Chapter 11: Sitting

Mu Qinglin didn’t believe a word of it. With wrists no sturdier than matchsticks, even if she handed Zhou Yi Guan Yu’s legendary blade, she couldn’t wield it. Chop someone? She’d be lucky not to throw out her own back.

Still, facts were facts, and a person needed some tact.

“Right…” Mu Qinglin said.

Zhou Yi’s lips moved, her voice cold as if it had just slipped through a blizzard. “Liar…”

“What liar?” Yang Ling turned around and saw the mountain of snow on Zhou Yi’s head and shoulders, then glanced at her overly detached expression. She opened her mouth, slapped her thigh, and burst out laughing. “Hahahaha!”

Mu Qinglin was in despair. She lit the fire and Yang Ling fed it. What kind of twisted mind-meld was this? Didn’t they see the person was already burning away?

Sigh…

Mu Qinglin let out a silent breath.

Tonight’s dinner was going to be eaten with her heart in her throat.

Seeing Mu Qinglin’s troubled expression, Yang Ling held back her laughter. “It’s fine. She’ll get over it in a bit.”

Mu Qinglin: “I hope so…”

“Our Little Jiu has a trying temper, but she’s a good kid, right?” Yang Ling turned her phone around and showed the shop owner the WeChat payment screen. “When things go down, she knows how to look after people.”

Mu Qinglin glanced at the already departed Zhou Yi and thought, probably. She knew to throw away trash, knew to step in front of her when the bastard came knocking, and even at the kindergarten, after all that moaning about her hard fate, she still did the work without complaint. Those were genuinely good traits. Though, it’d be even better if her mouth were a little softer.

“Mm…” Mu Qinglin agreed.

Yang Ling smiled and walked out with the bags. “Then Miss Mu, would you mind coming by more often? There aren’t many good friends to be made in Red Gate Alley, and everyone at the shop is a man with nerves thicker than their arms. Little Jiu’s still young. She needs someone decent like you around.”

Yang Ling’s words came out of nowhere.

Mu Qinglin was stunned for a few seconds, then shook her head with a smile. “I’m not exactly a good person either.”

“Then a bad person?” Yang Ling looked at Mu Qinglin and asked.

Mu Qinglin took a bag of ingredients from her and said hesitantly, “Not exactly…”

“…” ~~~

When Mu Qinglin and Yang Ling returned to “Buddha Demon,” Zhou Yi was upstairs taking a shower.

“Why is she showering now?” Tang Yuanzhou asked.

Little Hei: “Said she’s unclean.”

Tang Yuanzhou: “What?”

“Old Ma was clearing the snow off the awning and half of it landed on her head. She probably thinks it’s dirty,” Yang Ling explained from the doorway.

Tang Yuanzhou followed the sound and spotted Mu Qinglin. His attention immediately shifted away from Zhou Yi. He walked over quickly. “Why are you with my wife?”

Yang Ling jumped in to explain first. “We ran into each other on the road. I invited her for hotpot.”

“Really?” Tang Yuanzhou promptly turned to Mu Qinglin to secure a deal. “Want to have a few drinks later?”

Mu Qinglin: “Sure…”

Tang Yuanzhou went off to the kitchen alone to prepare.

Mu Qinglin was ushered by Yang Ling to sit down and chat.

Before long, Zhou Yi descended the stairs at a leisurely pace.

Her face still held the rosy flush from the steam, and her hair wasn’t fully dry. Only her generous volume kept it from losing its fluffiness.

The length just brushed past her neck. Dyed a misty ash-gray and cut in choppy layers, a few casual tosses in front of Mu Qinglin and Yang Ling were enough to give it effortless shape.

Little Hei, who had been leaning against the glass door connecting to the shop to watch the TV here, witnessed Zhou Yi’s hair toss and the resulting tousled style. He whistled appreciatively and said, “Sharp!”

Zhou Yi shot him a smug eyebrow raise. “Good eye…” Then she hooked a chair with one foot and sat down, one leg swinging.

She hadn’t even gloated for three seconds before an oversized knit beanie was dropped over her head.

Yang Ling stood behind Zhou Yi and said, half-scolding, “Isn’t your skull cold?”

Thud. Zhou Yi’s head hit the chair back. Suffocating. “That’s no excuse for such an ugly hat.”

Yang Ling bent down in front of Zhou Yi and pretended to examine her carefully. “Oh my, what’s ugly about it? Little tiger, big eyes. A striking resemblance to you, wouldn’t you say, Miss Mu?”

Mu Qinglin was suddenly dragged into the battlefield. Her hand tightened around the cup she was holding as she caught Zhou Yi’s glare and a naked threat: “Nod your head and you’re dead.”

Mu Qinglin considered herself someone who responded to softness, not force. She crossed her legs, rested the cup on her knee, and said calmly: “I wouldn’t say striking resemblance. More like identical.”

Zhou Yi pushed the hat up and gave her a pair of magnificent eye rolls.

During hotpot, Yang Ling sat next to Tang Yuanzhou with Mu Qinglin across from her. The three of them formed their own circle, easily picking up any topic and running with it.

As for Zhou Yi, her chair was pulled far from Mu Qinglin. She sat alone at the corner of the table, taking bite after bite of meat.

“You’re a professional photographer, right?” Tang Yuanzhou asked.

Mu Qinglin: “Not too bad.”

“What about processing and restoring old photos?”

“Decent enough. If it’s too complicated, I send it to the station. The technology center has people who specialize in that.”

“I have a few sets of damaged old photos here. Could you take a look?” Tang Yuanzhou lifted his cup with a sigh. “Works from when I was young. Immature, but made with heart. I can never bring myself to part with them.”

“No problem…” Mu Qinglin clinked glasses with Tang Yuanzhou. “I happen to have tomorrow off. If it’s convenient, I’ll come by and take a look.”

Tang Yuanzhou: “Convenient or not, it’s happening. Cheers.”

At the corner of the table, Zhou Yi had eaten so much meat she was parched. Hearing the word “cheers,” her dehydrated DNA stirred. She grabbed a cup and raised it to her lips.

The drink was gone. Going to the fridge now meant the spicy beef would be gone by the time she got back.

She’d been waiting for that all night.

Zhou Yi glanced at the meat bubbling in the pot, her conflicted expression like someone was trying to steal her lifeline.

Mu Qinglin noticed and, while thinking she probably hadn’t done anything wrong, cautiously asked: “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing…” Zhou Yi stared at the piece of meat that had just floated up and quickly slid her cup over to Mu Qinglin’s hand. “Pour me some of your drink.” It was all liquid. As long as it quenched her thirst, she wasn’t picky.

Mu Qinglin hesitated. “Can you drink?”

Zhou Yi: “Don’t know…”

“…” Mu Qinglin looked at Tang Yuanzhou, who shook his head. “Never seen her drink, but she’s old enough. Let her have a taste.”

Mu Qinglin looked at the baijiu in her cup and didn’t move, thinking, raising a kid like this was a bit rough.

“Hurry up…” Zhou Yi urged, shoving the cold cup against Mu Qinglin’s wrist bone hard enough to hurt.

Mu Qinglin endured the pain, picked up the bottle, and poured Zhou Yi just enough to lick.

Zhou Yi held the cup up to eye level, swirled it around, and turned to Mu Qinglin: “Do you think it covers the bottom?”

Mu Qinglin saw the orange juice residue at the bottom of the cup and answered against her conscience, “Probably.”

Thwack. Zhou Yi slammed the cup back on the table.

Tang Yuanzhou filled it straight to the brim.

Mu Qinglin: “…” Why not just hand her the bottle?

For the rest of the meal, Mu Qinglin chatted with the couple while keeping an eye on Zhou Yi with her peripheral vision.

Zhou Yi didn’t say a word the entire time, alternating meat with alcohol, eating with single-minded focus.

When she saw Zhou Yi confidently pick up a quail egg with chopsticks and pop it in her mouth, Mu Qinglin glanced down at the one she’d just speared with her chopstick tips, silently gave up, and buried the quail egg under the dipping sauce. She couldn’t help but admire: As expected of Teacher Jiu. What a capacity.

“Qinglin…” Yang Ling had already grown comfortable with Mu Qinglin and called her by name affectionately. “Want more?”

Mu Qinglin: “No, I’m about to burst.”

“Alright, then we won’t put this plate in. You…”

“Put it in…” Teacher Jiu suddenly spoke. Her eyes were calm and her posture proper. She pointed seriously at the mushroom broth pot and said: “In the spicy one.”

Then she ducked her head back down and resumed foraging in her bowl.

The other three exchanged glances.

Yang Ling covered her mouth and whispered, “Drunk?”

Most likely.

From where Mu Qinglin sat, she could see into Zhou Yi’s bowl. It had originally held half a bowl of sesame paste and crushed peanuts. Now Zhou Yi had nearly licked the bottom clean. And…

Mu Qinglin looked down at Zhou Yi’s knee pressed against her own and couldn’t for the life of her remember when the chair had been moved back.

“Should I put it in or not?” Yang Ling hesitated.

Her voice wasn’t quiet, and Teacher Jiu heard. She looked up at Yang Ling and said clearly: “Put it in.”

Yang Ling raised her hand and dumped the entire plate into the spicy pot.

Mu Qinglin watched the oil and chili instantly coat everything and her stomach clenched.

Gluten noodles and spinach in a spicy pot? Who thought of this?

“Want to sit over there for a bit?” Tang Yuanzhou asked Mu Qinglin.

Mu Qinglin felt awkward. The VIP at the table was still eating. How could a guest leave the table first?

She was about to decline when a hand clamped down hard on her thigh.

The sensation was too awkward, too strange, and too sudden. Mu Qinglin couldn’t help it. She jerked back along with her chair, scraping a sharp noise against the floor.

After that sound, Teacher Jiu spoke: “Stay seated…”

Then she grabbed Mu Qinglin’s leg threateningly.

In that instant, the ticklish discomfort on her leg became a million ants crawling over her skin. The more she tensed to resist, the clearer it became. She wanted to die right there.

“Zhou Yi…” Mu Qinglin wanted to remind Zhou Yi to talk things out properly.

The words had barely left her mouth when Zhou Yi whipped her head around and stared at her: “I can’t finish it all. Tang Yuanzhou and his wife won’t help me eat the rest, and they laugh at me for eating too much. Every single time.”

The words on the tip of Mu Qinglin’s tongue rolled back, and she said nothing in the end.

She really did respond to softness, not force. Those eyes staring straight at her, that aggrieved, pitiful, resentful tone… even if only a head remained, she’d still need to think twice.

Zhou Yi… those big eyes. They could hold so much wronged feeling.

Mu Qinglin held her breath and said as steadily as she could: “I’m not leaving. Let go first.”

Teacher Jiu looked down, hesitating.

After a long moment, Teacher Jiu reached a decision. She retracted her claws in slow motion at double speed, tilted her chin up, and pointed at the cooked food in the pot. “It’s boiling too hard. I can’t pick it up. You get it for me.”

“??” She couldn’t grab the huge sheets of vegetables, but could pinch a perfectly round meatball? What a genius of logic.

Mu Qinglin twisted her legs as far away from Zhou Yi as possible while keeping her upper body straight. She picked up the serving chopsticks and asked, “What do you want?”

Teacher Jiu: “Spinach…”

Mu Qinglin immediately grabbed a clump of spinach from the surface of the bubbling broth to give to Zhou Yi. Before the chopsticks even left the pot, Teacher Jiu added in a muffled voice: “Just one leaf will fill me up.”

“??” What about the rest of this half pot??

For the first time in her life, in front of outsiders, Mu Qinglin’s jaw dropped.