Chapter 40: MAMA-40 Part 2

The girl hugged her backpack, the seatbelt strapping her in even narrower and flatter, very much like a paper doll from a book, briefly come to the human world for a while. Without extra care and cherishing, she would fly into someone else’s book.

“I’m sorry,” Jian Wanji said, her hair completely loose. “This is so last-minute. Consider it overtime.”

Mi Shanxin had never seen Jian Wanji completely bare-faced.

The woman’s lips were always a saturated color, stirring endless desire. It was as if by absorbing Jian Wanji, the younger, silently withering Mi Shanxin could draw on vast, lush life force.

“Is it a performance of ‘Thunderstorm’?” Mi Shanxin had read Wan Lingling’s diary. She didn’t keep a diary herself, but that didn’t stop her from sensing the self-deception when she read it. After all, that diary was meant for Wan Qingqing to read, so there must have been some embellishment.

Mi Shanxin had never attended a girls’ school, but some classic plays were always standard choices for school performances.

Especially for content selected for textbooks, teachers would always require students to do live performances.

“Yes.” Jian Wanji had been out of school for many years and couldn’t remember the specifics of that stuff. She did know someone who liked watching plays at the theater and would post ticket stubs. But if it wasn’t a deliberate attempt to cater to that person, Jian Wanji would never choose to spend time watching a play unless necessary. “Do you still remember the content?”

Mi Shanxin nodded. “Learned it in class.”

She suddenly recalled her unaccumulated university credits. Her class monitor had asked her before if she wanted to join a club. Even doing logistics for a performance could get her a few points, better than sweeping the streets in winter to earn volunteer activity credits. The monitor had been genuinely worried Mi Shanxin’s stamina would fail her and she’d keel over.

“Maybe when the semester starts, there’ll be a performance too.”

Jian Wanji was very surprised. “You? Performing in a play?”

Mi Shanxin’s vlogs were incredibly boring. Unlike girls her age, she didn’t like pretty meals or drinks, and didn’t even understand why people spent so much money on fluffy puppies or black-and-white penguin plushies.

Most of the time, she was even more old-fashioned than Jian Wanji.

If it weren’t for genuine necessity, perhaps she’d also be the early-to-bed, early-to-rise, healthy type of old-fashioned kid favored by elders.

Yet Mi Shanxin also possessed that feudal-but-open trend. She boldly voiced her demands in that area, but on the surface, propriety, righteousness, integrity, and honor were all perfectly maintained. Only those in private could glimpse her secret side.

“It’s green.” Mi Shanxin reminded Jian Wanji, also a little unhappy at her surprise. “You think I can’t do it?”

“I didn’t say that,” After all, she’s still just a kid. Jian Wanji was very happy about her change. “A huge breakthrough. You weren’t kidnapped, right?”

“Was it for logistics or a leading role? These days, student plays at universities seem to need quite a lot of professionalism.”

“I wanted to do logistics, but I can’t carry the props. I could act a small role that just passes through the stage, though. That earns more points.”

Still for points. Jian Wanji’s laugh was completely unconcealed. “School isn’t easy either.”

“Exactly,” the girl said, her head drooping as she fiddled with the Bitter-Face Pumpkin Plush Charm on her bag. “I want to graduate early and start working early.”

Jian Wanji loved hearing her talk about these cute little worries and complaints. “Take it slow, no rush.”

“The urgent matter is this impromptu acting role. Do you want to find the feel for it?”

Mi Shanxin was already in the throes of it. She attempted to confirm the content she’d seen in the diary with Jian Wanji. “Is your mother playing Fanyi?”

At this moment, Jian Wanji displayed not a shred of her usual cleverness, perfectly embodying her illiterate state, divorced from culture and art. “What what what?”

“Forget it, I’ll look it up myself.” Mi Shanxin ignored her, holding her phone to watch the found excerpts.

Jian Wanji listened the whole drive. Something about “I’ve prepared my coffin, waiting quietly to die,” and then a moment later, “You saved my life, then ignore me,” something about “letting me slowly die of thirst.”

That wasn’t even the worst part. What made her most restless were the several repeated lines— “It was you.”

She had completely forgotten the textbook content from her school days. Why did it feel like she’d never seen this part? Or had she just spent all her Chinese literature classes reading romance novels with Zeng Baian?

What was this “mother” and “mistress”… She couldn’t help but feel Mi Shanxin was scolding her.

Or was she just being overly self-conscious?

Thankfully, they soon arrived at the hospital. Even though the car’s heater wasn’t at its limit, Jian Wanji’s back was nearly damp with sweat.

Getting out of the car, Mi Shanxin noticed her lips were very dry. “Do you want to put on some lip balm?”

Jian Wanji’s mind was still filled with that cold, detached monologue Mi Shanxin had been reciting: “You hypocritical thing.”

And she’d actually thought Mi Shanxin reciting those lines was very cute, wanted to…

She couldn’t think about this anymore.

“Jian Wanji?” Seeing her distracted, Mi Shanxin called her name again. Jian Wanji hummed in response. “My lip balm is still in the hospital room. I’ll go in first. You can keep practicing outside if you want; it’s fine.”

“No need to practice more. I even performed this excerpt in class before.” Mi Shanxin used to hate her language teacher’s “situational reading aloud” the most. Now she discovered some things had a delayed effect. Looking at the excerpt, she surprisingly felt a bit of fondness for the lines she used to find annoying.

She didn’t understand it back then. Now that she did, it just made her so sad.

She had no way to blame Jian Wanji, nor would she resent her.

She had benefited too much from this relationship. She definitely wouldn’t go crazy like the character in the play.

“Really no need?”

Normally, Wan Qingqing would be asleep by this hour. Maybe due to the oxygen, she was still watching TV. The caregiver saw them through the door and was about to open it.

“No need.”

Jian Wanji walked up to Wan Qingqing. “Grandmother.”

The old lady’s gaze moved from the television to her, but quickly slipped to Mi Shanxin behind her.

Jian Wanji had long grown accustomed to such diversions. To onlookers, the absurdity of a granddaughter being twenty years older than her mother seemed normal in the eyes of a delirious old woman.

Perhaps in her eyes, Wan Lingling was forever this maiden-like girl, youthful, sensible, obedient. She would never go to university and act wilfully, presuming to fall in love, presuming to marry and have a daughter. Because she didn’t listen to her mother, she got her comeuppance, crushed by a collapsed wall, dying with lingering regrets.

“Lingling…” Seeing Mi Shanxin, the old woman’s voice softened considerably. “Back from rehearsal?”

Mi Shanxin gave an affirmative hum. Her backpack was now slung over Jian Wanji’s arm, and her phone was in the woman’s hand. Just then, the screen lit up, and Jian Wanji saw the cracks on it.

She also saw a new message, since Mi Shanxin hadn’t set her lock screen to hide message content.

The Person Who Hit Me: Mi-Mi, let’s set a time to discuss compensation.

What Mi-Mi? So intimate?

A frown creased Jian Wanji’s forehead. She also thought that contact name was very concerning. But she hadn’t seen any injuries on Mi Shanxin. Were they hidden under her clothes? Why would Mi Shanxin hide that from her?

Could it have been that girl she just saw?

Jian Wanji grew even more annoyed. To hit someone and then move in to kiss them—was that a premeditated crime?

That kind of pick-up tactic was far too unethical. Mi Shanxin was so innocent; she could easily be deceived.

Mi Shanxin previously didn’t even have a lock screen password. It was only after getting the new phone that Jian Wanji made her set one.

The girl was as unguarded towards her as her own body. Jian Wanji knew her password.

0112.

Though she didn’t understand why those four digits, after an agonizing internal struggle, driven by “I’m doing this for her safety,” Jian Wanji unlocked the phone and tapped into this person’s WeChat business card.

Mi Shanxin didn’t notice. She found it difficult to split her focus between two things, especially performing so intently for the old lady.

Perhaps at some moment she resonated with the character, grievances surging up; she nearly cried.

Wan Qingqing embraced her, heartachingly consoling her, “Lingling, you performed so well. Don’t be sad. It’s okay if you’re not the lead. As long as you’re on stage, you are a star performer.”

The scent of medicated patches mixed with disinfectant on the elderly woman’s body. Even though her skin was loose, it was still very warm. Held in her arms, Mi Shanxin couldn’t help but cry out “Mama.”

The caregiver nearby wiped her tears, thinking to herself: This girl’s acting is too good. If only she were taller, with that face, she’d be even prettier than the heroines in those web short dramas she watched.

“Good child… don’t cry, don’t cry…” Gaunt, thin hands cupped Mi Shanxin’s face. In Mi Shanxin’s eyes, Wan Qingqing truly seemed to see her as her daughter, soothing her with all her might, chattering again about her daughter not being selected as a little TV host when she was young. Saying it was Mama’s fault, having no connections, that someone as good as Lingling should have been a star, and so on.

Jian Wanji noted down that WeChat ID, sitting silently to the side, watching the fake mother being held by her grandmother.

Mi Shanxin was naturally wooden. That she could act at all seemed preposterous.

Wan Qingqing saw Mi Shanxin as Wan Lingling, but Jian Wanji had never, ever seen her as Wan Lingling.

Not for a single second.

She just felt that Mi Shanxin in this moment was very much like a stray cat without a den. A little warmth and she’d be so moved she’d mewl piteously.

Very easy to trick away, very easy to trust people, very easy to repeat the cycle, never learning her lesson.

What if she really were tricked away by someone else?

Wouldn’t it be… better if…

No.

Jian Wanji closed her eyes, suppressing the stirring thought.

She couldn’t let things change in nature, couldn’t sink into this, and she was still trying to wean herself off the addiction that was Mi Shanxin.

“Changchang.” At some point, Mi Shanxin had walked over. Jian Wanji looked past her shoulder; the old woman on the hospital bed had already fallen asleep.

“What is it? Calling me that all of a sudden.” Jian Wanji’s expression shifted quickly. Earlier, while being held, Mi Shanxin, eyes blurry with tears, had looked over at Jian Wanji and felt she seemed lonelier than anyone else.

A hug fell around her. Jian Wanji’s body stiffened; she didn’t know whether to push her away or hug her back.

Auntie Caretaker had gone to refill the water. Wan Qingqing was asleep.

Only the two of them were left. Jian Wanji sat on the sofa. Mi Shanxin leaned over and embraced her, carrying the same perfume scent as Jian Wanji.

Now they smelled exactly the same, ambiguous, as if they were meant to be one entity.

In truth, Jian Wanji had long since delved deep into Mi Shanxin’s body, whether with fingers or lips and tongue.

Perhaps her soul had also melted into Mi Shanxin’s. At this very moment, her heart tingled with numbness, and she hallucinated the sound of oil sizzling. It was her conscience being fried over and over, letting out an unwilling struggle.

“Changchang, Mommy loves you.”