Chapter 9 Flowing Water

Chapter 9: The Flow of Things

Xie Chong kept the milk candies in his car, occasionally eating one while waiting at red lights. They weren't sweet, just had a faint milky taste.

His friend Qian Song caught a ride once and was pretty surprised to see the few remaining candies. Xie Chong wasn't into stuff like that; he always said anything with preservatives was garbage.

"So this isn't a dealbreaker?" Qian Song picked one up and examined it: "Did Jiang Wu give these to you?"

"No. A specialty from a friend's hometown."

Qian Song clicked his tongue: "Pretty bold of them. Didn't even bother asking if you'd eat them."

"They're pretty good." Xie Chong said as he put the remaining candies into the storage compartment, not offering any to Qian Song.

"Like I even care."

"Well, you're not getting any."

That night after parting with Mou Wen, he entrusted all the renovation work to Lin Weisen, and specifically told him: "Your assistant has been running herself ragged. I'll give her a separate 5000-yuan project bonus. You can pass it on to her."

During the period when Lin Weisen's family had welcomed a new baby, Mou Wen had been working overtime without a single complaint. Xie Chong wanted to pay her separately, which pleased Lin Weisen. He told Mou Wen about it that very day, passing it off as his own kindness.

When Mou Wen heard about it, her eyes gleamed: "How much? How much?"

"5000!" Lin Weisen said: "Mr. Xie is reliable."

Mou Wen gave a thumbs up to the air: "Mr. Xie, I'll pray for you. Good people live long and prosper."

"Remember to thank him." Lin Weisen said: "It's rare to come across clients like this."

"Don't worry, Master. His house—I've got it covered!" Mou Wen then sent Xie Chong a text message: "Mr. Xie, I've received the 5000 bonus! From now on, you don't need to go to the building materials market—leave it all to me!"

Xie Chong replied: "Special cases get special treatment. Keep up the good work." So official, huh.

Xie Chong used 5000 yuan to "buy" the "wholehearted" Mou Wen, and he completely washed his hands of the renovation. He didn't visit the site, didn't go to the building materials market, and focused on his own work. He felt this was the best money he'd ever spent in his business dealings.

By year's end, he started hounding for the final payments.

Chasing down final payments inevitably meant business dinners.

That's how foreign trade worked—upstream connected to midstream, midstream connected to downstream, and no one was permanently the client. So one meal he'd play the pushover, the next he'd be the big shot. Every day he'd doll up like a "social butterfly," hopping between all kinds of venues in Beijing.

Xie Chong didn't like drinking, but he had a high tolerance. He could keep drinking for hours and rarely got drunk. Sometimes when the buzz kicked in, Qian Song would call Jiang Wu and ask if she'd be willing to pick Xie Chong up, trying to play matchmaker.

They'd known each other since their equestrian days, growing up together. Qian Song was well aware of the unspoken tension between Xie Chong and Jiang Wu.

Jiang Wu would never come, of course.

She'd say: "Hungover and feeling awful? Then learn your lesson and don't drink next time." Jiang Wu's personality was so distinct, prickly. But Xie Chong would say: Those are the thorns of someone with integrity. Haven't you noticed? Jiang Wu is a trailblazer.

If Jiang Wu didn't come, Xie Chong had no one else to call.

He was a strange one. Sometimes at social events, women would take a liking to him and exchange phone numbers. He'd add them on the spot, then delete them the moment he turned away. In his words: can't be bothered.

This was too troublesome, that was too troublesome—Qian Song called him a total "weirdo."

One day during a business dinner, Mou Wen called him. It was time to pick the wall paint.

He told her to decide. Mou Wen spelled it out for him: "I really want to decide for you, but you know what? This isn't a matter of rationality anymore—it's a matter of aesthetics. I can decide furniture dimensions for you, but there are just too many paint colors, and they look different under different lighting. One extra coat or one fewer coat changes everything..."

"So what do we do?" Xie Chong had been drinking, and his voice sounded a bit nasally. Though it was a question, it came out with a soft, needy tone—unlike his usual self.

"You pick it yourself." Mou Wen said: "Go pick tomorrow? Tell me once you've chosen."

"I'm busy tomorrow, the day after, and the day after that..."

Mou Wen was a bit troubled: "Mr. Xie, I need to go back to my hometown for the New Year. After I return, I'll head straight back to school to work on my graduation... You gave me such a big bonus, and I want to get everything sorted before I leave. I can't just take your money and not earn it..."

"So what do we do?" Xie Chong asked again: "I don't have time. Do you have color swatches? Can you describe them?"

"I do!" Mou Wen said: "I'll have someone deliver them to you tomorrow..."

"I'm right by your office. I'll swing by later. Are you working overtime?"

Mou Wen detected something slightly off: "Have you been drinking?"

"A little."

"Then forget it—don't go to the trouble. Where are you? I'll come find you after I finish up."

"I'll have my driver pick you up..."

"No need." Mou Wen quickly refused: "Really, no need. I could use a break anyway."

"Alright."

After hanging up, Xie Chong wouldn't touch another drop no matter who pushed him.

Of course, that day he was the one playing the "pushover," and the "big shot" was displeased: "Mr. Xie, we rarely get together like this. Why aren't you being a good sport?"

Xie Chong clutched his chest and winced: "My heart hurts..."

He didn't get out of drinking, but after that, no one dared push him. When the gathering ended, Xie Chong sat in his car waiting for Mou Wen.

Mou Wen, having worked overtime, jogged over from a distance.

The night was deep, cold, and dark. White puffs of breath escaped her mouth as she ran. When she reached his car, she was out of breath: "Sorry... did you... wait long?"

Xie Chong just looked at her.

How ridiculous—the only person who came to see him after drinking was Mou Wen, someone with no real connection to him. She lugged that bulky backpack with her heavy laptop, coming after a late shift to deliver color swatches.

Right then, Xie Chong thought: He really hadn't given her enough. He should have given ten thousand, twenty thousand. He should reward this person who thought of him so wholeheartedly.

Xie Chong leaned over and stretched his arm to open the passenger door for her, saying: "Get in and talk." Before getting in, he had rinsed his mouth and used breath spray. Years of ingrained habits wouldn't let him show up reeking of booze in front of a woman this late.

But his voice came out raspy.

"You're drinking with a cold?" Mou Wen thought he was sick. In her hometown, after drinking, people would sing, make a racket, and talk loud enough to lift the roof. No one's voice went hoarse after drinking. Even hoarse, it would be loud and raucous.

Xie Chong looked confused, then understood: "Oh, my voice just gets like this after drinking."

"Do you have pharyngitis? You should see a doctor." Mou Wen chatted casually while opening the bag to pull out the color swatches. The car was dim inside, and when she handed them to Xie Chong, she noticed he was staring at her with a quiet, intense look.

How could she describe that look?

Mou Wen couldn't articulate the exact feeling, but a feeling of discomfort crept over her. She withdrew her arm, gripped the swatches tightly with both hands, and leaned back against the seat.

"So when do you head out?" Xie Chong suddenly asked her.

Mou Wen was a bit surprised that Xie Chong would ask her that, but she still answered seriously: "I'll leave by next week at the latest. I haven't bought the train ticket yet."

"Where's your school? Where will you work after graduation? Not planning to go to grad school?"

"School's in Tianjin. After graduation, I'll definitely come back to Beijing, and I'll return to this company!" Mou Wen said proudly: "This company was really hard to get into."

She'd always had that unjaded, never-been-knocked-around-by-life attitude, and Xie Chong had seen it before. He picked up his thermos and took a few loud gulps. Only after he finished did he flip on the car's interior light, leaned over and took the color swatch out of Mou Wen's hand.

He flipped through it idly and asked Mou Wen: "What color do you think looks good? White? There are so many kinds of white."

"If it were me, I'd go with this one." Mou Wen leaned over and pointed: "Look at this color—when the light hits it, the finish looks gorgeous, and on cloudy days it won't get too dark either. By the way, do you like night lights? Or reading lights? You seem like the type who likes to read. If you do, turn on the reading light before bed and take a look at the wall..."

She racked her brain trying to describe to Xie Chong how his future wall paint would look under different lighting, her eyes crinkling with a smile, her gaze full of hope, her voice softer than usual, as if afraid of disturbing someone.

Xie Chong leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes, picturing what she described.

He'd once had hopes for this house, but later Jiang Wu had made it clear she didn't like it, and he'd thought, whatever, it didn't matter—he wouldn't live there anyway once it was finished.

Now he was imagining what home could feel like again.

These visions were all painted by this intern from the renovation company. He could feel a soft night light glowing on him—he'd just showered, was lying on his side in bed, relaxed, flipping gently through a book.

Right—Mou Wen had guessed right. He did like reading.

Qian Song always said Xie Chong was too "solitary"—and the things he liked were solitary too. Like hiking alone, fishing, feeding horses, reading, driving with no destination...

"Xie Chong?" Mou Wen called him, but he didn't respond.

"Xie Chong?" Mou Wen called again, still no response, but he let out a soft snore.

Mou Wen remembered that time in the conference room and did the same thing, shouting: "Xie Chong!"

Xie Chong's eyes flew open. He looked at Mou Wen. "Did I fall asleep?"

"Yeah, you were snoring."

"Was it loud?" he asked automatically.

"Not loud." Mou Wen paused. She knew Xie Chong was a weirdly proud gentleman who cared a lot about saving face, so she added: "Because you weren't snoring."

"Bullshit." Xie Chong glanced at her and laughed out of nowhere. Once he'd laughed enough, he said: "I'll call a designated driver to take you home first."

"You just had a driver. Now you're calling a designated driver?"

"I sent the driver home earlier. He's got an elderly relative who can't move around well and needs help getting up at night."

"I see..." Mou Wen looked at Xie Chong seriously and said from the heart: "You know, Mr. Xie, we haven't known each other long, but I really do think you're a good person."

Xie Chong felt awkward being praised and told her to shut up.

Mou Wen mimed zipping her lips.

On the way back, they sat in the back seat, watching the beautiful night pass by outside the window. Mou Wen thought this might be the last time she'd see Xie Chong, and she felt a pang of reluctance. She'd really met a lot of good people during her internship in Beijing.

She knew an internship was just an internship—real work might be a whole different story. Xie Chong was the most unique client she'd ever dealt with.

As they neared her place, she ran down the remaining work for him:

She'd pick out everything that needed choosing before the new year.

During the holiday, Liu Gong's team would be off too and wouldn't be back until after the fifteenth of the first lunar month. That window could be used to let the wall paint cure, but they'd need to watch the humidity and temperature.

Furniture and appliances would be delivered in batches after the new year, and her mentor would be on site to oversee it.

And of course, if anything she'd worked on had issues during that time, they could call her.

...

She kept talking to Xie Chong, afraid she'd forget something.

"Got all that?" she asked.

"Nope." Xie Chong said: "I drank today, so I can't remember a thing. I feel really nauseous right now. I think I'm gonna throw up."

The designated driver asked: "Want me to pull over?"

"Pull over. I'll go puke. No rush—I'll pay for the extra time."

Xie Chong stood by the side of the road in the dead of night, Mou Wen beside him. When he didn't move, she said: "Well, go on and puke then."

"I can't." Xie Chong said: "What do I do? I feel sick, but I can't puke."

"Why don't you drink some water? Or stick a finger down your throat?" Mou Wen genuinely tried to help, even demonstrating: "See, like this—ugh—and out it comes."

Xie Chong leaned against a tree, watching her.

The thought that she was about to leave Beijing made him a little unhappy. After this, there'd be no one this easy to tease.

"I need to go get a bowl of hot noodles." Xie Chong said: "Eating something hot after drinking settles your stomach."

Mou Wen checked the time. Two in the morning. She was hungry too.

"Um..." Mou Wen glanced at Xie Chong's expression: "Should we go to... the back alley..."

"Sure. Let's go." Xie Chong said: "Is it still open this late in this cold?"

"Yes."

They went to the back alley once again.

There were still people there at this hour. Those getting off night shifts or returning from late outings were huddled in the cold wind, eating.

Mou Wen said: "This time, let me treat you. Let's get that fried rice from that place and eat standing by the wok. It'll be warm. Okay?"

"Okay."

Mou Wen took fourteen yuan from her small wallet and handed it to the boss, ordering two portions of fried rice. Xie Chong glanced at it—her wallet was really thin.

Strangely, he didn't fuss about it and stood with her by the wok, eating a portion of fried rice with distinct grains. Mou Wen scooped a small spoonful of pickled vegetables onto her rice and told him to take a small piece of pickled veg with each bite of rice—it tasted better that way.

Xie Chong imitated her. It wasn't bad.

Mou Wen had finally repaid Xie Chong for a meal. Of course, she knew it couldn't compare to the Shanghainese food Xie Chong had treated her to, but she felt that the debt she owed in her heart was finally settled.

She began to fully focus on wrapping up her internship work. Since she knew she would be coming back later, she wasn't too sentimental. She stored all her books in the small locker at the company and shipped the rest of her things home or to school.

Anyway, she felt this internship had been wonderful, and she hummed songs every time she was finishing up.

Lin Weisen asked her if she wanted to go see Xie Chong's house one last time before leaving, but she waved her hand and said: "No need, no need! Master, didn't you say it yourself? Once the renovation is done, there's only after-sales service left. If there's no after-sales needed, then it's goodbye to that house! I'll just say goodbye in advance!"

"Then let me tell you one more thing," Lin Weisen said. "Don't get too excited when you hear it."

"What is it?"

"When he paid the difference, Mr. Xie added another 5,000 yuan as a bonus. For you," Lin Weisen said.

"Wow! Wow! Wow!" Mou Wen lit up with joy. "I deserve this, Master. You don't know how I've been running around like crazy for his house..."

But she knew that Xie Chong could have chosen not to pay her the extra bonus like other clients would, since it was her job. He was moody, nitpicky, and arrogant through and through, but he was actually a decent person.

Mou Wen called Xie Chong to thank him. Xie Chong told her to cut the fake niceties and wished her well on her graduation.

"Well, bye then!" Mou Wen said cheerfully.

Xie Chong paused for a moment, then said, "Goodbye."

It was just a regular call, but when she hung up, Mou Wen felt a "little gold bean" on her cheek.

How strange, why do my eyes feel so hot? she thought.