Chapter 25: MAMA-25 Part 1

MAMA-25: Are you taking it out yourself, or should I?

After all, it was Jian Wanji paying the salary, and she had already promised a dedicated driver for transportation from now on, so Mi Shanxin couldn’t really ask for more.

She was still lost in thought when she arrived at the Hospice Ward, but the Nurse Aide on duty wasn’t the same person as yesterday’s.

Jian Wanji had briefly explained to Mi Shanxin before: she’d hired two Caregivers for her Grandmother, working in shifts.

The night shift Caregiver had left after handling Wan Qingqing’s breakfast. The Caregiver who took over after Wan Qingqing’s breakfast was older than the one Mi Shanxin had met yesterday. When Mi Shanxin entered, this one was currently remaking the bed. Seeing the young girl standing at the doorway, she thought for a moment, then let out an “Oh.” “You must be the actor hired by Boss Jian, right?”

The Hospice Ward had a small balcony; the old lady was sitting in her Wheelchair, sunbathing.

The flowers at the bedside looked fresh—probably also a regular order placed by Jian Wanji.

Mi Shanxin nodded. “I play…”

She also adopted the other’s way of addressing Jian Wanji. “Boss Jian’s Mama.”

The Nurse Aide laughed. “How old are you? Finished high school yet?”

Having slept well, Mi Shanxin spoke less breathlessly than usual, nodding slightly. “I’m a university student.”

“Much younger than my own daughter,” the Nurse Aide said, smiling as she poured Mi Shanxin a cup of hot water. “Boss Jian told me before you came. You can stay here, or go sit in the common area if you like.”

Jian Wanji seemed to have briefly explained Mi Shanxin’s situation. Addressed as Aunt Ye, the Nurse Aide assumed she was doing Work-Study and added that the common area was very quiet, perfect for charging her phone and having water, and fine for self-study too.

Mi Shanxin looked towards the balcony. The white-haired old woman sat quietly sunbathing, looking as if about to fall asleep.

The woman followed Mi Shanxin’s gaze. “It’s fine. Old Madam Wan only gets more alert in the afternoon. No need to specifically talk to her.”

Mi Shanxin recalled the previous day’s events and asked Aunt Ye a few questions. The woman, suspecting nothing and treating Mi Shanxin like a young Colleague needing guidance, told her everything she knew.

For instance, Wan Qingqing was somewhat emotionally unstable. Many of the Old Items in this ward served as tools for her Psychological Massage.

The Videotapes for the Broadcast had to be pinpoint-accurate to a specific year, month, and day. The drawers also held a pile of audio cassettes, all used to rouse the old lady’s spirits.

Her sense of time itself seemed to have become a cassette tape, playing intermittently. Not recognizing Jian Wanji was perfectly normal.

“All else aside, Boss Jian found the right person by hiring you.” The girl sitting on the stool was pale and quiet. The woman looked at her a few more times. It couldn’t be said that Mi Shanxin looked exactly like Wan Lingling, but there was some resemblance in the brows and eyes. More specifically, perhaps it was a faint, seemingly bitter cast to her features.

“Really?”

Mi Shanxin had only seen Wan Lingling’s photos in the dossier Jian Wanji had given her. She had no talent for acting and understood she had zero acting skills. It was more like she was earnestly following the Role-Playing. Even without a script, given the high pay from Jian Wanji and the utterly satisfying nighttime service, Mi Shanxin wanted to perform well.

“Really.” The tape recorder on the balcony jammed. The Caregiver pulled a Photo Album from a drawer and thrust it at Mi Shanxin, then hurried off to attend to the old lady.

The old and the young were naturally the two ends of a scale; the young, middle-aged, and teenaged were the slowly shifting weights. Listening to the elderly woman’s breathing, Mi Shanxin hugged the album and went to the common area.

The Photo Album was very heavy, containing not only photos but also original copies of Wan Lingling’s letters.

While browsing, Mi Shanxin even saw a childhood photo of Jian Wanji. On the back was written that strange nickname.

Changchang. (Intestines)

Mi Shanxin looked at it for a long time, then changed Jian Wanji’s WeChat contact name from “Boss’s Daughter” to “Baby Changchang”—perhaps to make herself more immersed.

Just as she finished editing, Baby Changchang sent her a message: [I won’t come pick you up this afternoon. The driver will come. Here’s her number.]

Mi Shanxin’s input speed was very slow, unable to match Jian Wanji’s. The other party added: [I had the driver bring New Clothes for you. Try them on to see if they fit. If not, buy more.]

[Not the stage clothes for playing my mom.]

Mi Shanxin asked: [Is this an employee benefit?]

It was almost lunchtime. Jian Wanji had been out with her manager on business that morning. Back at the Company, Sui Yuqian had just ordered Pizza; the two of them were eating in the office.

Jian Wanji stood before the floor-to-ceiling windows replying to messages. The glass reflected Sui Yuqian’s sneakily intense scrutiny. Jian Wanji turned around: “That’s an invasion of privacy.”

“How come I don’t get employee benefits? Last month when you were on a business trip to Germany, you seem to have forgotten to buy the specific item I asked for, right?”

Sui Yuqian had very fair skin. Many people at the Company said she resembled a painted-skin ghost.

Before meeting Mi Shanxin, Jian Wanji thought so too. Sui Yuqian’s paleness, aside from genetics, came from heavy financial investment in skincare. She kept her figure without exercise, not ruling out some secret Body Sculpting.

Mi Shanxin, however, had a sickly pallor. Only under such physical stimulation did she flush, and even then, she wouldn’t flush to the healthy, translucent look of a juicy peach; it was more like a dehydrated pink tomato briefly flashing back to life.

“Which one of us is whose employee?” Jian Wanji didn’t indulge Sui Yuqian. “You say that like you buy me things when you go on business trips.”

Sui Yuqian just laughed. The fruit on her Pizza was about to fall off. Jian Wanji dodged away, thinking: Fruit Pizza… is that even edible for humans?

She wondered if Mi Shanxin liked it.

Sui Yuqian loved only this kind. Sitting off to the side, she rolled her swivel chair over and asked Jian Wanji: “Were those Express Deliveries today stuff you bought for Little Mother?”

Jian Wanji had undergone stomach surgery a few years back, which curbed her smoking and drinking. Her appetite seemed to have vanished along with the excised part. She ate the Pizza listlessly. “Got a problem? Didn’t use company funds.”

“Of course no problem. Are the new items any good? Any interest in writing a review? I’ll pay you eight hundred per thousand words.”

After all that preamble, it was hard to hide her curiosity about Jian Wanji’s deal.

Jian Wanji knew better. “Not short on that bit of cash.”

Sui Yuqian said: “Is your Little Mother short on cash then? Let me ask her.”

She was holding her phone, seemingly looking through the contact list for Jian Wanji’s driver’s account. Jian Wanji stopped her. “Don’t stir up trouble. I finally found a suitable one.”

“I know. So suitable you felt the need to offer yourself.” Sui Yuqian’s features were mature too, but in terms of outward appearance, Jian Wanji was more intense.

If anyone saw them and had to guess which one had never been in a relationship, they’d point to Sui Yuqian and say Jian Wanji, with her flirtatious looks, seemed deeply experienced.

“…It doesn’t really count as offering myself, does it?” Jian Wanji said, still checking messages. She hadn’t replied for a while, yet Mi Shanxin hadn’t pressed further.

Very few kids had such a sense of propriety, strictly adhering to one-question-one-answer. Mi Shanxin was very rigid, just like that old house, that small room, those Pajamas printed with the high school’s name.

[It counts.] Jian Wanji replied.

“Jian Wanji.” Sui Yuqian went off to the side to wash her hands, her grin fading. She spoke seriously to her old friend: “Don’t capsize in a gutter.”

Anyone could see this relationship was problematic. Zeng Baian’s fury wasn’t without reason.

A transaction was one thing. Both she and Zeng Baian knew this was a game between Jian Wanji and Wan Qingqing, grandmother and granddaughter, a final gambit near life’s end.

Jian Wanji had endured for too many years—using the debt of upbringing to counter endless insults and humiliation. Anyone else would likely have gone insane.

If you randomly asked someone, “Do you think a grandparent and grandchild could have a feud?” most would think it impossible.

Wan Lingling had died in an accident. Who knew the house she passed every day after work was a condemned building? And that it would collapse precisely when she walked by? How did that become Jian Wanji’s fault? She was the most innocent one.

She lost her Mother at a young age. Her Father, whether out of deep love or shirking his parental responsibilities, hanged himself the following year. The young Jian Wanji left behind bid farewell to her closest kin one after another.

Her Father’s family saw it as him leaving home to be a Live-in Son-in-Law in the big city and didn’t even collect his ashes.

If Wan Qingqing hadn’t taken Jian Wanji away, she probably would have ended up in an orphanage.

Sui Yuqian felt that might have even been better than living with her biological Grandmother.

Both she and Zeng Baian had visited Jian Wanji’s home back then, and each time they’d fled in panic. That environment was practically more terrifying than a horror movie. No wonder Jian Wanji’s Uncle never came back except maybe for New Year’s.

Sui Yuqian wasn’t like Zeng Baian, whose life—from dating and marriage to starting a family—had gone smoothly.

Happy people took it for granted that their friends should be just as successful. Even though her best friends were all lesbians, Zeng Baian would say raising children might not be that important; a lifelong Partner was what mattered.

Sui Yuqian had dated, basically always ended up dumped, and knew some things in life were just fate—you couldn’t force them. She paid lip service to “letting nature take its course,” but it was actually because she had no moves left.

Jian Wanji, unlike her own laissez-faire attitude toward the hammering of emotions, was completely impervious.

From when she first started working until now, some had tried luring her with large sums of money. Jian Wanji never budged.

So much so that some people asked Sui Yuqian if they’d gotten Jian Wanji’s sexual orientation wrong. Maybe she was naturally aromantic—having a preference didn’t necessarily mean she’d act on it.

The person in question also said so. Sui Yuqian couldn’t possibly judge Jian Wanji’s stance better than Jian Wanji herself.

Just like this transaction. On the surface, Jian Wanji held all the cards, but in reality, she’d handed over her weakness right from the start.

Those girls who had chased Jian Wanji before, learning the truth, would probably be greatly disappointed. A Mother Complex was a very important piece of intel.

“Which gutter,” Jian Wanji laughed heartily. “A mutually willing transaction. Once my Grandmother passes, it ends.”

Sui Yuqian chewed her drink straw, staring at her. “What are you, King Yan, able to know exactly when an elder will die?”

“My Seventh Granduncle was like this before, saying ‘this month is about it.’ He’s still alive now, in great spirits, can even do a handstand in the park.”

Jian Wanji couldn’t imagine Wan Qingqing doing a handstand and was speechless for a long moment. “Then I’ll raise the pay. Anyway, Student Shanxin goes to school locally.”

“Stop shifting topics,” Sui Yuqian clicked her tongue. “It’s not about the money, it’s—”

She waved her own hand, whose shape could also be considered beautiful. Jian Wanji ignored it, picked up the Pizza, and started to leave. “Paying money and effort for end-of-life services. Even my mom down there would have to call me a Dutiful Daughter.”

She spoke lightly, but she fled fast. The Department Head who knocked on the door with business to discuss with the Boss was nearly bowled over by Jian Wanji. He gossiped to Sui Yuqian: “Did President Jian change her Perfume? That old scent could draw butterflies from ten miles away.”

Sui Yuqian just nodded vaguely. “After all, she has a Mama now.”

The Department Head didn’t get it, making confused noises. “What?”

If memory served, Jian Wanji was the only high-level executive with a rather tragic family history.

Newspapers from decades ago had even featured a special report on her family, lavishly extolling “human compassion.”