even make one eyebrow tremble, showing no sign of trying to spare herself wrinkles by staying stone-faced. It only made Mi Shanxin seem colder and more ruthless by comparison.

“Yes, do you have to ask?” Jian Wanji was beyond exasperated. “Besides my grandmother, no one calls me by that nickname anymore.”

“Don’t your friends know?” Mi Shanxin recalled her conversations with Zeng Baian. It seemed she always called her Wanji.

“Nope. Back in school, they almost never came to my house.” Jian Wanji didn’t intentionally hide it. Perhaps because Mi Shanxin’s background was clean, it didn’t hurt to chat. Unlike other occasions, where one sentence might carry dozens of hidden meanings, and a night of socializing could burn through countless brain cells. Often, nothing came of it in the end, and it wasn’t unusual to come out at a total loss.

“So when your mother wasn’t in the hospital, you lived together?” Mi Shanxin asked.

Hearing her call her own grandmother “mother,” Jian Wanji felt both awkward and amused. “No. I’ve lived on my own since I graduated university. She sold the house very early on and moved into a retirement home. It was only in the last six months that she was moved to the hospice ward.”

Mi Shanxin made an “oh” sound. “That’s good.”

As for what exactly was so good, Jian Wanji didn’t ask.

She sat at the dining table with Mi Shanxin. The old lady didn’t like take-out boxes. These meal trays came with their own dishes, making it look much like a meal at home.

“Here, Lingling, this is the double-soup you like.”

It was a rather uncommon dish. Jian Wanji had compiled her mother’s history, but had forgotten the dietary habits.

Mi Shanxin was so young; Jian Wanji assumed she’d never seen this soup before. She hadn’t expected the girl to say, “I haven’t had this in ages.”

Jian Wanji let out a surprised “Huh?”

Mi Shanxin explained, “My grandparents loved it.”

Inside were tofu-skin wraps with pork and gluten wraps with pork, with vermicelli as the starch. The broth was also flavored with some umami seasonings, yet still looked very light.

Jian Wanji hadn’t liked it as a child, but there was no help for it. Her grandmother served it alongside Sprite Bitter Gourd every day. To eat something with a stronger flavor, she had to sneak spicy strips at school.

Watching Mi Shanxin eat so happily, Jian Wanji finally realized that the Little Mother she’d found was indeed very suitable.

Even though both had grown up with elders, Mi Shanxin seemed to inherently enjoy this lifestyle. She was far healthier than Jian Wanji in that regard. The only thing unhealthy was her sleep…

Speaking of sleep disorders, Jian Wanji’s appetite vanished entirely.

Her earlier answer to Mi Shanxin’s question about whether she touched herself—she hadn’t pretended to be experienced with a clear conscience.

But she also couldn’t bluntly tell Mi Shanxin: I haven’t done it, I haven’t dated, I haven’t had a single girlfriend.

An adult needed some dignity, especially under Mi Shanxin’s unruffled gaze. Admitting zero experience—the other’s “understanding” would feel more like emotionless mockery.

Subjective as it was, that’s how Jian Wanji felt.

At the dinner table, she wasn’t the focus. Wan Qingqing clearly saw Mi Shanxin as her daughter Wan Lingling, showering her with attention and concern.

She asked about schoolwork and whether she had started dating too young, hoping she’d study hard and ignore the boys writing her love letters.

Old-fashioned as she was, Mi Shanxin wasn’t from the era of love letters. She made a few sounds of agreement. Then the old lady shifted into the mother role from her daughter’s university days. Suddenly, she slapped the table and stood up. “I won’t allow it! You can’t be with that bastard Jian Xinchong!”

The tofu skin in Mi Shanxin’s chopsticks dropped into her bowl. She looked in surprise at the suddenly furious old woman. “Mama, what’s wrong?”

Jian Wanji knew the old lady had fallen back into that past. “Madam Wan, the News Simulcast is starting.”

“News Simulcast?” The silver-haired old woman’s eyes were blank. After a few seconds, she shook her head and pushed Jian Wanji away. She gripped Mi Shanxin’s shoulders. “No, Lingling, you tell Mama. You can’t live without Mama.”

Mi Shanxin frowned. From those eyes, she felt endless, boundless pain. She was playing the daughter; it didn’t mean the other was really her mother.

Why did this feel so wrong? This wasn’t the loving mother-and-daughter scene she had imagined.

Had Jian Wanji left something out?

But she had skimmed the digital version of Wan Lingling’s diary in the car. It hadn’t said a single bad word about her mother.

It was all: Mama bought me this today, or Mama said this encouraging thing.

Mi Shanxin had never had such moments with her mother, no memories of her mother making clothes for her. While reading, the scenes replayed, bringing a touch of longing and envy.

“Alright… Madam Wan, your radio program is starting!” It wasn’t time for the news yet. At Jian Wanji’s signal, the caregiver switched on a tape recorder, playing a radio broadcast that felt straight out of another era. “Dear listeners, it is now…”

“It is now the broadcast time for Little Trumpet. I am your friend, Wan Qingqing…”

The old woman’s voice trembled, but upon hearing the familiar sound, she suddenly reined in the madness that had just erupted. “Everyone, please…”

Even though Wan Qingqing’s nails were trimmed, Mi Shanxin’s wrist had been bruised red from her grip. Jian Wanji led her out of the ward and found a nurse at the station to clean the marks.

Mi Shanxin was baffled. She looked at Jian Wanji.

“I’m sorry, I…”

“You didn’t tell me your grandmother could lose control like that.” Mi Shanxin’s tone made it impossible to tell if she was angry. She stared at Jian Wanji, her distinct black-and-white eyes like game pieces in a Go bowl, making Jian Wanji’s lowliness all the more stark.

“I was going to tell you.”

“Why didn’t you say so before I signed the contract?”

Mi Shanxin always seemed to wear that indifferent expression. It was the only thing that didn’t match her appearance. The childishness was faint, more like a mature soul trapped within that body.

She didn’t care about threadbare jackets or tattered backpacks, utterly unbothered by others’ gazes.

Jian Wanji, many years her senior, found that hard to achieve.

“I had thought about telling you.”

“You had many chances to tell me.” Even now, Mi Shanxin’s voice wasn’t aggressive. It sounded like a mechanical inquiry, not a rhetorical question. “When we had dinner together. In the car when you drove me to work. Just now, when I was changing in the car, when we were riding the elevator together—you never said anything.”

“I’m sorry.”

Clearly, this was also a contract, work. It was rare for Jian Wanji to have a conscience like this. Shame floated on the surface. Anyone who knew her well might think this was all part of her plan.

Mi Shanxin didn’t know that and forgave very easily. “Fine. You need to tell me sooner.”

“I have to do my homework.” The girl pursed her lips. “I hate surprise situations like this.”

Jian Wanji stared at her in astonishment, not understanding why Mi Shanxin had so little temper. She had just expressed a clear dislike for the first time. The woman asked, “You’re not angry?”

“Not really. I rarely get angry.” Mi Shanxin looked at her sleeve, which she had rolled up for the meal, not expecting the old lady to grip her so hard she bruised. “Your grandmother is so strong. When you get old, will you also beat up the caregivers?”

How had it become “beating up caregivers”? Jian Wanji really wanted to laugh, but given she’d just been apologizing, she held it in. Awkwardly, she said, “This doesn’t count as beating someone up.”

“It’s unintentional harm.” Mi Shanxin lightly pronounced her verdict on her client, no longer calling her Mama now. “You need to compensate me.”

“Of course.” Jian Wanji nodded. “Let’s go first.”

“I don’t need to keep Mama company for dinner?” Mi Shanxin asked.

The new hires at Jian Wanji’s company were all from prestigious universities, yet none had such a steady mindset.

Jian Wanji had no doubt Mi Shanxin had a boundless future. “No need. Right now, she’s immersed in being a radio host. After she watches the News Simulcast later, she’ll sleep.”

Mi Shanxin asked, puzzled, “Was it because of me?”

She felt there was something off about Jian Wanji’s actions. If she was afraid of triggering her elder, why find someone to play the mother? It seemed like she was deliberately waiting for the elder’s episode.

This wasn’t the right time to ask that, so Mi Shanxin swallowed the question.

“Of course it wasn’t your fault.” Jian Wanji held her hand and looked at the wounds on her wrist. The girl’s skin was very pale, and she was thin and weak. She couldn’t be a caregiver at all—even the old lady could “beat her up.” Anyone would feel tenderly protective of her. “You did very well.”

Mi Shanxin was unmoved, reviewing her own actions. “Really? I have no acting skills.”

Jian Wanji pulled her sleeve back down. Wearing Wan Lingling’s school uniform didn’t suit Mi Shanxin after all. Perhaps it just didn’t sit right with Jian Wanji. Even if she didn’t believe in cycles of fate, she still worried Mi Shanxin would follow her mother’s tragic path. “I’ll take you to dinner and buy you some new clothes. How’s that sound?”

Mi Shanxin shook her head. Just then, Jian Wanji was bent over before her, making it easy for her to grab the other woman’s collar.

“Changchang.”

Jian Wanji played deaf.

“Changchang~” Mi Shanxin mimicked Jian Wanji’s drawling tone. But her face wasn’t expressive, and her voice was half-dead, more like a female ghost summoning a soul.

“What?” Jian Wanji was amused into a laugh by her. “It sounds terrible. Don’t call me that.”

“Didn’t Mama give you that name? It’s cute.”

“My mother’s long dead.” Wan Qingqing rarely called her that either, mostly calling her Wanji. This nickname was more like a prelude to her losing control, usually preceding an accusation. But now that she was confused, that experience was no longer useful.

“But I’m alive.” Mi Shanxin caught the ends of her hair that draped over her shoulder. “Changchang, Mommy is so sleepy.”

“Sleep with Mommy, okay?”