Chapter 41: MAMA-41

Mi Shanxin’s embrace wasn’t tight. Perhaps she needed the support just to keep from collapsing onto Jian Wanji. Her touch was soft and weak.

Mi Shanxin was so thin and small. She was nothing like the symbolic image the word “mother” traditionally evoked.

Expectations for mothers were always sky-high. A father’s love only needed to be as steady as a mountain, but a mother’s love had to surge like rivers, even encompass the earth and radiate throughout the universe.

That was precisely why Jian Wanji had decided long ago that she would never be a mother. She feared separation, shirked responsibility, and dreaded uncontrollable accidents.

Like the monotonous street her own mother walked down every day after work. No one could have predicted that, on that particular day, the wall would collapse. Of all the pedestrians passing by, her mother was the only one caught beneath it. She was the only one left without a Mama.

No one could answer these questions. Even now, Jian Wanji couldn’t accurately picture Wan Lingling’s face unless she deliberately looked at a photo.

Wan Lingling had died so young. If that year’s version of her had stood before Jian Wanji, no one could tell who was the mother and who was the daughter.

Mi Shanxin was about to pull away after just a moment. She wanted to ask Jian Wanji if she would come home with her again tonight. But just as her body retreated half an inch, the woman’s hanging hand suddenly reached out and pulled her into an embrace.

“Jian Wanji… you…”

Mi Shanxin’s nose was filled with Jian Wanji’s scent.

Jian Wanji had changed her perfume for Mi Shanxin’s sake. Perhaps there were other fragrances lingering in her wardrobe.

But Jian Wanji’s base note was still that first, pungent, spicy scent she’d smelled when they met.

Just like during those times when she would grind and tease to the extreme, her lips and teeth biting the spot Mi Shanxin found hardest to control.

For a fleeting moment, Mi Shanxin felt she might be rough. But Jian Wanji quickly adjusted herself, returning to her usual facade of gentle warmth, a smile pasted on her face.

“Mommy Shanxin is only going to hug for a little while?” Jian Wanji’s cheek rubbed against Mi Shanxin’s neck. Her nuzzling was slow, yet it made Mi Shanxin feel like she was being roasted over a fire. She couldn’t shake the feeling that the hands Jian Wanji had wrapped around her waist, even through her clothes, were scorching hot. Mi Shanxin opened her mouth, emitting a squeak like a kitten being squeezed too hard, a sound that was almost like crying. “…You’re the one hugging me now.”

“You’re too small.”

The terminally ill old woman on the hospital bed had fallen into a deep sleep. Perhaps, in her dreams, she was reunited with her daughter.

When the client was present, the in-home caregiver spent most of her time resting outside. Jian Wanji would call her if needed. Once Jian Wanji left, they would hand off responsibilities.

When Mi Shanxin was there, she’d ask the nurse aide for more specific details, but she could never get much out of her.

The three-generational relationship between Jian Wanji, Wan Lingling, and Wan Qingqing was too intricate and shadowed, like a tangled mass of deep-sea weeds. Outsiders only saw a filial granddaughter, an old lady who, despite having to bury her own child, could still enjoy a peaceful old age—an enviable sight.

The truth was in Jian Wanji’s breath against Mi Shanxin’s neck. In it, Mi Shanxin could feel the woman’s obsessive struggle.

Just like moments ago, when she had performed a scene in front of Wan Qingqing. From the corner of her eye, she had occasionally glanced at Jian Wanji, sitting on the sofa. Half of her long hair had been draped over her shoulder, and even the curls at the tips hadn’t softened her expression in the slightest.

When Jian Wanji didn’t smile, she looked icy and severe. It was a coldness completely different from Mi Shanxin’s own expressionless indifference—sharp as ice, like a shard of crystal, the complete opposite of the enthusiasm she deliberately cultivated.

Her surgically enhanced smile-lips could actually be terrifying.

Normally, Jian Wanji was straightforward, but in truth, she was mysterious and circuitous. Even though Mi Shanxin had forced her into a physical relationship, it was still difficult to truly understand Jian Wanji simply by getting close.

And yet, the more this happened, the more Mi Shanxin yearned to see her lose control, to see her reveal her true self.

Not the elite boss in the high-rise office building, nor the white-collar urbanite chatting and laughing at business events. Just simply Changchang, the true face her friends didn’t even understand, one that was so difficult to unlock.

“I will grow up,” Mi Shanxin said, lying in her arms, letting Jian Wanji rest her chin on her neck. This tenderness far surpassed their physical intimacy. It gave her the warmth of basking in winter sunlight. “If you like them a bit bigger, I can save up money and get it done.”

Jian Wanji had only meant she was young, nothing more. She never imagined Mi Shanxin would think of that. Helplessly, she explained, “That’s not what I meant.”

“Don’t you dare alter your body for someone else, understand?”

Mi Shanxin didn’t look at her. “You’re not ‘someone else’.”

She knew what Jian Wanji was afraid of. She didn’t expose her at this moment, and even thoughtfully added, “At least, not within the contract period.”

Jian Wanji held her as if holding a plushie.

When her mother was still alive, she had often received gifts like this.

It wasn’t that Jian Wanji liked them; Wan Lingling wanted them for herself. She would always use the excuse, “Changchang likes this, right? Mama will buy it for you,” to make the purchase. Her father knew full well but was very indulgent.

At the end of the month, the young couple would sigh over their finances. Jian Wanji, still awake, would turn on the hallway light and listen to her parents sitting under the lamp, looking at the bills. They didn’t blame each other. They talked about cutting back on plushies. In the end, her father said, “I’ll just earn a bit more,” and her mother replied, “Then I will too.”

What a beautiful memory. Jian Wanji rarely reminisced, or rather, she hardly dared to.

She had learned too early that happiness was fleeting. Because of that, she spent her later years unconsciously chasing that kind of fulfillment.

She watched other people’s excitement, enthusiastically playing matchmaker for her friends’ love lives.

The friends from her early years all had partners now. Only Sui Yuqian, who kept getting dumped, and Jian Wanji herself—a fake advocate for singlehood who liked pushing away those who liked her—remained.

Even though Jian Wanji had never once claimed to be a singlist, Sui Yuqian tirelessly stirred up trouble for her, from introducing business partners to, now, not even sparing a twenty-year-old female college student.

And yet, it was only when she was with Mi Shanxin that Jian Wanji was completely relaxed.

Like right now. The past she hadn’t dared recall was flooding back like a breached dam. Overwhelmed by old memories, her eyes grew sore and stung. But she was too embarrassed to cry in front of Mi Shanxin, so she had to steady her breathing.

The girl in her arms, usually so slow and dull in daily life, was overly sharp at moments like this. She tried to raise her head from Jian Wanji’s embrace, but the woman’s hand pressed the back of her head down, forcing her lips against Jian Wanji’s collarbone.

Jian Wanji was tall and exercised regularly. She didn’t have the visibly pronounced muscles of those fitness models online.

In winter, she wore sweaters, so Mi Shanxin had never seen her bare arms. Looking at the summer swimsuit photos on Jian Wanji’s WeChat Moments, or the tight diving suits, the woman’s figure was so good that Mi Shanxin couldn’t stand looking too long and had to silently save them.

Jian Wanji, always saying she was old, would never know that she had shown Mi Shanxin more possibilities. That thirty wasn’t scary. That even thirty-nine was something to look forward to.

The urban elites on TV felt too distant, partly just acting. Jian Wanji was real. She didn’t have to eat at expensive restaurants. She could also step into a tiny eatery with creaky wooden floors.

She wasn’t that arrogant or precious. She didn’t mind at all that Mi Shanxin lived in a broken-down house—she even fixed the broken door latch.

Mi Shanxin had seen pity in many people’s eyes. It was absent only in Jian Wanji’s.

Her pity was tender sympathy, constrained by their physical relationship, yet also an attempt at cherishing. Even at a time like this, she was patiently guiding, correcting Mi Shanxin’s terrible habit of self-sacrifice for others.

Mi Shanxin had originally been drifting through life, just getting by. But after knowing Jian Wanji, she began to imagine a future that was brilliant and exciting.

Maybe I could have that too?

Am I not, like my classmates say, stuck like this for life?

“Are you crying?” Mi Shanxin was held so tightly she couldn’t struggle free. When she spoke, her lips moved against Jian Wanji’s collarbone, like a kiss. As if not wanting it to end, she pretended to mumble, stealing a few more pecks.

“No.” Jian Wanji had to adjust her posture from the nuzzling, seemingly letting out a sigh. It was hard to tell if it was from helplessness or forbearance.

Mi Shanxin’s right hand grabbed the fabric at the back of the woman’s clothes, tugging down. “You are. I can hear it. Mmph.”

“I said no, so it’s no.” Jian Wanji wasn’t actually crying, just a little nasal.

She had inherited almost all her flaws from her father, like overactive tear ducts. She was easily moved. She had once clapped and wept during Sui Yuqian’s work report. That clip became a company secret. Sui Yuqian kept it in a safe, saying she needed to watch it one last time before she died.

Back then, during the struggle of starting a business, Jian Wanji felt she had a clear conscience.

But her tear ducts really were abnormally sensitive. She couldn’t watch movies with cats, dogs, or warm human stories—she would cry.

She couldn’t watch the partings and deaths in TV dramas. Even clichéd, cheesy scenes, in Zeng Baian’s opinion, could move Jian Wanji. Her friend kept a respectful distance from her taste and never again watched any of Jian Wanji’s “amazing” drama recommendations.

“Fine, you say no, so it’s no.” Mi Shanxin never argued. She was like putty in anyone’s hands. “Changchang, if you keep pressing me down, my drool is going to drip down your chest.”

Mi Shanxin’s words were muffled, but Jian Wanji understood. Both amused and exasperated, she released the girl from her embrace.

“You didn’t feel anything?” Mi Shanxin was finally able to rub her own face. She hooked a finger under Jian Wanji’s round-neck sweater and looked inside. From her neck to her collarbone were marks Mi Shanxin had left. In a sour mood, she clicked her tongue. “Aren’t you grossed out? Wipe it off.”

Jian Wanji casually wiped it with her sweater. “What’s there to be grossed out about? It’s not like I haven’t drunk it before.”

Only after she said it did she realize what she’d blurted out. Embarrassed, she didn’t dare look at the girl still sitting in her lap. The girl’s expression was complicated, but the roots of her ears had already turned red.

Jian Wanji’s heart felt like it had exploded. Her own ears were hot.

Mi Shanxin: “Your face is red.”

Jian Wanji: “It’s blush.”

Mi Shanxin: “Alright, you say it’s blush, so it’s blush.”

Jian Wanji couldn’t be bothered about the marks on her skin anymore. She gestured for Mi Shanxin to get up. “We should go.”

Mi Shanxin let out an “Oh,” her gaze sweeping over Jian Wanji’s slightly reddened eyes. She thought to herself: What’s the difference between this and crying?

It seems like she really likes it when I hug her like this.

Could it be that her mother really soothed her this way when she was little?

Mi Shanxin had a poor relationship with her parents. She was sent off to her grandparents when she was very young and had no memories of being cherished by her parents.

As far back as she could remember, there were constant arguments. Both parties believed the other was the reason their lives were such a mess. It perfectly proved that you could date, but marriage shouldn’t be rushed, and having children was the most reckless thing of all.

And yet, after remarrying, both parents had children they doted on.

Even though her younger half-sister had congenital autism, Mama still posted every little moment with her on WeChat Moments, calling her “Baby,” as if she would fight with all her might to protect her for a lifetime.

Her father played soccer with his new child, went swimming, took him to the park on weekends for ice cream from a truck—the kind with three scoops.

Mi Shanxin had never been to Spain, let alone the USA. Those were the lands her parents’ children could set foot on without any effort whatsoever.

She had been abandoned on the opposite shore. Even if she swam until she died, she would never reach her parents’ side.

On the way back to drop Mi Shanxin off, Jian Wanji was berating herself for her careless remark.

Technically, today wasn’t Mi Shanxin’s workday, and she didn’t have to fulfill the contract. But having brought the girl over to act, it didn’t feel right to just end it there.

If Mi Shanxin needed…

The car stopped at the entrance to the alley. Jian Wanji walked Mi Shanxin back. She walked in front of her because the light in the stairwell was broken, making it pitch black.

Even though it was in the main urban district, the houses here were dilapidated. Renovating them into guesthouses had long since passed its peak. It seemed hard to recoup costs, and the best time to sell had already passed.

Mi Shanxin was frail, small, and had little strength.

One parent was overseas, the other a thousand miles away. Neither considered the safety of her being all alone.

It was painfully obvious that no one wanted her. And now that she was over eighteen, she had to fend for herself.

They soon reached Mi Shanxin’s door. Jian Wanji turned around. Mi Shanxin suddenly hugged her.

The long trench coat flared up at the corner from the draft. From behind, Mi Shanxin wrapped her arms around Jian Wanji. In the silent, dark stairwell, she muffledly called her by her nickname: “Changchang.”

Jian Wanji didn’t push her away. Parting was closing in, and she knew she was indulging this closeness. She pushed down the heaviness in her voice and joked lightly, “A bloody and awful-sounding name. Why do you love calling it so much?”

“Who doesn’t love sausage?” In the pitch-black stairwell, she couldn’t see Jian Wanji’s specific features even when looking up. But she could touch her. Right there, within her reach. “Anyway, it’s my absolute favorite.”

Whether it was starchy sausage, volcanic stone grilled sausage, or the tangled knots of Jian Wanji’s sorrowful heart.

Mi Shanxin wanted to devour it all.

“Fine, I’ll bring you a whole box tomorrow then.” Seeing that Mi Shanxin wasn’t opening the door herself, Jian Wanji reached into her pocket, took out the key, and unlocked it. She was as familiar with the place as if she lived there herself.

She had run into Mi Shanxin’s neighbor twice. Once, an old lady asked who she was. Jian Wanji said she was a friend of the child’s mother.

The second time, Jian Wanji was carrying a bag of Autumn Moon Pears and happened to give half of them to the old lady. The old lady held onto Jian Wanji, telling her how hard things were for the child, how pitiful she was, how utterly heartless modern parents were, and so on.

People’s energy was just too limited. There were plenty of kind souls, but so little surplus energy. That was why there was so much sorrow and indignation.

Mi Shanxin understood that help from others was not an obligation. She tried her best not to burden anyone, living cautiously yet diligently.

How could Jian Wanji possibly let it go?

With a creak, the burglary-proof security door swung open. Jian Wanji was unlocking the second door when the small figure behind her hugged her fiercely. Jian Wanji wanted to say she should leave now, but her lips parted and closed, no sound coming out.

It was Mi Shanxin who asked, “Are you leaving?”

“Today…” Before she could finish, Mi Shanxin pushed her inside. The wooden door slammed shut. Jian Wanji couldn’t worry about the girl pressing against her, saying, “The key is still in the lock outside!”

The light in the genkan was also installed by Jian Wanji. In just half a month, she had already renovated this home to be more livable.

Mi Shanxin looked at her under the light and asked, “Is Changchang thirsty? How about a sip of water before you go?”

The girl’s face under the light was still so pale. This kind of invitation, she delivered without any hint of shyness, speaking the most scorching words with the most innocent exterior.

Jian Wanji recalled what Mi Shanxin’s friend had said and exhaled. “Your friend told me not to seduce you.”

She looked into Mi Shanxin’s eyes. “Shanxin, we can’t.”

These words had little lethality against Mi Shanxin. She was whipped by this sentence every single day.

But her body yearned even more to be lashed by Jian Wanji’s lips and tongue.

“It’s not up to her to decide what we can or can’t do,” Mi Shanxin said, not bringing feelings into it. “I worked overtime today. You have to work overtime too, to make it fair.”

Jian Wanji knew she was rationalizing her own behavior. Her gaze deepened. Mi Shanxin didn’t like that look in her eyes. It was too pitiful.

Not that Mi Shanxin was pitiful, but that Jian Wanji looked so pitiable like this.

It was as if she was constantly doing things she didn’t want to do. But in this aspect, Mi Shanxin hoped she would change course and find bliss to the utmost.

Even if their fate was as transient as morning dew, Mi Shanxin would turn it into glue.

“…Overtime?” A laugh escaped Jian Wanji. In the next second, Mi Shanxin stood on her tiptoes and covered her eyes. “Drink a sip of my water before you go.”

As she spoke, her warm lips seemed about to press against Jian Wanji’s, but due to the height difference, they missed and landed at the corner of her mouth.

Mi Shanxin sighed in frustration. But Jian Wanji suddenly leaned down and returned a kiss.

It landed behind her ear, burning its way to her heart. Instinctively, Mi Shanxin wanted to hide her change in state, but Jian Wanji suddenly reached out, as if peeling apart a green, unripe tangerine.

“Then I’ll drink here and leave.”

Some tangerines look green on the outside, but they might be sweeter than satsuma oranges once tasted.

Jian Wanji knew she was losing control. She shouldn’t, she absolutely shouldn’t.

But wasn’t Mi Shanxin at fault too?