2013

The summer mala tang shop was stifling and sticky. The plastic tables and chairs were crammed together, steam hazed the air, and the low murmur of the other customers blended into the conversation.

“Not for now.”

Chen Tong lowered her head and looked at the neatly arranged bowl and chopsticks in front of her, then smiled as she spoke.

Actually, Lang Lang wasn’t the first person to ask her that question.

To say Chen Tong had never noticed the glances aimed at her face, or the invitations she’d been getting from scouts and companies since she was seven or eight, or even the varying degrees of interest and goodwill from the people around her… that would be a lie.

But she really didn’t have much interest in the industry. Staying on set for this stretch of time was purely because after quitting her job, she’d had a fight with Chen Xiaoping, and then happened to run into a junior from her old competition days. She learned that the girl was now working on a production, and that they were short-handed because the person who was supposed to report for work had stood them up at the last minute; so she came over to help.

She also meant to take the chance to rest.

“What a pity.” Hearing her answer, Lang Lang took off her fogged-up glasses; regret was written all over her tone.

But less than a second later, her expression turned serious as she started searching the bubbling pot in the middle for the quail egg she’d had her eye on for ages.

“Boss, please blanch some bean sprouts and rice noodles.” Chi Xiaoman called to the other side, then turned back in high spirits and, through the billowing heat and steam, explained to Chen Tong,

“Lang Lang has been looking for a female lead for her movie.”

Chen Tong smiled. “Then why doesn’t she ask you?”

Chi Xiaoman blinked.

Lang Lang was busy eating the quail egg beside them, hissing from the heat as she kept blowing on her steaming mouthful, clearly too occupied to answer.

Chen Tong looked at Chi Xiaoman and blinked.

The next second, seeing the expression on her face that seemed to say, you tell me, she suddenly understood. Her lips parted—

“That’s right!”

Before Chen Tong could speak, Chi Xiaoman lifted her chin in satisfaction and pointed at herself like a proud little cat.

“The other female lead is already me.”

“I see.” Chen Tong’s eyes curved with a smile. “Two female leads.”

“Of course.” After finishing the steaming quail egg, Lang Lang seemed not to know whether she’d burned her tongue or what; her speech was slightly slurred. “If I didn’t use her, she’d be knocking on my door at five every morning to perform a three-second crying scene for me.”

“You two live together?” Chen Tong asked curiously.

“Thank you, boss.” Chi Xiaoman accepted the bowl of bean sprouts and rice noodles the boss handed over with a grin, set it down quickly, then answered Chen Tong’s question in a hurry.

“No, but I’ve been thinking about moving to her neighborhood and renting a place there.”

As she said that, she seemed to have burned her hands on the rim of the bowl; both hands flew up to pinch her ears, and she turned into an obedient little cat who would confess anything.

Lang Lang stood up, dug a brand-new unopened bottle of Coke out of the refrigerated drinks case nearby, and handed it to her.

“She’ll be graduating in another year. She doesn’t need to go to school much now; living nearby would make it easier to go to auditions, meetings, or the set and so on.”

Chi Xiaoman took it naturally.

She pressed both hands against the glass bottle like a pair of paws, using the Coke to cool her burned fingers.

She nodded too. “Right, and her place is cheaper. I can afford the rent.”

It was obvious those two were very close and knew each other well.

That wasn’t to say Chen Tong felt envious of that kind of relationship.

But compared with them.

She realized it was hard for her to develop that kind of unspoken closeness with anyone.

Still, she didn’t say anything unnecessary.

After this part of the conversation.

Chen Tong smiled without speaking, lowered her head, and reached into the big round pot full of broth, sausages, chicken feet, potatoes, kelp, and enoki mushrooms, looking for a skewer that didn’t seem like it had been soaked through with too much chili oil.

Then she heard Chi Xiaoman say softly,

“Here, here.”

There were too many people in the mala tang shop.

Chen Tong didn’t catch it clearly and didn’t think Chi Xiaoman was talking to her.

She didn’t look up.

But a wide-mouthed brown bowl was pushed over. Inside was the rice noodles and bean sprouts from just now, with a sausage added, three fish balls, three beef balls, a crab stick, a skewer of tofu skin, plus some greens and kelp. Unlike the food in the big pot, this bowl had clearly been cooked in plain broth, with no chili oil added; even the skewers taken from the big pot had been rinsed in water before being added on top.

It looked plentiful, with all kinds of ingredients; it wasn’t stingy, and it wouldn’t leave Chen Tong with an upset stomach at night.

“Chen Tong-jiejie, eat this one.”

Chi Xiaoman said beside her.

After speaking, she waited obediently for Chen Tong to use her chopsticks, but when Chen Tong still hadn’t moved after a while, she added,

“If it’s not enough, I’ll make you more later.”

Normally, Chen Tong didn’t like to reveal her personal preferences and thereby affect other people’s choices. At many similar meals, she would be the one everyone else deferred to. She felt it wasn’t necessary; she didn’t like people accommodating her, and she didn’t like people knowing her too well, either. She also didn’t like standing out too much in a crowd.

But how did Chi Xiaoman know she couldn’t eat spicy food?

“Thank you.” Chen Tong didn’t refuse the carefully prepared bowl of mala tang rice noodles. She also looked up and smiled at Chi Xiaoman, who had been busy from the moment she came in. “How did you know I can’t eat spicy food?”

Maybe summer really wasn’t suited to eating mala tang.

In such a short time.

Chi Xiaoman had worked up a lot of sweat.

Her skin carried an especially clean flush; the loose strands of hair below her neck were damp and clumped into wisps.

“I heard you speaking Cantonese to someone before.” Hearing the question, Chi Xiaoman struggled to finish the fish ball in her mouth, then gave a somewhat restrained smile, as if embarrassed to be watched while eating.

“And I saw you hadn’t eaten the whole time.”

So that was it.

That answer surprised Chen Tong a little. She’d thought Chi Xiaoman would be easygoing; she hadn’t expected her to be so thoughtful with people.

“Thank you.”

To keep Chi Xiaoman from going hungry too long just because she was looking after her, Chen Tong said,

“This should be enough for me. You should eat properly yourself.”

“Okay!” Chi Xiaoman agreed.

Maybe because she was young and had nothing weighing on her mind, every expression showed plainly on her face. After hearing Chen Tong’s words, her eyes rolled around as if she were considering whether her wallet could afford her appetite. In the end, she seemed to decide it could, and happily reached for another skewer of fish balls.

She hadn’t even thought of making Chi Xiaoman, who usually couldn’t even finish a boxed meal, spend too much.

Looking at the full bowl of rice noodles in front of her, Chen Tong suddenly felt a little apologetic. “If you don’t mind, could you help me eat some?”

Chi Xiaoman froze, looking very serious. “No.”

Chen Tong was stunned, and immediately realized what she’d said was a little inappropriate. After all, they’d only known each other for less than a day.

Then Chi Xiaoman put down her chopsticks and said righteously, “I said I was treating you to mala tang. What kind of mala tang doesn’t have fish balls, beef balls, sausages, rice noodles, kelp, morning glory, crab sticks, and tofu skin?”

She spoke so quickly that Chen Tong was stunned for a moment before realizing Chi Xiaoman had really listed every single thing in her bowl without missing a word. Only then did she also realize—

So Chi Xiaoman really was an actress. Not only did she pronounce every word clearly, she could even recite a string of ingredients with such feeling.

“I told you.”

At that moment Lang Lang, after silently eating for a while beside them, seemed to have regained some spirit and added from the side, “She’s the most promising actress in the world.”

She bit into a sausage, hissing from the heat. “When we were in school, she worked in the cafeteria every morning steaming buns, and she’d stand right in front of the steam trays reciting tongue twisters and practicing lines every day while facing the buns.”

Having been praised by Lang Lang,

Chi Xiaoman seemed a little unaccustomed to it and awkwardly curled the corner of her mouth.

Then she set the unopened glass bottle of ice Coke she’d used to cool her hands down in front of Chen Tong. She lifted her chin and, in a tone that allowed no refusal, said,

“You have to have another bottle of Coke!”

“Bang—” The base of the glass bottle hit the tabletop, splashing up the condensation that had run down the sides.

Chen Tong and Lang Lang were both startled.

But the firm look on Chi Xiaoman’s face lasted less than three seconds before it collapsed.

She glanced at both of them.

Then she suspiciously reached out and touched the side of the Coke bottle before asking Chen Tong hesitantly,

“Or do you want it colder?”

Chen Tong laughed so hard she nearly couldn’t breathe.

-

That bowl of mala tang actually didn’t take very long to finish. But throughout the whole meal, Chen Tong had a very clear feeling—

She felt like some weary interstellar traveler who had accidentally strayed off course, lost for a very long time, tired of returning to the starting point and living the same cycle over and over, yet temporarily lacking the drive to search for a new direction.

And then, by chance, she met Xiaoman and Lang Lang, who opened their door to her and invited her to dinner.

And after a long interstellar journey, the thin and exhausted her finally got to enjoy a steaming meal; after coming into contact with Xiaoman and Lang Lang’s vivid, lively lives, she felt so much novelty and curiosity that she couldn’t forget it again.

So that night, when Chi Xiaoman took out her change purse to pay the bill and Chen Tong and Lang Lang stood outside waiting.

Lang Lang brought up again the apartment-hunting topic they’d talked about over dinner, and smilingly asked whether Chen Tong would be interested in living with them on Xingfu Road, since Chi Xiaoman happened to still need one roommate.

As if possessed.

Chen Tong looked toward Chi Xiaoman’s back as she paid the bill—

The mala tang shop was crowded, the plastic tables and chairs were bright red, and the lights were yellow.

The young girl wore a slightly wobbly bun and an ordinary white cotton T-shirt with blue shorts. The weather was too hot; even the cotton fabric over her shoulders and back was damp with sweat.

Her expression was extremely serious.

As if she’d once been robbed by a gang of bikers while standing by the roadside, she stood with her back to them, carefully counting the coins and bills that were enough, from her crumpled little change purse, and handing them to the boss.

And Chen Tong stood behind her, watching for a long time.

Or maybe not that long.

But she had already developed the impulse to pause her interstellar journey; and because the two of them were so friendly, so warm, she couldn’t think of any downside to stopping at that moment. So she just smiled lightly and said,

“Sure, if she’s willing too.”

-

Unexpectedly.

When Lang Lang brought up the idea.

Chi Xiaoman didn’t agree right away. Instead, she looked at Chen Tong very cautiously and scratched her chin.

Slowly, she said, “You should think it through. The place I live in won’t have very good conditions.”

After a pause, she gave a shameless little laugh. “I’m cheap, after all.”

“It’s fine.”

Chen Tong didn’t miss the change in Chi Xiaoman’s expression; it was a kind of disguise, a way of hiding the fact that saying those things made her feel self-esteem wounded. “My pay isn’t very high right now either.”

She paused, and said slowly, “But if you think it’s inconvenient…”

“No, no!” Chi Xiaoman started waving her hands again. She looked much more relaxed now, probably because she didn’t dwell on the occasional sad moment, and her voice had regained its energy. “Anyway, I was looking for a roommate too!”

“Okay then; since you two both think the other’s pretty good—”

For some reason.

Lang Lang’s tone sounded especially solemn, as if the two of them were a pair of newlyweds.

“Then it’s settled!”

-

On moving day, the weather was especially hot; the meteorological bureau issued a warning, and the temperature reached forty-one point three degrees.

So they chose night.

By then, Chi Xiaoman had already moved in ahead of time, and without Chen Tong knowing, she had diligently gone over by herself after wrapping up every day like a little bee, cleaning the rental apartment they’d taken on Xingfu Road until it was spotless.

Chen Tong only found out after the move.

Because she had originally thought Chi Xiaoman would contact her on some date and ask her to help move, then find another day to help her move too.

Give and take, mutual benefit. That fit the way Chen Tong understood how people ought to get along.

But Chi Xiaoman didn’t. She seemed to be the type of person who was very warm-hearted, very kind, very sincere, and who never thought the help she gave others needed to be repaid.

Doing it purely out of kindness.

That made Chen Tong even more surprised.

Because she herself wasn’t that kind of person. Most of the time, she would repay other people’s kindness in an appropriate way, because she disliked troubling others and didn’t much like being troubled herself.

And that time.

To help her move during the hottest summer in Beijing in living memory, Chi Xiaoman even deliberately chose the relatively cooler nine o’clock at night, riding over on her electric scooter through the dust and heat.

Lang Lang had even borrowed a blue tricycle from somewhere, ridden it over, and parked it downstairs from Chen Tong’s original apartment. There was even a loudspeaker on it, playing a recording the two of them had made behind her back—

“Chen Tong, Chen Tong, don’t be sad; happiness will be with you on Xingfu Road! Chen Tong, Chen Tong, don’t be upset; Xiaoman and Lang Lang will always be with you!”

Because that day Chen Tong was again being harassed by the lead actor on set. After seeing it, Chi Xiaoman cursed the man angrily from behind, calling him “that Wang bastard,” and later stole a lunch box with extra meat for her.

In short, that evening the two of them were in a rush, helping Chen Tong carry down the things she’d packed.

They didn’t even discuss it much; without needing to say it, they carried the big items and left the small ones for her to handle herself.

By the time they really set off from Chen Tong’s partitioned apartment to Xingfu Road, it was already past midnight.

Or rather, almost dawn.

At that hour, Beijing’s roads were brightly lit, and the one they took was especially wide, with hardly any cars.

Lang Lang was short and slight, but she rode that tricycle, which was several times larger than she was, with surprising agility, weaving left and right on the open road. Behind the tricycle was a plastic chair tied on with thin rope; it rattled and clattered in the wind, making a huge fuss, like their entrance music, sounding wherever they went.

Chi Xiaoman rode her electric scooter with Chen Tong on the back, and gave Chen Tong the new helmet she’d bought only a few days earlier as a moving gift. She wore an old one she’d picked up from who-knows-where, covered in scratches, and floated along beside Lang Lang’s tricycle. She said she was already a very capable twenty-year-old woman with a vehicle, and from now on she would often pick Chen Tong up after work.

That night the air held a dry heat.

And there was also the wind turning cooler in the middle of the night.

There was also the faint scent of laundry detergent left on Chi Xiaoman’s T-shirt after she’d showered and come to help her move.

Maybe it was the illusion that comes with late night; a borrowed tricycle, an old secondhand electric scooter, and the three of them heading toward Xingfu Road felt unstoppable, not even encountering a single red light.

The only interruption.

Was that later, the old loudspeaker on the tricycle seemed to break, and suddenly started playing a very familiar melody—just the intro, looped over and over. It wasn’t pleasant, and the volume was loud enough to make people irritated even on the empty road.

Lang Lang cursed all the way, fiddling with it several times and still failing to fix it. In the end, she slapped it hard in frustration and shouted, “Damn broken loudspeaker!”

Then the two vehicles drove into the tunnel at the same time.

It was a very long tunnel.

There weren’t many cars inside, so the looping tune from the loudspeaker became even more grating.

Chen Tong herself didn’t feel too impatient about it, because most of the time she was calm and wouldn’t get angry over small things like that.

She didn’t remember exactly when it happened. She realized the tunnel was so long they still hadn’t reached the end, and at that moment Chi Xiaoman suddenly cleared her throat, then raised her voice into the wind and sang,

“Gently, a kiss, has already moved my heart…”

It wasn’t especially good, and because the wind blew away a few notes, it even sounded a little reckless.

But Chen Tong still suddenly understood.

So this song was The Moon Represents My Heart.

Her temperament was rather reserved, so she didn’t join Chi Xiaoman’s loud singing.

Instead, it was Lang Lang, who had been cursing at the annoying loudspeaker the whole time, who somehow suddenly joined in when she heard Chi Xiaoman sing,

“A deep love, has taught me longing until today—”

Her voice drew out the words in a strange, uneven rhythm; it didn’t sound like singing at all. Instead, it made a song that was originally soft and tender sound like release and a roar.

But because the wind was strong, both of their voices were almost shouted out; it seemed they were trying to drown out that infuriating loudspeaker.

After singing a few lines, Chi Xiaoman didn’t insist on forcing Chen Tong to join in. She just sang happily on her own, as if singing The Moon Represents My Heart into the wind on the way to Xingfu Road was some kind of established rule.

So Chen Tong sat on the back of the electric scooter, feeling the summer night wind slowly turn cooler, and because of the occasionally in-sync, occasionally out-of-sync singing of those two, she smiled until her eyes narrowed.

And as if she heard her laughing.

Chi Xiaoman looked at her in the scooter’s only rearview mirror; her expression seemed very happy, and then she sang, “You ask me how deep my love is—”

And suddenly broke off.

She raised one hand and pointed upward. Her voice turned even more excited as she called,

“Chen Tong, Chen Tong!”

“Look at the moon!”

The next second, they emerged from the long tunnel.

In her haste, Chen Tong looked up—

The summer night wind in Beijing was unusually hot, blowing Chi Xiaoman’s hair against her face.

All at once, she saw the full moon overhead, so near it seemed almost to kiss the top of her head; in that same daze, she also caught a glimpse of Chi Xiaoman’s eyes in the dark, bright and sparkling beyond measure.

And after that, she heard Chi Xiaoman say, as if very happily and very naturally,

“We’re definitely going to be so happy in the future, because even the moon is helping us move!”

If this were a movie, then this would probably be the moment the protagonist fell in love. But reality was not a movie, and Chen Tong did not fall hopelessly in love from that point on. She wasn’t good at loving, nor was she someone who wanted love.

So at the time, she didn’t think she had really fallen for Chi Xiaoman like that.

It was only much, much later that she suddenly realized that although she had tried to deny it, and though she was very slow to understand it, that was indeed the first step in her later truly falling in love with Chi Xiaoman, and in never being able to forget the impact this person had on her life.

Even knowing that she would part ways with this person twice in the future, and not see her for nine years, she still had, at that moment, no hesitation in taking the helmet, and in riding toward Xingfu Road while listening to The Moon Represents My Heart.

That was the first step she could never forget; the first step from Chen Tong to Chen Yue.

[Author’s Note]

On time with Little Neon’s twentieth day [sunglasses]

TL Note:

mala tang (麻辣烫) = a customizable spicy hotpot-style street food.

The Moon Represents My Heart (月亮代表我的心) = a hugely famous Mandarin love song, often treated as a classic karaoke staple.