Chapter 36: MAMA-36 Part 2

She was so open and honest, showing no sign of any additional contract. Li Yin didn’t dare to actually show the contract to her own mother. Asking the lawyer in charge was about the limit.

Although her mother never explicitly forbade Li Yin from making friends, she clearly disliked children like Mi Shanxin who couldn’t offer Li Yin much in terms of helpful connections.

Even setting aside Mi Shanxin’s educational background, her social skills were also very average. Her parents had abandoned her, and she still needed Li Yin’s support.

People are selfish. Li Yin understood her mother’s mindset, yet she couldn’t help wanting to do something for Mi Shanxin. But what she could do was too limited.

Just like now. Meeting Jian Wanji’s gaze, she felt like she was falling into a vortex. Her instinct told her this woman was cunning and seasoned, but she was helpless against it.

“No need. What I want to tell you is something else.” The girl had an oval face, skin not as pale as Mi Shanxin’s. With makeup, she looked youthful and radiant. “You cannot seduce Shanxin.”

The restaurant’s background music was in a foreign language, the melody relatively soothing. But this sentence sliced into Jian Wanji’s ears like a thunderbolt. She froze for a few seconds. “Me? Seduce her?”

She laughed again. “Look how old I am.”

Contrary to ordinary impressions, this woman in front of her always took her age as a joke with total ease. “I’m old enough to have given birth to you girls.”

Li Yin curled her lip. “Spare me that nonsense. Shanxin, she…”

She was Mi Shanxin’s classmate. Middle school classmate bonds were far tighter than university ones. All day long, even eating together. Supposedly once you start working, the people you spend the most time with daily become colleagues—Li Yin didn’t dare to imagine that.

Mi Shanxin’s preference was something she’d repeatedly verified—like casually mentioning a certain disliked female teacher. Mi Shanxin never judged her teaching methods; she would comment on the woman herself.

Ordinary people didn’t look at others that way. Yet Li Yin also felt it wasn’t the same as them discussing some male classmate’s looks.

Mi Shanxin’s expression was more reverent, making it impossible to tell if this was a yearning born from a lack of maternal love, or a matter of sexual orientation.

Back then, Li Yin had chosen the former.

“What about her?” Jian Wanji asked curiously.

“…She likes women older than her. But don’t you dare make a move on her.” After Li Yin finished, she confirmed again, “You really aren’t married and don’t have kids, right?”

Jian Wanji was also aware of Mi Shanxin’s preference. She let out a helpless laugh. “Is that actually a demerit?”

Li Yin nodded, unsure what exactly was so shameful. “Anyway, Shanxin prefers married women with kids.”

Jian Wanji knew nothing about Mi Shanxin’s past. Beyond what she observed, all she could understand was what Mi Shanxin was willing to tell her.

For example: her parents, who were overseas students when they were young, divorced and neither wanted her. She was packed off to her grandparents.

Calligraphy was her grandfather’s hobby. Mi Shanxin inherited his aspirations and eventually got into the Calligraphy Department.

As for the major itself, she’d never heard her express like or dislike.

But it could earn money, and Mi Shanxin was already very satisfied with that.

Remembering Mi Shanxin’s attention towards Zeng Baian, Jian Wanji quashed the rising suspicion—like “Could this kid possibly like me?”—and asked with a smile, “She liked someone like that before?”

Li Yin had little appetite. The dishes on the table seemed untouched, Jian Wanji’s nearly the same.

They weren’t familiar. Mi Shanxin was the intermediary. Without the intermediary, the atmosphere was terrible. It felt more like Li Yin interrogating a criminal. If Jian Wanji were the same age, she might not be able to hold her head up.

But Jian Wanji had a very thick skin. She could even smile while digging for more, extracting information without leaving a trace—unless she deliberately made a trace visible.

Like now.

“You should know her parents divorced very early, both remarried, and have other kids, right?”

“I know. The father is very stingy, gives very little living expenses. The mother is also quite strapped for cash, and even asks her for money.”

“What?! Her mother asks her for money? That’s insane!” Li Yin raised her voice, then, mindful of the public setting, lowered it significantly. “What kind of mother does that?”

“No one dictates what a mother should be.” Jian Wanji sighed as she twirled pasta onto her fork. She snapped a picture and sent it to Mi Shanxin, asking: Want some?

The girl didn’t reply.

Even if Jian Wanji was the boss, during such work hours, Mi Shanxin’s role-playing was utterly professional. Fully immersed in the performance, she didn’t look at her phone.

“No wonder she was tricked by you.” Li Yin let out a long sigh. “Anyway, don’t you seduce her. Her willpower is weak to begin with, her body’s not great, and her energy is terrible.”

“You still haven’t answered my question. Has she had a crush on someone older before?”

“Yes. Any married teacher who’s a bit gentle, she likes. If they have kids, she falls for one after another.”

Saying it that way was somewhat of an exaggeration. It sounded more like passing fondness. Li Yin certainly wasn’t going to tell Jian Wanji about that blonde delinquent upperclassman from another school who’d relentlessly pursued Mi Shanxin back in the day. Mi Shanxin’s reason for rejection had been that the other party was “too young”—not “we’re too young.”

At the time, Li Yin had presumed the sexual orientation. She’d thought Mi Shanxin liked guys in their twenties. Only now did she realize: twenties was still too young for Mi Shanxin. She wanted the age bracket of a woman capable of independently raising a child. Older than average was even better.

It was a fetish, perhaps also a regret.

While gazing at the other person, she was also filling a void.

Jian Wanji put down her phone. When she smiled, the mole at the corner of her eye flickered like drifting ash. Even though it was dazzling, she carried an emptiness as if scorched clean.

“Then I have no chance. You don’t need to worry.”

…

Mi Shanxin accompanied Wan Qingqing through dinner. The caregiver tidied up the leftovers. The News Simulcast started playing right on time. She could feel the old lady gripping her hand very tightly.

“Mom, it hurts,” Mi Shanxin said by her ear.

The old woman stared at the TV host. Her murky eyes shifted, and she slowly turned her head. The nurse had quietly asked Mi Shanxin before if she ever felt scared when locking eyes with the old lady.

Mi Shanxin had shaken her head. The nurse had said, “Miss, you’re quite brave. I’ve cared for many terminal patients. Old Madam Wan’s eyes are the ones I least dare to meet.”

There were many patients drifting in and out of consciousness. Perhaps it was because Old Madam Wan’s eyes were so black, appearing exceptionally deep.

So when Mi Shanxin sat beside Wan Qingqing, anyone unaware of the situation might assume she was a relative.

Their eye shapes were identical—naturally downturned. The elder’s drooped more, wrinkles like folded cardboard.

Seeing Wan Qingqing stare at her, Mi Shanxin knew she’d forgotten again. She waved a hand in front of the old woman, slightly raising her voice: “Mom, you’re hurting my hand.”

Jian Wanji’s birth mother, Wan Lingling, had passed away too many years ago. There was no video footage left from back then. If she were still alive, she’d be over sixty now.

Jian Wanji’s age had long surpassed her mother’s at the time of death. If she had also married and had children right after university, her child might be around Mi Shanxin’s age. That would be a true four generations under one roof.

“Lingling?” The old lady’s eyeballs rolled stiffly. Many times, Mi Shanxin felt that the soul inside this body was perpetually absent; eating, drinking, and eliminating were just automated responses. Only when she called “Mom” did the woman come back to herself.

“Mom, the News Simulcast.” Mi Shanxin pointed at the TV again.

The old lady released her hand but didn’t turn her head. She looked at Mi Shanxin carefully, as if seeing her for the first time in a long while.

Even having seen Wan Lingling’s photos, it was still hard for Mi Shanxin to discern any obvious resemblance between Wan Qingqing and Jian Wanji across these two generations.

Jian Wanji took more after her father—whether the horizontally slanted, peach-blossom eyes or the tall, large bone structure. Even as a woman, she must have stood out strikingly in a crowd during her school years.

Wan Lingling and her mother, Wan Qingqing, were both small-boned and petite. Mi Shanxin could indeed easily blend into their family tree.

After showering at home, she would often stare at her reflection in the mirror for a long time, seeing how much her face, as the mist faded, resembled the memorial photo on her phone. Was that why Jian Wanji had to cover her eyes during those moments?

Couldn’t she, just once, overcome by emotion, kiss her?

Resembling her late mother was the catalyst for Mi Shanxin and Jian Wanji’s meeting. Now, it was only Mi Shanxin’s unrequited love. She couldn’t even distinguish whether she was greedily longing out of passion and lust, or longing for a lifetime commitment. She still felt the road ahead was bleak.

Even if Jian Wanji also liked her, this face of hers would still stick in her throat like a bone.

That was why, so many times their eyes met, it was always Jian Wanji who looked away first.

Sui Yuqian said she had great potential. What exactly was she basing that judgment on?

At the very least, Mi Shanxin hadn’t sensed any reaction from Jian Wanji towards her.

Against the background sound of the News Simulcast, Mi Shanxin calmly met the gaze of those eyes the nurse had said were a bit frightening.

There had been times like this before. Usually, Old Madam Wan would look for a while and then turn away.

But today, for some reason, she scrutinized Mi Shanxin for a long time, holding her hand as if kneading something—kneading her finger bones, her metacarpals, her excessively slender wrist.

“…You’re not Lingling.”

The caregiver had taken away the dishes and should be off taking a break. At this moment, only Mi Shanxin and Wan Qingqing were in the hospital room.

The familiar transition sound of the News Simulcast played in the background. A rare look of shock appeared on Mi Shanxin’s face before quickly recovering. “Mom, I’m Lingling.”

She pulled her hand back, reaching for the radio on the tea table. A cassette tape was inserted there, capable of playing the broadcast that could restore Wan Qingqing’s clarity.

But this time wasn’t like that last episode. The old woman’s gaze locked onto Mi Shanxin dead-on. Her nails were trimmed very short, won’t pierce Mi Shanxin’s skin, but the grip was still painful.

Mi Shanxin frowned, calling “Mom” again.

The old woman abruptly let go. Her murky eyes resembled a fish tank overgrown with moss. Her voice sounded like self-mockery: “That wicked creature has thought of a new way to get back at me?”

Mi Shanxin didn’t know who “evil creature” was. She suspected the old lady, cooped up in the ward every day, listening to too many novels and short drama audios the Auntie Caretaker loved, had picked up the melodramatic phrasing.

Hadn’t Jian Wanji found her to play Wan Lingling out of filial piety?

She hugged the white-haired old woman. “Mom, it was Changchang who asked me to come.”

Wan Qingqing was held immobile by the embrace. “You are not my daughter. My Lingling died long ago.”

Mi Shanxin wasn’t frightened in the least. “Oh,” she said. “I reincarnated, Mom.”

————————

=The Shoehorn=

Jian Wanji and Mi Shanxin were heading out together. Watching Mi Shanxin change her shoes—slowly and deliberately, even needing to use a shoehorn—Jian Wanji asked, “Hard to bend over?”

Mi Shanxin glanced at her. “Making fun of me.”

Jian Wanji really was laughing. “Having a bad back at such a young age isn’t good, you know.”

Mi Shanxin: “As long as your back is fine, that’s enough.”

Jian Wanji: …