I got out of the car and went upstairs. Zhu Erting and I split the fare AA style. Leaning against the elevator wall, I rubbed my head and reviewed the day’s events.
A sudden urge to escape made me want to just send a WeChat message to Li Yongquan saying I didn’t want to go on the trip.
I typed out a string of words, but then Li Yongquan suddenly messaged: Are you home yet?
I quietly cut and pasted what I’d typed into my notes app.
Li Yongquan sent an emoji sticker.
Jiang Huixiang: Yeah, I’m home. You should rest early too.
Li Yongquan sent a voice message: Alright, then think about that trip we’re planning. I checked, and next-next week… Tuesday or Thursday both work.
I glanced at the rejection in my notes and gritted my teeth, deleting it.
Jiang Huixiang: Okay, I’ll get back to you tomorrow.
After replying to WeChat in the elevator lobby, I hadn’t taken more than a few steps when I suddenly spotted something at my door.
A case of Pepsi, packaging intact, with a Jiaxing Supermarket price tag stuck on it, like it’d been snuck out from the store.
Gan Ling? I checked WeChat—no message from her.
Under the Pepsi was a note. I pulled it out and saw it was a Jiaxing Supermarket coupon: spend 100, get 5 off.
Fanta and cola… My fridge door was crammed full. I didn’t drink much soda anyway, so they were piling up. I shoved aside my yogurt to make space for the cola, tossed the coupon casually on the coffee table, sat on the sofa, and sank into the cushions like quicksand enveloping me, thick and sticky.
The trip with Li Yongquan and Liu Ming was set for next-next week’s Tuesday. I opened my notes and jotted it down.
My notes app held a ton of stuff—chat logs copied from WeChat, all pasted in and sorted by tags. A quick swipe showed everything.
Including a shopping list.
Most of the itinerary was outdoors, so I added sunscreen clothes, parasols, and such to my list. Early the next morning, I stuffed the coupon in my pocket and headed straight to Jiaxing Supermarket.
Relying on that spend-100-get-5-off deal, I grabbed a cart and bee-lined for the beverage aisle.
But standing there now was a young girl, obviously a summer temp, frozen stiff like she couldn’t open her mouth to recite the promo spiel. My cart wheels skidded to a stop. I randomly grabbed a pack of something from the laundry detergent area nearby and was surprised to find laundry powder prices hadn’t risen much, while liquid detergent was still pricey… So I got focused on comparing laundry powders.
A sudden “yo” came from behind me without warning.
I turned. Gan Ling had her hair casually tied back, eyes glancing up at my short hair. Her tongue poked out to wet her lips, like she was brewing a tease. Her eyes curved as she looked at the laundry powder in my hand. “You weren’t home the other day.”
“You didn’t say you were coming, so I went out with a friend.”
I wasn’t here for a confrontation. I kept calm, trying not to think about Zheng Chenggang or Shen Liu. I just looked down at the powder, then at Gan Ling, touched my hair—still felt weird. “I just cut it ’cause the weather’s too hot…”
“Looks good. Why explain it to me?”
“I’m not… I thought you’d ask.”
“I won’t. Suits you,” Gan Ling raised her hand like she wanted to ruffle it, but I didn’t duck, so she patted my arm instead. She pointed to the fresh produce aisle nearby. “I switched spots.”
“Oh, then carry on. I’ll just grab a few things.”
“What’re you buying?”
I pulled up my list. Gan Ling leaned in close. I hurriedly turned my phone away to block her view and stiffly read it out: “Sunscreen, parasol… sun hat…”
“Going somewhere?”
“Yeah, next-next week… with, uh, colleagues to the city for fun.”
“Male or female?” Gan Ling asked.
I started to say male, then suddenly got pissed. “What, you doing a census?”
A knowing look crept onto her face, like I’d already spilled my secrets all over it. But I was sure I didn’t like Li Yongquan—I just wanted to try dating, right here and now, so I’d agreed to hang out…
Under Gan Ling’s gaze, it felt like she’d seen right through my pettiness. I didn’t even like him, and here I was going anyway.
I dropped the laundry powder, said nothing, and shoved the cart—almost shoving her out of the way. She gripped it hard, and I couldn’t budge. “Why’re you mad? I was just asking.”
“I’m not mad.” I let go of the cart. Gan Ling released it too. Maybe the floor wasn’t level, or my arm bumped it—it wobbled off down the aisle on its own.
The cart seemed to wave bye-bye. The pack of powder that’d been standing upright toppled over.
Gan Ling yanked it back and shoved it into my hands.
“So you’re free next week, right?” Gan Ling and I both gripped the cart handle. It felt like we were wrestling over it. She looked at me sidelong, closer than any promo staff should be. I stepped back, and she suddenly raised her arm, rubbing my hair roughly.
“I’m busy.”
“Isn’t Bright Kindergarten on summer break already?”
I stammered. Busy with what? Busy fuming at Gan Ling, or lounging at home pondering how to talk to Li Yongquan without losing face at twenty-seven?
“W-well… well if I’m not busy, what’s up with you?”
“Wanna go swimming?”
“Huh?”
Gan Ling pressed my shoulder to wait, then darted through the shelves into an office.
Soon, a middle-aged guy in a suit came out. Gan Ling pointed at me, said something. He shook his head. Gan Ling rolled her eyes dramatically, hands out, rapid-fire talking. The guy had no choice but to pull a stack of colorful tickets from his pocket, handing her two.
Gan Ling checked them, said something else. He pulled out two more. She shook the first two, stacked them with the new ones, shook hands with his outstretched palm. The guy got flustered, jabbering away. Gan Ling grinned, shoved him back into the office, slammed the door—like locking him in jail, totally righteous—then sauntered back to me.
After that little pantomime, Gan Ling waved four employee spa passes in front of me, studied them, tore off two, and gave them to me. I checked the dates: next Tuesday and Wednesday.
“They opened a new hot spring pool over by Liujia Village. This covers food and stay, for swimming.” Gan Ling gave the quick rundown, then pushed me toward another aisle. “Sunscreen clothes and swimsuits are over there. Go on.”
She hadn’t even considered I might say no. I stood there fuming for a bit, clutching the coupon, but couldn’t come up with a reason to refuse.
What was this about? I was so distracted at checkout that I forgot to use the spend-100-get-5-off coupon.
Next to me, the cart-organizing lady was chattering happily: “I’m taking my girl. She’s been nagging about it forever!”
The cashier lady popped open the change drawer, fished out two 10-cent coins, tossed them into my bag with the receipt, then turned to her. “Nice. Your man doesn’t mind?”
“How’s he gonna compete with a kid?”
Jiaxing Supermarket employees were all thrilled. Summer meant more temp hires, so veteran staff could take three-day breaks in shifts, splittable. Most workers here were moms, so when the manager handed out group spa passes, it was assumed you could bring one family member.
I pieced it together while pretending to rest on a bench out front. So Gan Ling had pointed at me and jawed at the manager—she’d strong-armed me in as “family.” He’d shaken his head no, but Gan Ling was shameless and bullied her way into scoring the supermarket’s perks.
Before Gan Ling clocked out, I left early, wheeled my cart into a dim alley with little light. She was walking; I trailed behind on my e-bike, wheels crunching. Luckily, the night breeze covered my tracks.
I saw Gan Ling carrying a bag, heading down the auto repair street. She pushed open a lamb scorpion hotpot shop. A thick power line dangled at the door, with a greasy yellow bulb hanging, casting a fan-shaped glow. Flies buzzed around the line. The door opened, and a blast of booze stench roared out.
I parked, watched her go in with the bag.
Glanced around, locked my bike at a bigger still-open restaurant’s entrance. Edged forward carefully—scared someone might pop out behind me, or Gan Ling might emerge and catch my shady stalking. Hugging the wall, I crept ahead, tense as hell.
Finally at the hotpot door. Through the glass, hiding behind a van, I could hear drunk guys hollering inside.
Ears perked, I caught bits like “dead,” “don’t know,” “rotten bitch.”
No heavy thuds, at least.
Suddenly the door flew open. I crouched low in the van tire’s shadow.
Out stumbled a bloated, unsteady fat guy, fumbling his belt, yanking it with clanks. No toilet in sight, he bumbled along—three steps, two against the wall—braced at the base, feet duck-waddling forever before steadying. Pants down—sssssh—
I dodged. The door opened again. Gan Ling emerged, bag gone. She suddenly looked my way, voice stern: “What the hell are you doing there!”
Busted.
I could only stand up, like a whack-a-mole that had admitted defeat. Gan Ling’s face was full of surprise and bewilderment, but she didn’t say anything. She just slightly shifted her gaze, and the man peeing against the wall turned his head, immediately covering his dick and awkwardly turning his back.
Gan Ling walked toward me.
Only then did I realize her words had been about that peeing man—I had walked right into the trap. In my panic, I couldn’t think of any other strategy. Making excuses or quibbling had nothing to do with me; this mouth of mine was only for telling the truth. I only had two options: silence or honest confession. Lowering my head, I resigned myself to a scolding and tightly shut my eyes.
Thud.
Gan Ling crooked her finger and knocked my forehead.
“You were following me?”
She didn’t seem very angry, just lifting her chin slightly as always, looking down at me with a touch of arrogance and using her height advantage to put a lot of pressure on me.
“A momentary impulse…”
“Oh? The more you try to cover it up, the more obvious it gets—that means you’ve been following me for a while?” Gan Ling was sharp at reading between the lines. She hugged her arms, tilting her head down to scrutinize my expression.
I turned away, not wanting to expose my thoughts any further, and could only say, “You suddenly invited me to go swimming… I thought it felt weird.”
Gan Ling just placed a finger to her lips, rubbing it lightly as she pondered, then knocked on my shoulders—two taps on each side.
“What?”
“When heading out at night, you need to ward off evil spirits. Thud thud—knocking twice scares off the little ghost trailing behind you, so it won’t dare follow. I’m going home. You still planning to tail me?”
She threw the threat out casually, her expression turning gloomy to match. I couldn’t shake the feeling that her “little ghost” was a barbed reference to me, but I didn’t call her on it.
“I’m not a kid anymore… Let me walk you home. I rode my electric bike.”
I hadn’t expected the battery to die after dropping her off.
At her place, she acted perfectly natural, chuckling a few times as she poured ice lemon water from the thermos. I clutched the cup, waiting for the electric bike to charge in the yard. In the dead silence, Gan Ling sat sideways on the edge of the bed, her slippers dangling from her feet. She sipped her water while watching me, her smile warm in a way I never could’ve imagined from our first meeting.
Why wasn’t she asking? How much did she know? I gripped my one pathetic trump card, not daring to gamble with her or probe her—I’d lose for sure. My only shot at winning was the matter of Zheng Ningning.
But on a night like this, for some reason, I didn’t want to bring up something so painful.
Gan Ling suddenly reached out and rubbed the back of my head. “Your family doesn’t flatten your head when you sleep, huh.”
“Um… We were originally going to, but my mom’s views were a bit Western-influenced, so we skipped it. Turned out fine.” I felt a little awkward too, head down, turning myself into an auspicious stone lion as Gan Ling rubbed the back of my head for ages.
Her five fingers kneaded behind my skull. Once she’d had her fill, she laughed again. “This back of the head is exactly why I got into a fight with Zheng Chenggang. He listened to his mom—flat-headed sleep makes kids obedient and lucky. I said there’s no way in hell I’d let a kid sleep flat-headed… Turns out Ningning’s head shape ended up looking great.”
She was the one who’d brought up Zheng Chenggang.
“He’s such a pain… Totally infuriating. Most dads are total failures!” I said.
Gan Ling deftly changed the subject. “It’s past eleven by the time it charges up. I’m getting sleepy. The little shop outside is still open—grab a toothbrush and crash here tonight.”
She hadn’t seemed sleepy when she came looking for me in the dead of night, but now that she said it, I felt tired too.
Gan Ling paid for the tooth cup and toothbrush. We brushed facing the drainage ditch in the yard, gurgle gurgle. I spat out the foam, and Gan Ling’s gaze traveled from the top of my head to my ears to my mouth, like I was putting on a brushing show for her.
Gurgling a mouthful of water, I mumbled unclearly, “Why do you keep staring at me?”
She hadn’t caught it; she’d already finished brushing and was holding her towel, lowering her eyes to study me thoughtfully. “You’re only twenty-seven. Still young.”
“Mm.” I spat out the water and wiped my mouth. “Back when you were in first year of junior high, I was in first year of high school… No need to pull the ‘elder’ card.”
“I never went back to school after the middle school entrance exam…”
“Me too.”
After chiming in, I realized I’d blown a prime chance to dig into Gan Ling’s story. I always fumbled the best openings, leaving me standing there awkwardly, like I was faced with a yard full of loose thread ends and no clue where to start.
