Chapter 14 Drawing Near

Chapter 14 Drawing Near

Mou Wen's gaze drifted to the side.

She picked up her glass and downed it in one gulp, then said to Xie Chong, "You drink too! What are you, saving it for later?"—using this to cover up the chaos inside her.

Mou Wen was a very rational person.

She had always understood one principle: her liking for Xie Chong was her own affair, and she did not demand that he return the same affection.

She was climbing a mountain, and Xie Chong was a tourist on that same mountain. He stood at a high point, while she had just bought a ticket and taken one step. Whether she could reach the top, or how far she'd climb, was unknown. Their connection was just calling out to each other from afar—able to hear echoes, but to meet face to face, she'd have to ascend or he'd have to descend.

She was in her early twenties and hadn't figured these things out on her own; it was Chu Ling and Xiao Gu who had taught her these lessons through their own stories.

Xiao Gu was from Henan, married a "real Beijinger" guy, living with her in-laws in a 60-square-meter apartment. Xiao Gu's husband worked at the street office, making next to nothing. She herself had always worked as an assistant, constantly measuring rooms and drawing up floor plans all day. Despite this, Xiao Gu's in-laws still said she had "married up."

They would always say: a country girl from Henan marrying into Beijing—that's one in a million.

Mou Wen comforted Xiao Gu: "You're really great. You've read so many books, you have a decent-paying job. Why would they say that about you? They have no reason."

Xiao Gu would always give a weary smile and say, "Engineer Mou, never end up like me. You've got a better starting point than me; don't put up with this kind of treatment."

Chu Ling, on the other hand, was dating a coworker.

Her company was great—an internet company, always exploring new business ideas. Her boyfriend was also a grad from a top school, working there as a programmer.

Once, Mou Wen went with Chu Ling to her office while she was on duty and saw the young man. He was simple and neat, put two boxes of fruit in front of them, and left right away.

"We're equals; neither of us is lacking," Chu Ling said. "So we respect each other."

Chu Ling and Xiao Gu's experiences really hit Mou Wen. She realized that Beijing was a very realistic city, where everyone was desperate to prove their worth and get more leverage.

Mou Wen had never once proactively contacted Xie Chong; she was afraid of how he'd see her, and that her feelings for him would become worthless.

Even when she got her first real paycheck, even though she desperately wanted to share it with him, she still went to karaoke by herself.

Xie Chong didn't call her out on it.

He asked Mou Wen if the Moutai was good, and she said it was, adding, "Pour me a little more, will you?" So he poured her another small cup.

Mou Wen pointed toward the kitchen and said, "There's still some dough and filling left over. I'll wrap them all up later; you can freeze them and boil a few when you don't feel like cooking."

"Aren't you tired?" he asked.

Mou Wen slapped the table: "We're so young and we're always saying we're tired? Cut it out! We're young—we should have energy and spirit!" She said it with conviction, and she really meant it.

"You're full of energy—should I strap you to a millstone and have you pull it, or send you out to plow a field?" Xie Chong said, then gestured to the things in the living room: "You made me dumplings, and I've got nothing to give you in return. If I gave you money, you'd think I was insulting you..." He wanted her to pick something to sell—it would be worth a good chunk of change.

"Pay up!" Mou Wen interrupted him, thrusting her hand straight out. "Go ahead, give me the money! Why would I be ashamed of getting paid for my work?" She was thrilled that Xie Chong had that kind of mindset; now she felt like she hadn't made enough dough or filling—she should make more so she could earn more.

"How much is appropriate?" Xie Chong asked deliberately.

Mou Wen said, "How about we count by the dumpling? One yuan each?"

"Fine."

"Then I'm off~"

Mou Wen happily headed to the kitchen.

Xie Chong followed her in.

She wrapped dumplings while he watched. Mou Wen's fingers were really quick—she put a wrapper in her palm, scooped in some filling, and in a second, pinched out a fat little dumpling. Then she lined them up in neat rows and put them in the freezer.

She said to Xie Chong, "If I ever get the chance, I'll make you fresh dumplings, right then and there."

"What do you mean?" Xie Chong asked.

"You get a big pot of water boiling, toss the dumplings in, and when they're done, you stand right by the pot and eat them." Mou Wen described it to Xie Chong: "So good you'll be jumping up and down!"

Xie Chong smiled.

He'd drunk nearly a bottle of baijiu, but he wasn't drunk—just warm. Mou Wen's voice made him feel light, like he was floating, like he was back in the afternoons at his grandma's or nana's house years ago.

His memories always circled around August. The tail end of summer.

Flowers in the alley were blooming like crazy, and cicadas were buzzing their heads off. He'd wake up from a nap, rub his eyes, and go downstairs to find the old woman busy at the stove.

Xie Chong had a sharp nose back then; one sniff and he knew what was for dinner. The smell of fresh cucumber meant zhajiang noodles; the smell of lamb meant lamb and noodle soup; the smell of scallions meant lamb and scallion dumplings; the smell of carrots meant it was definitely hu tata...

He split his time between his grandma's house and his nana's house. He couldn't stay long because he had uncles on both sides—the place was so small, and if he stayed too long, his uncles would start to get annoyed.

His parents had money and bought a big place, telling him to come live there. His grandmas took turns staying with him, and his uncles would tag along. The old women were afraid that if they stayed too long, their sons would get greedy about the new house, so they stopped coming.

When they stopped coming, his parents hired a "little nanny." The nanny was almost fifty and was supposed to be a good cook, but Xie Chong never got to taste her food. He remembered she had a short temper; sometimes when he said he was hungry, she'd just make him a pack of instant noodles. When he said it needed an egg, she'd pinch his arm and say if he ate too much he'd turn into a fat pig. Then she'd ask Xie Chong, "Am I good to you?" Scared of her, he'd say, "Yeah, you're good to me."

Xie Chong was little then, and he just thought the "little nanny" was a man-eating monster, and he'd cry and throw a fit to go back to his grandma's...

It was still the tail end of summer—August.

He carried his schoolbag with his books and a bag with a change of clothes. When he walked into his grandma's house, she was sweating buckets. The old woman hugged him and told him to take a nap to rest up, saying, "When you wake up, Grandma's dumplings will be ready."

Xie Chong fell asleep to the nonstop buzzing of cicadas.

It must've been hot that day, because he woke up soaked in sweat. He rubbed his sleepy eyes and went to find his grandma, and saw her lying on the kitchen floor.

They said she didn't suffer, that she passed quickly.

After that, Xie Chong lost a place to eat, and getting a decent meal got harder and harder. Luckily, he had more and more money, and he got really good at eating out. But it never tasted like home cooking. Only at the riding school could he get that.

Jiang Wu noticed he always seemed hungry, so she'd give him the meat off her own plate. When he tried to pay her, Jiang Wu would get mad: "What's so special about your damn money?"

Jiang Wu didn't want his money and thought it was worthless. She said, "If you like it, eat it. If not, don't! If you're gonna eat at my place, don't pull that gross crap."

But Mou Wen wanted his money, and for some reason, that made him feel lighter.

He thought wrapping dumplings was fun and asked if he could help. Mou Wen showed him: "See, you pinch it like this, then squeeze it like that, and boom—a dumpling~" She looked up at Xie Chong: "Got it?"

Xie Chong said, "What's so hard about that?" He copied her pinch and squeeze, and a weird-looking dumpling came out.

Mou Wen burst out laughing at the ugly dumpling: "Forget it, forget it—just go drink."

She shooed Xie Chong out of the kitchen.

By the time she was done, it was evening. The living room window was wide open, and Xie Chong had fallen asleep on the couch, hugging a pillow. He looked like a different person: not arrogant, not childish. The breeze gently played with his hair and the flowers by the window. He looked so calm and peaceful.

Mou Wen tiptoed to the bathroom, grabbed a towel, and covered his stomach to keep his belly button warm. She crouched there, watching him for a few seconds, noticing his long, curly lashes and his high nose bridge—he really was a "pretty boy."

For some reason, Mou Wen let out a sigh. She quietly stood up, grabbed her toolbox, slung her canvas bag over her shoulder, and left Xie Chong's place.

On the way back, her steps felt light. The wind felt kind to her, blowing soft; the flowers felt kind to her, all in bloom; the bus felt kind to her too—hardly anyone on it, and she got a window seat... She sat on the bus listening to music, and through her earphones kept playing:

"Let it be

let it be

let it be..."

The bus swayed, and she dozed off for about a song's worth of time. Her heart felt soft—so this is what it's like to have a crush... as if everything in the whole world had something to do with him.

When Xie Chong woke up, the sun had already set.

The house was dim and quiet, as if he'd slept through some long, dreamy stretch. He couldn't remember what the dream was about, but that full, happy feeling was still hanging around in his chest.

"Mou Wen?" he called out, but there was no response. He realized she had already left. He was thirsty—really thirsty—so he got up to get some water. He saw the dining table was spotless, with the leftovers covered up. The kitchen was clean too, no smell of cooking at all, as if no one had ever cooked there.

Man, she's hardworking.

Xie Chong thought to himself: she really is.

Remembering he still owed her for the work, he sent her a text: "How many dumplings in total?"

Mou Wen replied: "Eighty-six. Round it up, just give me two hundred."

"That's how you round up?"

"Three hundred works too."

Mou Wen wasn't trying to scam Xie Chong. She'd thought it over: this was private chef service. Other private chefs charge 2000 a meal, so her dumplings weren't gonna be cheap.

"You're a bandit," Xie Chong told her.

Qian Song asked Xie Chong if he wanted to go out to eat, saying there was a new Hubei spot near Sanyuan Bridge that was killer. Xie Chong said, "I'm not going. I've been drinking, and I have food at home." Qian Song was shocked—since when did Xie Chong have food at home? He hung up and just showed up.

What he saw blew his mind. Not only did his boy have food at home, but it was handmade dumplings! Qian Song said nothing, poking around every room like he was hunting for signs of a secret lover. He was convinced someone had to be staying at Xie Chong's place.

But the place was spotless, no trace of any woman living there—except for the dishes and the dumplings.

"Who is it?" Qian Song said. "You secretly seeing someone? You don't like Jiang Wu anymore?"

"I'm not dating anyone," Xie Chong said. "Just a friend."

"What kind of friend?"

"Just some regular friend."

"A regular friend comes over and cooks for you?" Qian Song said. "Bro, you lost your mind? You ever seen a regular female friend come over to cook? You playing dumb on purpose?"

"I'm not," Xie Chong said. "I'm not."

Xie Chong felt like he couldn't tell Qian Song the whole story. Before this day, he hadn't known Mou Wen liked him. Because she was so chill, never pushy, treating him like any other client. And she was the type to be warm with everyone—he didn't think he was special to her. Maybe at some point he'd felt a flicker of something, but that didn't mean she liked him.

"I'm hungry," Qian Song said, planning to stay at Xie Chong's place. "I wanna see how your regular friend cooks." He knew Xie Chong wasn't gonna heat anything up for him, so he did it himself. He tossed the lettuce into a pan with a little oil, stir-frying and sniffing and going on about how good it smelled: "Smells great! Really great!"

Qian Song kept stealing glances at Xie Chong, trying to figure out what was different about him, but he couldn't see anything.

Xie Chong told Qian Song he was heading to Jingdezhen tomorrow to deal with that Chen guy who'd come out of nowhere. With some random guy like that popping up, he had to go see for himself.

Qian Song said, "Go ahead, go ahead. I'm eating the dumplings."

Xie Chong didn't want to give Qian Song the dumplings.

Qian Song ate like a glutton—he'd pop a dumpling in his mouth in one bite, not even tasting it. Might as well feed them to a dog!

But Qian Song insisted, and in the end they reached a deal: Xie Chong would boil ten frozen dumplings for Qian Song, and Qian Song would pay him five hundred yuan.

Xie Chong demanded "cash on delivery." Qian Song cursed him for being heartless and ruthless, but handed over five hundred in cash. Xie Chong tucked the money into his wallet and granted Qian Song permission to eat the leftovers and the big dumplings at his place.

Qian Song ate while marveling at the rare, delicious home-cooked flavor, pressing Xie Chong for the real story. Xie Chong had to tell him that the renovation company had sent someone to fix the furniture today, and they happened to have a meal there. Qian Song was baffled and asked Xie Chong: "Then why doesn't my renovation company cook for me?"

"You picked a cheap renovation company. Next time, pick a more expensive one. With the expensive ones, you get all kinds of services."

After seeing Qian Song off, he grabbed his wallet and headed out.

He valued his word—he'd promised to pay Mou Wen, and he would do it today. When he reached her window, he initially wanted to knock and call her out. His hand was already raised to tap on the glass, but he pulled it back just before it landed.

He took eight hundred yuan from his wallet and tucked it under a stone on the windowsill. Then he walked to the corner and texted her: "Your payment is outside your window. Besides the three hundred, I sold ten dumplings. Total eight hundred."

Worried someone might take the money, he waited nearby. A dozen minutes later, a hand reached out and took the money from under the brick. Only then did Xie Chong turn and leave.

Mou Wen sat on her bed, the eight hundred yuan lined up neatly in front of her. She hadn't dried her hair yet, and dripping water droplets fell onto the bills. She immediately let out a worried "Oh no!" and quickly gathered the money away.

Looking up, she saw the bright moon hanging high in the sky and smiled.