I was unemployed.
I turned down the suggestion to go to the principal’s friend’s confinement center in the city. The principal’s friend took in that plum tree, wrapping its roots carefully in plastic sheeting like bandaging a wound. There was a huge dark pit in the courtyard—so shallow a tree had dug such deep roots. They filled it with soil. The kids were still in class and, when they came out after dismissal, saw the tree magically gone. The truck carrying it slowly drove off toward the city.
I quit a few groups. Some colleagues I usually kept in touch with said they’d have a meal with me to send me off. I told them I wasn’t going anywhere, no need to send me off. In the end, Zhu Erting still treated me to sour and spicy rice noodles. The shop wasn’t busy, and the noodles weren’t all that great. When Zhu Erting accidentally dumped too much vinegar, the sourness made her tense her foot under the table, her cloth shoe suddenly stepping on my calf.
Zhu Erting immediately reached over to brush it off for me. “Sorry.”
“It’s fine.” I picked up a small chopstickful of tofu skin and put it in my small bowl to cool.
We chatted for a bit about the principal’s sudden decision to let me go. Then Zhu Erting finally brought up the topic I cared about most. “So she (Gan Ling) hasn’t contacted you this whole time? Aren’t you afraid she’ll go off and commit murder on the sly?”
“She already knows. Worst case, I prepare in advance, sharpen a knife or whatever. The person’s not even out yet…”
“She knows you know she knows, and you know she knows… It’s pretty convoluted. What I mean is, you both know it deep down but haven’t said it outright. I reckon, I reckon this woman might even be hesitating herself about whether to actually kill. If it gets out in the open, she wouldn’t know what to do either.”
“Yeah.”
I could understand that.
I felt like my current dilemma was something else, but I couldn’t put it into words. I could only let Zhu Erting figure it out herself. Even I didn’t fully get it. Language has its limits—like a swimming pool you can see the end of—while human emotions are an ocean.
“So right now, the killer’s release date hasn’t come, you’re not worried about her killing, she’s not pressing for any info. You’re both just living your separate lives, huh?” Zhu Erting hit the nail on the head. Gan Ling and I were living in separate corners of Neng County, just like that. And yet, there was an invisible safety line tethering us both, preventing either of us from suddenly going bungee jumping.
“Mm.”
“So what are you agonizing over?”
I was suddenly deeply grateful to my friend Zhu Erting. She could tell I was troubled, full of confusion and distress. I didn’t know how to bring it up, and if she hadn’t asked, I wouldn’t have been able to.
“I don’t even know what I’m agonizing over… I mean, I… Actually, I hardly think about Zheng Ningning’s matter as vividly as before anymore.”
“What do you mean? You’ve gotten over it? Forgotten?”
“No, not that… If I try to recall Zheng Ningning, I can still remember what happened back then. I’ll always remember. It’s just that when I see Gan Ling…”
I wasn’t good at expressing myself, but Zhu Erting was a friend of many years. Even though we rarely delved into serious topics, she had unreservedly told me about how she wavered between two men, which gave me the courage to speak. So even though I spoke slowly, I could get it out.
“When you see Gan Ling?”
“Before, whenever I saw her, I’d immediately think of Zheng Ningning. I’d think, this is Zheng Ningning’s mom… But more and more, when I see her, Zheng Ningning isn’t the first thing that comes to mind. I think of other stuff first.”
The rice noodles had gone cold again. I thought next time I chatted with Zhu Erting, we should go to some fast food place for fries or have hotpot.
Zhu Erting pushed her bowl of rice noodles, straightened it, then suddenly grabbed her phone to answer a call. She propped herself on the table and turned her body. She’d just stood up when it seemed like it wasn’t her boyfriend on the other end. She ummed a few times and immediately said, “Oh, no need, no need.”
Then she hung up, sat back down. “Go on.”
But the topic suddenly wouldn’t pick up again.
“Where was I?”
“You said that when you see Gan Ling, you think of other things.”
The thing I’d just grasped slipped away. I pondered for a long time, and even after Zhu Erting finished eating, I still couldn’t remember what I wanted to say.
So the topic drifted away again. “What are you going to do next? Find another job?”
“Not thought about it yet. Rest for a few days first.”
In recent years, unemployment wasn’t all that unexpected. But some people had parents to help out, some were dragged down by parents’ cold mockery and sarcasm. I was in the middle—no parents, relying on myself.
With some savings, low cost of living in Neng County, my own house, and the weather cooling down—no need for AC… No need for the e-bike anymore either. Staying home, I wasn’t too anxious for the moment.
But it was unemployment, not a vacation. Browsing discussion threads online, group chats, and platforms, big data kept pushing unemployment-related info based on my search habits. At first glance, it seemed like the whole world was unemployed, the global economy plummeting straight down. I stopped looking online for unemployment solutions, uninstalled all the social apps, then reinstalled and registered new accounts. It felt refreshed immediately, but I lost interest in browsing.
If I wasn’t going to work, what could I do?
Handicrafts didn’t interest me; I didn’t really like doing them. Thinking about it, it was just another way to kill time. I’d taken photos of everything I’d made, so I posted them all on my Weibo to archive and sell cheap. Only two cute rabbit figurines sold. The rest gathered dust despite polishing. I packed them in boxes and tossed them.
Once I started tossing, it snowballed. Everything in sight seemed like trash and excess. Looking around, I began a massive cleanup, tidying the house inside and out, hauling out a big bag of garbage. It felt much fresher. Then I cleaned up WeChat, deleting parents of students long graduated, checking for any lingering parent groups, scrolling Moments to delete elementary and middle school classmates I never contacted, scrolling again to delete the remaining parents.
By evening, I deleted colleagues I’d never spoken to, then thought about it and deleted Li Yongquan too. His avatar had changed from Kumakichi to a selfie.
My WeChat list was suddenly empty, left only with myself, Gan Ling, Zhu Erting, the neighbor, and that cop.
Moments immediately felt clean. The most recent was from last week—Zhu Erting’s photo of our rice noodles together.
I hadn’t even scrolled to it, hadn’t liked it.
She never messaged to remind me to like. After deleting all the randoms, I deliberately opened Zhu Erting’s Moments and found tons related to me: going to Qiaonan for barbecue together, her buying me consolation pastries, group activity photos. I’d overlooked them all, so I liked them one by one. Zhu Erting messaged: You’re like they say online, auditing my Moments.
Jiang Huixiang: Read.
Zhu Erting sent a goofy emoji.
I tapped the neighbor’s Moments—turns out she video-called her in-laws daily, screenshotting the cats’ daily status with pics.
Then Gan Ling’s Moments—no surprise, a blank line.
As I backed out, Moments updated.
Gan Ling posted—a fat plump carp lying in a supermarket tank, blowing bubbles.
I liked it. Gan Ling messaged right away: Wanna eat?
Jiang Huixiang: Huh? It’s huge.
Gan Ling: I’ll turn it into fish slices.
Jiang Huixiang: Will the boss let you take it?
Gan Ling: Buy it.
Jiang Huixiang: I’m unemployed.
I hadn’t told Gan Ling yet. Mentioning it now, I wanted to unsend. A sharp shame hit me—from now on, I wasn’t Teacher Xiao Jiang anymore, just Jiang Xiaohui, an ordinary, seldom-used seasoning and a disliked spice.
Gan Ling: Oh.
I stared at that “Oh” in silence for a long while, trying to read into it.
After a bit, Gan Ling sent a photo.
The fish was already sliced.
I stood there, checking the time. Felt like Gan Ling might show up at my door soon with seasonings for a pot of boiled fish.
But I was overthinking. Gan Ling messaged: Got bought.
Jiang Huixiang: You coming over?
After sending, I felt deranged and unsent it.
Gan Ling: Sure.
My unsends were always especially pointless; every time I got sentimental, I exposed myself to Gan Ling.
I poked Gan Ling’s funny wolf avatar.
I patted Gan Ling and sent a burp emoji.
What the heck.
Gan Ling had a knack for dry humor. I stared at the text and chuckled for a bit, checked the time, and bought some veggies before she got off work.
I could cook; I just hadn’t felt like it. Gan Ling always took care of me. Now unemployed at home, no reason to make someone fresh off work cook for me. I started rice first and set it aside, then slowly minced the meat. Minced meat eggplant and stir-fried bean sprouts—both quick-cooking dishes. I planned to stir-fry when Gan Ling arrived.
While waiting, I suddenly felt like a useless little wife. A burst of self-awareness hit me. I stood and went out the door—right into Gan Ling stepping out of the elevator.
Gan Ling was carrying a Jiaxing Supermarket employee vest, wearing that familiar black hoodie but with white sneakers and gray sweatpants. We came face-to-face without warning.
I grabbed the keys and doubled back to open the door.
Gan Ling hadn’t said a word the whole time. She came in, changed her shoes, and casually tossed her vest on the floor, revealing a plastic bag hanging from the crook of her arm with half a box of fish fillets inside.
She tried to head into the kitchen and bumped right into me—traffic jam. I fired up the stove, heated the oil, and added the minced meat. Gan Ling unpacked the box and chopped up some millet peppers, chopped peppers, and pickled peppers, still not saying a single word. Luckily, the kitchen was spacious enough. Once the minced meat eggplant was done, she nudged me aside, washed the wok, and started prepping the fish fillets. She shook the bean sprouts from the strainer into a stainless steel basin and set it off to the side. With both hands working in tandem, she immediately claimed the entire kitchen.
The rice cooker had already switched to keep-warm mode, and the aroma of the rice mingled with the scent of the minced meat eggplant, wafting out. Gan Ling wiped down the wok, glanced at me, and finally cracked a barely perceptible smile. “Why are you suddenly cooking today?”
I didn’t reply. Gan Ling brushed past me to grab the corn oil, saying offhandedly, “Go sit down.”
“You worked all day…”
“I’ve seen you tidying up the house—you weren’t idle either. You’ve already stir-fried one dish. How many more do you plan to make? Cold-dressed bean sprouts will do. Too much of that stuff is hard to digest.”
Sizzle—the sharp smell of peppers hitting the hot oil burst forth. Gan Ling unflinchingly flipped on the range hood, stir-fried the peppers with the spatula, then glanced at me again. “Find me a movie that goes well with rice.”
I obeyed and headed out. Tempting waves of hot, spicy aroma drifted from the kitchen. I curled up on the sofa clutching my phone, found a comedy called Last Holiday, paused it, and wandered back to the kitchen, at a loss and wanting to do something useful.
Hot oil splashed down. Gan Ling grabbed a kitchen towel, used it as a pad, and set it aside before washing the wok, adding water, and blanching the bean sprouts. She stepped aside to give me space.
The flames were still licking vigorously at the bottom of the wok, and the water hadn’t come to a boil yet. I dripped in a bit of oil. Gan Ling stood there with her arms crossed, saying nothing. I suddenly rubbed my neck hard and turned to direct her. “You serve the rice. This’ll be quick—we can eat soon.”
Gan Ling arched a brow slightly, placed a hand on my shoulder, and turned to fetch the rice cooker.
I blanched the bean sprouts in the hot water for a quick roll, seasoned them, picked out half a plate with chopsticks, and slowly set it on the tea table.
Gan Ling had already kicked off her shoes and settled on the sofa. Since tonight’s dishes weren’t suited for eating from a bowl, her spot was fairly central, right in front of the tea table. I leaned against the side, started the movie, and picked up my bowl. Suddenly, Gan Ling said, “You’ve never gotten your ears pierced.”
With that, she reached over and pinched my earlobe, examining it for a moment before turning back to her bowl. She calmly picked up a chopstick of eggplant and put it in her mouth. The movie began to play. The female lead had just learned she had a rare disease that would let her live only one more month. During a hymn, she couldn’t hold back and shouted at God, “Why me?”
