During her sophomore year of college, Lin Shuang had worked part-time at a milk tea shop for a year, and she still remembered the processes fairly well, bits and pieces. The shop’s owner back then now ran several beverage shops in Wancheng, dealing in milk tea, coffee, and desserts, with a solid reputation.
Lin Shuang still had some connection with the shop owner; she’d called ahead and the two met up.
“Haven’t seen you in three or four years, and you’ve gotten even more beautiful, girl.”
The shop owner had a deep impression of Lin Shuang. Back when she’d started the business, Lin Shuang had been the most troublesome part-timer she’d ever encountered — the shop owner had scowled at her from morning to night watching her make mistakes, but there was nothing to be done: a pampered young lady fallen on hard times working a part-time job, and whenever those brimming, tearful eyes welled up, the shop owner just couldn’t bring herself to say the words to fire her.
Later, once they’d gotten to know each other, the shop owner had grown quite fond of Lin Shuang. Lin Shuang, studying fashion, understood fabrics and cuts and had good taste, becoming the shop owner’s style consultant. Every weekend the two would go shopping together for clothes; the shop owner, hopeless at bargaining, would stand timidly behind Lin Shuang watching her put on a straight face and go head-to-head with the stall owners, and when they walked away loaded with bags, the shop owner’s sense of satisfaction would nearly overflow.
Lin Shuang explained her purpose.
The storefront she’d rented was directly across from Beiquan High School’s gate, with decent foot traffic. The few milk tea shops around the school were still stuck at the stage of powdered mixes, and the shop environments left much to be desired. Lin Shuang wanted to open a milk tea shop with decent taste and decent looks.
“My shops here focus on mid-to-high-end drinks, our customer base is college students and urban white-collar workers.” The shop owner frowned. “Your area is all high schoolers — can their spending power keep up?”
“I’m not franchising your brand, I just want to pick your brain, learn from your experience.” Lin Shuang had her own plan. “I can pay a consulting fee, and I want access to part of your raw material supply chain. Don’t worry, I’ll be doing budget tea drinks, and it’s in Beiquan City — there’s no competing-product conflict.”
An ordinary milk tea shop didn’t really need a unique flavor or exceptional quality — mass-market taste would do. What maintained quality and price wasn’t the recipe; the key thing was the raw material supply.
“That’s no problem at all.” The shop owner trusted her, then suddenly brightened. “But I have one condition… every time you come to Wancheng, you come shopping with me and help me bargain.”
Lin Shuang glanced over the shop owner’s outfit: “You can’t bargain at mall stores.”
The shop owner’s spending tier had shifted from street markets to mid-to-high-end malls over the years, yet she always felt a lingering sense of loss — she missed the old days, when a stall owner would name an outrageous price, she’d rage and grind her teeth, and in the end get the item at a rock-bottom price, watching the masters at work while she stood by, face flushed, heart pounding, hands sweating, enjoying the rollercoaster-like thrill of it.
“We’ll go to the wholesale market.”
Lin Shuang didn’t quite understand.
The shop owner kept a straight face: “I just… fucking enjoy the thrill of bargaining.”
Lin Shuang readily agreed, grinning: “No problem.”
She stayed in Wancheng, first practicing at the shop owner’s store — a tea shop near a commercial district, mainly selling Instagram-worthy milk tea and coffee, adjacent to the university district, with trendy décor; on weekends students and office workers would come to take photos and check in.
Lin Shuang was assigned to the prep area, boiling ingredients and cutting fruit, from eight in the morning to two in the afternoon — seven hours standing left her back and legs aching. After lying around at home like a salted fish for so long, physical labor was genuinely hard to keep up with.
Past the lunch rush, the shop quieted down, and Lin Shuang pulled out her phone to game. While she was ranking up, her aunt called yet again.
After the failed blind date last time, her aunt had been so annoyed at Lin Shuang’s dismissive attitude that she hadn’t spoken to her for a good while.
“Shuangshuang, are you free? Come to Auntie’s for a casual meal.”
“Auntie, I’m not in Beiquan. What’s up?”
Lin Shuang’s aunt asked a few more questions, then said “Oh”: “It’s like this — our director mentioned that the young man from your last blind date has quite a good impression of you.”
She didn’t register it right away: “Who?”
“That high school teacher — the one whose parents both passed.”
Lin Shuang’s brow furrowed.
“I heard you two haven’t been in touch since meeting up. It’s just — that young man is quite genuine. Isn’t he teaching senior third year? With the college entrance exam approaching, work’s been busy for him too. Our director said, after meeting you, he turned down other blind date arrangements… Shuangshuang, this young man really is quite good, he’s a star pupil of our director’s husband, a young teacher specially recruited by Beiquan High School. Our director vouched for him personally in the office, said he’s a good person. I saw a photo of him yesterday — clean-cut, looks solid.”
“Shuangshuang, why don’t you meet up with him again, talk some more, hm?” Her aunt’s tone was gentle.
Lin Shuang could hear it — the director’s will was pressing down on her aunt.
She refused: “No need. He and I aren’t a good match.”
“What exactly isn’t a match?” Her aunt started nagging again. “Maybe with more contact it’ll work out.”
“I don’t like teachers. Poor and always fussing over petty things.”
“Shuangshuang, Auntie really needs to criticize this corrupted thinking of yours. Teachers are great! Cultivating talent for society, such high social standing, and this profession gets better with age. The salary isn’t high, but once his title gets promoted, the annual benefits and subsidies only go up — the income really isn’t bad at all. Plus teachers don’t even have to sit in an office all day — once class is over he can leave, and there are winter and summer breaks every year, he can take care of his family, educate his kids…”
“Besides, that side has no parents.” Her aunt lowered her voice. “There are things you don’t understand yet. A small family with no burdens, no conflicts — you wouldn’t have to deal with in-law troubles, that’s the kind of good fortune plenty of people wish for and can’t get…”
Lin Shuang scoffed, finding it funny.
Hearing her light laughter, her aunt’s tone shifted, turning serious: “Don’t laugh. You think he’s not good enough for you? What about yourself, then? Your dad still has two more years in prison. You have a birth mother and a stepmother, and those two younger siblings of yours — won’t they be a burden on you eventually? Do you have a good job? A good education? Being pretty won’t last you a lifetime. You’re not some twenty-something girl anymore — you’re twenty-six, this is the age to get married and have kids, you really can’t keep dragging this out.”
Never mind Lin Shuang being picky — when others turned to being picky about Lin Shuang, they had plenty of ammunition too.
“Fine, Auntie, so what do you want me to do?”
“Don’t you have his WeChat and phone number? When you’re free, reach out more, get to know each other.”
“Got it, got it.”
Lin Shuang brushed off the call and hung up.
She changed out of her work clothes, planning to go out for a walk.
A young couple entered the shop — the girl wore a white dress, looked like a college student, giggling as she tugged the young man’s arm; the two ordered cold drinks and sat down at a window-side table, chatting casually.
Lin Shuang happened to be passing by and heard the girl’s crisp, tinkling laughter, glancing over a second time.
The young man wore a gray T-shirt, turned sideways talking to the girl about something, a gentle smile all over his face, patting the top of her head. The girl pouted, scooped a spoonful of ice cream from his bowl, and popped it into her own mouth.
This man looked somewhat familiar — he was one of her blind dates.
More precisely, he was the “high school teacher” her aunt had just, ten minutes ago, described as having “quite a good impression” of her.
Her figure flashed past outside the glass window.
Zhou Xue patted Zhou Zheng’s shoulder: “Brother, what are you looking at?”
“Nothing.” Zhou Zheng snapped back to attention, glancing at his cousin. “Are you coming back to Beiquan for the Dragon Boat Festival? There’s a dragon boat race in the township.”
“Are you getting on the boat this year, brother?” Zhou Xue’s eyes lit up.
“Not this year, I’ve got things going on at school.”
“Then I won’t go back either. The school cafeteria has zongzi anyway, and I can go work a part-time job outside, earn some pocket money.”
“That’s fine too.” Zhou Zheng nodded. “Take care of yourself.”
“I know, you too — say hi to Grandma for me.”
Zhou Zheng checked the time, pushing the ice cream in front of him toward Zhou Xue: “It’s getting late, I’ve got evening study tonight, I’ll head off first.”
“I’ll see you to the station.”
“No need.” He patted Zhou Xue’s head. “I’ll take the bus. You should head back to school early too.”
When Lin Shuang had free time, she sampled every chain milk tea shop, big and small, in Wancheng, and happened to come across a milk tea shop closing down and selling off its equipment. Lin Shuang picked it up cheap. With business handled, she headed back to Beiquan City, her belly slightly rounder.
Miao Cai saw that Lin Shuang’s style had shifted direction — high-waisted camo pants paired with Doc Martens, black T-shirt showing a strip of snow-white waist above, hair pulled up in a high ponytail, smoky makeup: “Since when did you go street-punk-cool?”
“Gained six pounds.” Lin Shuang sucked in a breath, touching her little belly. “My old pants are all tight now.”
Her cheeks had plumped up, round and full like abundant frost and snow, but her chest had also gone up a cup size, an undeniable curviness fore and aft. Miao Cai clicked her tongue, shaking her head with jealousy: “If you ask me, forget the milk tea shop — why not go back to your old trade and open a women’s clothing store instead? With your taste, just stand at the door and business would boom, wouldn’t it?”
“Don’t want to do that anymore.” Lin Shuang said flatly. “Too tiring.”
“And the milk tea shop isn’t tiring? Switching to a new path — it’ll probably be even harder.”
Miao Cai herself had come back from Wancheng to Beiquan to open the nail salon, and had tossed and turned through plenty of her own struggles with the shop over the years.
“I’ll just try it.” Lin Shuang wasn’t particularly worried. “Nothing else to do anyway. Besides, the investment is small — if it flops, I’ll just close up shop.”
Though she carried herself with an air of nonchalance, she’d already thrown herself into a whirlwind of activity — applying for a business license, preparing the storefront, running around renovation markets. Getting a business license was difficult; Miao Cai, being experienced, took Lin Shuang along on several trips.
“You really are different from before.” Miao Cai laughed. “Shuangshuang, you’ve really changed a lot.”
“What was I like before?” Lin Shuang asked her.
“Back in school, whenever anything needed doing you’d order people around you to run errands, never lifted a finger yourself, wouldn’t even do cleaning duty — total princess syndrome.”
Back then Lin Shuang’s family had been well-off, she was pretty, plenty of friends surrounded her, the type who looked down on everyone from on high.
Lin Shuang laughed too: “I was pretty annoying back then, wasn’t I?”
“But everyone still liked you anyway. There was a stretch when the girls at school were all into wearing beaded necklaces — you had plenty of pocket money, bought a whole bunch at once, and let everyone pick whichever they liked to take. There was one classmate who liked the gourd-shaped bead, but unfortunately those had all been picked already, so you gave her your own best one. And the boys liked you a lot too — privately they’d all say your smile was so sweet, so cute.”
Lin Shuang didn’t really remember the necklace incident, but she could tell from this — she’d simply been a naive rich girl.
It was the hottest part of the year; Lin Shuang spent her days at home experimenting with milk tea ratios, delivering batches to Miao Cai’s shop for taste-testing, two buckets a day, never the same recipe twice.
The flavor exceeded expectations, not much worse than the mall shops. Miao Cai advertised in her WeChat Moments — “Free double milk tea with every manicure” — to drum up customers, and business was good for several days straight.
The stationery shop closed down after the college entrance exams, and Lin Shuang took over the space. The storefront wasn’t large, about twenty square meters, rectangular; beyond the prep counter there was still some open space for tables and chairs. Lin Shuang had sketched the renovation design herself, going for a literary-artsy style, and spent some money hiring an interior designer to fine-tune it.
The renovation was done by the same contractor Miao Cai’s shop had used. Lin Shuang handled buying materials and overseeing the work; the contractor knocked down walls and ceilings while Lin Shuang got covered in dust at the shop for days on end, and because she was rushing to get the plumbing, electrical, and equipment in place afterward, she’d beg the contractor to work overtime, sometimes staying at the shop late into the night herself.
The contractor knocked off late one evening. Lin Shuang, who’d been running around all day, came by the shop to check on things, and before leaving stood in a corner to smoke, head down replying to WeChat.
[What does Miss Lin do for fun usually?]
Mr. Polo Shirt, perhaps at the gym, sent a photo of a stunning riverside view from high up, gym equipment reflected in the glass.
[Quite a lot of things — movies, music, exercise, travel…]
[Such a wide range of interests, Miss Lin really is someone who loves life.]
[Sorry to disappoint you, they’re all just three-minutes-of-enthusiasm, I lose interest quickly.]
Lin Shuang sent back a “know-nothing” sticker.
A smiley face came back from the other side.
[Though… there’s one hobby I’ve stuck with for many years.]
[?]
She slowly typed out three words: [Being straight.]
A voice message came through from the other end, thick with amusement: “What a coincidence, Miss Lin and I share the same interests.”
Someone passed by in front of her, students chattering.
“This stationery shop moved out? What are they renovating to open?”
“We’ve all graduated, whatever they open has nothing to do with us anymore.”
“We can still come back to eat and hang out during winter and summer breaks.”
Lin Shuang turned her head and saw a group of students pass by, seven or eight boys and girls, all young, fresh faces, the boys’ cheeks flushed pink — probably students who’d just finished their college entrance exams, gathering around the school area.
Two students were surrounding a young man, chatting animatedly about something.
The man casually turned his head, his gaze sweeping past, finally landing on Lin Shuang standing in the corner.
“Let’s go, let’s go, they’ve already got the private room open, waiting for us.”
“Tonight I’m hogging the mic, nobody’s fighting me for it.”
The crowd laughed and moved forward.
Lin Shuang went into the shop, took off her apron, turned off the lights, and pulled down the shutter as she headed out.
Footsteps sounded behind her; someone called out: “Lin Shuang.”
“Teacher Zhou.” Lin Shuang raised an eyebrow. “What a coincidence.”
This time he wasn’t in a shirt and suit pants — gray T-shirt with black athletic pants, his body’s lines much more fluid in his movements.
“Hello…” He strode over. “Long time no see.”
It had been over a month since their blind date.
Lin Shuang smiled, hands tucked into the pockets of her overall jeans, waiting for him to speak.
“I’m having dinner with my students nearby.” Zhou Zheng turned to glance at the milk tea shop, his eyes puzzled. “Is this…”
“A storefront I rented, planning to open a milk tea shop. Renovating these past few days.”
Zhou Zheng’s expression shifted to sudden understanding, looking at her, then at the shop: “Need any help with anything?”
“Nothing that needs help, don’t want to trouble Teacher Zhou.”
He nodded, paused, a bit awkward: “After we last met, I called you a few times, but couldn’t get through…”
Lin Shuang hadn’t saved his number, and explained with a smile: “So sorry, I’ve been so busy lately, I probably thought it was a spam call and accidentally blocked it.”
She’d also never accepted his friend request.
Zhou Zheng lowered his eyes, pressing his lips together.
“Oh, right, Teacher Zhou.” Lin Shuang remembered her aunt’s call, her tone light. “About the blind date last time — is there some kind of misunderstanding? I thought it was already over, but somehow my aunt brought it up again.”
She looked straight at him with a smile: “Teacher Zhou must know too… the two of us really aren’t a great match in any respect, there’s really no need to waste each other’s time further.”
He looked up at her bright smile, his lips moving: “What you said last time… none of it is a problem for me, all of it. If it’s possible… maybe we could…”
Lin Shuang looked as though she’d heard a joke, her shoulders shaking as she laughed brightly. He watched her laugh, the rest of his words stuck, neither swallowed nor spoken, caught in his throat like a fishbone.
Her gaze turned gentle, her voice like something out of heaven: “I’m sorry, Teacher Zhou, but everything about you is a problem for me.”
“Teacher Zhou isn’t my type.”
The corner of her lips held a smile — the beautiful, unrestrained kind, the smile of someone who knows she can handle anything decisively.
Zhou Zheng’s eyes flickered like flame caught in the wind, but his expression remained composed, even carrying a gentle helplessness. He curved his lips in a faint, blurred smile, gazing at her, and after a moment replied quietly: “Alright then…”
Neither of them spoke for a moment.
Lin Shuang glanced behind him and turned to leave: “Your students seem to be waiting for you. I won’t keep you any longer. See you around, Teacher Zhou.”
He nodded to her, also turning to leave: “See you.”
The streetlights glowed amber, the evening breeze sweeping away the heat, the two of them going their separate ways, their silhouettes divided by a sea of people.