Then she pulled Bai Kou subtly closer and scolded in a low voice: “Grown up and gotten bold, huh? Who told you to come running over without a word! Don’t you know it’s dangerous!”
Bai Kou finally reacted. The hand not grabbed went to her hip: “What the heck! How did you know!”
After exchanging contact info with her new friend and saying thanks as she saw her off,
Yang Wanxi slung Bai Kou’s backpack over one shoulder onto her right side, her face expressionless and tone unkind: “Do you have any safety awareness when going out, kid? You just follow a stranger because you know her? Unfamiliar place and you don’t worry about getting sold!”
“She’s from your school—”
“So no bad people at our school?” Yang Wanxi cut her off sharply. “She says it and you believe her!”
“…” Bai Kou thought about it and realized she had a point.
But she still felt the girl seemed nice, and who would fly just to scam someone? The cost was too high.
As Bai Kou looked down and grumbled inwardly, Yang Wanxi realized her temper might have flared a bit too much. She looked away and quietly exhaled.
That morning, she’d just woken up thinking Yang Dengpao’s dog food was almost gone and called her mom while yawning. Then, hearing Yang Yingyun casually say, “I heard little Doudou went to Nanjing to find you,” she snapped awake.
“What?!”
That morning was truly a life-or-death rush for Yang Wanxi. She quickly packed up and rushed alone from school to the airport.
By the time she arrived, Bai Kou’s flight had less than ten minutes until landing.
Her temper was already burning hot, and seeing Bai Kou come out chatting and laughing with a stranger made Yang Wanxi so mad she almost wanted to give her a beating.
Back then, when they were little, Bai Kou had been a completely defenseless kid.
Yang Wanxi still remembered it was one summer, she was in sixth grade, and took Bai Kou to Xinhua Bookstore.
They’d planned to head back before dark, but Bai Kou got hooked on a comic book, tugging her hand and whining, “Just one more page, just one more!” Unable to resist, Yang Wanxi simply sat beside her and picked up a comic herself.
Once she started, she got hooked too.
When she got Yang Yingyun’s call, it was already dark outside the bookstore windows.
They hurried toward the door. Yang Wanxi was buying a book, head down paying.
Then she heard the cashier ask: “Little one, is that your parent?”
One saw a person dressed in a black hoodie on a hot summer day, wearing a duckbill cap, a mask, and even gloves, squatting in front of Bai Kou and talking to her while holding her hand.
In that instant, Yang Wanxi was bewildered. Her first reaction was, who is this and why are they dressed so strangely?
When she saw that person stand up, grab Bai Kou, and try to drag her away…
Yang Wanxi’s whole body jolted. She shouted loudly, “Who are you! Bai Kou, come here!” She desperately rushed toward them.
The commotion drew the attention of all the adults at the entrance. The strange person panicked and fled without a clear path.
“Oh my god, was that a human trafficker?”
“That kid is in too much danger!”
…
Amid the discussions from everyone gathered around, Yang Wanxi held Bai Kou tightly in her arms. Her heart nearly jumped out of her throat.
That evening when Bai Kou went home, she seemed to have a fever. She had no appetite, poked at a couple bites of congee, said she was sleepy, went into her room, and fell asleep as soon as she hit the bed.
Recalling this incident on the subway, Yang Wanxi kept lecturing Bai Kou nonstop: “Next time you’re alone outside, don’t casually talk to strangers. Can’t you just act aloof? You always say at the start of school that you’re going to be a high-cold person.”
“Hey, hey, hey.” Bai Kou poked Yang Wanxi’s arm. “How can you lump these two things together?”
“How not?” Yang Wanxi said. “You’re only almost kidnapped because you think everyone’s a good person.”
“That was because I was young and clueless.”
Yang Wanxi shot Bai Kou an annoyed glance.
After a while, Bai Kou looked at Yang Wanxi’s reflection in the glass and said, “I even said I’d go to your school for Auntie Yang to catch you. You’re really not planning to go out on Qingming Festival? It’s your birthday.”
“You’d catch me.” Yang Wanxi laughed. “I’m planning to treat the whole dorm to hotpot on the evening of the 4th. Does that count as going out?”
“Your birthday is just hotpot.” Bai Kou muttered. “No sense of ceremony at all. Not grand enough.”
“So you’re planning to sneak into Nanjing without a word, get lost, and give me a grand birthday, right?”
Bai Kou covered Yang Wanxi’s mouth. “I was wrong, sis. Can we not talk about it?”
Yang Wanxi huffed, pushed Bai Kou’s hand away, and smiled. “I’m not your sis. I don’t have her good temper.”
The subway lights suddenly flickered at that moment.
They went out.
Low exclamations rose in the pitch-black carriage.
Bai Kou gripped the handrail tightly and tilted her head to observe, but she felt Yang Wanxi pull her close. Then, they switched positions. Yang Wanxi quickly maneuvered her into a safe corner.
In less than ten seconds, the lights came back on, and the subway broadcast issued an apologetic announcement.
At that moment, Yang Wanxi’s back was still in front of Bai Kou, her right arm extended horizontally, carving out a space for Bai Kou.
“Oh! Yang Wanxi, you really are secretly doing bad things behind Auntie Yang’s back!”
Bai Kou accompanied Yang Wanxi back to school to pick up a few clothes. Then, puzzled, she was led by Yang Wanxi to a residential complex about twenty minutes’ walk from the school.
Yang Wanxi gave her a glance.
Click. She turned on the living room light.
White walls, pink floor tiles. To the left upon entering was a wooden table, and further left, a kitchen separated by a sliding door. It looked extremely basic.
The living room on the right was even more exaggerated. A white cloth draped messily over a wooden sofa, a glass coffee table and wooden one jammed together discordantly. On top sat an opened pack of tissues, two marker pens, and a bottle of glass cleaner.
“…” Bai Kou stood dumbfounded, nudged aside the green trash bin on the floor without a bag, walked up to the only cabinet full of stuff—the TV stand—bent down, and picked up a disc. “No way, VCDs in this day and age?”
“Not watching.” Yang Wanxi walked over and took the case from Bai Kou’s hand. “Bought it to collect. I’m taking it back during summer break.”
“Why would you rent such an ugly place?” Bai Kou asked.
She even walked to the wall and pointed at a white square patch. “What’s this mean? Wall broken, just pasted with paper?”
“No idea.” Yang Wanxi turned to tidy the plastic case. “I just rented it.”
“You.” Bai Kou dropped her arm. “So why did you move out?”
Why?
When Li Wan suggested filming a movie together, Yang Wanxi’s face froze for a moment.
“Huh? Me?”
Though Bai Kou wasn’t as crazy about idols as before these past few years, Yang Wanxi still often saw Li Wan’s name pop up on various platforms.
Li Wan’s recent films hadn’t done well. “Future Media’s leading lady becomes box office poison.” Even so, Yang Wanxi still thought, you’re Li Wan—why pick me?
Li Wan laughed and said straightforwardly, “I can help polish your acting skills slowly. I just think you resemble Teacher Li Mengjun.”
Li Wan hadn’t told Yang Wanxi who the director was, but she directly sent the script to Yang Wanxi—these things happened around New Year’s.
It was a film with a same-sex theme.
Of course, Yang Wanxi didn’t mind that.
Before she could ask the next question, Li Wan seemed to anticipate it and added, “Audition in May. If you pass, join the crew in June.”
Yang Wanxi thought it over and still printed out the script.
The script was called Sad Confession.
“C-Can I really open it?” A movie script! Bai Kou saw one for the first time. It just looked like an ordinary stack of paper with sticky notes.
“Yeah, open it if you want to see.” Not for others, but Bai Kou could.
Bai Kou held her breath and flipped open the first page carefully, as if opening Pandora’s box.
While Bai Kou read the script, Yang Wanxi swept the living room clean with a broom. Passing by Bai Kou, she said, “The bedroom isn’t tidied today. Want to crash on the sofa or go to a hotel?”
Bai Kou: “…I’m staying here alone?”
“Hm?” Yang Wanxi responded with a monosyllable, looked back at the anxious face, suddenly wanted to tease her, and said, “Yeah. Or do you need me to come from school to keep you company?”
“Of course! I need you to stay with me!”
Yang Wanxi: “…” She touched her nose, averted her gaze, and said deeply, “Oh, I’ll stay and sleep here too.”
The bedroom wasn’t tidied, but there were enough sheets and bedding. Worst case, Bai Kou on the sofa and her on the floor—or better yet, go to a hotel. Yang Wanxi didn’t know what got into her to insist on bringing Bai Kou to see the place.
Hearing Yang Wanxi say she’d “stay and sleep here too,” Bai Kou pointed at the sofa.
“You mean, squeeze two people on this tiny sofa?”
Yang Wanxi was incredibly resourceful.
She led Bai Kou to buy a new mattress, pushed the coffee tables in the living room to the sides, and placed the mattress in the center.
Bai Kou’s gaze followed Yang Wanxi’s busy figure back and forth.
Mattress, sheets, pillows, quilt…
Incredibly fast, it was made up.
“Yang Kuikui.” Bai Kou spoke up.
“Hm?”
“My mom says sleeping on the floor brings dampness.”
Thud. Yang Wanxi tossed another pillow onto the bed and turned to look at her. “Did Auntie Bai ever say little kids shouldn’t run off inexplicably to Nanjing and go off with strangers?”
Bai Kou pressed her hands together. “OK, sorry.”
Out of province, no data, but luckily, Yang Wanxi’s rundown rental had WiFi.
While Bai Kou sprawled on the mattress chatting with someone, Yang Wanxi ran to the supermarket outside the complex and bought back two little sun heaters—electric radiant heaters that plugged in, glowed red, and resembled fans.
One little sun by Bai Kou’s head, one by her feet, on the lowest setting, positioned just right—not too hot, not too cold.
“Yang Kuikui, aren’t we overdoing it with heaters in April?”
During message gaps, Bai Kou twisted her head toward the person on the sofa studying the script.
“Better overdone than waking up cold in the middle of the night.” Yang Wanxi drawled. “Big winds at night lately, and this place is barren as a bare house—”
“Haha! You do think this place is kinda rundown!”
Yang Wanxi lowered the script, looking at Bai Kou with a half-smile.
Then Bai Kou’s WeChat pinged.
Bai Kou looked down and entered a state of bubbling pink hearts all night, fingers flying across the keys.
“…”
Yang Wanxi lifted the script she’d lingered on the first page of for a long time, thought for a moment, set it down, stood up, and while Bai Kou wasn’t paying attention, went to pull open the drawer and took out scissors.
Before the sharp blades closed, Yang Wanxi stared at the router’s cord in deep thought for a good while.
Snip.
“Huh?” Bai Kou’s puzzled voice rang out. “Why’d the internet suddenly go out?”
