Chapter 19

With the first shoot as groundwork, the second was much easier.

After that chat with Zhang Heqiao in the small park, this shoot began with location shots under Mingchuan Bridge, then moved on to three or four more people. Ning Rou didn’t come this time, sending a few young people from the Magazine Office instead, conveniently split into three groups.

The people filmed today were on good terms with Zhang Heqiao, reasonably friendly toward them, and quite cooperative.

There was a young man, not looking very old, with a braid, carrying a guitar everywhere he went—said to be a rock songwriter. His parents had come for him several times, telling him to come home and work, but he refused, writing songs day after day, playing and singing on the streets.

There was also a former boss who’d divorced his wife before going bankrupt; his daughter studied, worked, and settled abroad, and his parents had passed. With nothing tying him down, he drifted from place to place.

Amid the sound of the surging river, Jiang Min listened to the singer’s songs.

The songs were beautiful, their melodies ethereal and melancholy. A pity that in all these years, no one had heard them.

“Thank you. They’re beautiful. It’s a shame more people haven’t heard them.”

“No shame in it. Thank you for listening. If my music can move even one person, I’m glad.”

With that, the wandering singer braced one hand on the ground to rise, insisting on giving Jiang Min a manuscript.

Seeing his movements slightly labored, Jiang Min said, “Careful…”

“It’s fine. Long used to it.”

The man pointed at his own calf, saying without much concern, “Prosthetic limb. Getting around is hard.”

Jiang Min took the manuscript he offered and said once more, solemnly, “Thank you.”

When her interview finished, the other two groups wrapped up as well. They agreed on a time for next session, and everyone prepared to pack up.

Today’s filming had gone very smoothly; it was only just past three. Jiang Min didn’t require everyone to head back to work, and the group dispersed on the spot.

Once the equipment was cleared and everyone had gone, Jiang Min strolled out chatting with Jiang Xuezi.

“New Year’s is almost here. Some of them still have family, yet they don’t want to go back and see them…”

“Sometimes the closer New Year’s comes, the less they dare go home. It’s only natural.”

“Huh? Why is Little Lin trailing behind alone?”

“Hm? Lin Xuqing hasn’t left?”

They had waited until the site was cleared before leaving, after all.

Jiang Min looked at Lin Xuqing, watching her walk slower and slower, alone at the very back, head lowered, as if thinking about something.

“I’m off. Wait for her, will you?”

“Okay.”

“Lin Xuqing?”

Jiang Min called out once, but the woman didn’t hear; she could only stand in place and wait.

Who knew what Photographer Lin was pondering—she kept her head down, walking on without watching the road.

Jiang Min watched her, somewhat amused, and didn’t call again.

Jiang Min waited at her leisure for her to approach, watching her come closer and closer, saying nothing—instead, with a touch of mischief, she reached out and raised her palm.

One step, two steps…

Waiting for Lin Xuqing to walk right into her palm.

Absorbed in her thoughts, Lin Xuqing’s forehead suddenly bumped into a warm palm.

She nearly lost her balance. Looking up, she saw Jiang Min.

Jiang Min caught her arm. “A grown woman, and still like a child—walking around lost in thought, not watching the road. If that had been a wall, you’d have walked right into it too, wouldn’t you?”

“Sorry,” Lin Xuqing said, not having expected her to wait. “Did I hurt your hand?”

“Hardly. Once everyone’s gone, why don’t you take a nap under the bridge too—join the drifting crowd?”

“If it really came to that, you’d come along too, wouldn’t you?”

“In your dreams.”

Lin Xuqing smiled.

So she still remembered the plan she’d proposed.

“What were you thinking about just now?”

“About today’s shoot. Has everyone left?”

“Left ages ago. Don’t you have a hospital appointment today for your vaccine?”

“Mm, I do.”

Lin Xuqing had figured today’s shoot would be quick and she’d have time, so she hadn’t taken leave. It was still early yet. She’d just been thinking of other things and nearly forgotten about it.

“What time is the appointment?”

“Five thirty.”

Jiang Min turned and walked ahead. “Let’s go.”

Lin Xuqing lowered her head, smiled, and hurried after her.

The vaccine came in three doses. A few days ago, Lin Xuqing had come alone for the second; today was the last.

Before her last hospital visit, Jiang Min had even sent her a WeChat reminder a day ahead.

At the sight of the thin needle, Lin Xuqing instinctively looked away. Jiang Min noticed her tension. “Scared of shots?”

“…Not scared.”

“Then why are your eyes closed?”

“I…”

Distracted by the question, she didn’t notice the needle slip into her vein—it was over quickly.

Jiang Min laughed. “I never noticed you were afraid of shots before.”

Her tone was gentle; though only an offhand remark, concern flowed naturally through it.

Lin Xuqing looked at her lovely features, suddenly wanting to say something, yet not knowing what.

Once the shot was done, Jiang Min asked the doctor, “Her wound should be fine now too, right?”

“All fine. It’s healing very well. The bone wasn’t touched, so recovery is quick.”

“Thank you, Doctor.” Relieved, Jiang Min called to Lin Xuqing, “All right. Let’s go.”

Lin Xuqing nodded and followed her out of the hospital.

They’d lingered at the hospital a while; the sky was darkening now.

Snow began drifting from the sky again. This winter, it had snowed without end. The white flakes seemed never to cease, falling upon the winter of every life.

The hospital was near the river; stepping out the main gate brought them to the riverside greenway, where quite a few residents from nearby complexes strolled.

“Lin Xuqing, do you think the footage we have now is enough?”

“By count, yes. And yet it feels like something’s missing.”

Jiang Min thought of the manuscript in her bag. “It’s as if we’re always looking down on it all from on high.”

Lin Xuqing looked at her. “Because we haven’t entered their real lives. We’re purely outside observers with cameras.”

Jiang Min met her gaze.

So Lin Xuqing felt it too.

These past two days everyone else had been pleased, but Jiang Min kept feeling it wasn’t enough—yet she didn’t know whom to talk to about it.

“Also, I don’t like the current color tone of the video.”

“It’s missing some brightness.”

“Yes… as if everyone is sand adrift in fate’s currents. It always leaves me feeling powerless.”

“Maybe if we try a few more times, we can change this world just a little?”

The river lay calm and wide, the bridge spanning across it, traffic flowing without end.

They looked at each other, and smiled.

……

The Faraway BBQ Shop.

It was only six thirty, and there weren’t many customers yet. The shop’s staff were all women of considerable age, setting out tables and stools—but today was much easier than usual.

Because someone was bustling about helping them tidy up, brisk and efficient.

“Haven’t you all just about finished filming? Why are you back again?”

“We haven’t thanked Sister Song to her face yet—of course we had to come.”

Jiang Min picked up her teacup and clinked it against Sister Song’s. “Sister Song, I’m driving later, so tea instead of wine—thank you for all the trouble these past days.”

“No trouble at all,” Sister Song said, downing her drink in one go. “Little You and I are from the same hometown—we get along. And you and I get along well enough too.”

Just as You Hui was mentioned, she hurried in. “You’re all drinking already!”

“Not at all—just me having a small one,” Sister Song said, pulling out a stool for her. “I thought you weren’t coming today.”

“Sister Min and the others went filming today. I was out discussing a project, and came straight over once it was done.”

“Good, good, good. Try my homemade Green Plum Wine. It’s not light, mind you.”

“Sister Song, how did you get from Yongzhou to Mingchuan?” Jiang Min asked on a whim, then worried it was too forward. “If you’d rather not say, pretend I never asked.”

“It’s nothing,” Sister Song said, waving a hand. “Little You asked me before too. Really, there’s nothing that can’t be said—I have a record.”

Jiang Min watched her quietly, waiting for her to go on.

You Hui, for her part, paid no mind to what they said, pouring and drinking on her own.

Sister Song found it funny. “Aren’t your reactions a bit too calm? What if I’m a bad person who grabs a knife and finishes you both off?”

Jiang Min was amused. “Then it would be our good fortune.”

You Hui poured for each of them. “Drink while you have wine today—have your last meal, then off you go.”

Sister Song didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “You two… really are something.”

Seeing they held nothing against her, Sister Song continued. “I was married once. He beat me. I hit back… no need to go into how that ended. After I got out, I left Yongzhou and opened this BBQ shop. I can support myself, and support my staff too. That’s enough.”

At the end, she even squeezed the muscle on her own arm. “These years have gone fairly smoothly. At first, a man next door saw a woman running a shop and got ideas—so I pinned him against the wall and beat him. After that, no one dared trouble me again.”

You Hui slapped the table. “That’s right—women should be strong! One punch, one down!”

“Are you drunk?”

“Nonsense! I’m perfectly sober!”

Two northern women with good tolerance, the more they talked the happier they got. Jiang Min sipped her tea, listening quietly to their chat.

“That’s right. When I came from Yongzhou, I was penniless. This used to be a Sichuan restaurant. I washed dishes here, saved up for two or three years, and then the owner fell ill and quit—he transferred the shop to me at a low price. I’ve been at it fifteen years now.”

“There aren’t many of us here—some big sisters from my village, some other out-of-towners. We’ve gathered together like one family. They say women are the weaker sex—what utter nonsense! In my eyes, we women are the ones with the most grit. No matter how much we’ve suffered, change the place, and we can still make our lives rich and flavorful!”

Sister Song had probably drunk a fair amount; the more she said, the happier she got.

All the words usually buried in her heart came pouring out at once.

Jiang Min looked around the shop. Red lanterns hung at the entrance, their glow warm. The female staff who’d finished setting the tables and stools had gathered together, chatting and laughing, wrinkles creeping up their cheeks, their smiles peaceful and content.

There are many lamps in this world, and beneath each lamp is a story, a life. The dark ones, the bitter ones—like the lives under the bridge—she respected, of course.

But perhaps it was simply her nature—she still preferred a temperament like Sister Song’s.

No matter how many things in life go wrong, in the end you must be the one to add brightness to it yourself.

It was nearing eight, close to the shop’s opening hours.

Seeing them merrier and merrier, Jiang Min couldn’t help interjecting, “Things will get busy soon. You Hui, if you drink the boss under the table and hold up business, what then?”

Sister Song looked at her, smiling, her eyes still clear. “As if. Besides, your Little Lin is helping outside. I think this girl’s a good one—steady character, capable too.”

Jiang Min looked out and saw Lin Xuqing working briskly and neatly. Though the doctor had said she was fine, she still worried the leg injury hadn’t fully healed. “Lin Xuqing, mind your leg.”

The woman in the main hall waved a hand at her. “I’m fine.”

Sister Song laughed. “How many years apart are you two?”

Jiang Min: “Seven, I think…”

“Are you her sister? Or what?”

“Uh…” Jiang Min paused before answering. “I sponsored her for a while, up until she graduated from university. We lost touch for two years; recently she was job-hunting again, and we ran into each other.”

Sister Song eyed her with interest. “I see. Anyone who didn’t know would think she’s your little girlfriend.”

“Cough, cough—” Jiang Min, mid-sip of water, nearly choked. “Sister Song, you can’t just say things like that. I’m only a few years older, true, but when I met her she was still a young girl. I look at her half as I would a junior.”

Sister Song burst out laughing. “Sorry, sorry—I never hold my tongue.”

It was just an offhand remark—why explain at such length?

You Hui laughed too. “Um, Sister Song, I did tell you I like girls. But you can’t just assume everyone is…”

Jiang Min, resigned, shook her head with a smile.

She’d known about You Hui long ago. She just hadn’t expected this Sister Song… truly capable of shocking statements.

“Sister Song, is the condiment box in the storeroom?”

Just as the words fell, Lin Xuqing came over, lifting the curtain. “Sister Wang couldn’t find it—she’s asking where it is.”

Sister Song beamed at her. “There’s a box on the floor next to the kitchen fridge.”

Remembering the earlier topic, You Hui also looked her over with a smile. Well, she had to admit… this Little Lin—pretty face, great figure, wonderful person. A bit quiet, but otherwise flawless.

Being sized up made Lin Xuqing uncomfortable. “What are you all looking at me for?”

Jiang Min cleared her throat. Remembering Sister Song’s joking “little girlfriend” from moments ago, she felt a bit awkward herself. “Go on, get back to the kitchen.”