Lin Shuang stayed up late and slept in, and was woken by Fu Min’s call.

The phone rang a long while before she pressed answer.

“Are you up?”

“Mm.”

Sunlight filtered through the curtain gap, falling on the foot of the bed. Lin Shuang kicked both legs out from under the blanket, propping her toes against the strip of blazing light.

“The weather’s been good these past few days. Are you home this weekend? I’ll come over and tidy up your place.”

Lin Shuang had morning grumpiness, and her tone wasn’t very patient: “The place is clean enough, I can tidy up myself. Handle your own business, no need to come over.”

“Fine then.” Fu Min’s tone softened. “So… do you want to come to the house for dinner this weekend? Your Uncle Qi went up into the mountains a while back and bought a few free-range chickens, I’ll stew one for you to build you up.”

Since Lin Shuang had returned to Beiquan, she saw her mother once a month — sometimes Fu Min came into the city on business, sometimes they went together to visit her grandmother at the nursing home, and very occasionally, Lin Shuang visited her mother’s home.

“Alright.” She thought about it — the last time she’d eaten there was a few months ago. “I’ll come by around noon.”

Mother and daughter hung up.

Lin Shuang got up, pulled the curtains open with a swish. The sunlight was dazzling, shining on the brightly colored blue glass window, the outer frame sealed with a rusted anti-theft grille, a tattered spiderweb hanging in the corner.

The apartment was a simple two-bedroom, one-living-room unit, thirty years old, with an outdated layout and décor. Two large bedrooms sat side by side facing east, while the balcony, kitchen, and bathroom were on the west side, with a cramped little living room squeezed in between.

This had been her parents’ marital home. Lin Shuang was born and raised here; the family later moved to a better place, but this old apartment was never sold, becoming an abandoned nest left empty for over a decade.

Last year when Lin Shuang returned to Beiquan, Fu Min had handed her the keys. When she’d opened the dust-sealed door, the apartment was still filled with outdated, discarded, heavy furniture, mold stains covering the ceiling, the yellow wood floor eaten through by insects — the place had fallen into utter disrepair.

Lin Shuang hired workers to renovate the apartment, threw out all the old furniture her parents had bought when they married, keeping only the single bed she’d slept in as a child, adding a few necessities, and moved in with her luggage.

Aside from her own room, the rest of the house was empty, though it looked clean and tidy for it — there was a robot vacuum to clean the floors, so there wasn’t much major cleaning to do. Lin Shuang grabbed a rag to wipe down the windows.

Half an hour later, she’d cleaned the house. She leaned against the balcony railing and smoked a cigarette — the view here was open and the breeze pleasant, the blue sky and white clouds still cut into small pieces by the anti-theft grille. Years ago there’d been a spate of home burglaries, and the whole building had installed anti-theft grilles together. Now that surveillance cameras were everywhere and there was less and less cash in people’s wallets, petty thieves had switched to online scams, but the anti-theft grilles throughout the building had never been removed.

An unfamiliar number had called while she wasn’t paying attention. Lin Shuang didn’t think much of it. After finishing her cigarette, she pocketed her phone and went downstairs to find food.

On her way out she ran into the resident from the second floor — the aunty was carrying a lunchbox out to deliver food to her daughter at school. This household had a daughter in her senior year of high school; the couple had rented in Beiquan to accompany their child through school.

The building’s residents had turned over wave after wave, no longer the same group of uncles, aunts, and grandmothers Lin Shuang had known as a child. Nowadays it was fashionable to have landscaped communities and gated developments — beautiful housing, complete facilities — and the old neighbors had all moved elsewhere, leaving these old downtown apartments to be rented out to tenants.

“Miss Lin.” The aunty spotted Lin Shuang and greeted her with a smile. “Have you eaten yet?”

“Hello, Auntie.” Lin Shuang smiled back. “About to go eat now.”

“Perfect timing, running into you now — actually, I wanted to bring something up with you.”

“What is it, Auntie?”

“It’s like this — my girl, you know, the college entrance exam is coming up soon. She’s under a lot of pressure, doesn’t sleep well at night… sometimes at eleven, twelve at night, or one, two in the morning, we can always hear the sound of the bathroom drain pipes… sigh…”

Lin Shuang understood immediately — her irregular schedule meant she showered at odd hours, early or late, disturbing the exam student downstairs.

She did a quick mental count — more than forty days left until the exam.

She wasn’t a difficult person to get along with; in front of outsiders, her temper was even easygoing: “Auntie, what time does your daughter finish evening study?”

“Ten-thirty at night. We pick her up, she eats something, gets ready, then studies a bit more until eleven.”

“Then I’ll try not to use the bathroom after eleven, is that okay, Auntie?”

“Yes, yes, yes, thank you so much, sorry for the trouble.”

Downstairs, Lin Shuang thought for a moment, then hopped on her electric scooter and headed out. She sometimes wandered aimlessly around the city with nothing else to do. Beiquan City was small, and after all these years of development, only the city center area had really been built up into anything decent. The city remained largely as she remembered it — schools, parks, the hospital, the government building…

The area around Beiquan High School was still bustling as ever. The school had built a junior high division, expanding its footprint considerably. The shops on the student street had all changed hands, but her beloved clay-pot rice noodle shop was still there, the rental bookstore tucked in the alley had grown even more dilapidated, and the accessory shop that used to do photo booth stickers had become a convenience store — but the owner was still the same person from back then.

At one in the afternoon, the crowds at the various snack shops had thinned. Lin Shuang went into the clay-pot rice noodle shop, picked a corner seat, and ordered beef rice noodles — as always, extra spicy, extra beef offal.

While paying, the owner smiled and asked: “You look familiar, miss — did you eat here before? There was also a tall, thin boy, you two came together, right?”

Lin Shuang paused. She’d eaten at this clay-pot noodle shop for three years, often bringing along her boyfriend at the time, the two of them cozied up in the corner.

“Graduated many years ago now — just came to support your business again.” Lin Shuang smiled. “Years without seeing you, boss, and you’re still so young.”

“Getting old, getting old.”

The owner added an extra poached egg to her noodles as a gift.

After finishing the noodles, Lin Shuang headed out. She passed a stationery shop at the mouth of the alley, a sign hanging on the glass door: Prime storefront for rent, call XXXXXXXX.

Lin Shuang stopped in her tracks.

By the time she returned home that day, she had a store lease agreement in hand.

Fu Min called to ask what time Lin Shuang could arrive.

“Around eleven.”

“When you reach the intersection, call me, I’ll come down and meet you. They’re renovating the streets around here right now, the roads aren’t easy to navigate.”

“I know.” That area wasn’t familiar to Lin Shuang; she always got lost there.

Since she was visiting as a guest, Lin Shuang stopped by the supermarket to buy some snacks and fruit.

Fu Min’s home was on the outskirts of Beiquan City, some distance from where Lin Shuang lived. The bus had few passengers; the vehicle gradually left the city center, entering an entirely unfamiliar new development zone. She occasionally looked up at the sparse residential areas and empty industrial trade zones outside the window, weaving together into a scene that seemed to unwind backward in time.

When her parents divorced, she’d just started middle school. Two years later her mother remarried, opening a hardware wholesale business with her stepfather in an industrial park. Occasionally she’d go stay with her mother on weekends. Later, her half-brother was born, and with her studies getting busier, and then going off to college, leaving Beiquan behind, she’d rarely set foot in this area since.

Lin Shuang gripped her shopping bags and hopped off the bus, calling Fu Min. After waiting a while, the one who came to meet her was her little half-brother Qi Shan, who called out from a distance: “Over here.”

The little brother and Lin Shuang weren’t close. When he was first born, Lin Shuang had seen him a few times and even held him herself, but after graduating from college she hadn’t been back to Beiquan, so Qi Shan only remembered seeing this pretty older sister twice — once when their mother brought him along to eat with his sister, and once when she’d come home for New Year’s as a guest.

“Mom’s cooking, she sent me down to get you.”

“Here I am.” Lin Shuang followed the child, watching him stride ahead swinging his arms, an air of unfamiliarity about him. “Qi Shan, how old are you this year?”

“Ten.” He stopped by the roadside to wait for her, then trotted back, taking her shopping bag to carry, glancing at it. “Is that snacks you bought for me?”

“Pick whatever you like from it.” Lin Shuang followed him upstairs. “What grade are you in?”

“Fourth grade.” Qi Shan turned his head, a little displeased. “You asked me these same two questions last time — why do you keep asking the same things?”

“Did I?” she said flatly. “I forgot. When was the last time I saw you?”

“New Year’s, you came to our house for dinner.”

As for this half-brother, Lin Shuang only treated him as a relative’s child — when they happened to meet, a glance, a few perfunctory words.

The front door was open; the pungent smell of cooking smoke could be caught even in the stairwell. Lin Shuang and Qi Shan entered the apartment, coughing a few times in a row. Fu Min was cooking in the kitchen, and through the glass door you could see the stove wreathed in smoke, accompanied by roaring flames.

“You’re here.” Fu Min poked her head out, pointing at the living room. “It’s smoky in here, go watch some TV in the living room, I’ll be out soon.”

Someone else came out to greet them too — Qi Xiong, with his arm around his eldest son, came out to meet Lin Shuang, beaming: “Shuangshuang’s here, long time no see.”

The boy was sixteen or seventeen, quite tall, his forehead-length hair covering his eyes, wearing a black T-shirt, standing before her with an all-over air of prickly awkwardness.

“Hello, Uncle Qi…” Lin Shuang smiled, then paused, looking at the teenager before her — she roughly knew who he was, having met him twice before, but couldn’t recall his name.

“Qi Ling, call her big sister.” Qi Xiong patted his eldest son’s shoulder.

Qi Ling glanced up at Lin Shuang, furrowed his brow, looking a bit impatient, and nodded.

Everyone sat down on the sofa. The house had its doors and windows open for ventilation, but breathing still felt a bit scorched. The TV played a rowdy cartoon; Qi Shan watched avidly, standing on the sofa gesturing with hands and feet: “Here comes the Monkey King, demon, prepare to die!”

Qi Ling sat on the sofa for a full minute, then turned and stood up.

“Where are you going?”

“Too smoky, I’m going back to my room.” His tone was blunt and sharp.

Qi Xiong watched his son helplessly, peeling a pomelo for Lin Shuang: “Shuangshuang, have some fruit.”

The house was always smoky when cooking, smoky no matter where you sat. Lin Shuang had been the same as a child. Fu Min’s cooking skill matched her temper — fiery. Fortunately the food was delicious; everyone complained while eating, coughing between bites.

Fortunately, before long, the range hood’s noise stopped.

“Dinner’s ready.” Fu Min called from the kitchen.

The table was packed full — a plate of braised chicken pieces, a pot of mushroom-stewed chicken soup, several stir-fried dishes, colorful and fragrant. Fu Min picked out two chicken drumsticks and put them in Lin Shuang’s bowl, gave the remaining drumstick to Qi Shan, and set another beside Qi Ling.

The dinner table had been moved from against the wall to the center of the dining room. Lin Shuang sat in the narrow single seat, the spot across from her empty; Fu Min pulled her younger son to sit beside Lin Shuang, while Qi Xiong and his son sat on the long bench opposite. Her chair happened to be higher, making her position seem oddly elevated above everyone else, carrying a certain solemnity.

Fu Min attended to Lin Shuang first: “Have some soup first to whet your appetite, taste if it’s bland — I’ll add more salt if not.”

“Mom, I want to eat the braised drumstick.” Qi Shan knocked on his bowl, making a fuss. “I don’t like the drumstick in the soup.”

“Then ask your brother if he’ll trade with you.” Fu Min stuffed the chopsticks into Lin Shuang’s hand. “Shuangshuang, you eat first.”

“Brother, trade with me.”

Qi Ling frowned, covering his bowl with his hand, his face full of disgust, muttering in a muffled voice: “No trade.”

Fu Min pressed her lips together, fine lines creasing at her cheek, glancing wordlessly at her husband.

Qi Xiong stepped in to smooth things over: “They’re both drumsticks, same thing, same thing. What’s so great about a braised drumstick anyway — Qi Shan, there’s still chicken wings here…”

“Not the same, I only like braised drumsticks!”

The youngest child held the privilege of choosing the drumstick.

Qi Shan pouted, his gaze darting toward Lin Shuang’s bowl, only to be turned back by Fu Min gripping his face: “Eat your own food.”

Lin Shuang held her chopsticks, picked up a braised drumstick, and put it in her little brother’s bowl, her expression plain: “I can’t eat this much anyway, let Qi Shan have it.”

“This kid, honestly…”

“Now hurry up and thank your sister…”

Five people eating together, the table noisy and lively. Fu Min managed her younger son with one hand while heaping food into Lin Shuang’s bowl with the other. Lin Shuang drank a bowl of the oily chicken soup, then had another bowl of rice, timing it to set down her chopsticks, watched some TV in the living room, checked the time, and got up to take her leave.

Fu Min saw her out; mother and daughter walked down the stairs one after the other, and Fu Min asked: “How have things been lately?”

Lin Shuang answered honestly: “Still staying home.”

“It’s not safe for you to live alone. Why not move in with us — Qi Ling’s room is empty, he lives at school most of the time and rarely stays here on weekends. At least you’d have someone looking out for you if you moved in.”

“I like living alone.” Lin Shuang scrolled her phone, head down. “You’re busy running the shop and stocking up too, and looking after the family. Handle your own business, no need to worry about me — I’m plenty old enough, don’t need you looking after me.”

“Suit yourself then.” Fu Min sighed.

“Your Uncle Qi has a friend who runs a factory in the industrial park, hiring office staff, normal two-day weekends, decent pay. Want to try it?”

“No need. I don’t want a job.”

Fu Min paused: “So what are your plans going forward?”

“I rented a storefront outside a school. Planning to start a small business.”

“What kind of shop are you thinking of opening?”

“A milk tea shop, probably. I worked part-time at one back in college.”

Fu Min knew her daughter always had her own mind made up: “Don’t be rash, think things through before you act. If anything comes up, anywhere you need help, be sure to tell me, let me know.”

“Okay.”

Mother and daughter fell silent, standing side by side waiting for the bus at the stop.

After waiting a while, Lin Shuang put away her phone and turned to talk to Fu Min: “You dyed your hair.”

“Yeah.” Fu Min smoothed her short hair. “A patch went white on top, didn’t look great, so I bought a box of wine-red dye and washed it in.”

“This color suits you well.” Lin Shuang looked away.

The bus slowly pulled up. Fu Min stuffed the things she was carrying into Lin Shuang’s arms: “There’s a pot of chicken soup in the bag, hold it carefully, don’t spill it — heat it up on the stove tonight and you can drink it. Living alone, you still need to pay attention to your meals. There’s also some fruit and snacks in there, eat them on the way. I’ll come see you again when I have time.”

Lin Shuang boarded the bus holding the heavy bag, watching her mother’s hair get tousled by the gust from the departing bus, her figure receding far behind the window.

Her eyes stayed fixed on her phone, scrolling back and forth. The bag resting on her lap was heavy, and she could faintly smell the aroma of soup. She opened it to look — it was an old-fashioned double-handled aluminum pot, wrapped tightly in plastic wrap.

On top of the pot lid sat a green plastic bag, twisted round and round, wrapping something square. Lin Shuang held it in her hand and opened it — it was two bundles of red bills, thick, bound with plastic rubber bands, not like cash withdrawn from a bank but more like money saved up little by little. Tucked inside was a pickup slip from a hardware store, with words written on it: For your living expenses.

Lin Shuang’s father had built his business fortune and grown arrogant, his temper flaring up along with it. Back when the couple used to fight, it was like firecrackers meeting explosives — a war that raged for three days and nights without stopping. To get the divorce, Fu Min had even given up custody of Lin Shuang, walking away with nothing in a fit of anger.

After remarrying, Qi Xiong had already brought a son of his own into the family, and with Qi Shan added on top, the household had never been well-off. When Lin Shuang was in college, her father got into trouble; Fu Min wanted to cover her tuition and living expenses, but Lin Shuang refused again and again.

She called Fu Min, and the conversation between mother and daughter followed its usual steady, unruffled pattern.

“Home yet?”

“Yeah.”

“The weather’s getting hot. Keep the chicken soup in the fridge — it’ll spoil quickly left out.”

“Okay.”

“Whatever you feel like eating or drinking, buy it yourself with the money. Take care of yourself.”

“Got it.”