Chapter 8: MAMA-08

MAMA-08: You are nineteen years older than me.

Jian Wanji almost thought she’d misheard. She had been prepared for Mi Shanxin to be difficult to persuade, not expecting the other girl to change her mind so easily.

She suspected a trap, but a pale, gaunt girl was telling her she was hungry.

Even if there was nothing between them, Jian Wanji would still treat her to a meal.

Of course, it couldn’t be the very first meeting; she’d been burned like that before.

“What do you want to eat?” Jian Wanji’s trademark smile appeared again. “Just name it.”

“Braised Pork.” Mi Shanxin didn’t hesitate.

The woman was a bit surprised and asked curiously, “That simple?”

Mi Shanxin asked again: “Are you going to make it for me then?”

Jian Wanji tilted her head slightly. Under the stray hairs covering her ear, she seemed to be wearing unusual earrings, but their height difference was too great for Mi Shanxin to see clearly.

As a woman many years Mi Shanxin’s senior, Jian Wanji certainly didn’t match Mi Shanxin’s impression of someone approaching forty.

Lots of little gestures, strangely not annoying, but rather quite interesting. No wonder a bunch of kids had been clustered around her before class, talking.

“You’re not going to make things difficult by forcing me to start from raising a pig, are you?” Jian Wanji retorted.

That was quite annoying, making Mi Shanxin seem utterly wicked.

“No.” Mi Shanxin was wearing her backpack. Jian Wanji remembered there was a computer inside, a big old clunker. The charger looked no different from an e-bike charger, not lightweight at all.

Combined with Mi Shanxin’s height and overly fragile frame, it was like she was carrying a pack of explosives to school… no, to teach.

“So it’s just Braised Pork? Easy.” Jian Wanji said as she reached out towards Mi Shanxin. The girl retreated a step warily. The woman laughed. “What are you afraid of? I’ll help you carry your backpack.”

No one had ever helped Mi Shanxin carry her backpack. She shook her head, refusing. “No need.”

“No wonder you’re so tiny…” Just as Jian Wanji finished speaking, the backpack was shoved in front of her. Mi Shanxin met her eyes. Seeing Jian Wanji’s bewildered look, she pushed the backpack further into her arms. “Didn’t you say you’d help?”

A temperamental girl.

The woman reached out to take it, letting out an exaggerated “Oof,” as if she could barely lift it. “So heavy~”

Mi Shanxin just stood aside silently, watching her performance. Only then did Jian Wanji return to normal. “Not funny?”

Mi Shanxin: “You’re funnier.”

Jian Wanji: …

The strange adult’s car was parked in the center’s parking lot. Mi Shanxin followed her. The woman seemed to have an endless supply of words, introducing restaurants that might meet Mi Shanxin’s needs in an unstoppable stream, then asking Mi Shanxin, “Besides Braised Pork?”

The little girl’s voice still sounded very light, unlike Jian Wanji’s robust, bright, and clear voice.

Talking to Mi Shanxin also required full concentration; you couldn’t be distracted.

“…Not pre-made, that’s all.” Mi Shanxin thought for a moment. “Is there Sprite Bitter Gourd?”

Jian Wanji thought she had misheard. “What?”

Mi Shanxin repeated: “Sprite Bitter Gourd.”

When she’d told Li Yin she liked it, Li Yin had the same reaction—as if it were a gastronomic monstrosity.

“I knew I read you right,” Jian Wanji clicked her tongue. The sound of her high heels on the ground was muffled, contrasting with her somewhat brighter tone. “The old lady at my place loves this dish too.”

Mi Shanxin didn’t pry about her family, more concerned about her own needs: “So is there a restaurant like that?”

The car headlights flashed ahead. Jian Wanji opened the passenger door first, tucked Mi Shanxin inside, then opened the back door and placed Mi Shanxin’s backpack in the rear.

Mi Shanxin watched her movements intently. She’d expected this person’s personality wouldn’t qualify for “handle with care,” but surprisingly, Jian Wanji was quite reliable.

“Don’t worry, I know your backpack is your treasure.” Jian Wanji got into the car, remembering the drink she’d wanted to give Mi Shanxin. “Since you won’t drink what I give you, I gave it to the receptionist girl.”

She enunciated the word “girl” with an especially flirtatious lilt, completely unlike her friend. Mi Shanxin frowned slightly, and Jian Wanji noticed.

“Don’t worry, if you work with me, I can treat you every day, and the money I promised won’t be a cent less.” Probably because she’d just been accused of sexual harassment and lechery, Jian Wanji’s wording was noticeably more careful. Mi Shanxin guessed it was more because of the child named Yueyue’s shocking words in the classroom, prompting Jian Wanji to want to avoid suspicion.

“What other benefits are there to being your mother?” Mi Shanxin blurred the word ‘cooperation’ as she asked.

Mi Shanxin wasn’t as wooden as Jian Wanji thought. Perhaps her sleep quality had been better than ever lately; her mind was very clear today.

Unfortunately, the woman wouldn’t know what the girl and her dream-self had done.

Jian Wanji input her usual restaurant into the GPS, her voice sounding almost like a sigh. “Didn’t you just say I was sexually harassing you? Now you’re being vague. That’s a bit unfair, isn’t it?”

Mi Shanxin’s expression remained one that wouldn’t change even if the sky fell: “There are lots of things unfair in this world.”

Jian Wanji was amused by her. “I think you shouldn’t be in the Calligraphy Department. You should be studying Philosophy.”

Mi Shanxin: “Then I’d have even less chance of finding a job after graduation.”

Jian Wanji put on an exaggerated expression. “You’re only a sophomore. Why are you worrying about employment?”

The college girl in the passenger seat had eyes with too much sclera, like she was mocking a successful person’s optimism about the current job market.

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“I wouldn’t say I don’t understand. You have my business card, right? You know what I do, right?”

“Threw it away.”

“…As expected.” Jian Wanji’s feigned tearfulness was also fake. “It’s okay, if you really can’t find a job, come find me.”

“As long as my company doesn’t go bankrupt, I can always find you a position.”

Mi Shanxin reminded her: “I haven’t agreed to be your mother yet.”

Jian Wanji laughed: “What’s this? Are you hinting I should give you a job for this?”

“Sharp mind, Student Shanxin~”

Her speaking habit with the trailing drawl again… Mi Shanxin couldn’t help but ask: “How old are you exactly?”

Jian Wanji wasn’t planning to hide it: “Thirty-nine.”

Mi Shanxin let out an “Oh.” “Forty years old.”

Jian Wanji coughed. “Not yet.”

But Mi Shanxin, using some mysterious calendar, thought for a moment and said: “It’s the New Year at the end of the month, so you’ll be forty-one.”

“Your math is scarier than an old person’s.” Jian Wanji couldn’t help saying. “Are you really a college student? Pensions aren’t calculated by nominal age, you know.”

“I doubt I’ll live to retirement age,” Mi Shanxin answered seriously. “You’re nineteen years older than me, Jian Wanji.”

“How come you’re calling me by my full name? Shouldn’t you be calling me ‘Auntie’?” Jian Wanji had long passed the age of caring about her age. The most unbearable time was probably puberty when everything was sloppy. After starting work, achieving financial independence, no longer having to face her grandmother’s resentment, she finally moved from murky to clear.

Whether “big sister” or “Auntie,” she accepted it all. Time was the most impartial thing. Scorn and abuse born from age would always become a boomerang.

Because everyone would reach that day eventually, unless they suddenly died young.

“You want me to be your mother, how can I call you Auntie?” Mi Shanxin easily turned the question back. “You don’t have kids?”

Jian Wanji: “No.”

Mi Shanxin asked again: “Married?”

Her interrogation was rigid, making Jian Wanji laugh loudly. She corrected the logical error in the questioning order. “Shouldn’t you ask if I’m married first, then if I have kids?”

As if she’d faced such questions countless times before, with a standard answer ready.

“You don’t have to be married to have kids. You’re so old-fashioned.”

Mi Shanxin was even slow-paced teaching at the center. Today, Jian Wanji had sat in on a class with the person in charge’s permission and discovered she was somewhat different in class. Her dead, lifeless eyes seemed more animated, and her metaphors were novel. No wonder kids chose her.

Well, compared to the stern head teacher, a young, deadpan-humorous, and pretty teacher like Mi Shanxin made for a livelier classroom.

Even if she dressed haphazardly and was clumsy, getting ink on her own pants while teaching writing, then claiming the turtle a kid drew on the back of their hand wasn’t vivid enough, and hers was the best.

Was that something to compete over?

This was far more entertaining than the symphony tickets her friend had given her. Jian Wanji, who was being ignored, rarely found something this absorbing. She could find subtle similarities between Mi Shanxin and her deceased mother, but more importantly, the distinct, separate differences.

“That’s old-fashioned?” Jian Wanji was always considered avant-garde. Though her indignation now was partly teasing, her emotion was real. “I never said you couldn’t.”

“Think what you want.” Mi Shanxin shut her down with a single sentence again.

Jian Wanji let out a long sigh. The girl put on her mask, seemingly still feeling her perfume was too aggressive.

This was Jian Wanji being thoroughly rejected on all fronts for the first time in her life. She chuckled wryly for a moment, then, prompted by the GPS voice, asked Mi Shanxin, “What about you then, not straight yourself. Is your girlfriend also a college student?”

Mi Shanxin asked, puzzled: “What makes you think I have a girlfriend?”

Jian Wanji: “The shop clerk said you’re there almost every day. It’s always either a Frappuccino or Steamed Milk.”

Considering Mi Shanxin’s worn backpack, fraying cuffs, battle-damaged thermos… guessing her financial situation was easy.

Jian Wanji knew better than to judge people by appearances, but Mi Shanxin’s demeanor wasn’t that of a hidden tycoon in a tank top and flip-flops coming to negotiate business. Jian Wanji had accidentally glimpsed her WeChat wallet balance earlier—four digits, with a decimal point in the middle.

Probably left with almost nothing after a transfer. Even if there was still money on a card, she wasn’t the type to buy coffee costing twenty or thirty kuai, or spend over twenty on a hot cup of Steamed Milk.

Mi Shanxin frowned. “What does that have to do with a girlfriend?”

Just then, the GPS directions ended. Jian Wanji parked by the roadside, having to maneuver back and forth several times for the perfect reverse parking, getting honked at at least three times.

The woman’s fingernails, gripping the steering wheel, weren’t done with obvious nail art like her friend’s. They seemed only to have a base coat, gleaming slightly as the light swept over—almost contradicting her personality and flirtatious tone.

“If it’s not a girlfriend, then it’s a gift card from a good friend.” Jian Wanji knew self-esteem was strong at that age and didn’t intend to expose her. But she really didn’t have much time to spare. After all, people could die suddenly. Even if the doctor said time was short, she couldn’t be sure of the countdown on the life-and-death ledger.

Organs failing, like a candle guttering in the wind. Her grandmother’s life was reaching its end, still wondering where her daughter was.

She’d mistake anyone for her daughter, then shake her head in disappointment. Yet she still recognized Jian Wanji.

Discovering it was her, she’d show that cold expression Jian Wanji knew so well.

Clearly, her daughter and a granddaughter this old couldn’t exist simultaneously. Yet her favoritism was still exposed.

Still, Jian Wanji wanted to give her this.

“It is a good friend.” Mi Shanxin hugged her backpack. Her sitting posture was a lot like the little bear plushie Jian Wanji had strapped in before, meant to be given to Yueyue—docile under the slightest restraint.

But the girl didn’t have plastic wrapping or a binding red rope. She wasn’t a gift.

She looked at Jian Wanji, remembering her absurd dream and the incredibly light state of her body from sleeping so well, contemplating other possibilities.

But she wasn’t that bold yet. She’d only even learned to masturbate this year.

Mi Shanxin had something she wanted to confirm.

She was rarely this nervous. Looking at Jian Wanji, she involuntarily blinked a few more times, much like a lifelike resin doll given a soul through the dotting of its eyes.

“You’re not married. Is it because you have a girlfriend?”

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The original name seemed non-compliant, changed it a bit, might change again. [Facepalm+Laughing Crying emoji]