Every time Old Duan, the truck driver, returned from a delivery run, his first stop wasn’t home—it was plunging into a bathhouse located in the city center, carrying with him the exhaustion from his long journey.

He had been bathing here for over twenty years now. He’d witnessed the owner’s surname change from Wen to Yu, the building expand from one floor to three, and the name transform from “Old Wen Bathhouse” to “Wendu Water Pavilion,” yet he still habitually called it “the bathhouse.”

On this weekday afternoon, the crowd was manageable. After rinsing off, Old Duan made his usual way to the hot pool kept at over forty degrees.

He selected a spot with a good view, bit down on an old-fashioned popsicle, and soaked in the steaming water while watching the ball game broadcast on TV. When the mood struck, he’d chat with fellow townsmen he recognized in the pool—completely exposed, discussing everything under the sun. After the game ended, they’d all curse and swear before dispersing to their respective saunas.

He didn’t care for dry saunas; he was particularly fond of wet steam rooms. Cold water splashed onto scalding volcanic stones, the vapor hissing loudly, mist swirling everywhere. He’d close his eyes, set aside all his troubles, and imagine himself as a master about to ascend to immortality. Once his entire body had been thoroughly moistened, dizzy and impatient, he’d rush off to get a scrub-down.

Old Duan believed that the body scrub was the soul of visiting the bathhouse—all the preparations before and after were for those precious twenty minutes of enjoyment. It could restore your body to cleanliness and elevate your soul; every single minute was precious beyond measure.

Over the years he’d tried other bathhouses too, but most just went through the motions, like scraping pig bristles. After trying them all, Wendu Water Pavilion remained the most authentic. He had two regular scrubbing masters here whose skills were impeccable—he’d feel at ease the moment he lay down on their tables.

This was also why, despite his distaste for that Yu-surnamed owner, he’d still gotten himself a gold membership card.

The Yu-surnamed owner was called Yu Kaixuan. They were the same age. In his youth, Yu had been a notorious hoodlum known as Brother Erkai. Old Duan remembered that winter during his first year of middle school when he’d gotten two punches just for touching Yu’s bicycle. The guy had glared at him menacingly and even stolen Old Duan’s lunch—a full iron lunchbox of lamb shumai dumplings.

But Brother Erkai had probably long forgotten about that incident. Old Duan had run into him several times at Wendu Water Pavilion afterward, and Yu would always greet him first with a simple smile, his face gleaming with oil, nodding and bowing. Normally he was either busy handling complaints and mediating conflicts or leading customers in the dining area, dancing and hyping up the atmosphere. There was no trace of the ruffian thug he’d been back then—he’d become considerably more affable instead, which was rather puzzling.

Yu Kaixuan’s turning point in life was connected to this very bathhouse. He’d married the daughter of the original owner surnamed Wen—Wen Wen. No one knew what magic he’d worked, but after they divorced, Old Man Wen had bypassed his own biological daughter and handed the business over to Yu Kaixuan.

Well, Old Duan thought, that Wen Wen wasn’t any good either. Already quite old yet constantly dressed to the nines, never doing anything proper, dating boyfriends younger and younger, never satisfied with showing off.

The last time he’d heard about Wen Wen was from his son. At the beginning of last month, his son said he’d seen a high school classmate accompanying Wen Wen to the movies, specifically choosing seats in the back row and whispering together. It apparently caused quite a sensation, even involving Yu Kaixuan and his current wife.

Old Duan hadn’t bothered listening to the rest of the gossip—it was harsh on the ears. He thought it was fortunate his son had already gotten married, otherwise he’d have to guard against Yu Kaixuan’s seductive ex-wife.

The scrubbing master arched his hand and vigorously pounded Old Duan’s back for a while, like a rainstorm washing over him—dense yet smooth—shattering his train of thought.

When it was over, Old Duan first went to the second floor to eat some fruit, then went to the third floor for a foot massage. He fell asleep during the foot massage, and when he woke up, it was already dark. He changed his clothes, preparing to go home.

As he pushed open the door, a cold northern deep-winter wind rushed over him. What had felt bitterly harsh before now felt refreshingly invigorating. Several days of fatigue swept away completely, leaving only pure comfort.

It was as if he’d just stepped not into a bathhouse but into a time machine—in that brief moment, he’d grown several years younger.

Old Duan’s vision had cleared considerably. Across the street he spotted a girl wearing a pink fluffy ear warmer. He didn’t need to look carefully to know who it was. Before he could speak, the girl recognized him first.

“Uncle Duan.” Yu Jiuqi smiled, her eyes curving into crescents, two shallow dimples appearing and disappearing.

“Xiao Jiu, off work already?” The usually stern Old Duan rarely smiled along as well.

Indeed, who wouldn’t like Little Yu Jiu? The bathhouse owner’s family’s only good girl.

Sometimes Old Duan rather envied Yu Kaixuan and Wen Wen. Who knew what virtue they’d accumulated in their past lives—certainly they hadn’t done anything good in this one—yet they’d lucked into such a wonderful daughter.

Little Yu Jiu’s goodness was almost universally acknowledged. Well-behaved, sensible, warm-hearted, generous yet steady, always wearing a cheerful, smiling expression. But what made the entire city of Shicheng remember her was the financial fraud case from a year ago.

Last autumn, a fraud ring specifically targeting the elderly had come to Shicheng, preying on seniors whose children weren’t often around, rolling up quite a lot of retirement funds—utterly unconscionable. Later, bank teller Yu Xiao Jiu had noticed something amiss and patiently warned those elderly people time and again, intercepting several wire transfers. This had angered the scammers, who’d threatened her repeatedly.

But the seemingly delicate Yu Xiao Jiu not only wasn’t scared off—she actually cooperated with the police station to follow the trail and catch the fraud masterminds, catching them red-handed with evidence and recovering most of the stolen money.

The city TV station had even done a special report on this. The deputy mayor personally led a delegation of victim representatives to the bank to present Yu Xiao Jiu with a banner of commendation. Old Duan had been there that day too, because his mother-in-law had been one of the deceived elderly. He still remembered how pitiful Xiao Jiu looked, holding up a banner almost as tall as she was, speaking and crying into the camera.

As for what she’d said and why she’d cried, Old Duan had forgotten.

He only remembered that the banner’s message was particularly powerful, concise and to the point—”From South to North, Yu Xiao Jiu Is the Most Beautiful!”

Beautiful in spirit, beautiful in person—different from her mother Wen Wen’s enchanting, bewitching beauty. Her mother was an evil queen; Xiao Jiu was a brave princess.

Thinking of this, Old Duan regretted again having his son marry so early. Otherwise, even if it meant dealing with the impossible in-laws that were Yu Kaixuan and Wen Wen, he’d bring generous gifts to the bathhouse to propose a match.

He suddenly remembered that although his son didn’t have this fortune, there was still a nephew at home about to graduate with his master’s degree, roughly the same age as Xiao Jiu and a suitable match. So he asked, “Xiao Jiu, are you dating anyone now?”

“Not yet, Uncle Duan,” the girl said with a smile.

Old Duan seemingly casually mentioned his nephew’s situation, his tone light, not wanting to pressure the girl.

Unexpectedly, she was quite straightforward: “Uncle Duan, are you trying to introduce someone to me?”

“Just wondering if you’d mind.”

“Of course I don’t mind.”

Old Duan immediately sent his nephew’s WeChat contact to Xiao Jiu, then added that his nephew had an introverted personality—quiet, shy—and asked Xiao Jiu to take the initiative to chat with him.

Then, from some unknown barbecue restaurant on the street, a wave of aroma drifted over, making Old Duan’s stomach growl with hunger.

Yu Jiuqi walked into Wendu Water Pavilion, passing through the bustling first-floor reception hall. Following the golden spiral staircase, she headed straight to her father Yu Kaixuan’s office on the second floor, smiling and greeting several acquaintances along the way.

Regular customer Auntie Wang asked her how to use a voucher purchased through a group deal on Douyin. She took the phone and glanced at it, saying that except for the dining area on the second floor and the VIP rooms and card rooms on the third floor, this 188-yuan voucher covered all services.

Front desk Sister Xiao Man asked Xiao Jiu where she’d bought her ear warmer—so pink, so pretty. She said it was really cheap and she’d bring one for her.

On the stairs, she ran into Chef Xu, who was about to change shifts. Remembering that Chef Xu had secretly consulted her about commercial loans two days ago, she pulled out materials she’d specifically brought from her bag to show him, saying to ask her again if he didn’t understand anything.

She quietly emphasized, “Don’t worry, I won’t tell Erkai Gege about this.”

Chef Xu thanked her profusely, saying that she should come to the kitchen later and he’d make her his specialty sweet and sour meatballs. The kind fried twice in oil—you couldn’t get them at restaurants outside. He never made them for anyone else; it was Xiao Jiu’s exclusive private dish.

Whether it was the indoor temperature being too high or not, Yu Jiuqi’s porcelain-white face flushed with two patches of red. She waved her hand and smiled, saying thank you, but tonight Erkai Gege was taking her out to a restaurant.

Yu Kaixuan’s office was at the very back of the second floor. You had to pass through the self-service dining area to turn into it. She happened to arrive just as the daily limited-supply seafood was freshly prepared. The lights dimmed, magical music thundered up, and many customers from upstairs and downstairs wearing matching light purple sauna robes surged over, twisting and writhing to the beat, chattering excitedly with great enthusiasm, forming a long line in front of the steaming crabs, abalone, and mantis shrimp.

After Yu Kaixuan took over the bathhouse, he’d followed trends by gradually expanding it into an entertainment bathing center. He’d become obsessed with researching various service offerings, without any taboos, increasingly fantastical. Among these, his proudest achievement was combining dining with disco dancing, and when the mood struck, he’d even personally act as DJ and lead the dancing.

Yu Jiuqi was blocked at the stairway entrance by the crowd. A wave of heat hit her. She took off her ear warmer, hung it on her palm, and pulled out her phone from her shoulder bag to handle unread messages.

There were only two unread messages total. One was the WeChat contact card that truck driver Uncle Duan had sent her. Yu Jiuqi only glanced at it before exiting.

The other was from someone called “S”—a pure black profile picture. If you looked carefully, there was a trace of a cat’s tail about to disappear in the upper right corner, curved up in a fluffy arc.

The message sent was just one cold line of text: “Transfer me three thousand yuan.”

Yu Jiuqi instinctively looked around vigilantly left and right, leaned against the reflective bronze-colored wall, her long eyelashes fluttering messily, frowned and looked down, opened the chat window, and typed a symbol: “?”

The other side immediately understood. After a few seconds, they sent a photo.

Yu Jiuqi’s heart sank with a thud, as if something inside her body was twisting and falling downward.

The photo was clearly taken in a KTV—alcohol, playing cards, fruit platters, an ashtray, and in the background, an exaggerated colored disco ball rotating. In the center of the photo were three bottles of foreign liquor mixed among dozens of beer bottles, and beside them, in a mirror, a man taking the photo showing only half his face.

He wore a black hooded sweatshirt, the hood half-covering his head, legs crossed as he sat in a corner.

Although most of his face was blocked, you could still clearly see his profile in the mirror—pitch-black eyes and brows, a straight nose bridge with a slight bump, and on his right index finger, a very wide plain silver ring.

He seemed to be smirking slightly, casually looking at the randomly chosen frame on his phone screen, carelessly hateful.

Xiao Jiu pushed the ear warmer up her arm and quickly typed back with both hands: “Why are you looking for me again?”

The other side asked back, with an impatient air of asking the obvious: “Why?”

Then added: “Weren’t you the one who initiated this?”

Her thumb hovered slightly over the keyboard. Yu Jiuqi froze there, her mind going completely blank.

“Not going to give it? Fine then.”

Yu Jiuqi pressed her lips tightly together, pulled up the transfer interface, entered the amount and password. The moment the transfer message was sent, her entire scalp went numb.

Suddenly there was a dull thud—a blow to the back of her head. She thought at first it was a hallucination caused by mental tension, until she realized there was suddenly a garishly patterned wall in front of her eyes. Only then did she realize she’d been hit.

She looked up—a floral short-sleeved shirt, khaki shorts, a protruding beer belly swaying flexibly left and right with the music, facial features flying about, but a pair of big eyes with sagging eye bags staring firmly at her.

“Dad.” Yu Jiuqi quickly put away her phone.

“What are you so nervous about?” Yu Kaixuan wiggled his bottom to the music, without a shred of boss-like dignity.

“I’m not nervous,” she said. She urgently restored order to her facial features, steering the topic aside, smiling, “You hit me so of course I got startled. Dad, don’t keep hitting my head from now on. I’ve been getting a bit dumber lately.”

Yu Kaixuan didn’t buy her act. Just now an employee had pointed out to him how she’d been gritting her teeth while looking at her phone. Yu Kaixuan tapped his chin at her phone, getting to the bottom of it: “Who were you chatting with?”

“No one.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

Yu Kaixuan stopped talking and changed his dance steps, continuing to sway—a twisted shuffle, one step one look back, eyes glancing down at Xiao Jiu, with an expression like he’d seen right through her.

Yu Jiuqi felt a bit weary, knowing she couldn’t end this without explaining something: “Just now downstairs, Uncle Duan who has a gold card introduced me to someone—his nephew, a graduate student.” She carefully recalled truck driver Old Duan’s description, striving to be word-for-word accurate, “He’s quite honest, shy, introverted… anyway, quite good.”

Yu Kaixuan snorted coldly: “Nonsense. Shy and introverted, yet you’re already deep in conversation with him? From downstairs to up here is only a few steps? How many words could you have exchanged? In just a moment you’re gritting your teeth at him—what, did he ask you to lend him money?”

Yu Jiuqi was secretly alarmed but quickly covered it up, playing dumb: “What do you mean, Dad?”

“I mean you should think it over carefully.”

The music stopped abruptly. The daily limited seafood had been completely snatched up. Yu Kaixuan lowered his raised foot, stopped dancing, his face ruddy and shining, but his expression considerably more serious. He wrinkled his brow, put his arm around Yu Jiuqi’s neck, and said something that left her at a loss.

“Jiu, we’re not in a hurry. My daughter Yu Kaixuan, the best girl in all of Wendu Water Pavilion, this entire street, all of Shicheng—we deserve the best.” Yu Kaixuan glanced at Xiao Jiu, carefully, “That thing with your mom and Xiao Fu, just let it go.”

Yu Jiuqi didn’t know what to say. She didn’t dare look at her father’s eyes either. She gazed blankly at the now empty seafood buffet area, smiled vaguely, then blinked and only said: “Dad, I’m hungry. Weren’t you going to take me out to eat?”

Yu Kaixuan agreed and said he’d go change clothes, then turned and left.

Yu Jiuqi’s gaze moved from those empty serving plates to the coming and going customers—tourists from out of town, students in love, the breakfast shop owner’s wife taking advantage of the heating, a middle school teacher who’d lived here for half a month after her divorce, an internet celebrity partner holding up a phone doing a livestream, and many others who simply enjoyed soaking in the bathhouse—most of whom were Shicheng locals whose names she could call out.

Warm and bustling, full to bursting—yet she suddenly felt incomparably lonely.

At that moment, the phone in her hand vibrated again. She slowly opened it, looked at the WeChat message just received, her expression cold and stagnant.

S: “Oh, it’s still not enough. Transfer me another thousand.”