Jiang Shiyan pushed Cheng Siran’s face away, saying with disgust, “Idiot.”
The red light turned green, and Cheng Siran sat back in the passenger seat, muttering the same word, “Idiot.”
One insult was overt, the other covert.
Neither of them bothered to dwell on it.
A few intersections later, they arrived at Yixiu Media.
While Jiang Shiyan took Cheng Siran to get the advertising placement contract, Tang Yang also received a work email.
Fan Linlang: “Sister Yang, the special case loan client from Nanjin Street, Zhang Zhilan, called the office. She said you left your business card at her door, telling her to contact you anytime.”
Tang Yang remembered her visit there with Jiang Shiyan and freed her hand from applying moisturizer: “Tell her I’ll be there in an hour, thanks.”
Fan Linlang: “Shall I bring the documents and wait for you downstairs at your place?”
Tang Yang: “No need to trouble yourself, I can go on my own.”
Fan Linlang: “It’s no trouble, I just finished my shift.”
Tang Yang thought for a moment and agreed.
Fan Linlang had planned to arrive early to meet Tang Yang, but Tang Yang was even earlier, picking her up at Huishang.
Fan Linlang examined the car for a while before getting in, asking, “Wasn’t your previous Mini red? Why did you change to black?”
Tang Yang smiled, “My mom took it out earlier and forgot to refuel when she parked it in the garage.”
“I thought older people preferred steady car models. Auntie is quite fashionable,” Fan Linlang joked, recalling how colleagues often discussed Tang Yang’s bags and clothes behind her back, “Deputy Tang, don’t tell me you have Skittles at home.”
Tang Yang casually replied, “Something like that.”
Fan Linlang asked whatever she wanted to know, stopping short of being intrusive or sarcastic.
During the nearly half-hour drive, their chat made Tang Yang feel a bit closer to her.
They arrived at Xingfu Garden, where an old lady recognized Tang Yang and enthusiastically told them about seeing Zhang Zhilan wearing a skirt the other day, exposing her thighs in the dead of winter. How improper! Even picking up trash in the community would be better than that!
Tang Yang nodded vaguely.
“Probably a special profession,” Fan Linlang’s tone suggested distancing, “The old ladies in our community are like that too, but gossipy as they are, they always have the latest news.”
Tang Yang: “Let’s see first.”
They went upstairs and knocked. The door opened.
As Tang Yang recognized Zhang Zhilan, she seemed to understand why the old ladies gossiped.
Because of her beauty, the impact, unrelated to age or appearance, was far stronger than her ID photo.
Even at home, still wearing an apron while working, Zhang Zhilan had light makeup on, with long, slender eyes exuding a hint of aloofness.
Seeing the visitors, she hesitated, “Deputy Tang?”
Fan Linlang pointed to Tang Yang, saying, “This is Deputy Tang,” then introduced herself, “I’m Fan Linlang.”
Zhang Zhilan wiped her hands on her apron and invited them in to sit.
Tang Yang and Fan Linlang politely looked around.
Zhang Zhilan’s home was small but very clean, with spotless corners and windows. The curtains seemed to be made of many pieces of fabric sewn together, but someone had embroidered small flowers in the gaps, harmonizing the discordant colors.
Zhang Zhilan had two children. Tang Yang, having endured the torment of her relatives’ naughty kids, had prepared herself mentally before coming. But upon seeing them, she felt a strange sense of guilt for her presumptions.
The older one was in primary school, sitting at a desk made of wooden slats, writing. The younger one sat under his brother’s desk, quietly flipping through a picture book.
Most children are afraid or shy around strangers, but when Zhang Zhilan called “Min Mu” and “Min Lin” to introduce the visitors, the two children stood up and sweetly called out, “Auntie Tang, Auntie Fan.”
Tang Yang and Fan Linlang had brought a bag of longan for the mother and children. The kids wanted to eat some but looked to Zhang Zhilan for permission. Only after getting her approval did they take two each, eat them, and then put the shells and pits in the trash bin before returning to their activities.
“So well-behaved,” Tang Yang thought they were genuinely adorable.
Zhang Zhilan said, “They’re very sensible, love reading, and help out when I’m busy.”
After some small talk, Fan Linlang took out her notebook.
Zhang Zhilan gave the two children five yuan, telling them to go buy candy. Once they closed the door, she began to recount her situation.
Zhang Zhilan’s parents were martyrs. She grew up in an orphanage, her name given by the orphanage director. “Zhi” for her parents, who “died for their ideals,” and “Lan” for herself, like an “orchid in a secluded valley.”
Then she had a middle school classmate named Min Zhi.
When Zhang Zhilan was eighteen, she failed the college entrance exam and went south to work. Min Zhi joined the army.
When Zhang Zhilan was twenty, she returned to A City. Min Zhi was admitted to a military academy, and they got married.
At twenty-two, Zhang Zhilan had her first child with Min Zhi, and they built a small house. At twenty-seven, they adopted a comrade’s child and bought a van. At twenty-eight, Min Zhi’s mother fell seriously ill. That same year, there was a flood in the middle reaches of the Yangtze River, and Min Zhi died in the line of duty.
The burial allowance from the army wasn’t much. Zhang Zhilan emptied her savings to pay off the hospital debt and then moved her family here.
Because the rent from short-term leasing of their small house was more than the rent they paid to live here.
Tang Yang tilted her head to compose herself, then asked about Zhang Zhilan’s motivation for buying the riverside apartment.
Zhang Zhilan’s voice remained as calm as before: “It sounds silly, but it’s true. That place is where he used to say he wanted to buy in the future. He liked the location and layout, and I liked that it overlooks the Yangtze River, where he passed away.”
Zhang Zhilan continued, “In his hometown, there’s a saying that if you have an unfulfilled wish when you die, you’ll be stuck at the Naihe Bridge. The Old Lady Meng won’t give you the soup of oblivion, so you can’t enter reincarnation. After a long time, you can never turn your fate around.”
Zhang Zhilan took out a photo album from a side drawer and smiled, “He was a good man, handsome. I can’t let go.”
Zhang Zhilan pronounced “handsome” as “zun,” and something stirred in Tang Yang’s heart.
The slightly yellowed photo showed a man in an olive green uniform, giving a military salute, the red national emblem prominent on his cap. When he smiled, he had a small tiger tooth, like a spring breeze.
Fan Linlang’s lips moved, but no sound came out.
Tang Yang, though tough-hearted, explained gently, “But your purchasing power and ability to repay the loan pose significant problems.”
“Housing prices will only get higher in the future,” Zhang Zhilan smiled bitterly, “We currently have a martyr’s family allowance to cover expenses. Then I save all my wages from two waitressing jobs every day. On weekends, I take Min Mu and Min Lin to the orphanage. They play with the children there while I clean, which also provides some compensation.” She remembered something, “But when I consulted the bank, they said that without a signed employment contract or reaching the tax threshold, the compensation couldn’t be included in the income statement.”
“The cash flow won’t pass the audit,” Tang Yang pondered, “If you don’t mind, you can save my number.”
Zhang Zhilan was flattered, “Deputy Tang, this is too…”
“It’s alright, just consider me a friend,” Tang Yang insisted.
Fan Linlang’s eyes were a bit red from crying. When she saw Zhang Zhilan saving Tang Yang’s number, her gaze flickered slightly.
The three of them talked for nearly two hours.
Somehow, the conversation turned to the details of Min Zhi’s sacrifice.
Zhang Zhilan’s expression stiffened slightly, and after a long pause:
“He studied engineering technology, I don’t remember the exact specialty. When the flood happened, he went there to design flood prevention measures. He hadn’t signed a life-and-death waiver.”
“Then it seems… at the scene, a pregnant woman was looking for something and lost her footing. He went to pull her up but stepped on some moss himself. He couldn’t swim, and a wave happened to come just then.”
Zhang Zhilan said, “At that time, the pregnant woman was at a distance from him. He didn’t have to go, he didn’t have to…” After all, we’re human, and there’s always a selfish part.
Tang Yang held a stack of interview materials, feeling as if she was carrying a thousand pounds of iron.
“My condolences,” she hesitantly placed her hand on Zhang Zhilan’s shoulder, gently rubbing it.
“No need for condolences,” Zhang Zhilan pulled out a tissue, smiling as she wiped her eyes, “It was his duty.”
As they were leaving, Zhang Zhilan saw them out.
Tang Yang whispered to her, “I understand the situation, and I’ll do my best,” she paused, “but don’t get your hopes up too high.”
Zhang Zhilan: “I don’t understand ideals, nor do I have any. In this life, I just want to buy this one apartment, just this one.”
Winter sunsets are rare, and the distant clouds hung like a veil around the woman.
Tang Yang looked at Zhang Zhilan, wanting to tell her from a rational perspective: I may love fortune-telling, but people only live once. When you’re gone, you’re gone, ashes to ashes, dust to dust. There’s no Naihe Bridge, no reincarnation, no Old Lady Meng, and he won’t remember you.
No matter what you do, no matter how much.
But in the end, she couldn’t bring herself to say it.
Lin Lang Fan needed to take photos for archiving, while Tang Yao waited for her downstairs. As his gaze wandered, he noticed two children sitting on the side door steps.
She walked over, and the two children stood up, calling out in unison: “Big Sister.”
“Why are you calling me Big Sister?” Tang Yao chuckled, wasn’t she “Auntie” upstairs?
Min Mu pursed his lips: “Mom said we should call adults Auntie in serious situations, but in casual settings, we call anyone who looks younger than her Big Sister.”
Tang Yao felt a warmth in her heart and sat down with the two children, holding her skirt.
She asked about their studies and life. The younger Min Lin wasn’t very expressive, while the older Min Mu answered clearly.
After a while, Tang Yao asked Min Mu: “Have you thought about what you want to do when you grow up?”
Min Mu blushed: “Join the army.”
Tang Yao was slightly stunned, then gently asked: “Can you tell Big Sister why?”
Min Mu didn’t respond immediately. After a long pause, he said very softly: “To serve the people.” This was what his father loved to say, but whenever he mentioned it, his mother would look sad.
Tang Yao was moved. She patted the boy’s head and then asked Min Lin: “What about you?”
Min Lin, with his long eyelashes fluttering like feathers, said: “Sing songs.”
Tang Yao asked: “What kind of songs?”
Min Lin stood up, clumsily raising his small hand to his temple, singing in a faint, unclear tune that Tang Yao couldn’t make out.
She leaned in closer and heard: “Rise, those who refuse to be slaves. Let us build our new Great Wall with our flesh and blood…”
It was as if he had heard it many times but was singing it for the first time.
The raw, tentative melody touched her heart.
Tang Yao ruffled the little curls on top of his head, her voice slightly hoarse: “Do you know what song this is?”
Min Lin shook his head.
This big sister was warm and beautiful. Perhaps not wanting to disappoint her, the little boy avoided his brother’s gaze, stood on tiptoes, and whispered in her ear: “There’s a tape in the cabinet… played when Dad came home with Dad’s photo…”
The song Dad sang when he laid out the national flag and sprinkled flower petals for Dad when Dad was laid out with the national flag and sprinkled with flower petals.
On the way back, Tang Yao told Lin Lang Fan that the martyr’s household registration had been canceled, but this could be used as a flexible reference factor.
Lin Lang Fan shed tears again: “I’ve been doing credit checks for four years, and I never knew what was behind those files.” Because there was no mandatory requirement to find out because everyone only provided rough information because everyone was used to passing the buck.
Tang Yao joked: “The old ladies in the community are occasionally unreliable.”
Indeed, who could have imagined that she was just a mother who worked until eleven o’clock, still willing to change out of her work clothes before coming home, wanting to show her children her best self?
Lin Lang Fan chuckled: “Deputy Tang, aren’t you moved at all? Stone-hearted.”
Tang Yao’s lips twitched into a slight smile.
It was almost eight o’clock when she got home. Tang Yao didn’t turn on the lights.
She tossed her bag in the entryway and looked at the archived photos Lin Lang Fan had sent her. After that, she looked at Zhang Zhilan’s file.
It contained interior photos of their current residence.
When Tang Yao had looked before, she only thought it was neat and ordinary. Now, looking again, those book covers wrapped in newspaper and the smiley face on the trash can seemed to have warmth.
One photo after another.
Suddenly, Tang Yao noticed that on the side of the wooden desk, there was a line of characters carved, crooked, and inconspicuous.
She zoomed in on the image, then zoomed in more, and saw Min Mu’s attempt at calligraphy, even outlined with a fine pen.
Tang Yao wanted to laugh at how clumsy each stroke was, but when she saw what those four characters said, she let out a laugh that turned into a sting in her nose.
“Three generations of generals.”
A three-generation military family whose loan application was repeatedly rejected and resubmitted.
A three-generation military family where the mother was criticized by the old ladies in the community, while the children softly sang “those who refuse to be slaves” amidst the sound of mahjong tiles.
A true three-generation military family that she would never have known about if she hadn’t answered the phone or come here if she hadn’t wanted to understand.
With too many people on her WeChat Moments, Tang Yao opened Weibo.
The words she wanted to say felt pale on her lips. Tang Yao wrote long paragraphs and then deleted them word by word. In the end, she left one sentence:
Thank you for the encounter, for the beauty, for the support, for marching forward even if thousands stand in the way
Not very poetic, but it was all she could write.
In the darkness as deep as soaked ink.
After sending it, she felt a sense of loss.
In the quiet, her phone screen lit up. Tang Yao hung up, Jiang Shiyan called again, Tang Yao hung up again, Jiang Shiyan called again, and Tang Yao answered.
Jiang Shiyan didn’t joke or tease: “I haven’t had dinner, keep me company.”
Tang Yao, who also hadn’t eaten, replied in a hoarse voice: “I’m not hungry.”
Two words: “Come down.”
Half an hour later, Tang Yao had put on a full face of makeup but still looked unwell.
She wasn’t in the mood and didn’t want to talk to Jiang Shiyan when she came downstairs.
Strangely, the usually talkative Jiang was also silent, opening the car door for her, closing it, driving to the bullfrog restaurant, opening the door, closing it.
Not a word was spoken.
After entering the restaurant, Jiang Shiyan seated Tang Yao in a corner and went to weigh the frog. He came back, sat down, and fiddled with his phone for a while before reading seriously: “The butcher took Snow White to the deep forest, sharpened his knife, and drank milk. After drinking, he left. Why? Because he drank forget-to-slaughter milk.”
Then, the second joke: “A girlfriend received a call from her boyfriend. The boyfriend reminded her to use the zebra crossing when crossing the road. The girlfriend was very happy and asked, ‘Dear, you care about me so much?’ The boyfriend said, ‘If you get hit on the zebra crossing, the compensation will be higher.'”
Then, the third: “Walking on the street, the wife asked her husband, ‘If my mother and I fell into the water, who would you save first?’ Before the husband could answer, someone handing out flyers walked by, ‘Hey, interested in swimming lessons?'”
“You’re crazy,” Tang Yao couldn’t help but laugh, raising her hand as if to hit him.
“Every time you’re unhappy, you don’t use punctuation at the end of your social media posts,” Jiang Shiyan stared at her reddened eyes for a while, making sure she was genuinely smiling before letting out a sigh of relief and asking softly, “What’s wrong?”
When he didn’t know anything, he cheered her up first, then asked what was wrong.
The restaurant was noisy, but Tang Yao could still see the gentleness in his eyes.
A small, inconspicuous corner of her heart seemed to crumble a little.
Tang Yao didn’t go into the loan details, she only talked about Zhang Zhilan, Min Mu, and Min Lin, and their small home in the bustling market, filled with borage flowers.
Tang Yao spoke slowly, and Jiang Shiyan listened attentively.
When she finished, Jiang Shiyan asked, “Are you still upset?”
“It’s not being upset,” Tang Yao stubbornly refused to admit, “She’s only a year older than me, it’s a feeling I can’t quite describe…”
Before Tang Yao could finish, the waiter brought the spicy soup to the table.
Jiang Shiyan quickly said, “Whoever eats less and slower is a big fool,” and ignoring the waiter’s strange look, he picked up a frog and put it in his bowl, quickly taking a bite.
Tang Yao was no longer in the mood to be melancholic. She also picked up a piece and put it in her bowl, starting to pick at the bones.
Jiang Shiyan was skilled with his tongue, spitting out bones quickly.
Tang Yao glanced up at him and sped up!
While others in the restaurant were drinking, playing finger-guessing games, and politely offering food to each other – “Hey, Chairman Zhang, eat this,” “Little Wang, have some,” “Haohao, eat more to grow taller”…
Deputy Tang and the big shot Jiang, two social elites, were huddled in a corner in their fine clothes… suddenly competing in eating!
Neither of them spoke, occasionally glancing up at each other, eating faster, spitting out bones one after another into their plates.
As the pot of frog was quickly emptying, Deputy Tang’s pile of bones on her plate was slightly taller than Mr. Jiang’s…
Tang Yao was eating intently.
Jiang Shiyan glanced at her, his right hand holding chopsticks and gnawing on his piece, while his left hand quietly reached over to Tang Yao’s side, pulling her plate towards himself, out of her line of sight. In a flash, he dumped her pile of bones onto his own.
Tang Yao, still with a mouthful, slammed her chopsticks on the bowl: “Jiang Shiyan, how old are you?!”
Tang Yao wanted to summon a thunderous presence, but as soon as she opened her mouth, the bones fell onto the table, rolling a few times before stopping near Jiang Shiyan’s hand.
The clamor of voices created white noise. The restaurant’s decor was antique-style, with octagonal lamps overhead casting a warm yellow light that fell perfectly on Tang Yao’s wide-open eyes.
She was very angry, truly angry, with a vivid and pure expression of rage.
It was perhaps at this moment that Jiang Shiyan began to suspect that Tang Yao might occasionally turn into a three-year-old.
From very early on, what was Tang Yao like in front of others? Confident, calm, good-tempered.
And in front of him? Sharp-tongued, confrontational, nitpicky, exploding at the slightest provocation.
Yang Ge had given him her three-year-old world.
So, he felt a fondness for her, affection, even tenderness, just like he had always felt towards Ya’nan’s son. But could this be the kind of like in a romantic relationship? Hah.
Having reached the same conclusion as Deputy Tang through different reasoning, and once again firmly nailing himself to the friend seat, Jiang Shiyan let out a relieved sigh.
He poured his “merged” pile of bones back into Tang Yao’s plate: “Alright, alright, it’s all yours, it’s all yours. I ate less, I ate slower, I’m the big fool.”
Tang Yao demanded precision: “Jiang Shiyan is the big fool.”
Jiang Shiyan admitted: “Jiang Shiyan is the big fool.”
“That’s more like it.” Tang Yao hummed in satisfaction, reaching to scoop up vegetables from the pot.
Jiang Shiyan used a strainer to lift the food, letting her pick what she wanted. Watching her small, proud demeanor after her mood had improved, he couldn’t help but laugh inwardly.