Jiang Min’s first meeting with Lin Xuqing had come in an autumn many, many years ago.
That year she was a senior. She and Ning Rou drove more than six hundred kilometers to a township middle school, and there, staring at the long list of students from impoverished families, they hesitated for a very long time.
She could choose only one student to sponsor. For that reason she lingered in the small town three or four days, still unable to settle on the right person.
Until the day before she was to return.
At dusk, the setting sun had dyed more than half the sky tangerine. Jiang Min stood alone at the corner of the sports field, watching the students laugh and chatter.
Perhaps because she had lingered too long, the students had gathered why she was there, and more or less performed for her benefit — thrusting an apple into her hands, or blushing as they came over to make conversation.
The more they did, the harder it became to decide. To choose one meant turning away all the others — and what was that, if not a cruelty?
That day, it was a fight that drew her eye to Lin Xuqing.
The girl was tall and thin, gentle and quiet to look at — but her hands were merciless. She beat the boy who’d been bullying her deskmate until he cried. The commotion was considerable, and it took teachers arriving to pull them apart and deliver the scolding.
“Lin Xuqing! Look at yourself — you’ve swollen Wang Yun’s whole face!”
“Oh.”
“What do you mean, ‘oh’?”
“I just couldn’t stand it — whoever’s weak gets bullied. So I thought he could have a taste of it too.”
Lin Xuqing, still in her teens, had a trace of childishness left in her face, yet her words came out hard and proud.
Jiang Min, halfway through watching the spectacle, took a phone call and turned to leave.
Before she’d gone far, the school’s dismissal bell rang.
Boys and girls poured through the gates, backpacks flying, like arrows off the string.
Jiang Min hung up — and found a thin, tall girl standing before her.
The girl from the fight just now. What was her name again… Lin Xuqing?
Where everyone else had circled and hinted, Lin Xuqing, report card in hand, was perfectly direct: she asked whether Jiang Min would sponsor her, and promised she would keep placing first.
Jiang Min looked at the girl in front of her. “So far, you’ve never placed first.”
However composed her nature, she was still a girl in her teens. However well she played the grown-up, faced with her one and only chance, Lin Xuqing’s voice trembled in that moment with nerves — but her gaze never wavered. “Where there’s a will, there’s a way. I keep my word.”
The sun sank westward, golden afterglow falling soft and warm.
The wind stirred faintly. Jiang Min bent slightly, holding that pair of green, clear, ink-black eyes with her own for a long moment.
The corner of her mouth lifted without her meaning it to, and she said, smiling, “All right.”
Among a flock of little lambs, she had somehow picked up a little hedgehog.
That night, hearing she’d settled on a student to sponsor, Ning Rou asked her reasons.
Jiang Min only laughed and marveled: Lin Xuqing, that girl — she simply knew too well what kind of person others liked.
If she wanted to, winning someone over would probably come easily to her.
As, for instance, right now.
Jiang Min pulled back her gaze, no longer watching the laughing pair across the road, and said to You Hui, “Let’s go.”
After two or three days of preparation, the shoot began on schedule.
Only, snow came down heavily on Saturday daytime. Fortunately the roads hadn’t iced over yet, and the team members arrived at the barbecue restaurant called “Faraway” on time that evening.
The owner’s name was Song Yuanfang. She and You Hui were both Yongzhou natives, with a similar brand of forthrightness. She was tall, plainly strong at a glance, sleeves rolled up as she hauled goods, greeting them good-naturedly: “Here early, eh? Have a sit first. Tea’s over there — help yourselves.”
Jiang Min thanked her. “Sister Song, please tend to your own work — don’t mind us.”
This shoot wasn’t a simple stills assignment; the finished product would resemble a documentary, the weight resting not only on the footage but on the stories behind the lens.
So across those two days of preparation, Jiang Min had pulled everyone together to design the interview outline and the shooting script.
The shoot was split into three groups, with Wen Heng as overall director.
The filming unit numbered only five or six; Jian Ming picked a male colleague, while Yun Shu and a female colleague paired up. That left only Lin Xuqing, who was paired with Jiang Xuezi. Members of the other groups were distributed among the teams as well.
From the magazine office, Ning Rou brought three or four newcomers.
“I’m sorry, Sister A-Min,” Ning Rou said, apologetic. “This was arranged suddenly, and year-end is heavy — the office couldn’t spare anyone else.”
“It’s fine. I’ve assigned people too. You come with me.”
“Okay. Where’s Little Lin?” Ning Rou’s smile was soft. “It’s been days — I’d like a word with her later.”
“She’s outside. She can’t see us from here.”
Not far away.
Lin Xuqing stood at the roadside, discussing the coming shoot with You Hui.
Yesterday, Friday, You Hui had stayed late — and so had she, the two of them sitting at the computer until eleven at night.
You Hui’s breath clouded white. “That shooting script of yours reads well. And your revision notes on the interview questions were good too.”
Lin Xuqing: “Your framework was solid. I didn’t do much.”
“I’m heading in. You?”
“I’m getting some air out here. Later.”
After You Hui went in, Mi Wei came trotting over, grinning. “Sister Little Lin, how early did you get here to order the seafood congee? And you didn’t even say it’s your treat!”
Lin Xuqing shook her head. “No need.”
Mi Wei: “Fine, then. Thanks!”
Worried about traffic, everyone had come early, and no one had eaten dinner — all of them hungry. Lin Xuqing had arrived early and ordered the seafood congee for the table.
Now everyone was drinking the steaming congee, bellies full, ready to start work.
Lin Xuqing stood at the roadside, looking in.
Ning Rou was still talking with Jiang Min.
Who knew about what — but Jiang Min’s eyes were on Ning Rou, laughter gathered at the corners of her eyes and brows. As she spoke, she twisted open a cup of hot milk and handed it to Ning Rou.
Ning Rou accepted it, squeezed Jiang Min’s hand, then pulled a scarf from her bag and insisted on wrapping it around Jiang Min’s neck — afraid, presumably, that the night shoot would be cold.
Jiang Min seemed reluctant, but couldn’t outlast her, and let her wind the scarf around and around, smiling all the while.
Lin Xuqing watched from a distance, lashes sinking low.
Mi Wei, missing the change in her expression entirely, said, “I’m going in for congee too. Sister Little Lin, coming?”
“No need,” Lin Xuqing said quietly. “I’ve eaten.”
“Okay, I’m going in, then.”
“Mm.”
Mi Wei trotted happily toward the door — then looked back, saw Lin Xuqing still standing in place, and stopped.
Ai… Sister Little Lin always did like being alone.
At work, at meals — she never asked colleagues to join her, as if nothing else in the world concerned her.
At this very moment, the moon edged out from behind the layered clouds.
And only she stood alone at the roadside.
