Chapter 6: MAMA-06

MAMA-06: It’s a job search, not a love quest.

Mi Shanxin realized she liked women older than herself during high school.

Back then, Li Yin had a secret crush, not on a classmate, the reasoning being the person looked good and had good grades. She herself went along with the crowd in having a crush, so she asked Mi Shanxin if she had one.

Mi Shanxin said no. Very disappointed, Li Yin asked what type, surely there’s a preferred type, right?

She counted on her fingers, breaking it down for Mi Shanxin. At that exact moment, the head teacher’s wife came to bring him clothes.

School was too boring; even a teacher’s gossip could be discussed for half the day. Their high school head teacher was still very young, having come to teach here after graduating from graduate school, marrying early in his prime. Classmates asked who he married; the head teacher hemmed and hawed—she was older than them—and was teased by a group until he didn’t know what to say, telling everyone to hurry up and self-study, stop fooling around.

Mi Shanxin also liked listening to gossip, but she was never the one asking.

If someone told, she listened; if not, it didn’t matter. No one knew why, but many loved sharing with her, as if she were naturally insulated, wouldn’t spill the beans.

Mi Shanxin indeed wouldn’t. She’d lacked vitality since childhood. During class breaks, she’d slump over her desk, the overlong sleeves of her large uniform jacket able to conceal the earphone hidden within.

Though Bluetooth earphones were reliable, they weren’t as convenient as wired ones, no charging needed, plug and play.

That day, when Li Yin asked, Mi Shanxin suddenly recalled that woman’s silhouette.

What she looked like was already unclear, just as when she recalled her elementary school head teacher, her middle school PE teacher, only the sensation of hugging and being patted on the head remained. They all possessed something that set Mi Shanxin at ease, she wanted very much to draw more from it, but it was all very fleeting.

After her parents divorced, they quickly remarried. One went abroad, the other went to another city—equally distant to Mi Shanxin.

After Grandpa passed away, Mom also came to pay condolences, asking Mi Shanxin if she wanted to take exams and go to the city where Mom now lived, making visits easier that way.

But there was no place to stay there either. Staying here, Mi Shanxin could at least avoid living on campus.

Though being able to see Mom would be nice, Mi Shanxin still refused.

The scarf the head teacher’s wife wore that day was the same style as her mother’s, in the cold winter night, red like a ball of fire.

Mi Shanxin wanted that ball of fire.

Her dazed expression was taken by Li Yin as her hiding something, and she questioned continuously. Mi Shanxin still shook her head.

The friend was dissatisfied with this answer. Mi Shanxin had no choice but to vaguely say, someone older than herself.

Li Yin said “Oh,” “Two or three years older, right?”

Mi Shanxin nodded, thinking to herself: That’s far too young. She liked them a bit older, preferably very mature and very gentle, quiet and tolerant, like a mom.

Then why was the face in her dreams, so specific, Jian Wanji’s face?

Realizing who she was doing it with, even in winter, Mi Shanxin broke out in a hot sweat. Looking at the time again, she’d actually slept until half past ten.

Outside sounds gradually filtered in—neighbors discussing the price of fried tofu at the community canteen today, how winter bamboo shoots at the convenience market had gone up in price again, and so on.

It must have been that phone call last night.

Mi Shanxin, uncharacteristically, didn’t laze in bed. She slowly booted up; the wristband app notified her that today’s sleep score was 65, a historical high. Deep sleep was also an astonishing forty minutes. Congratulations were in order.

Speaking of older than herself, how old was Jian Wanji?

Her friend’s kid was already in elementary school; she definitely wasn’t just in her early thirties.

Forty? With skin that good at forty, how much money had she spent on her face? She wasn’t even in some medical aesthetics industry, was she?

Mi Shanxin, who self-stimulated to sleep every day, could naturally compare this session’s sleep quality to previous ones. She didn’t want to admit it was connected to Jian Wanji. Yet the sensation of having slept well was too comfortable. She couldn’t suppress her mood, even humming a song while brushing her teeth.

If it were like this every day, might her dark circles become less severe?

Mi Shanxin very much wanted to tell Li Yin this good news, yet feared the other finding out the adult-content object of her dream was Jian Wanji. She’d definitely be lectured.

Because she’d slept too late today, Mi Shanxin didn’t linger at the coffee shop. Brunch was discount corn bought at the convenience store; she saved half, planning to eat it after class.

Unexpectedly, just arriving at the institution, she saw the woman sitting in the parents’ waiting area.

The other person sat with bold posture, quite like a raptor spreading its wings, perhaps also partly due to her coat’s peculiar design. At Jian Wanji’s hand was a take-out paper bag from a coffee shop; she held one cup herself and was idly chatting with a nearby parent. When she smiled, those eyes squinted until almost only a seam remained. It was visible at a glance she was no good thing.

And she, of all people, had done it in her dreams with this bad thing… Mi Shanxin lowered her head, carrying her backpack and circling around the waiting area. Before she could reach the inside to wait for the elevator, the woman chatting with the parent beside her had already spotted her, carrying the paper bag and chasing after her. That flirtatious voice matched the one in her dream exactly—

“Teacher Shanxin~”

She actually has more than one pair of eyes, probably extra hidden eyes rotating around her head, like radar.

Otherwise, how did she lock onto me at a glance amid the crowd coming and going?

Mi Shanxin cursed this person as annoying in her heart. Her expression remained the same listless, pretty doll-like face from yesterday’s meeting.

The doll also wouldn’t heed such frivolous greetings, silently chanting for the elevator doors to open.

“Still ignoring me.” Jian Wanji stood beside Mi Shanxin, extending the drink Mi Shanxin had thrown at her yesterday. “For you.”

Still wearing that worn-out dual-strap backpack, the zipper pull had broken off, clasped with a bitter-face pumpkin doll, practically the only splash of color on her—tender yellow, but smelling strongly of old ginger, probably very spicy when bitten.

“Don’t want it.” Mi Shanxin refused, staring at the elevator, continuing to silently chant for the elevator to hurry up.

“Don’t be so polite. This is what you deserve.” She wouldn’t take it. Jian Wanji pressed her hand, hooking the paper bag’s handle over her wrist.

Mi Shanxin’s sweatshirt sleeves were very long; she wouldn’t touch the other’s skin, but it inevitably looked awkward hanging there.

She hadn’t used much strength either. This kid was indeed exactly what you saw—exceedingly fragile, any random bird could peck her away.

The paper bag handle slipped. Mi Shanxin’s fingers hooked it and delivered it before Jian Wanji.

She still didn’t raise her head. Jian Wanji, looking down, could only see the top of her head, a double hair whorl. According to the older generation’s sayings, she should be smart and clever, yet she was so wooden and dull.

“Gave it to you. Throw it away if you don’t want it.”

“Oh.”

Mi Shanxin then headed towards the trash bin.

“You’re really throwing it away!” Jian Wanji hastily reached out and hooked the little teacher’s hood, forcibly pulling her back.

Just then, the elevator opened, and a crowd of kids squeezed out. Mi Shanxin’s appearance didn’t look the least bit teacher-like. Mixing among them held no sense of discord; she even seemed less mature than the middle schoolers wearing kids’ smartwatches.

Afraid Mi Shanxin would just be swallowed up by a mass of steaming, energetic middle schoolers like that, Jian Wanji pulled the person closer.

Her perfume was the same as yesterday, mixed with a bit of fabric softener scent, without neutralizing into any gentleness. The pungent fragrance swept over, and Mi Shanxin nearly threw up, coughing for quite a while.

Jian Wanji, on the other hand, feared she’d cough herself unconscious. Grateful she’d ordered juice, she passed it to Mi Shanxin.

“Don’t… cough cough cough… you drank from this… cough…” Still coughing, Mi Shanxin waved it off, trying to pull out her thermos from the side of her backpack. Reaching behind her wasn’t easy either. It was Jian Wanji who helped, unscrewing the lid of her thermos in passing.

By this time, the flock of students had walked far away. The elevator was already up; they’d have to wait another round.

“Truly hot enough…” Although Jian Wanji also had plenty of thermoses at home, she still wasn’t the type who, upon reaching a certain age, would cradle one. Going out, if she could avoid carrying heavy things, she did. The one time she tried health tea, it exploded in the thermos, scaring her. Goji berries bursting inside.

Mi Shanxin’s thermos bore many scratches, the bottom even indented, looking like it had been dropped many times.

Inside, however, it was washed spotlessly clean. Jian Wanji poured the water into the cup lid and passed it over. The little teacher showed not a trace of gratitude, even saying a sentence, “It’s all your fault.”

“How is it my fault again?” The woman was very aggrieved, naturally reaching out to smooth Mi Shanxin’s breathing, saying, “Why blame me? You coughed; I didn’t cause it.”

“It was you.” Mi Shanxin pushed Jian Wanji away. “Your perfume is very strong.”

She’d just finished coughing a moment ago. Now, to drink water, she pulled her mask down under her chin, revealing a face slightly flushed from coughing—not quite so paper-doll-like anymore.

“Me?” Jian Wanji smelled the scent on herself. “Very strong?”

Mi Shanxin listlessly made an “Mhm” sound. She took a sip of hot water, put the lid back on, and squeezed into the elevator the instant the doors were closing.

By the time Jian Wanji reacted, the person had already fled.

Her curved, smiling eyes revealed nothing like a sense of certain victory. She laughed, sighing: “A loach transformed. Think you can escape?”

Mi Shanxin’s calligraphy classes were all in the afternoon. She generally chose to prepare lessons in the morning, either getting ready in a coffee shop.

The lesson-prep content was usually for submission, more of a routine write-up of plans and summaries. When Mi Shanxin actually taught, she rarely followed the teaching plan. The little kids had endless problems—some even took a calligraphy brush and drew on their classmate’s hand. Just dealing with these trivialities of mutual accusations cost her half her life.

She didn’t acknowledge Jian Wanji, and even returned the drink the other had sent. Unexpectedly, merely after a trip to the restroom, upon returning to the classroom, she saw the adult sitting in the very back row.

Teacher Wang, who’d been waiting for her at the door, pulled her aside. Amid the sound of “Hello, Teacher Mi” as the little kids streamed into class, she said: “Shanxin, Ms. Jian knows our boss. She specially said hello. She’s here to audit your class. Perform well, alright?”

Mi Shanxin: …

Old, crafty adult.

Her eyes still resembled a pool of stagnant water. Usually, being stared at by her for too long, people felt somewhat creeped out.

Only the little kids liked it, saying Teacher Mi’s eyes looked like black hamburger buns. Teacher Wang thought that kid must’ve been hungry.

“Teacher Mi?” Teacher Wang called her once. “Think over the one-on-one matter again.”

“The fee is quite high too. We wouldn’t take too big a cut.”

Mi Shanxin thought: She even offered me a hundred thousand, no need to go through the institution.

“Got it.” Mi Shanxin turned and headed into the classroom. Jian Wanji, old enough that a second child could be this big, had already melded into a group of little kids, asking about some calligraphy supplies. Seeing Mi Shanxin come, she immediately sat up straight.

One lesson left Mi Shanxin mentally and physically exhausted. Seeing the students off, she tidied up the teaching materials in the classroom, organized the painting papers and other supplies. Merely washing the brushes took forever.

Jian Wanji walked to her side to help. Mi Shanxin didn’t even glance at her, and even put her mask back on, her disgust very obvious.

Jian Wanji laughed in spite of herself. “Got it. I’ll change my perfume starting tomorrow, okay?”

“What scent do you like?”

Mi Shanxin: “Sulfur soap.”

Jian Wanji purely asked out of masochism; she’d thought Mi Shanxin wouldn’t respond.

The kid actually replied. She was speechless for a long moment, unable to tell who was older, herself or Mi Shanxin.

She’d truly encountered one of those old-fashioned kids from the internet.

This was too old-fashioned. As for “honest,” she maintained a skeptical attitude.

Jian Wanji, seeking something from her, ran through several perfumes in her mind. “I’ll go buy a new one tonight.”

Mi Shanxin didn’t want to tangle with her: “I mean, stop coming.”

Her eyes were large, her lips very dry, the lip lines extremely distinct, looking urgently in need of moisturizing.

She frowned when she said this, not at all embarrassed by her blunt refusal, instead staring at Jian Wanji, emphasizing: “I already refused you.”

“I don’t accept.” Jian Wanji knew that from an age perspective, her begging a girl twenty years younger this way indeed counted as relentless pestering, but she couldn’t find a more suitable person than Mi Shanxin. “I’m not seeking love; I’m seeking a job, Teacher Shanxin.”

“A job search is also mutual selection,” Mi Shanxin spoke rigidly. “Please leave now.”

Jian Wanji sighed. “Then can you consider setting aside two hours every day to teach me one-on-one calligraphy?”

She knew this institution had this service. Given Mi Shanxin was a part-time teacher, the contract should be different.

Just as Mi Shanxin was about to refuse her, suddenly a backpack-toting kid leaned on the doorframe and called out doubtfully: “Aunt Daji?”

[T/N: Dàjí (大吉 – Great Luck) is spelled exactly the same as Dájǐ (妲己 – Daji), the infamous mythological fox spirit/femme fatale from Chinese lore.]

Mi Shanxin turned her head; Jian Wanji also looked over. The elementary schooler had a bowl cut, discovered no mistaken identity, and walked over. “Why are you here?”

Jian Wanji pointed at Mi Shanxin. “I’m hoping this teacher can teach me calligraphy.”

She, in turn, introduced to Mi Shanxin: “My friend—you met her yesterday. This is her daughter.”

The little one called out “Teacher” to Mi Shanxin and seemed slightly unconvinced by Jian Wanji’s statement. “Auntie, why do you suddenly want to learn calligraphy?”

Mi Shanxin silently packed her things, inwardly echoing the question.

Jian Wanji’s mouth always bloomed with flowers: “Isn’t it said one must live and learn? Adults can’t learn?”

Kids nowadays were terribly sharp. Mom and Jian Wanji were also friends; she must’ve overheard some things, and connected some dots herself. Her little gaze circled between Jian Wanji and Mi Shanxin, giving an “Oh.”

“I’m gonna tell Mom you’re pursuing my tutoring class teacher.”

Adjusting her backpack straps, Mi Shanxin accidentally detached one. Unexpectedly, Jian Wanji reacted even more strongly than her. “How could that be? I’m old enough to have given birth to this teacher.”

Mi Shanxin had no idea where the sudden displeasure came from but opened her mouth to jab at her: “Then you still want me to be your mother?”