Chapter 7: We’re Not Close Part 2

Zhou Yi closed the peace sign in her hand, her expression cool. “Someone hit me.”

Yang Ling’s face darkened. She asked in a low voice. “Who?”

Zhou Yi suddenly choked.

Yang Ling was a Red Gate Alley native through and through. Before becoming a kindergarten teacher, she’d been best at starting trouble and even better at handling the fallout. If she set her sights on someone, that person would lose at least a layer of skin, if not an arm.

Mu Qinglin…

The hit hadn’t been that hard anyway. And, well, after she’d struck, she’d flattened her palm and rubbed the spot for her—

Five fingers pressing the hat down over her bangs, her palm soft and warm against her forehead for those few seconds. Pretty warm, actually.

Forget it. Not worth holding a grudge.

“Nobody…” Zhou Yi hopped out of bed quickly, shuffling her feet into her slippers, toeing them on as she walked. “I’m going to supervise the kitchen.”

Yang Ling didn’t follow.

When the thump-thump of footsteps downstairs faded, she pulled out her phone and opened the security camera playback at the shop entrance.

If it was those thugs who’d lassoed Zhou Yi’s dog, there was absolutely no way she’d let it go.

“What are you making spare ribs without soy sauce for?!” Zhou Yi fumed. “Can you plan ahead for once?!”

Tang Yuanzhou worked the spatula furiously, roaring louder than her. “If you have time to yell, go buy a bottle! One more second of dawdling and the pot’ll burn through!”

Zhou Yi: “Oh…” She spun around and marched out of the kitchen.

The grain and oil shop was toward the west end. To protect her culinary hopes and dreams, Zhou Yi lowered her head and sprinted.

Halfway there, she sensed people blocking the road. Her speed was compromised.

Blocked again. Zhou Yi looked up impatiently.

Why were there so many people?

Layers upon layers, packed tight around the narrow stretch of road.

Zhou Yi stood on her toes to see what was going on.

Two officers in uniform were cuffing someone in the center. Several media outlets stood nearby with cameras rolling.

The provincial station was there too. And wouldn’t you know it, the reporter was Mu Qinglin, holding the station microphone and speaking to the camera.

“What’s going on?” Zhou Yi grabbed someone and asked.

The person stammered with excitement. “Ba-Bastard and his crew got busted! Talk about a Christmas miracle! And a huge one at that!”

Christmas was the day after tomorrow. It hadn’t even arrived yet. Miracle?

Zhou Yi craned her neck to see inside.

Bastard?

Who?

“!” Skinny Monkey’s boss! Zhou Yi saw the main character’s face and it clicked.

So that was the name he’d chosen for himself. Served him right! If he didn’t end up serving three to five years inside, it would be a disservice to every citizen of Red Gate Alley who’d put down their work to come watch.

But… these guys had cycled through the police station several times a year. She’d never seen any TV station cover them before. Why the sudden attention?

“After Sister Mu’s piece airs and she drops the pile of old case files, and the evening news pairs it with the ‘Urban Rule of Law Initiative,’ the police won’t be able to turn a blind eye and release them in two or three days like before. The public pressure will be too much.”

Voices behind her. Low, but Zhou Yi’s sharp ears caught the gist.

Sister Mu? Which Sister Mu?

That one?

Zhou Yi glanced at Mu Qinglin, still mid-report, and quietly pricked up her ears.

“Did those guys cross Sister Mu at some point? Once she sets her sights on you, she’ll strip you bare down to your underwear.”

“Who knows?” A different voice. “I asked her this morning and she said something about ‘respecting the elderly and caring for the young.’ Still can’t figure out what that means.”

“Maybe a friend of hers got bullied here?”

“Unlikely. She only comes by for a drink now and then. Who would she know?”

Me.

Zhou Yi flipped the coin in her hand and the answer surfaced in her mind.

The thought barely poked its head out before she crushed it.

What was wrong with her? They were nothing alike as friends. Look at her vocabulary…

Hmm?

Why was Mu Qinglin’s speech so down-to-earth today? Every word was perfectly intelligible, but up close, it didn’t flow as naturally as before.

Now was hardly the time to obsess over her word choices.

Zhou Yi shook her head, firmly rejecting any connection between the Bastard incident and herself, and sprinted toward the grain and oil shop without missing a beat.

“Uncle Ge! A bag of soy sauce!” Zhou Yi slapped the coins on the counter and shouted.

Uncle Ge answered and walked out from behind the shelf with the soy sauce. “It’s just two bucks. Don’t worry about it.”

“Too late. The coins are already on the counter.” Zhou Yi took the bag and left.

Ten-odd seconds later, the grain and oil shop’s curtain was flung open again.

Zhou Yi burst in like a gust of wind, swept up the coins that were still sitting on the table, and called out, “Get the money from Tang Yuanzhou!” before vanishing again.

She was so fast that Uncle Ge didn’t even see her face. All he heard was her grumbling indignantly, “Of all the things to tip me, it had to be cash. Can’t even spend the stuff!”

By the time Zhou Yi headed back, the crowd of spectators had mostly dispersed. Only the owners of the nearby shops and the various media crews remained.

The provincial station had gotten a poor spot, off to the side. But for some reason, one glance and Zhou Yi’s eyes landed directly on Mu Qinglin.

Everyone else was scrambling for every shot, as if missing a single frame meant a personal loss. Not her. Calm and composed, expression proper, without a shred of combative energy.

She really did deserve to get fired.

Zhou Yi’s wistful sigh was only half out when Mu Qinglin suddenly looked her way. Their gazes collided midair.

Collided. So what? It wasn’t like either of them had a guilty conscience.

Zhou Yi ducked her head and quickened her pace.

“Zhou Yi…” Mu Qinglin didn’t give her the chance to play strangers. She asked with a smile, “Money on the ground? You’re looking awfully hard.”

Zhou Yi sighed and looked up. “There is. Silver, too.”

“Where? Point it out so I can get rich too.”

Zhou Yi spread her palm. Two coins sat there, the very ones she’d just raided back.

“Wake up. That’s the whole stash. Your road to fortune is long since cut off,” Zhou Yi said.

Mu Qinglin: “How heartless.”

“What’s that supposed to say? Unrelated people being suspiciously nice is the real red flag, you know.”

“Okay, okay.” Mu Qinglin surrendered to Zhou Yi’s mouth. She took one step closer and wrapped her fingers around the wrist holding the soy sauce bag.

“What are you doing?” Zhou Yi startled.

Mu Qinglin gave a light squeeze. “I’ve been meaning to ask. Doesn’t your wrist get cold, always rolling your sleeves up that high?”

Zhou Yi froze.

Mu Qinglin’s hand was so warm. A firm, confident kind of warmth, not too rough. One grip and it circled her whole wrist with room to spare.

Only… it was a little damp.

Could a veteran reporter like her really be nervous?

Zhou Yi eyed her suspiciously.

“Spacing out?” Mu Qinglin teased.

Zhou Yi snapped back to life and immediately launched into her murder-you-with-words tone. “I like it. Mind your own business.”

“Can’t argue with that…” But Mu Qinglin didn’t let go. She pulled Zhou Yi’s hand a little closer, then rolled up her own sleeve and slid a wrist guard off her wrist onto Zhou Yi’s. “Hurry back. Your hand’s gone blue.”

Zhou Yi’s soul was astral projecting.

What was happening?

She’d just said suspicious generosity was a red flag, and Mu Qinglin immediately proved her right with real-world action?

But she couldn’t pinpoint where the suspiciousness was heading!

“What are you trying to do?” Zhou Yi asked, eyeing her.

Mu Qinglin: “Bribery. We’re neighbors. We’ll be seeing each other a lot. Take my gift today and maybe you’ll be a little nicer to me going forward.”

“??”

Was it her idea to accept? This was forced commerce!

Zhou Yi stared at the new thing on her wrist for a long while. In the end, the warmth won over cold logic. She shoved her hand firmly back into her pocket and said in a muffled, grudging voice. “Fine. I’m easy to talk to.” Then she sauntered off, the two coins jangling merrily.

Fu Xiao, who had witnessed the entire exchange, asked curiously, “Who’s that?”

Mu Qinglin walked back and took the bag Fu Xiao had been holding for her. She answered a different question. “Not close.”

Fu Xiao: “Not close, and you eagerly ringed a wrist guard just to give it to her?”

At the station event that afternoon, each person had gotten five rings to toss. Whatever you ringed, you got to keep.

The most valuable prize was a phone. Fu Xiao had tried every persuasion in the book to get Mu Qinglin to give up a ring. Mu Qinglin had spent all five on wrist guards instead.

At the time, Fu Xiao had just thought their friendship was pretty cold. The more she looked at it now, the less it added up.

“What’s going on? Come on, tell me.” Fu Xiao wouldn’t let it go.

Mu Qinglin sighed helplessly. “What could be going on?”

There was nothing she wanted among the prizes, and it seemed a waste not to use the rings. So she’d aimed at the nearest target to maximize her odds. As it happened, the nearest thing was the wrist guard.

She needed her watch, so the extra wrist guard was useless to her. Which meant, one step further, it made sense to give it to Zhou Yi, who complained about being cold every day yet kept a bare strip of wrist out in the wind.

That logic was sound, right?

If there was a problem, there was only one.

“The thing is, I can be quite soft-hearted at times,” Mu Qinglin said at a leisurely pace.