Chapter 30: “Safe Travels” Part 2

One cup in the morning, one in the evening—never missing a day. Fu Tingli had teased her that she was turning into a ginger tea chef.

Rong Wu never took offense at the joke. She would just chuckle, push up her glasses, and call out to Fu Tingli every time she passed by, insisting she drink a cup before heading off.

At first, Fu Tingli had felt awkward about it, but eventually she got used to being stopped and learned to obediently take the cup. She would squat alongside Xia Yue—who was there observing Kong Liyuan’s performance on set—and sip her ginger tea before heading upstairs.

It was Xia Yue who had first noticed the chilblains.

She let out a startled cry just as a take wrapped up, drawing the attention of the small cluster of people nearby.

Fu Tingli covered her face, embarrassed that her self-inflicted chilblains had disturbed everyone.

She didn’t know if Kong Liyuan had been watching her at that moment. With her face buried in her hands, she secretly wondered:

If Kong Liyuan was looking at her right then, would it be with Ayang’s eyes… or Kong Liyuan’s?

Then she thought: Between Ayang and Kong Liyuan, which one was better?

She hadn’t come to any conclusion. The next day, Rong Wu—who was still dispensing ginger tea at the alley mouth—pulled a half-used tube of chilblain ointment from her pocket and gave it to her.

She said it was leftovers from her own use and insisted Fu Tingli take it.

Fu Tingli didn’t hesitate. She accepted the tube, then invited Rong Wu to her part-time convenience store for an employee-discounted bento meal. In return, she took over ginger tea duty for Rong Wu once.

That was when she realized how tough the job was—like standing guard over a massive pot of ginger tea.

Then she would zone out, watching Kong Liyuan walk down the street, or chat with the chatty Xia Yue until she came by.

No one was drinking the ginger tea anymore by then.

The first couple of days, it had been nice for warming up—it was a kind gesture from Rong Wu, after all. But soon enough, most people started bringing their own hot soups from home.

The drinkers dwindled to a handful of extras, the gossip-loving Xia Yue, and Fu Tingli herself.

She didn’t mind it, and having a cup each day before heading upstairs was actually pleasant. At least it kept her from feeling so chilled to the bone.

Fu Tingli asked Rong Wu why she kept arranging for someone to hand it out every day when hardly anyone was drinking it anymore. “Aren’t you Teacher Kong’s assistant and manager? How come you’re not doing any real work?”

Rong Wu just smiled and replied,

“Teacher Kong’s been rehearsing her scenes on the street these past few days, with no other commitments. I’m at loose ends, so handing out ginger tea is a nice way to pass the time.”

Fu Tingli just said, “Oh.”

Rong Wu asked, “Is it good?”

Fu Tingli savored the memory of the ginger tea’s bold, spicy kick and decided not to hurt Rong Wu’s feelings.

So she said, “It’s not bad.”

Rong Wu pondered for a moment. “I’ll figure out a way to make it tastier, so you can have a few more cups.”

The next morning, the ginger tea Fu Tingli received had milk and red dates added—bringing a touch of creaminess and sweetness.

It was still warming and spicy going down.

~~~

The chilblain ointment on her fingers gradually soaked in, cool and no longer itchy. But the tenant next door—the one who puffed and panted after just two flights of stairs—started snoring again.

Fu Tingli couldn’t sleep. She got up to pack the things she would need for the trip to Kanas tomorrow.

There wasn’t much to pack, really.

The luggage she had brought back from California was neither simple nor complicated. Knowing Shanghai would be cold, she had come prepared with thick overcoats and down jackets.

No need to scramble for purchases now.

She now had ear muffs and gloves too. Abnormally sensitive to the cold, she planned to bring everything she could for the Northern Border.

What made it simple was that once she finished packing for this trip, hardly anything would be left in the rental. Under the lamp, the whole room looked starkly empty.

After living here so long, she hadn’t left behind even a scrap of daily life. Staring at it afterward, she felt a pang of regret.

It was as if she hadn’t always been like this—as if she used to leave a blazing trail wherever she went.

Qiao Lipan had been the happiest to hear she was heading back to the Northern Border, possibly even spending New Year’s there. She had fretted that Fu Tingli would be all alone and miserable in Shanghai. Fu Tingli pointed out there wouldn’t be many people in the Northern Border either, but Qiao Lipan insisted it was different—that the Northern Border was her mother’s home, and everyone there was family.

Qiao Lipan was also the guiltiest about it. She wouldn’t be able to go home for New Year’s this time, and spending it in California would be restless and anxious. She might even have to turn off her phone.

This would be the first New Year’s the mother and daughter wouldn’t spend together.

Fu Tingli reassured Qiao Lipan that the whole crew would be with her—no loneliness about it. She told her not to brush off her sister; at least they should decorate a bit and make it feel festive.

Then, regardless of Qiao Lipan’s protests, she wired over all her recent savings, keeping just a thousand for herself. With three thousand just paid for rent, and the production covering food, lodging, and daily wages, it would be enough.

During the day, as she packed, Li Weili stopped by with a thick fleece scarf, a pair of heavy snow boots, and a stack of heat packs.

She helped cram everything into the suitcase, compressing it all down. With nowhere else to entertain her, Fu Tingli just sat with Li Weili on the edge of the bed and chatted.

Li Weili bustled about, working up a sweat, and admonished her,

“Isn’t it supposed to be freezing over there? Don’t push yourself—layer up as much as you can.”

Fu Tingli panted heavily. “I’m not pushing. I promise I’ll bundle up like a bear.”

Li Weili burst out laughing and wiped the sweat from her forehead. “Sometimes I wonder if bringing you onto this crew was a good thing or a bad thing.”

“How could it be bad?” Fu Tingli grinned, her eyes crinkling.

Li Weili sighed. It was still daytime, lights off, and the rental felt dim and murky, the air carrying that gritty mustiness of an old building.

She studied Fu Tingli for a long moment but didn’t finish her thought.

Instead, her gaze drifted from Fu Tingli’s face to the white model sculpture on the table beside her—a flying bird, unfinished.

“Not taking this?”

Fu Tingli glanced at it. “Probably not. It’s bulky and a hassle to transport.”

Li Weili nodded without a word. Before leaving, she hugged her and said,

“I’ve still got it, you know—that little red bird on the school uniform. You remember? You drew it for me.”

Then she went down half the stairs, turned at the landing, and waved up at her.

“Safe travels, old friend.”

At three-thirty in the morning, Fu Tingli double-checked all her luggage. After some hesitation, she cleared space by removing two sweaters… and tucked the unfinished flying bird sculpture back into her suitcase.

She slept lightly that night, waking now and then. Lying in bed, she thought:

Once this sculpture was finished, that dark, oppressive road movie should be nearing its end too.

~~~

Fu Tingli had never flown economy before.

Kanas had only developed in recent years, and its transportation still lagged behind other cities.

There were no direct flights from Shanghai to Kanas, so the crew had to fly to Urumqi first, then hire a local guide’s car for a six-hour drive to the village.

Fu Tingli assumed Wen Yingxiu would travel with the crew—or at least send a student to keep an eye on things with her. But when she asked, Wen Yingxiu said outright:

【You can handle it alone.】

【I’ve had the other sculpture props packed into a separate vehicle. Go with the art department and just watch over that stuff.】

In the end, she flew solo, bewilderedly crammed into a crowded seat in the middle, unaccustomed to hunching her legs up tight.

She watched the fidgety kid beside her playing a handheld game and listened to the hushed gossip on her other side about Wen Shijia’s scandal.

The dark horse Film Queen who had burst onto the scene last year was rumored to have come out of the closet—a first in entertainment circle history. Gossip lovers couldn’t get enough; the hot searches had been exploding for days, complete with timelines.

It was getting on Fu Tingli’s nerves, so she popped in her earbuds and listened to that song looping on repeat: “California Dream.”

After six hours in the air—having barely slept the night before from all the tossing and turning, enveloped in the stifling press of unfamiliar bodies—she stumbled off the plane with legs like jelly.

Yet she hadn’t managed much sleep on board either.

Dazed and woozy, she arrived at Diwopu International Airport, collected her bags, and promptly threw up in the airport bathroom until her stomach burned with acid.

Fu Tingli stumbled out of the bathroom, her face ashen pale. She gazed around in a daze, the airport’s passersby all blurring into double images before her eyes.

She nearly collided with someone.

That person caught her in one swift motion, pulling her to lean against their shoulder. It was soft there, somewhat cool and slender, but the warmth seeping through the woolen fabric was undeniably real—scorchingly hot.

Long hair was tied neatly at the nape of the neck. Fu Tingli sluggishly opened her eyes, her vision aching.

Before she could make out who it was, something was popped into her mouth.

Sour and sweet, like a soft candy. She chewed it hazily a couple of times and swallowed.

Fu Tingli’s eyes flew open in alarm as she realized she was leaning on someone’s shoulder.

“I saw you— even if someone drugged and abducted you right now, you probably wouldn’t even notice. You’d just follow them along like this.”

It was Kong Liyuan’s voice, laced with her usual lazy weariness, now heavier with fatigue.

Fu Tingli let out a breath of relief. For some reason, she didn’t immediately lift her head from Kong Liyuan’s shoulder.

With some effort, she raised her eyes and saw that Kong Liyuan was wearing a beanie and a face mask, only her eyes visible.

“What did I just eat?”

Kong Liyuan fixed her with those slightly darkened pupils, lost in thought. After a long moment, she gave the back of Fu Tingli’s head a light, measured pat, then smiled.

“Motion sickness candy. Feeling better now?”