The exhibition had free entry, but required scanning a code to register our info. Li Yongquan and I both pulled out our phones. Gan Ling’s messages were like stubborn bangs on my screen, popping down one after another right in front of my eyes. After I finished registering and took a screenshot, I switched back to her chat.
Gan Ling: Are you really Jiang Xiaohui herself?
Gan Ling: Say something.
Gan Ling: I’m calling you with voice.
Even though she was looking at me with no surprises, this woman still had to imagine one out of thin air. To prove my innocence, I glanced at Li Yongquan and sent a voice message: What?
Gan Ling: Then I’ll go get busy.
Gan Ling: Hit me up if anything.
Gan Ling: [Mini-program message]
I tapped it open—it was a Q&A: How to set one-tap dialing? How to set an emergency contact?
I’m not some rebellious high school girl who sneaks off to fool around with boys without thinking. Gan Ling’s two messages left me chuckling helplessly.
Li Yongquan walked over from the other corner of the line, flashing his screenshot. “See? Let’s head in.”
This guy was clearly super curious about who I’d been chatting with just now. When I said it was Zhu Erting, he dropped it.
I snapped a few photos at the exhibition to save for Moments later and sent some to Gan Ling. While I was showering, she asked how my impressions of the day were. I said I didn’t have any yet—tell her tomorrow.
And tomorrow, I did.
In Li Yongquan’s eyes, I’m this mysterious figure running parallel to Zhu Erting, sensing the world through her like some human antenna. I’ve holed myself up in my private little plot of land, and he’s itching to pioneer and expand into my territory. He wants to know what the female Teacher Jiang Xiaohui outside of Bright Kindergarten is like after hours—what her social circles, hobbies, habits, and every move are. He finds it all so enigmatic and intriguing, like hidden Easter eggs in life.
Built on that mystery is an expectation—that before the mystery, I’m ordinary. No social life, no connections. Anything I do outside of work feels fresh to him. At an age where he’s patiently eager to understand women, he probes with enthusiasm, seeing profound meaning in everything I do.
Like when I snap a photo of some artifact with a big head and skinny neck—Li Yongquan comes asking if I’ve studied it before or if it ties to some story from my past. I say no, I just felt like it on a whim.
Or when I’m walking and suddenly reach up to touch a tree branch—he imagines it as some romantic youthful fancy from my girlhood and blurts out questions like a dummy. I tell him no, I was just bored and my hand got itchy, like how guys suddenly want to shoot hoops while walking.
This whole day, my actions were totally normal, but I kept feeling like Li Yongquan might want to submit me to some “confusing girl date behavior” compilation.
I thought Li Yongquan was overflowing with curiosity. He had to ask about every little thing I did, one two three four, like a kid who hasn’t grown up yet.
Zhu Erting replied: Aren’t you two on a date? You’re pretty patient. Isn’t this the whole point of getting to know each other? Can’t you tell he just wants to understand you?
Jiang Huixiang: emmmmmm. Then I’ll try harder.
Just as I replied, Gan Ling chimed in: Shows he’s not using his brain. Eyes are enough to figure you out, but he has to ask like a blockhead.
Jiang Huixiang: ……
Gan Ling: Pointless. Head back ASAP.
I closed WeChat, and these two opinions started tug-of-warring in my head.
Back in the day—whatever, I never hung out with guys anyway, so no need for anyone’s advice.
I hastily replied to a few WeChats while lying down. Gan Ling and Zhu Erting both logged off to sleep. I plugged in my phone to charge, leaned against the pillow, and dozed off.
The next day’s plan was to climb Le Mountain—which isn’t actually called Le Mountain. At the base, the tour group was listening to the guide explain a huge stone stele. Turns out, the mountain’s real name is Lema Mountain. Legend has it a high monk was chased here by a general during a persecute-Buddhism campaign. The monk said this was his chosen cultivation spot and told the general to drop his blade and turn back. The general refused, so the monk asked to recite one last sutra. The general agreed. The monk chanted right there, instantly enlightening the general, who reined in his horse and left. Hence, Lema Mountain—but due to the dialect, “Lema” sounded like cursing someone’s ancestors, so it became Le Mountain.
There’s a temple on Le Mountain said to be super efficacious. Li Yongquan and Liu Ming’s goal was to make wishes there.
Though I no longer served God, going to other faiths’ places still gave me that uneasy “enemy territory” vibe. Plus, my stamina sucked—I really couldn’t climb anymore—so I stopped at the midway stall selling wish plaques to wait.
Liu Ming tightened his backpack straps. “I’ll get a talisman for you then? Pray for you to get filthy rich.”
“Borrow your lucky words.”
Since my first impression of Liu Ming wasn’t great, I took that as sarcastic shade.
Li Yongquan tossed his bag to me, grabbed a water bottle, pocketed his phone, and stepped onto the stairs with one leg. “You really not going? Watch my bag then—I’ll be right back down.”
I eyed the mediocre sausages and corn on the cob typical of every scenic spot. “Sure. Message me when you’re coming down, and I’ll grab you a sausage.”
Liu Ming jumped in right away. “Get a big sausage. Extra large.”
He gestured with his hands. Li Yongquan kicked him, grinned at me, then threw an arm around Liu Ming’s neck in that rough bro affection and shoved him up the stairs. The two headed up, vanishing around the bend. I found a shady spot, sat on a rock with my own bag on my back, and hugged Li Yongquan’s bag to my chest.
Honestly, I don’t find travel all that fun.
I’m the boring, conservative Jiang Xiaohui—no ambition to broaden horizons. Never left the province growing up, rarely even toured the city. Not great at entertaining myself.
When idle, I’d sit home doing crafts—cutting stickers, folding paper figures, buying stacks of colored paper to fill a box with bright colors. Or watch movies, go downstairs for noodles, hit the supermarket. Days blander than plain water.
No swimming, no karaoke, no movies, no gaming, no sports. Almost nowhere, no standout hobbies. Coming out with Li Yongquan had maxed out my initiative—actually overdrawn it with some 27-year-old sense of responsibility to say “I wanna see this” or “do that.” Truth is, I was tapped out. Legs splayed, my bag and his felt like two increasingly heavy stones pressing front and back, only their balance keeping me from keeling over right there.
I came out to distract from that lingering heaviness in my heart.
But even out here, I was sitting alone.
Right now, I just wanted to head back to the hotel, blast the AC, watch an episode, skip delivery for a liter of pure milk and a big bag of toast slices—ripping and eating them at the table.
I rarely craved specific foods.
Sweat beaded hot on my neck, temples soaked, hair damp and sticking to my ears. Fingers combed through my short hair.
A bit later, Li Yongquan messaged that he was almost down.
I got up to buy sausages and corn, asked if they had toast slices—yep, one pack left. But when I grabbed it, it was expired. I’m no good at haggling, just muttered softly about it being expired when Li Yongquan’s voice rang out: “Ah, there she is!”
In front of these two, I was too embarrassed to bargain looking all pathetic, so I put back the toast, handed over the sausages.
Li Yongquan took his bag. I asked, “How crowded was the summit?”
He painted a vivid picture of the views. Then I glanced over—Liu Ming stood behind him facing me, holding that pink sausage to his mouth. He stuck out his tongue and licked it.
Liu Ming, half-hidden behind Li Yongquan’s shoulder, face half-exposed, tongue like a slimy snake slithering over the sausage. Lips parted, he engulfed it, swirled it around in his mouth, pulled it out dripping saliva, then probed the tip with his tongue tip.
A wave of nausea surged in my stomach.
I didn’t say anything.
Li Yongquan was still chatting about the summit line. He irreverently described kneeling to pray and overhearing someone wish for hair growth—he couldn’t help staring at their bald head. He cracked up laughing. I half-heartedly asked, “Really?” The young guy clasped hands prayer-style at his chest and intoned, “Amitabha, this kid doesn’t lie.”
Liu Ming burst into laughter, hacking it out syllable by syllable from his throat, each “ha” bouncing through a gourd-like passage, every breathy sound laced with affected roundness.
I forced a few dry chuckles, said I might have mild heatstroke and wanted to head down for something ice-cold.
Mission accomplished anyway, everyone soaked through from the climb—we checked navigation for the nearest cold drink spot and bolted down.
I ordered a mango smoothie. Liu Ming had to comment that iced drinks hurt women’s fertility.
Li Yongquan said that was pseudoscience.
The yellowish mango smoothie cup reflected the moment when Liu Ming stuck out his tongue to lick the grilled sausage, his tongue coating yellow. I held my forehead. While Liu Ming went to the bathroom, I said to Li Yongquan, “When I was buying grilled sausages for you guys, Liu Ming did something that made me uncomfortable.”
“What did he do?” Li Yongquan was very serious, but when he got serious, it highlighted his age—he stared at me with wide, childish, fierce eyes, like a kid who hadn’t grown up yet.
After hesitating, I still tried to get a bit closer to Li Yongquan: “He licked that sausage right at me.”
Li Yongquan: “Fuck, he’s still so gross. Really, he’s super disgusting. You don’t know the half of it—there’s even grosser stuff…”
I immediately regretted bringing it up to Li Yongquan. Liu Ming came back from the bathroom, shaking his dripping wet hands, and Li Yongquan immediately said, “Are you an idiot? I heard you licked the sausage too. Isn’t that disgusting?”
Liu Ming said, “Whoa, how’d you know? Hahaha, I have even grosser ones!” With that, he picked up his cup and scraped the rim with his tongue. I hurriedly lowered my head to look at my smoothie.
That night back at the hotel, I propped up my phone to play the TV show and stuck a piece of expired sliced bread in my mouth.
It was like eating a plastic-tasting mantou. I watched the female lead hide under the carriage, passing through the city gate without incident.
Liu Ming sent a WeChat: Haha, I was just joking. My personality is just pretty open like that—don’t take it to heart.
I said it was fine.
Fine.
None of it mattered in front of Jiang Xiaohui. Jokes or bullying, Jiang Xiaohui’s heart was as vast as the sea, boundless like an ocean. Even if Jingwei brought stones to fill it, they’d be swallowed by the empty waves, crashing thunderously on the shore, hollow echoes.
I finished a whole bag of bread, stuffed so full I couldn’t move, my throat churning with food.
In the middle of the night, the food refluxed, surging up from my stomach and into the toilet. The flush roared. I rinsed my mouth over and over until I squeezed out all the complimentary toothpaste, then slumped onto the bed in defeat.
At 11:55, Gan Ling sent a message: [Picture]
I opened the picture—it was actually a sneaky shot.
I had no idea how this woman managed to bring her phone into the swimming pool. She had photographed me. I was clutching the squeezy bottle, flailing my arms wildly, like a duck that had just jumped into a frying pan.
At 2:12 AM.
Jiang Xiaohui: I want grilled toast slices and hot milk.
As soon as I sent it, I realized how whiny I was being. Taking advantage of the dead of night, I quickly withdrew it.
But Gan Ling replied instantly: Oh.
I knew being whiny would get exposed. I immediately buried my face in the pillow, not wanting to look at my phone again.
But this woman, not getting a reply from me, sent a voice message within two minutes, like a death knell.
I had no choice but to pick up. Avoiding reality, I kept my head down with my ear pressed against it, listening to the sounds from Gan Ling’s side.
Gan Ling opened with a bit of sharp sarcasm: What? Went out to play and ended up as unpaid labor? Or gone back to the old society—no food, starving in the middle of the night?
I stayed quiet for a bit, then honestly admitted, “I’m just being whiny in the middle of the night. Just ignore me.”
There was a long silence on her end. I thought Gan Ling had already hung up to let me fend for myself. I lifted my head from the pillow and suddenly saw the call was still going.
The whininess surged up like stomach acid. I immediately said, “I was just saying it casually—I already withdrew it… Why aren’t you sleeping in the middle of the night?”
Finally, she replied calmly: “I just checked the train schedule. Take a cab to the station now, catch the 4:55 AM train back, and you’ll make it in time for me to heat up some milk for you before work.”
I fell silent too. For a cup of hot milk, I wouldn’t cut short my trip with Li Yongquan and buy a ticket to rush back to Neng County in the middle of the night for a whole sleepless ordeal.
Gan Ling had already hung up the voice call. Fine, ignore me then. I flopped back onto the bed.
