“Little Lin, what are you daydreaming about out here?”
“Oh… nothing.”
“Here.” Jiang Xuezi handed her a hot drink. “It’s freezing out. Come inside.”
“Thank you, Sister Xuezi.”
Lin Xuqing turned and went in with her.
Walking on, Jiang Xuezi spotted Jiang Min and Ning Rou deep in conversation, arched a brow, and glanced sideways at Lin Xuqing.
Lin Xuqing’s lashes hung low, as if unaware of the look.
Jiang Xuezi sighed softly. “Oh, right — what are your plans for New Year? Going home? It keeps snowing at year-end; flights will probably get delayed.”
“Haven’t decided. I’ll see when the time comes.” Lin Xuqing answered absently.
The open-air food stalls grew livelier as night deepened. At seven or eight there’d been hardly anyone; by nine, the crowd was slowly building.
At ten, the homeless began drifting in with old cardboard and bottles to trade for beer. Through Boss Song’s introductions, the ones who’d earlier agreed to cooperate with the shoot sat down as well.
Jiang Xuezi ordered beer and barbecue, her smile warm, and said to the man watching her warily, “Please, sit. Just a little of your time. We’ll only chat.”
Her manner was perfectly courteous. He studied her a long moment before pulling out a red plastic stool and sitting, his eyes moving over the barbecue and beer, then lifting again. “You… what do you want to ask?”
“Have something to eat first — it’s a cold night.”
Jiang Xuezi was in no hurry. She rose to pour water, smiling gently throughout.
Lin Xuqing sat to one side, focused entirely on adjusting the equipment, choosing angles and light.
Elsewhere, You Hui paired with Yun Shu. Outgoing and talkative, You Hui had conversation flowing in no time.
The last group was post-production’s team leader Xu Chun with Jian Ming.
Xu Chun handled the questions, but Jian Ming sat cradling his hands, chin lifted, the very picture of self-importance.
Jiang Min wasn’t taking part in the hands-on work, and her brow creased.
But she didn’t go over to intervene. During shoots she didn’t meddle in specifics; on-site details were Wen Heng’s to hold. Besides, she had her own arrangements.
She glanced around — and realized the person she’d been waiting for had arrived.
His name was Zhang Heqiao. Not old, medium-length hair; by reputation, his word carried weight among this group, and he knew Boss Song well.
Jiang Min carried two cups of hot tea over and sat down. “Hello, Mr. Zhang. I’m Jiang Min. Might we talk?”
Zhang Heqiao gave her a flat look and nodded.
“Have you had dinner?”
“Eaten, haven’t I. Otherwise why come here to beg.”
Jiang Min gave no sign of hearing the mockery. “Any plans for the New Year?”
Zhang Heqiao was a little surprised. “New Year… under the bridge arches, same as always. Where else would I go.”
“Not going home?”
“No home.”
“Family, then? Are your parents in good health?”
“You…”
Barely acquainted, and already she chatted like an old friend — but her tone was plain and level, its mildness threaded with a faint, genuine concern, and it didn’t offend.
Jiang Min’s expression was warm and easy. Ning Rou sat to one side, wanting to take notes yet unsure what to note, visibly awkward.
“I hear you have a guitar. What do you like to play?”
“Folk.”
“Might I have the honor of hearing it?”
“You don’t have that honor.”
At that, Zhang Heqiao laughed. “Forget it. Go find someone else to chat with.”
Jiang Min looked at him. “Why?”
“Look, madam,” Zhang Heqiao said, mockery on his face, eyelids half-lowered, “glossy white-collar types like you — can you really understand what people like us think about?”
Jiang Min blinked, and said before she could think, “I’m sorry.”
Before coming tonight she had considered this, and dressed as plainly as she could — just a short black down jacket and jeans, no makeup at all.
At last he lifted his head and gave her a look, then laughed again. “I wasn’t talking about you. I meant the lady beside you.”
Jiang Min: “I know.”
“Then what are you apologizing for?”
“I’m apologizing on her behalf.”
The exchange had happened fast.
Ning Rou looked down at herself, faintly embarrassed.
She wore a white cashmere coat and long boots today, full makeup done for the camera — and now the boots were speckled with grease from the ground. Her brow creased without her meaning it to.
Zhang Heqiao’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “You’re a funny one, apologizing for her. What is she to you?”
Jiang Min remained perfectly calm. “She’s my family.”
Zhang Heqiao said nothing more. He rose and sauntered out, back turned, waving a hand — the wordless meaning of we won’t meet again.
His departure was a signal. The others who’d still been willing to talk rose one after another and left. The interviews, the footage — all of it ended there.
And there would not easily be another chance.
The other two groups were caught off guard; a few of the younger ones, thinking they could knock off early, couldn’t hide their relief. Jiang Xuezi and You Hui exchanged a look and shook their heads.
Ning Rou was still caught in the humiliation he’d handed her, the rims of her eyes faintly red.
Jiang Min softened her voice. “Little Rou, go home first. We’ll shoot again next time.”
Ning Rou nodded.
She gathered the people who’d come from the magazine office and walked out head bowed — at the door, she turned back for one more look at Jiang Min.
Jiang Min gave her a reassuring smile and a small nod.
Only then did a trace of a smile return to Ning Rou’s face, and she left.
Watching her go, the smile on Jiang Min’s own face slowly faded.
Jiang Xuezi closed her notebook and came over. “A-Min…”
Jiang Min drew a deep breath, waited two seconds, and said, “Have Mi Wei settle the barbecue bill. Xuezi, it’s nearly eleven — you arrange everyone’s rides home.”
“Don’t worry.”
After Jiang Xuezi left, Jiang Min stood in place while everyone packed up equipment and personal things.
The black down jacket should have looked bulky; on her it only made her seem thinner, her bearing colder than usual by several degrees. Her bare face was clean and plain, her lips a touch pale.
Lin Xuqing finished stowing the equipment and watched her.
Mi Wei came back from paying. “Senior Sister, all settled. You drove, right?”
Jiang Min came back to herself. “I did. You all go ahead — I’ll say goodbye to Sister Song before I leave. Don’t wait for me.”
Without even reviewing tonight’s footage, Jiang Min knew most of it was useless.
There was no need to come back tomorrow either. The ones willing to come had come — and clearly, even this had been mere face-saving for Boss Song’s sake, a perfunctory going through the motions.
This shoot would have to be shelved.
Once everyone else had gone, Jiang Min went to find Boss Song to say goodbye.
Sister Song was in the back kitchen, washing enoki mushrooms and chives as she talked. “Little Jiang, I heard from You Hui that this filming of yours absolutely has to be completed?”
Jiang Min leaned against the doorframe. “That’s right. No finished footage, no wages paid.”
“My door’s filthy — careful it doesn’t stain your clothes.” Sister Song looked back at her, hands pausing.
The kitchen door was caked in grease, but Jiang Min seemed not to mind it in the slightest. “It’s only clothes. It’s fine.”
Sister Song studied her and smiled. “You’re not what I expected from first impressions.”
Rather free and easy. Unbothered by small things.
Jiang Min didn’t ask in what way she’d differed, and fell into easy chat with Sister Song. She’d meant to say only a few words, but once the talking started, she lost track of time.
Jiang Xuezi and Mi Wei both messaged her in between; her phone was on silent, and she saw neither.
By the time she said her goodbyes and came out, only one person stood outside. That person wore a white hat, shoulders hunched, hands jammed in pockets, looking utterly pitiful — cold clear through, by the look of it.
The plush coat she’d produced from who knew where was cream-yellow, with two long bunny ears drooping from the hood.
“Mi Wei?”
“Senior Sister! My dearest, dearest Senior Sister! You’ve finally come out!”
“Where did that coat come from? If not for that hat, I’d never have known you.”
“Grabbed it before we came — left it in Sister Xuezi’s car, and it was too cold, so I put it on. Pretty, right?”
“Not especially.”
“How is it not pretty? I bought two!”
“Fine, fine, fine. Pretty, pretty. How are you getting home? I’ll drive you.”
“No need, no need — I live right nearby, I’ll walk. You should hurry home.”
Mi Wei was shivering violently. “Go get your car! I’m off!”
“All right. Message me when you’re home.”
The words were barely out before Mi Wei scurried off.
Jiang Min watched her go, shaking her head with a smile.
The lanes here were narrow; cars couldn’t get in, so hers was parked at the curb outside.
The neighborhood was packed with migrant workers, many only getting off work at this hour. Along the roadside, little carts hawked wraps, fried skewers, roasted sweet potatoes — the street wasn’t lonely at all.
Jiang Min walked out nearly twenty minutes before reaching the road.
A figure stood beside her car. It paced from the hood to the trunk, from the trunk back to the hood, then stopped at the hood — back turned to her, precisely.
Who was this, prowling around her car late at night?
Jiang Min went alert.
Had she locked the car?
She deliberately slowed her steps, sizing up the figure as she approached. The distance was nearly closed — she was about to play the passing stranger — when the figure turned around.
“Lin Xuqing?”
Under the streetlight, the person standing there was unmistakably Lin Xuqing.
No wonder she hadn’t recognized her from afar. This one was in a plush coat too — pink, hood up, for all the world a lop-eared rabbit.
The wind outside was fierce, presumably; Lin Xuqing was half-hunched as well, hands crossed and tucked into her sleeves. The temperature had dropped to ten below tonight — who knew how long she’d been standing here.
She must be frozen through.
Lin Xuqing clearly hadn’t expected her to appear. She froze for two seconds, straightened up a beat early — as if she weren’t cold at all — then pulled off the hood, looking for all the world as if she meant to take off the coat next.
Jiang Min said sharply, “Take off what? Keep it on.”
Lin Xuqing: “…Oh.”
“The coat from Mi Wei?”
“Mm…”
Who knew what had gotten into Mi Wei back then — pulling two plush coats out of Jiang Xuezi’s car, wearing one herself and still not satisfied, forcing the other onto her.
Being made to wear it was one thing — but then, inexplicably, she’d gone and looked at her with this doting, tender expression. Honestly…
Lin Xuqing could hardly hold her head up.
She had always favored cold-toned clothes — tonight a dark-gray coat — and now this ridiculous bunny-ear plush coat was layered over it, neither one thing nor the other.
…Like a child.
Jiang Min found it a little funny.
This person who always dressed so thin — so she did know what cold was, after all.
“Why wait here for me? What did you need to say?”
“Tonight’s shoot fell short of expectations. Like I said before — let me try. May I?”
Unlike her insistence in the meeting, her tone now was that of a careful inquiry.
Jiang Min beckoned, signaling her to come closer.
Lin Xuqing, not understanding, obeyed all the same — bending down slightly, meeting her eyes.
Warm orange lamplight spilled down over them.
Under the light, Jiang Min looked at that face so full of expectation, her heart gone entirely soft. She raised her hand and gave her cheek a light pinch. “You may not.”
She’d waited out here in the cold wind all this time — just to say that.
Lin Xuqing went still, as if she hadn’t imagined being pinched.
Jiang Min looked into her eyes.
“Don’t try to persuade me.”
The words were as imperious as ever — but the tone was unmistakably warm. Soft.
She let go. “All right. I’ll take you home.”
Lin Xuqing looked away, head lowering. “Mm… thank you.”
Lin Xuqing rounded the hood to open the passenger door.
Jiang Min watched the back of her in that pink, fluffy, bunny-eared coat — and the corner of her mouth lifted before she knew it.
