Huang Mao had a peculiar habit – he preferred watching DVDs because he felt computer screens were too small and cramped when people gathered around. Watching on TV was more enjoyable, but DVDs were becoming obsolete, and only Xing Wu could get them.

Seeing Fat Hu and Xing Wu return, he hastily inserted the DVD, muttering, “My player might be broken. Last night when my dad suddenly came home, I panicked and unplugged it wrong. Brother Wu, can you help fix it later? I rely on it to stay alive.”

Quan Ya laughed beside him, “Would you die if you don’t watch for one day?”

They joked around as they played the disc. Meanwhile, Xing Wu was already sitting at the hot pot, which had been seasoned and started cooking lamb slices. The TV soon displayed explicit scenes, and the group of young men around twenty years old watched excitedly, urging Huang Mao to fast-forward.

Huang Mao gestured animatedly with the remote, saying, “Look, doesn’t she look like the girl we met on the street earlier?”

Everyone’s faces were practically pressed against the TV screen, their excitement obvious. Xing Wu glanced once and turned away with a cold expression.

Huang Mao excitedly turned to ask Xing Wu, “How about it, Brother Wu? She’s hot, right? That girl on the street probably looks just as wild underneath.”

As soon as he spoke, the atmosphere in the room became strange. Unlike usual, Xing Wu didn’t curse at him for being rude. Instead, he remained silent with furrowed brows, a sudden chill emanating from him as he said neither loudly nor softly, “Turn it off.”

Huang Mao thought he’d misheard, responding with a confused “Huh?”

Fat Hu stood to the side, frantically winking at Huang Mao, who didn’t catch on and continued excitedly, “Brother Wu, isn’t she hot?”

Fat Hu anxiously walked over, snatched the remote, turned off the TV, and bumped Huang Mao, saying, “Shut, shut up. The girl we saw on the street is, is Brother Wu’s cousin.”

Instantly, the room fell silent, everyone exchanging awkward glances and staring oddly at Xing Wu.

Seeing Xing Wu’s cold expression, Huang Mao said sheepishly, “Sorry, Brother Wu, I didn’t know that girl was… Hey, since when did you have a cousin? From Beijing too?”

Xing Wu remembered how Qing Ye had stood on the street earlier, head down and crying, her thin figure looking as if it might be blown away by the wind, utterly helpless and desperate.

He drained his glass in one gulp, stood up, and said as he left, “You guys eat, I’m leaving first.”

Huang Mao panicked, following to ask, “Leaving before eating?”

Xing Wu opened the door and left without looking back. Soon after, his motorcycle rushed past the window. Huang Mao scratched his head, “Did I say something wrong?”

Fat Hu patted him, saying, “Pro-probably Brother Wu has family issues. We should leave him alone for now. With his family situation, and suddenly having a cousin show up, who wouldn’t be in a bad mood?”

…

Qing Ye lay on the bed, staring vacantly at the mottled ceiling. She had been looking at it for half an hour, genuinely afraid that the peeling paint might suddenly fall. Beneath her was a skin-crawling red peony-patterned bedsheet. She hadn’t slept all night, thinking she would fall asleep once she lay down, but every time she closed her eyes, all she could see was that dirty, gray street and a sky without a single bird. The world outside the window seemed covered by a veil, separating her from her previous life. Everything felt like a dream, so unreal. Several times when she opened her eyes, she hoped she would still be lying in her soft bed at home.

However, the mahjong sounds from downstairs, the accented chatter, and the sound of people spitting outside the window all reminded her that this wasn’t a dream.

This continued until dark when Li Lanfang called her down for dinner. Qing Ye sat up suddenly, her head aching.

Looking at her dirty shoes, that nameless anger flared up again. The stairs were steep and narrow, and her eyes hurt more. She rubbed them and carefully descended the stairs while holding onto the wall.

The hair salon was already empty, the two hairdressers apparently off work. Small towns weren’t like big cities – shops closed early when streets emptied at night. Li Lanfang called out to Qing Ye from the backyard. She walked through the salon to the back, finding the backyard quite spacious. The kitchen was on the right side of the yard, with the toilet right next to it – who knows what kind of person would design it this way?

Under the shed outside the kitchen was a wooden table, with a broken light bulb hanging above it, moths relentlessly flying into it.

At the table sat an elderly woman with completely white hair, her head tilted abnormally. Li Lanfang came out carrying braised pork with vegetables, saying to Qing Ye, “Come eat. Oh, this is Xing Wu’s grandmother. She has cerebral palsy and doesn’t recognize people.”

Qing Ye sat down uncomfortably, glancing at Xing Wu’s grandmother. Her drool had flowed down to her chest and was bubbling – it was almost unbearable to watch.

Li Lanfang served rice to Qing Ye, telling her to eat first, then called out to Xing Wu’s grandmother, “Oh my, look at you, are you hungry?”

Li Lanfang roughly wiped the old woman’s collar and started feeding her.

Qing Ye completely lost her appetite, poking at the hard rice with her chopsticks. Just then, lights came on inside, and someone seemed to have returned.

Li Lanfang stretched her neck to look, put down her bowl, and said to Qing Ye, “I’ll go check. You eat first.”

As soon as Li Lanfang reached the shop, she saw Xing Wu who had just entered, and asked with surprise, “Have you eaten?”

“No.”

“Didn’t you say you weren’t coming home to eat?”

“Mind your own business.”

Xing Wu tried to walk past her to the backyard, but Li Lanfang grabbed him and said in a low voice, “Watch your temper. Let me tell you, your cousin’s mother just died, and her father’s in jail. She’s pitiful, and she’s counting on us now.”

Xing Wu shook off Li Lanfang impatiently, saying, “You got paid to take care of her, it’s none of my business. Stop with this cousin stuff. They didn’t even acknowledge you back then, and here you are eagerly taking care of their daughter. Playing the good Samaritan? Why don’t you open a shelter?”

He pushed open the backyard door with an angry expression. Li Lanfang cursed, “Is that any way to talk? Why did you come back? Just to anger me, you brat.”

After Li Lanfang left, Qing Ye faced a brain-damaged old woman who was drooling and staring at her – the atmosphere was extremely awkward. She had just taken a bite of rice when the old woman’s drool started dripping again, nearly making her throw up.

She looked around, took out a pack of tissues, folded several layers, and reluctantly wiped the old woman’s mouth with a disgusted expression, then threw the tissue aside. The old woman swayed back and forth, staring at the bowl in front of her.

Qing Ye looked into the salon, but Li Lanfang hadn’t come out yet. With no choice, she picked up the bowl and fed Xing Wu’s grandmother a spoonful.

Xing Wu happened to push the door open at that moment and froze at the sight of Qing Ye’s action. His previous anger seemed suddenly doused with ice water.

He walked over expressionlessly and snatched the bowl, then hooked a wooden stool with his foot and sat down.

Qing Ye’s inexplicable irritation resurfaced with Xing Wu’s appearance. She didn’t even look at him, turning away to eat.

With Xing Wu feeding his grandmother, Li Lanfang started eating herself.

Li Lanfang cooked with lard, which Qing Ye wasn’t used to. She already had little appetite, and Li Lanfang’s cooking skills were truly beyond words – even the vegetables were impossibly tough to chew, so Qing Ye could only eat plain rice.

Thinking Xing Wu wouldn’t come home for dinner, Li Lanfang had only made four meatballs. She ate two herself, the old woman had one, and after Xing Wu finished feeding his grandmother, only one meatball remained in the bowl.

After eating, Li Lanfang wheeled the old woman back to her room, which was in the yard directly opposite the toilet in a small house they had built. Xing Wu served himself a bowl of rice and sat across from Qing Ye, neither speaking to the other.

After a while, Xing Wu noticed the person opposite hadn’t touched any dishes. He looked at the two hastily prepared, unappetizing dishes on the table and suddenly burst out angrily, “All you know is gambling every day, might as well sew everyone’s mouths shut!”

Qing Ye jumped in shock, suddenly looking up at Xing Wu, with only four words in her mind: “What a mental case.”

Li Lanfang yelled from the old woman’s room, “Why don’t you go scold your father? Never comes home all year, just takes out your anger on me. Did I owe you something in my past life? If you’re complaining, cook yourself, you’re old enough!”

Qing Ye felt her ears buzzing, like a swarm of flies constantly bombarding her eardrums. Since arriving at this awful place in the afternoon, there hadn’t been a single normal person – everyone communicated by shouting, making her already irritated mood even more unbearable.

Xing Wu was about to speak when he saw Qing Ye lowering her head, unusually quiet, her chopsticks motionless. He finally held back from arguing with Li Lanfang, falling into a rare silence.

Xing Wu’s eyes caught the last remaining meatball in the bowl, and he pushed the plate toward Qing Ye. At the same moment, Qing Ye slammed down her chopsticks and stood up, walking inside.

Xing Wu looked at her bowl of barely touched rice and became angry too, turning his head to coldly say to her retreating figure, “Eat when there’s food to eat. Only fools fight with their stomach. Nobody here will coddle you.”

Qing Ye’s footsteps paused briefly before she pushed aside the curtain and went in. Eat your sister’s food – if she stayed any longer, she’d be eaten alive by mosquitoes.

Since the afternoon, she’d been wondering if Li Lanfang was missing a screw. Her husband never came home, and Qing Ye was a girl – instead of arranging for her to stay in Li Lanfang’s room, she had her sleep in her son’s room.

But when Qing Ye went upstairs and glanced into Li Lanfang’s room, those thoughts completely disappeared.

Li Lanfang’s room looked like a warehouse, piled with broken cardboard boxes everywhere. Hair dye bottles, shampoo bottles, and conditioning treatment boxes were strewn about, with just enough space in the middle for a bed, which was covered in clothes thrown everywhere, including bras – it looked like a pigsty. She immediately dismissed her earlier thoughts; at least Xing Wu’s room, though small, was neat and clean.

Qing Ye returned to the room, frantically scratching her legs which were both painful and itchy. Soon they were covered in red marks. Were even the mosquitoes here so demonic? Truly vicious insects from poor mountains and evil waters.

Heavy footsteps appeared on the stairs, and Xing Wu stopped at the doorway, glancing at her legs. He didn’t enter immediately, and Qing Ye pulled the ugly floral curtain shut with an unfriendly expression, drawing a clear boundary.

Footsteps sounded beside her, followed by the sound of opening cabinets and rummaging. Suddenly, a green bottle flew through the floral curtain and landed on the bed. Qing Ye picked it up – it was a bottle of essential balm oil.

She hated the smell of essential balm oil and threw it back. The floral curtain was yanked open, and Xing Wu coldly held up the small bottle, looking at her: “The mosquitoes here are toxic. If you don’t want scars, don’t be so damn prissy.”

Qing Ye bit her lip without speaking. Xing Wu threw the essential balm oil to her again, and soon the room was filled with its scent. Qing Ye applied it while sweating profusely, hot and sticky, with sweat dripping down her cheeks.

Shortly after, a cool breeze blew in, and the areas where she’d applied the oil felt refreshingly cool. She looked up at Xing Wu, who had his legs propped up on the desk, sitting by the window smoking.

Qing Ye found the smoke irritating and frowned, looking at him seriously: “Put out the cigarette.”

Xing Wu curled his lips playfully and took a leisurely drag, exhaling: “Get the situation straight – this is my house, my room.”

Qing Ye screwed the cap back on the essential balm oil, pulled open her suitcase, quickly grabbed some clothes, and ran downstairs with heavy footsteps.

Xing Wu shifted his gaze from the doorway to the window, slightly furrowing his brows.

Downstairs, Qing Ye ran into Li Lanfang, who was preparing to go next door to play mahjong. She couldn’t believe that Li Lanfang played in the shop during the day and still went out to play at night – how addicted was she?

Looking at Li Lanfang about to leave, she asked, “Where do I take a bath?”

Li Lanfang pointed to the backyard: “Next to the toilet. If you need anything, call Xing Wu. I’ll be back later.”

Then she hurried off.

Qing Ye turned and walked into the backyard, glancing at Xing Wu’s grandmother’s room, which was dark with lights out. The yard was empty, with the other half connecting to several neighboring houses. Qing Ye looked away and walked toward the so-called bathroom.

Upon entering the bathroom, Qing Ye froze – cement floor, cement walls, a completely rusted shower head, and a yellowish light bulb covered in tiny moths, utterly disgusting.

There was a wooden stool at the bathroom entrance, apparently for placing clothes. Qing Ye put down tissue paper as a barrier before placing her clean clothes on it. As she pulled down the zipper of her dress, suddenly a shirtless man burst in.