Chapter 7

New Year was closing in, and the mall was strung with lanterns and balloons, the music bright and festive. Two escalator flights down, Jiang Min spotted her mother.

Pei Ruyi stood in the walkway in a long black coat, her back straight and poised. As Jiang Min came up, she turned. “Finished dinner so soon?”

Jiang Min made an acknowledging sound. “Done. Did you finish your shopping?”

“Done. Bought two pieces of clothing.” Pei Ruyi lifted the shopping bags slightly and smiled at Wen Jun, not far off. “Wen Jun, it’s been a while.”

Pei Ruyi pointed across the way. “There — your Auntie Song left her bag in that shop; she’s just coming over now.”

Jiang Min turned to greet Wen Jun’s mother. “Auntie Song, good evening.”

Auntie Song seized her hand at once. “A-Min, dear, it’s been ages since you came by the house. Are you free tomorrow? I’ll have Wen Jun come pick you up.”

“Thank you, Auntie Song.” Jiang Min’s smile was gentle, but her voice was firm. “Year-end is busy at work. Not tomorrow.”

Pei Ruyi hurried to smooth it over. “She’s been working late every day lately. After the New Year — after the New Year we’ll set a time for tea together.”

Auntie Song patted Jiang Min’s hand before letting go. “It’s a promise, then. See you after the New Year.”

“Wen Jun, see A-Min and her mother to their car.”

“No need, I drove. Auntie Song, until next time.”

Jiang Min took the shopping bags from her mother and gave Wen Jun a nod too. “We’re off.”

Wen Jun shrugged, smiling. “All right. Next time.”

Only in the car did Pei Ruyi sigh softly. “Your Auntie Song’s intentions — you understand them, don’t you?”

Jiang Min gave a flat little “mm.”

The two families were neighbors; she and Wen Jun were childhood playmates. After high school, Wen Jun went abroad to study while she attended Mingchuan University, and after that they’d rarely met.

Pei Ruyi looked out the window. “Wen Jun had girlfriends abroad — together, then apart, then together again. His family worries, wants him to settle down soon…”

The unspoken remainder: the two of them were both single, after all, and both sets of elders figured that with a lifetime’s acquaintance between them, why not give it a try?

Jiang Min didn’t take the bait.

Pei Ruyi let it go and changed course. “I’m here two days — I’ll make you dumplings. What filling do you want?”

Only then did Jiang Min smile. “Don’t run yourself ragged. A batch of dumplings is plenty.”

“Certainly not.” Pei Ruyi tapped her. “Do I not know you by now? The moment work gets busy, you forget meals exist. I’ll make a batch and freeze them — when you’re swamped, just boil a few.”

“Yes, yes, yes. Her Majesty the Empress Dowager is absolutely right.”

The moment Pei Ruyi got home she refused to sit still, bustling about the kitchen. Jiang Min couldn’t stop her, so she let her be, settling onto the sofa and answering WeChat messages.

When Pei Ruyi emerged from the kitchen, she found her daughter staring at her phone. “Still working, this late?”

“No.” Jiang Min didn’t look up. She’d just seen Lin Xuqing’s reply — a single “it’s nothing” — and paused before saying, “Not work.”

Pei Ruyi brought over a glass of water, and one glance at the name on the screen made her brow furrow. “Is that… that Little Lin from before?”

“Hm?” Jiang Min looked up, smiling. “Mom, you still remember her?”

“Of course I remember. Why are you in contact with her again? Didn’t you say you hadn’t spoken in years?”

“Oh — we’re short-handed at the team for year-end, so she came over.”

“Did you pull strings for her? You don’t owe her anything. And she’s heartless herself, all these years not a word to you.

“No strings pulled. Please don’t talk like that.”

Pei Ruyi was displeased. “Then what should I say? Am I wrong? It’s not that I demand she repay you — but a person should have a grateful heart. That child doesn’t understand decency.”

Jiang Min looked at her mother, her expression serious. “She’s not that kind of person. After graduating, she sponsored other children.”

Pei Ruyi blinked. “How do you know that?”

Jiang Min lowered her eyes. “Ning Rou told me.”

Lin Xuqing had no contact with her. But every year she called Ning Rou once, to wish her a happy New Year.

And if she claimed she felt no loss at all over it — that would be a lie.

“All right, Mom. Get some rest early.”

Pei Ruyi let out a long breath. “I’ve given up trying to manage your life. But since she’s working under you again, keep it strictly business. If she can’t do the work, dismiss her.”

Her words were direct and decisive — her usual take-no-prisoners style.

“Can’t do the work?” Jiang Min couldn’t help a smile. “She’s very capable. After all, I picked her out at a glance.”

“Clumsy, maybe. At least she’s not lazy.”

“And now you’re proud of it,” Pei Ruyi said, rolling her eyes. “There’s no talking to you.”

Jiang Min laughed and steered her mother to her bedroom door. “All right, Mom, early night. Don’t fuss over me — I’m doing fine. You should get your beauty sleep before eleven, so you’re still the prettiest little old lady at square dancing.”

Pei Ruyi tapped her forehead with a fingertip, laughing and scolding in one. “Yes, yes, I can’t out-talk you.”

Jiang Min gave her mother no chance to keep nagging, shutting the door firmly and buying herself some peace.

Monday morning was the weekly meeting, set in stone.

Jiang Min had asked each group for a proposal last week; the materials were already printed, but she’d had no time to read them closely and decided to discuss them directly in the meeting.

“Nine-thirty. Let’s begin. Post-production first.”

Xu Chun, post-production’s team leader, cleared her throat and began. “We’ve thought it over. The homeless — we invite them to a meal, interview them over the food. Everyone says the dinner table brings people closest. A few extra meals, and the task practically completes itself.”

Jiang Min looked at her. “Will they sit down and eat with us? Put yourself in their place — would you?”

Xu Chun: “I…”

“And step back further. Do you think this ‘throwing them scraps’ approach is respectful? Looking down from on high — will that open anyone’s heart? Do you imagine it’ll surface anything of value?”

Three questions in a row, and Xu Chun was struck dumb.

No one else picked up the thread either; the conference room went silent.

Xu Chun’s face burned.

She was the oldest person present, and being challenged like this by Jiang Min was inevitably awkward. But her nature was gentle; she drew a deep breath, and her emotions settled.

Jiang Min rapped the table. “Next group.”

“I’ll go,” You Hui took over. “This weekend, our project team did the rounds near the bridges where these men congregate, and we got to know the owner of a barbecue stall. They collect cardboard boxes to trade for beer and the grilled oysters she can’t sell.”

“We can reach them through this owner. Further planning TBD.”

Jiang Min leaned back. “There’s some feasibility to it. Elaborate.”

You Hui opened the projector. “First — the owner is from Yongzhou, running the stall alone out here. From what we’ve learned, she’s warm by nature. She’s a woman too, which lowers the difficulty of approach, and safety is better assured as well. That said, we don’t yet know how familiar she actually is with the homeless men.”

Jiang Min nodded. “Refine and organize the preliminary information you’ve gathered.”

You Hui pointed at the materials on the table. “Part of it’s here — we’re still compiling the rest. We’ll move fast.”

Jiang Min made an acknowledging sound. “Filming unit — who’s reporting?”

Jian Ming cradled his teacup, blew across the tea, and smiled a smile full of meaning. “Photographer Lin came up with a rather excellent proposal.”

At that, everyone’s interest was piqued.

“What proposal?”

“Come on, Team Leader Jian, don’t keep us in suspense.”

“Lin Xuqing — you tell it yourself.”

Jian Ming set down his cup and leaned back, the picture of smug ease, like a man waiting for the show to start.

Lin Xuqing’s voice betrayed no ripple, level and even. “Back in my student days I knew a teacher who, for his research on migrant workers, took his doctoral students and spent a year working inside a factory. We don’t need a year — half a month to a month. We could ‘drift’ under the bridges too.”

The words were barely out before faces changed all around.

Sleep under a bridge in the dead of winter, and mingle with a crowd of homeless men — who could stomach that?!

Jiang Min’s brow furrowed, but before she could speak, Jian Ming asked first, “So — who exactly do you think…”

“I’ve already considered that,” Lin Xuqing said, knowing full well what he was driving at. “I—”

“No.”

Jiang Min, silent until now, cut in with an iron “no” before Lin Xuqing could even finish.

Lin Xuqing pressed her lips together. “President Jiang, I’ve looked into it before—”

“Did you consider everyone’s safety?”

“Send me alone.”

“That’s enough. Meeting dismissed.”

Jiang Min shoved her chair back and rose first, her face cold as frost.

Jiang Xuezi read her anger at a glance and hurried after her into Jiang Min’s office.

Jiang Min stood with her arms crossed, her tone none too pleasant. “Xuezi. Come to talk me around?”

“Heaven forbid — I came to do no such thing.” Jiang Xuezi patted her shoulder. “So Little Lin can’t go. What if we send two male colleagues instead?”

Jiang Min gave a scornful laugh. “You think they’d agree to it?”

Jiang Xuezi sighed. “Fair point.”

They were still talking when a knock sounded.

“Come in.”

The door opened from outside. Lin Xuqing stood in the doorway, not entering.

“I’ll leave you two to it.” Jiang Xuezi patted Jiang Min’s shoulder, dropping her voice for the second half. “A-Min. You’re too close to this — it’s clouding your judgment.”

Jiang Min’s face stayed dark, and she said nothing.

Lin Xuqing nodded to Jiang Xuezi, waited for her to leave, then pulled the door shut and walked over. “President Jiang, why won’t you give me the chance to try?”

Jiang Min turned the question back on her. “Try how?”

Lin Xuqing looked her straight in the eye and said, earnest, “I’ve done every kind of work. Those two years in Africa, conditions were brutal. I’ve trained in judo. I’ve done long-distance cycling tours and slept under bridges. I—”

“Photographer Lin really can do anything.” Jiang Min laughed, cold. “How impressive. But unfortunately, I answer for this team’s safety. I cannot carry that responsibility. Please leave.”

Lin Xuqing kept going. “It’s all right. If anything actually goes wrong, I’ll bear the consequences myself. Rest assured, I won’t cause you the slightest trouble.”

Jiang Min repeated her words. “Bear the consequences yourself?”

Afraid Jiang Min still wasn’t reassured, Lin Xuqing pressed on. “If you’re worried, I’ll put it in writing. We can have it notarized, or—”

Jiang Min: “That’s enough. Now — please leave.”

Lin Xuqing seemed to have grown angry too. “President Jiang, I don’t understand. You haven’t even heard my full proposal. Why reject it so completely?”

Jiang Min nearly laughed at the absurdity of it.

Why reject it so completely?

And leave her to walk into danger with her own body?

“Lin Xuqing, I don’t report my work to you.” Jiang Min pointed at the door, her voice ice. “I have now asked you to leave twice. Now — get out.”

Lin Xuqing stared at her, rooted to the spot, refusing to move.

Just like that argument eight years ago.

Neither willing to bow.