Chapter 4
◎A foothold.◎
The last time she was here, Qiao Xiaoxiao hadn’t entered the house, only stood in the courtyard for a moment. She had even just stolen a single glance at Chu Xinrou before immediately lowering her head.
Now, having entered the door, she still didn’t dare to move recklessly. She stood pressed against the wall, her thin shoulders almost embedding themselves into it. There was a beige carpet on the floor, as soft and clean as a patch of new snow. Afraid of dirtying it, she shuffled her feet awkwardly, the mud stains on the edges of her canvas shoes having dried into a light brown.
Chu Xinrou was bending down to find slippers for Qiao Xiaoxiao. After finding them, she turned around and saw her standing cautiously by the wall, not daring to move an inch.
“Wear these,” Chu Xinrou placed the slippers by her feet, her voice unconsciously softening. “They’re new. I’ll go turn on the water heater. You should take a shower, or you’ll catch a cold.”
Qiao Xiaoxiao pressed her lips together, her throat moving. She wanted to say it wasn’t necessary to go to such trouble, that she was used to cold showers and hot water was too much of a luxury. But the words died on her lips. Chu Xinrou had already turned and walked towards the bathroom, her figure slender and neat, giving her no chance to refuse.
Only when the sound of footsteps faded did Qiao Xiaoxiao dare to lift her head and cautiously survey her surroundings.
The room was so big, so clean. The beige and natural wood furniture glowed softly under the warm light. The floor was so shiny it reflected her image. On the coffee table were appliances she couldn’t name. Even the air held a faint fragrance, like sun-dried blankets. The chandelier in the living room cast an orange-yellow light, full of warmth.
When Chu Xinrou returned, she found Qiao Xiaoxiao still standing in the same spot, like a little cat soaked by the rain, not even daring to move her paws. She had taken off her wet jacket and had roughly dried her hair, but it was still dripping, soaking a small patch on her shoulder.
Chu Xinrou said, “I’ll take you to the bathroom.”
Qiao Xiaoxiao nodded, her voice barely audible. “Thank you.”
She followed behind Chu Xinrou, her steps light, as if afraid a heavy footfall would disturb something.
The wind and rain still howled outside, but the light inside the house was warm and comforting.
She remembered how at her aunt’s house, on stormy days like this, her aunt would always hold her little sister in her arms and coax her softly, while she could only huddle on the small bed in the storage room, listening to the thunder crack over the roof and counting the drips of the leaking roof until dawn.
Chu Xinrou stopped and turned to look at her. “We’re here. You can leave your dirty clothes outside.”
Qiao Xiaoxiao had been secretly looking at her back. Caught off guard by the eye contact, she immediately lowered her head in a panic, her fingers unconsciously twisting the hem of her clothes.
Sensing her unease and caution, Chu Xinrou’s lips curved into a gentle smile. “After your shower, I’ll show you around the house.”
—The house.
This word, which had never belonged to Qiao Xiaoxiao, rolled gently in her heart, bringing with it a secret warmth.
Chu Xinrou was very thoughtful. After leading her into the bathroom, she didn’t leave immediately but patiently pointed to the bottles and jars. “The red button is for hot water, the blue one is for cold. This blue bottle is shampoo, the light pink one next to it is conditioner, and that one that foams up when you press it is body wash…”
Her fingertips cast a faint shadow on the smooth tiles. Qiao Xiaoxiao’s gaze followed that shadow, but she quickly lowered her lashes when Chu Xinrou looked over. The exquisite bottles were printed with English words she couldn’t understand and exuded a faint jasmine scent. At her aunt’s house, she could only use a single yellowed bar of soap for all her cleaning needs. Occasionally finding her sister’s leftover expired shampoo was a rare luxury.
Chu Xinrou’s voice was as soft as a feather. “Did you bring a change of clothes?”
Qiao Xiaoxiao nodded, her fingers unconsciously tightening. “Yes.”
“Good.” Chu Xinrou gently closed the door. “I’ll be right outside. Call me if you need anything.”
“Thank you…”
Closing the door, Qiao Xiaoxiao quickly stripped off her rain-soaked clothes. The feeling of the damp fabric clinging to her skin finally disappeared, and she let out a soft sigh of relief.
Xiaoxiao cautiously touched the unfamiliar toiletries, her fingertips tracing the bottles. The click sound from pressing the pump made her shoulders tremble. The white foam that suddenly appeared in her palm carried a sweet orange blossom scent, a smell she had never encountered before. She lowered her head to sniff it, couldn’t resist pressing it again. The foam piled up between her fingers, as delicate as melting snow.
The moment the hot water poured down from the showerhead, Qiao Xiaoxiao flinched slightly before being enveloped by the warm stream. The water droplets slid down her neck, caressing her perpetually tense back. She tilted her face up, letting the hot water wash over her cheeks, a feeling of comfort and relaxation she had never experienced before.
Although being wrapped in the warm water was very comfortable, Qiao Xiaoxiao still finished her shower as quickly as possible. She didn’t dare to waste too much hot water and only squeezed out a pea-sized amount of shampoo. Even so, as she dried her slightly yellowed hair, she could feel an unprecedented smoothness. The strands slipped through her fingers, carrying a faint orange blossom scent that made her want to touch them a few more times.
When she walked out of the bathroom, a sweet floral scent wafted through the air. Chu Xinrou was busy in the kitchen, the warm yellow light casting a soft silhouette around her. Her head was slightly lowered, her slender fingers adding dried roses and chrysanthemums to a teapot. In the rising steam, her profile looked exceptionally gentle.
“Finished so quickly?” Hearing the footsteps, Chu Xinrou turned her head, a faint smile on her lips.
Qiao Xiaoxiao was still wearing the same faded clothes from their last meeting. The knees of her jeans were worn to a fine fuzz, and the collar of her light-colored T-shirt was slightly yellowed. Long-term malnutrition made her look sallow and thin, her wrists so slender they looked like they could snap. But now, fresh from her shower, with her wet hair draped over her shoulders, she actually showed a rare touch of delicate beauty.
Chu Xinrou pushed a cup of steaming floral tea to the opposite side of the dining table. “Have something hot to warm up. I just made it.”
Qiao Xiaoxiao stood still, her gaze fixed on the cup of tea. In the transparent glass, a few unfurled chrysanthemums floated on the pale golden liquid. Steam rose gently, condensing into tiny droplets on the rim. She pressed her lips together, her throat moving unconsciously. Tea was something she had only seen at Village Chief Song Qiu’s house and had never drunk. To her, it was too much of a luxury.
Qiao Xiaoxiao stared at the exquisite teacup, her fingertips curling restlessly on the edge of the table, her voice as soft as a mosquito’s buzz. “I… I don’t need any…”
Chu Xinrou’s gaze lingered on her for a moment before she turned and took a mug with a little bear pattern from the cupboard. “How about this one?” Her voice was very soft. “Chrysanthemum tea can calm the nerves. Your hair is still wet, you should drink something hot so you don’t get a headache.”
Qiao Xiaoxiao looked at the charming little bear mug, her tense shoulders relaxing imperceptibly. She slowly moved to the dining table and carefully held the mug with both hands.
“Th… thank you,” she said, lowering her head, her voice so soft it almost melted into the aroma of the tea.
Qiao Xiaoxiao didn’t understand the elegant etiquette of tea tasting. She just felt that something so good shouldn’t be wasted on her. When she tilted her head back and drank it all in one go, the sweet tea slid down her throat, carrying the unique warm fragrance of sun-dried chrysanthemums. The moment she looked up, Chu Xinrou by the window was turning her head slightly.
The fine rain traced transparent streams down the glass, blurring Chu Xinrou’s figure into an ink wash painting. In the hazy light, her fingertips holding the cup were as translucent as jade. The steam from the tea swirled around her features, outlining her delicate profile with a soft contour. The sound of rain hitting the banana leaves outside was sometimes near, sometimes far. Her still figure was like a court lady from an ancient scroll, brewing tea with melted snow under a plum tree.
Qiao Xiaoxiao lowered her head in a panic.
A sudden feeling of inadequacy…
Chu Xinrou glanced at the clock and asked softly, “Are you hungry?”
It was almost twelve o’clock.
Years of enduring hunger had long accustomed Qiao Xiaoxiao to the burning sensation of an empty stomach. She instinctively shook her head, but her body betrayed her will. A slight cramp came from her stomach, and her throat moved unconsciously as she secretly swallowed.
Chu Xinrou took in this small movement, a gentle smile gracing her lips. “I’m not very good at cooking. I have some dried noodles at home. Shall we cook them?”
Qiao Xiaoxiao lowered her head, her fingers unconsciously twisting the hem of her clothes. She wanted to say that she could cook; back in the countryside, she was the one who prepared meals for the whole family. But the quick glance she had stolen of the kitchen earlier—the shiny utensils, the complicated buttons—had filled her with awe and fear.
Sensing her awkwardness, Chu Xinrou asked gently, “Together?”
Qiao Xiaoxiao’s head shot up, her thin face looking particularly lively under the light. She nodded her pointed chin vigorously.
This sudden spark of life startled Chu Xinrou slightly.
From the moment Qiao Xiaoxiao had stepped into this house, she had kept her head down, spoken in a soft voice, and every movement was a cautious test. There had never been such a light in her eyes.
Qiao Xiaoxiao noticed Chu Xinrou’s gaze and immediately lowered her head.
Just now, she had sensitively caught that Chu Xinrou had said she wasn’t very good at cooking. That meant she could learn how to use the kitchen utensils seriously and cook for her in the future.
Years of living under someone else’s roof had long carved a belief into Qiao Xiaoxiao’s bones: in someone else’s home, you must work desperately and contribute your labor to deserve even a small foothold.
【Author’s Note】
Ten years later, the moment Qiao Xiaoxiao enters the door, she immediately turns on the air conditioner, jumps onto the bed, and happily rolls around hugging Chu Xinrou’s clothes.
When Chu Xinrou gets home and sees Qiao Xiaoxiao in front of the computer wearing only shorts and a camisole, she frowns. “Who said you could eat a popsicle?”
