2013

“Sister Chen Tong, no,” Chi Xiaoman said suddenly.

She was like a shadow puppet, all four limbs propped up by thin little wooden rods.

A little stiffly, she lifted her chin and stared at the ceiling with a blank face, her voice soft and limp.

“Sister Chen Tong.”

The woman’s cool, soft lips pressed against her throat. Chi Xiaoman tensed her neck like a wooden doll.

“What I mean is... I-I-I-I-I-I still haven’t given you your birthday present yet.”

There were five or six tildes in a single sentence.

Chen Tong suddenly laughed out loud.

She was still draped over Chi Xiaoman’s shoulder, her face cool and warm at once, every strand of her hair soft as it brushed over Chi Xiaoman’s face, neck, and shoulders, fluttering with her laughter.

The little bed didn’t bear weight very well, and it wasn’t very spacious either. So it trembled along with Chen Tong’s laughter.

Chi Xiaoman couldn’t tell what Chen Tong was laughing at.

So she kept a blank face.

With her two hands, already turning into melting gummy candy, she sticky-handedly pushed Chen Tong away and gathered her courage to say,

“Can I give you your birthday present first?”

Chen Tong let herself be pushed away and didn’t seem too annoyed.

After a pause, perhaps because she knew Chi Xiaoman had an especially restless personality, she cooperated quietly and said, “Okay.”

Chen Tong sat down on the other little bed.

Wrapped in the blanket, she narrowed her eyes and looked at her. Under the dim yellow light, the dark green shoulder straps were exposed, a thin little line.

“Chi Xiaoman.”

She called her by her full name, a little helplessly.

But there was no lecture after that.

“Soon.”

Chi Xiaoman’s voice was very small.

Interrupting at a time like this made her feel quite embarrassed.

But thinking that the necklace couldn’t be given on Chen Tong’s birthday itself, she still felt that it wouldn’t do.

This was the first birthday she had ever spent with her.

She didn’t want to leave any regrets.

Chi Xiaoman wasn’t the kind of person who was very pessimistic; she had never thought about whether she and Chen Tong would still be together a long time from now. But sometimes she was pretty superstitious—she always felt that if the birthday present wasn’t given out on the first birthday, it wouldn’t be a good omen.

So.

After Chen Tong moved away.

Chi Xiaoman quickly scooped up the pajama top that had slipped down, hair loose and messy, crouched by the bed, and grimacing, went to pick up the little box that had fallen.

By rights, it shouldn’t have been hard to pick up.

But because she was in this sort of situation, and because Chen Tong was watching from behind, maybe even waiting for her.

Chi Xiaoman gritted her teeth and flushed red, spending nearly ten minutes before she finally managed to get the little box back.

When she got it into her hands, she was overjoyed.

She turned around.

Grinning at Chen Tong, who was watching from behind, she said,

“Sister Chen Tong, I got it!”

Chen Tong really had a very good temper. She didn’t seem angry at all that Chi Xiaoman had suddenly gone to pick something up. She sat on the opposite bed and watched her, covered in dust and looking a mess. After a while, she came over and wiped the dust off the bridge of her nose, the corners of her eyes curving.

“What gift is it that matters this much to you?”

“It’s nothing.” Chi Xiaoman cooperated with her wiping her nose, lifting her face. Not wanting Chen Tong to be disappointed after getting her hopes up, she said rather cautiously, “It’s not something very expensive. I’ll buy you something better later.”

Chen Tong’s hand stopped.

Light and shadow swayed.

She looked into Chi Xiaoman’s eyes. “Xiaoman, it doesn’t necessarily have to be expensive to be good.”

“Of course.” Chi Xiaoman nodded, very much in agreement. “A small gift can mean a lot. I know that.”

“It’s all dirty. I’ll wash it.”

Seeing the dust on the little box, Chi Xiaoman patted it carefully, then ran to wash it with water. She washed the dirt off her hands too, and the dust from her face. When she came back, droplets were still falling from her face as she smiled at Chen Tong, who was waiting by the bed.

Maybe because they had already been holding each other and kissing for a long time earlier, their hair was both a mess now that they had stopped. Their shadows on the floor also looked like a pair of wild spiderwebs.

Chi Xiaoman walked over cleanly and sat opposite Chen Tong.

Chen Tong looked up and smiled at her.

Chi Xiaoman also lifted her chin and smiled.

They looked at each other in the tiny bedroom.

Chi Xiaoman held the little box tightly and felt she still needed to be honest, so she said to Chen Tong,

“But I’m still pretty conventional, and I also want to buy you lots of expensive things.”

Talking about her own shortcomings, she smiled at Chen Tong a little shyly.

“But just like when I was little, even though I pretended to be very sensible, whenever I went to other classmates’ houses and the adults wanted to give me snacks I’d never seen before, I’d always say no, no, I can’t eat these, I have them at home too. But on the way home I’d still be walking around with empty pockets, feeling awful, secretly wanting Wang Aimei to buy me expensive chocolate. Even more, I wanted one day to be able to share those expensive chocolates with my good friends.”

After chattering through a whole long paragraph, she wasn’t even sure whether she’d gotten to the point. So she snorted and emphasized,

“So Sister Chen Tong, I hope you won’t be sensible.”

The rented room, less than twenty square meters, the washed, damp little box, and Chi Xiaoman, who had washed herself clean and didn’t want Chen Tong to get any dust on her, for the first time had a little breathing room in her busy, suffocating life. She honestly confessed her shortcomings to Chen Tong.

“I want to buy you expensive shampoo, expensive masks, expensive necklaces, expensive scarves, expensive gloves. I want it so that when you receive a birthday gift, you won’t look at the price tag and feel it’s too embarrassing to take out.”

“I want you to be able to tell me anything you want. I want you to get a big birthday cake.”

Chi Xiaoman had only just turned twenty that year.

It was her first relationship. She didn’t know that admitting she was a vulgar person in front of the person she loved would make her sad, nor could she truly learn to be open-hearted and sincerely believe that “a small gift can mean a lot.” She was just the very vulgar twenty-year-old Chi Xiaoman, wanting to give Chen Tong the best of everything.

She also didn’t know.

Why she was telling the truth.

But then she was inexplicably going to cry.

In any case.

After saying all that.

Chi Xiaoman pouted.

She clumsily wiped at the tears on her face and nearly cried out loud.

“Sister Chen Tong, I-I’m sorry, I... I didn’t mean to cry.”

This was probably Chi Xiaoman’s worst cry since her seventh birthday, when Wang Aimei forgot to buy her a birthday cake.

Chen Tong had been watching her, seemingly trying to figure out how to respond. But seeing her tears, she became helpless too, pulling out several tissues to wipe them away, only to discover that the more she wiped, the more Chi Xiaoman cried.

Chen Tong fell silent.

For a long time.

Then she came over and held Chi Xiaoman.

The wind blew in; the little red goldfish drifted apart.

The embrace was a little cold.

Yet because their body temperatures were close together, it gradually grew warm.

Like a drop of water wrapped in a leaf.

Chen Tong patted Chi Xiaoman’s very thin but very resilient back, rested her face on Chi Xiaoman’s shoulder, and after a long while, softly said,

“Xiaoman, you should feel embarrassed.”

“Xiaoman, I’ll be a little less sensible.”

“Xiaoman, thank you for being willing to cry so many tears in front of me.”

...

So many words like that were repeated over and over by Chen Tong, who was usually so orderly. In the end, she held Chi Xiaoman for a long time, stroked her messy hair, awkwardly leaned over to rub her face against Chi Xiaoman’s, and softly said too,

“Xiaoman, I love you.”

-

Chi Xiaoman hiccupped from crying, then immediately shut her mouth in embarrassment.

She wiped her tears.

With a red nose and red eyes, she said to Chen Tong, “Sister Chen Tong, I want... I want to put the necklace on you and see if it fits.”

Chen Tong smiled, patted her back, and pulled away, looking at her in the light.

“So my birthday present is a necklace.”

“Mm... mm.” Chi Xiaoman’s nose was stuffed up.

After crying, she felt very embarrassed, thinking that it was someone else’s birthday and she was crying all over the place, so she wiped at her tears again and moved behind Chen Tong. She opened the little box and slowly took the necklace out.

“It’s... it’s a moon.”

She held the necklace up for Chen Tong to see.

Sniffling, she said,

“The salesgirl told me they could customize the moon for your birthday that day. I don’t know if that’s true.”

“But I think it’s beautiful.” Chi Xiaoman hurriedly added.

Chen Tong looked at the moon on the necklace. “Mm, it’s beautiful.”

It was clearly praise.

Chi Xiaoman felt a little embarrassed. “Then, then I’ll put it on for you?”

“Okay.”

Chen Tong nodded.

She also cooperated by lifting the hair from the back of her neck, exposing a slender white throat.

Carefully, Chi Xiaoman looped the necklace around once and brought it to her neck, clumsily fastening the clasp for her. Because she was a little nervous, her fingers didn’t quite obey her, and she had to try several times before it finally clicked shut.

“All done.”

Chi Xiaoman said, and rubbed her sore eyes with the back of her hand.

Then she sat back down in front of Chen Tong.

After crying so much, she was too embarrassed.

Her gaze kept darting away, regretful too, wanting to move past what had just happened. “Aiya, how did I end up like this...”

“That’s right, how did you end up like this.” Chen Tong cooperatively echoed her.

Then she slowly let her hair down.

Sitting opposite her, she smiled as she looked at her. “So can we continue now?”

“Continue what?” Chi Xiaoman asked instinctively.

But she reacted the next second. Her eyes flickered away even more, and both hands were placed on her knees as she said awkwardly,

“Yes.”

So Chen Tong smiled. After looking at her for a while, she came over, took Chi Xiaoman’s soft, gummy hands in hers, and squeezed them for a bit.

Then she leaned in.

Chi Xiaoman held her breath and closed her eyes tightly.

Unexpectedly, the woman leaning in placed her first kiss on Chi Xiaoman’s eyes. On the eyes that had just cried, perhaps still a little salty.

Chi Xiaoman’s eyelashes trembled.

The next second.

The kiss landed on her lips.

She panicked, feeling like a raindrop with acrophobia falling from beneath the high clouds.

The fear of heights made her dizzy; the long descent through the air left her mind blank.

But a cloud willing to fly low for her caught her so reliably, supported her so gently, held her in its arms, kissed the corners of her mouth washed by tears, and told her that it loved her.

The little raindrop melted because of that, and also wanted to work hard to support the low-flying cloud as it descended.

Because the raindrop with acrophobia understood what love was that day, and also wanted to become a river, to give this low-flying cloud a great deal of love.

-

Chi Xiaoman couldn’t remember when she had first heard a story from someone, and she had no impression of the story itself, but one line from it had stayed with her vividly—supposedly, when you stayed with the person you loved, time would become as fast as a train.

But now that the times had changed.

She thought that line should be revised to—

Time becomes as fast as the Shenzhou 10 spacecraft.

On December 2, 2013, the news said the remarkable Chang’e 3 probe had been launched successfully. On December 14, the news said Chang’e 3 had successfully landed on the moon.[1]

That day, the television kept reporting this news.

If the lunar rover named Yutu had X-ray vision, and could look back from afar through space.

Then it might know that—on the very distant Earth, at Basement Garage No. 5, Happiness Road, Fragrance Alley, two single beds that had once been separated had been pushed together; there was a projector bought at a secondhand market, and a laptop that Chi Xiaoman had saved up to buy.

Two young people, dressed in thick wool sweaters, were squeezed shoulder to shoulder under a heavy blanket, nervously watching it survey the current state of the moon’s uneven surface, and doing its utmost to send signals to another very distant planet.

At that time, after Chi Xiaoman’s repeated desensitization therapy, Chen Tong had already admitted that she was an unemployed actress who very much wanted to try acting in movies.

In fact.

Since summer, when she first voiced this idea tentatively,

Chi Xiaoman had been very encouraging of Chen Tong going after it, and would always hold Lang Lang’s script and, at the drop of a hat, call out in that little garage—“Liu Shu, scene seven, shot six, action—”

There was no camera.

But Chi Xiaoman’s eyes were the camera. She would stand beside her and watch Chen Tong perform that scene very seriously, first offering praise with a smile, then giving her own small criticism a little more sternly.

Chi Xiaoman’s reckless method was absurdly nonsensical.

But it was very effective on Chen Tong.

Because according to Love Master Chi Xiaoman’s understanding of her girlfriend—

Chen Tong was someone with very strong learning ability. She might even be the kind of person who improved the more pressure she was under.

This might also have something to do with her mother’s way of educating her. Because Chi Xiaoman had also noticed that every time Chen Tong finished a phone call with her mother, she would become unhappy. Sometimes they even fought.

So Chi Xiaoman was also worried sick, wanting Chen Tong not to be under so much pressure.

But Chen Tong shook her head and insisted that Chi Xiaoman train her this way. She said she liked the feeling of something pushing her to improve.

And because, unexpectedly, she liked acting even more than she’d imagined; because she liked it, she realized time was already too late. If she didn’t hurry to learn, she might not catch the opportunity before her in time.

So Chi Xiaoman had no choice but to do as she said, though after she finished a scene she would immediately lean over and give her girlfriend a kiss.

And she had to kiss her especially loudly.

Especially resoundingly.

It even made Chen Tong laugh.

Once, Chi Xiaoman even kissed Chen Tong on the nose very brazenly in front of Lang Lang.

Lang Lang immediately disgustedly clamped both hands over her ears.

Chen Tong just curved her eyes and smiled.

The projector they bought was a little old, but fortunately the image on the white wall was still fairly clear. So from summer to winter, they watched one old movie together every night.

After watching many of them, Chi Xiaoman discovered that it seemed Chen Tong had never really watched many films before; many classics that, in her view, were especially wonderful, Chen Tong had never seen.

She thought it was a pity.

She asked Chen Tong whether she used to be one of those people who studied all the time and looked down on eating, drinking, and having fun.

Chen Tong smiled, rubbed her fingers, thought for a moment, and slowly said, “I really didn’t have many hobbies.”

“Is that not good?” she asked Chi Xiaoman hesitantly. “Is someone without much personality not very suitable to be an actress?”

“How could that be?”

Chi Xiaoman’s tone was perfectly normal as she asked back, “Where exactly do you not have personality?”

Then she added,

“And whatever you do, there’s never really any such thing as suitable or unsuitable; there’s only whether you want to or not.”

“You’re a genius, you know!” She leaned over and kissed Chen Tong on the nose.

Chen Tong smiled from being kissed like that.

But she also nodded with a smile.

She seemed to have fully anticipated that Chi Xiaoman would say this.

“Just...” Chi Xiaoman wrinkled the tip of her nose.

“Just what?” Chen Tong asked.

“It’s nothing, really, though it’s still too early to say these things.” Chi Xiaoman thought about it, then took Chen Tong’s hand with a grave expression and said,

“Sister Chen Tong, if you become really amazing at acting in the future, you must remember to leave some time for yourself.”

“What do you mean?” Chen Tong didn’t understand.

“I once read an interview.” Chi Xiaoman touched her chin and thought for a while. “There was an actor I really liked who said that in fact, everyone gains something from the role they play, and also loses some things.”

“That kind of thing isn’t necessarily bad.”

“But when it happens, it means a part of yourself has been swallowed up.”

“In the end, that actor may become a collection of many characters.”

“And if it gets even more dangerous, one day she may not be able to find herself anymore.”

“And you’re already such a gentle person.” Chi Xiaoman said. “That’s a compliment; don’t misunderstand. Gentle actors have more sensitivity and empathy toward their roles.”

“That’s definitely a good thing for acting.”

“But as your girlfriend,”

“I still hope you’ll leave more time for yourself, don’t force yourself to stay in character and step out of it all the time in life, and don’t hurt yourself just to play a role well.”

“To be honest, although I really like acting and really want to act well, sometimes when I watch performances that consume a lot emotionally, and then go watch a lot of behind-the-scenes interviews with actors, I feel that after stepping away from the role, many people’s condition becomes very poor.”

“So I’m not very supportive of an actor over-consuming their own life just to act well.”

Having said that, Chi Xiaoman suddenly stopped. She realized she had said too much, and too far ahead, so she pressed her lips together in embarrassment. “Aiya, I said too much.”

“Actually, it’s just a thought I had. It may not even be right. Just listen to it.”

“Okay.” After listening, Chen Tong nodded and said softly, “I understand what you mean.”

“Mm, anyway, anyway it’s not certain. Who can say what the future holds?” Chi Xiaoman said.

Chen Tong didn’t say anything.

She was quiet for a while.

Then she leaned her face against Chi Xiaoman’s shoulder.

For a long time, in the flickering light, she called softly,

“Xiaoman.”

“Mm?” Chi Xiaoman’s answer was blurry.

Chen Tong was quiet for a while longer, her voice lowering even more. “Will you always be by my side?”

Chi Xiaoman didn’t answer.

Only when Chen Tong lifted her head did she realize Chi Xiaoman had already fallen asleep—her head resting against the wall, her face still turned toward Chen Tong, eyelashes trembling, breathing even.

By winter.

There was still one semester left until graduation.

Chi Xiaoman became very tired and very strained. She had to go to school many times, defend her thesis topic, attend group meetings, write her graduation thesis, and also film her graduation short. On top of that, she had begun to have a few more opportunities lately, and had started acting in roles with lines.

The thing she had hoped for for so many years finally had a little progress.

Chi Xiaoman didn’t want to give up easily, so she gritted her teeth and kept running back and forth between both sides, and worked part-time whenever she had free time.

But with less time, Chi Xiaoman could only cut two of her part-time jobs.

Still, days went on one by one, and because winter had come, Chi Xiaoman didn’t want Chen Tong to be cold when showering under that low-pressure showerhead, so they either went to the public bathhouse outside or to Lang Lang’s place. But even when they went to Lang Lang’s, Chi Xiaoman still gave her some money for utilities each time.

With things like this, fewer and fewer new bills were put into Chi Xiaoman’s little piggy bank, and the money that had already been saved slowly dwindled away too.

And Chen Tong’s work on set had ended the month before. After receiving her final month’s salary, she found she hadn’t saved much either.

One reason was that the pay had been small to begin with. Another was that she had also pooled money to buy the projector, and every time she got off work she wanted to bring Chi Xiaoman fried rice cakes. Sometimes she secretly slipped money into that piggy bank without telling Chi Xiaoman, because she didn’t want Chi Xiaoman to be too anxious about money, and wanted her, sometimes, to be like other twenty-year-old college students, not always having to run around just to survive.

A third reason was that after arguing with Chen Xiaoping, and hearing that her cousin was still insisting on staying in Shanghai and refusing to come back, Chen Tong had gone to Shanghai last week to see her cousin. Her cousin’s condition was already very bad.

Chen Tong herself didn’t have much money either. And when Chi Xiaoman heard about it, before she left she found five bills in the piggy bank, neatly stuffed them into Chen Tong’s hands, and told her cousin to eat a few more roasted sweet potatoes in winter.

That winter, they suddenly became very poor.

But Chen Tong wasn’t unhappy.

Because Chi Xiaoman would still hum while cooking, would still become happy just because she saw the sun setting, would suddenly run over and dance with Chen Tong, would greet Lang Lang across the street every day before going out, and would ride her little electric scooter to pick Chen Tong up from work.

And Chen Tong also didn’t go looking for a job. At twenty-three, a dream of acting suddenly emerged inside her body as if a great tree had grown there.

So she became a part-time worker at a movie theater, opening films for customers every day, watching many theatrical releases loop over and over in the back, and whenever she had free time she would follow the business cards Lang Lang gave her, or the stage managers and assistant directors she had met on previous sets, to different productions for auditions.

So being an actor wasn’t that simple after all.

It wasn’t as if someone handed her two business cards when she was little, and then when she grew up she could effortlessly become an actress with roles to play.

She could only start with extras who had no lines at all.

To be honest.

Although Chen Tong claimed she wasn’t arrogant, by the age of twenty-three she really hadn’t suffered too many setbacks in the goals she wanted to reach.

At her first audition.

She hadn’t even opened her mouth to speak her line.

And she was politely asked to leave.

That night, after getting off work, Chen Tong sat alone on the steps outside the cinema for a long time.

People passed to and fro in front of her; a little electric scooter stopped before her, and a pair of clean white canvas shoes embroidered with small petals stepped down in front of her.

She looked up.

From the scooter handle hung a very fragrant roasted sweet potato.

The girl in a helmet, her face a little rounder from the winter, smiled with her eyes.

“Who’s this beautiful older sister that nobody wants? I’m taking her home!”

Chen Tong laughed.

Facing Beijing’s very bright sky, she tilted her head and raised a hand to brush the corner of her eye.

Then.

She took the other helmet from Chi Xiaoman’s hand.

Walked over.

And sat on the back of Chi Xiaoman’s electric scooter.

Quietly, she wrapped her arms around Chi Xiaoman’s slender waist.

Chi Xiaoman turned her head back, rubbed her face against hers like a clingy little cat, and stuffed the roasted sweet potato hanging from the handlebar into her hands.

“Eat quickly; it’ll get cold if we let the wind blow on it for too long.”

Chen Tong opened the wrapping paper around the roasted sweet potato; the aroma drifted out. She tore off a bit through the paper and offered it to Chi Xiaoman.

Chi Xiaoman opened her mouth with an “aww” and bit down.

Hissing out warm breath, she gave a thumbs-up.

“Delicious, delicious.”

She wouldn’t let Chen Tong keep feeding her. Turning her head away, her earlobes were reddened by the cold wind.

“Eat more, Sister Chen Tong.”

Chen Tong stopped.

Slowly, she tore off a piece of the roasted sweet potato.

One bite for herself.

One bite for Chi Xiaoman.

Chi Xiaoman had no choice; maybe because she was afraid it would get cold in the wind, or maybe because it really was fragrant enough, but every time Chen Tong fed her, she’d tilt her head over and bite like a little hooked cat.

Chen Tong smiled and told her, “Eat slowly; it’s hot.”

“Mm-hmm, I know.” Chi Xiaoman answered while huffing out white breaths.

Beijing winters were cold and dry; many beautifully dressed people passed by them. But the two of them stayed by the roadside and slowly ate the precious roasted sweet potato clean, then returned to Happiness Road with the smell of sweet potato clinging to them.

That was their first winter together.

If you counted carefully, it was absolutely more bitter than sweet.

But every time Chen Tong remembered it.

She found that what came to mind first.

Wasn’t the bitterness that came later; it was the smell of roasted sweet potato drifting through the air.

It was near the end of the year.

From summer to winter.

Chen Tong finally got an audition opportunity for a movie lead—an art film with a small budget that would begin shooting in Hong Kong. Even the director was a name she hadn’t heard before. Supposedly it was the director’s first film, so she wanted to find an actor who was as new as possible, preferably from the mainland, to see whether a fresh combination would have a good effect.

A producer who had worked on set with Chen Tong before passed the recruitment news to her.

Under Chi Xiaoman’s guidance, after a round of formal online auditions, Chen Tong received word that the other side hoped she would come to Hong Kong for an in-person audition. If she was suitable, then this would be settled. Because the director had seen all the auditions and only invited three people to come for the formal meeting.

But flights and hotels weren’t covered.

So for this matter, Chi Xiaoman hadn’t slept for several days, picked up her writing side job again, kept splashing cold water on her face, rubbed wind oil on her temples, and squatted at the garage entrance every night.

She borrowed Lang Lang’s DV, and also let Chen Tong use the laptop she was still writing her thesis on to look more closely at the audition clips. After Chen Tong used it, she would then revise her thesis, and later she used her little-button phone to write many draft articles in her notes app and settle them, then dug out the remaining few bills in her piggy bank and gathered enough for Chen Tong’s airfare and hotel.

When Lang Lang heard about it, she also chipped in some money, saying Hong Kong was so expensive, and when Chen Tong went out there, she mustn’t let money make her suffer; she should stay and eat better.

A week before Hong Kong.

Chen Tong came home from the cinema, and suddenly received these crumpled red bills that the two of them had pooled together. The bills were old, folded in half, thick to the touch, and carried a heavy smell. She was silent for a long time, feeling that no matter what, she couldn’t accept them.

But Chi Xiaoman smiled at her, rubbing her sleep-deprived red eyes, and squinting as she said, “Actually, we’re investing in a future Best Actress.”

Lang Lang had long since stopped coming out to make trouble with them as often as before; she’d been cooped up at home for a long time, and that day especially came over with money for her too. When Chen Tong refused it, Lang Lang insisted on stuffing it into her arms, saying, “My leading lady, don’t go out there and get bullied.”

Chen Tong held those crumpled bills, which had been painstakingly smoothed flat again, and sat alone for a very long time.

After Lang Lang left.

Chi Xiaoman came over and hugged her.

She also patted her head. “Just bring me back a very expensive face mask from Hong Kong.”

Things happened very quickly.

Chen Tong hadn’t even had time to think about what would happen if the audition succeeded and she stayed in Hong Kong to film, while Chi Xiaoman remained in Beijing. Then Chi Xiaoman and Lang Lang together had already gathered enough money for her to go to Hong Kong.

In fact.

Chen Tong really didn’t like the feeling of others sacrificing for her.

But she was also a person who put reason first. She understood that what Lang Lang and Chi Xiaoman said was entirely right; this opportunity was rare, and if she didn’t seize it, if she truly wanted to try being an actress and ended up missing it just because of something as small as money, she would surely regret it when she thought about it later.

So that night.

Chen Tong thought it through alone for a long time, and in the middle of the night finally hugged the already sleep-muddled Chi Xiaoman and slowly said,

“Okay. When I come back, I’ll buy you both very expensive face masks.”

When she said that, she hadn’t expected that on the day before leaving Beijing, many things would happen on Happiness Road that she had never foreseen.

In fact, two days earlier.

Chen Tong had already gone to the hospital because of acute urticaria. There were many wheals on both her face and body; as soon as a little wind blew, her whole face would turn red.

It was absolutely not a good condition for an audition.

Chi Xiaoman was frantic because of this, taking her to the hospital many times, biting the bullet and buying a lot of very expensive medicine, using up nearly all the money they had finally managed to put into the piggy bank these few days. She also worried every day about what she should eat that would worsen the urticaria, so she only bought clean chicken and pork for her to eat.

A couple of days later, Chen Tong finally improved a little.

Only on the night before the flight to Hong Kong was set did Chen Tong still develop a fever in the middle of the night, her whole face burning red.

Chi Xiaoman hadn’t slept well these past few days. Seeing her like this, she panicked badly, carried her on her back to the nearby hospital, paid the fee, filled out the forms, and had her get a shot to bring down the fever and swelling.

Very late at night.

The wheals on Chen Tong’s body went down.

Chi Xiaoman nodded in front of the doctor, pressed her lips together, and took out the crumpled money from her pocket, carefully counted it, and in the end still had the doctor prescribe her very expensive anti-itch medicine.

After the injection.

Chi Xiaoman carried Chen Tong home on her back.

Beijing winter nights were bitterly cold; the wind on her face was like knives. Chen Tong was groggy, lying on Chi Xiaoman’s back.

Winter clothes were thick, so carrying someone was very inconvenient. Chi Xiaoman draped her own coat over Chen Tong’s back too, leaving herself in just a sweater, and braved the cold wind to carry her home.

When they were almost at Happiness Road.

Chi Xiaoman was panting hard.

Hearing that, Chen Tong, still on her back, said hoarsely, “Xiaoman, put me down.”

“It’s fine.” Chi Xiaoman shook her head. “We’re almost there.”

“Go to sleep.” She told Chen Tong.

Chen Tong tightened her arms around Chi Xiaoman’s neck and said nothing.

After walking a while, Chi Xiaoman took a breath. Perhaps guessing what she was thinking, she comforted her,

“It’s okay, Sister Chen Tong.”

“You took your medicine. If the swelling goes down tomorrow, just go see the director and explain it.”

“Besides, the audition’s already passed. This is just the actual screen test.” Chi Xiaoman emphasized it.

The night wind surged around them like a backflowing sea. Chen Tong was quiet for a long time before suddenly saying, “Xiaoman, what if I just don’t go?”

Chi Xiaoman stopped, as if she didn’t understand. “Why?”

Chen Tong didn’t speak.

Chi Xiaoman smiled.

“Sister Chen Tong, since when are you the kind of person who gets scared before she’s even done anything?”

Chen Tong shook her head. “Actually, I’ve always been this kind of person.”

“Yeah, right.” Chi Xiaoman refuted her. “You’re the bravest, most amazing person I’ve ever met.”

“Yeah, right.” Chen Tong copied her.

Chi Xiaoman let out a snort through her nose, hefted her up a little, and said,

“Sister Chen Tong, don’t be afraid.”

Chen Tong didn’t speak.

Chi Xiaoman carried her, step by step, and said sentence by sentence, “I know you must be thinking—”

“Aiya, I look like this, so what am I even going there for?”

“Aiya, anyway the result won’t be good, isn’t this just wasting Xiaoman and Lang Lang’s money?”

“Aiya, this urticaria is so hateful!”

The winter night wind cut through them. The young girl’s voice was slightly breathless, yet it carried a vitality that was uncommon in this season.

Chen Tong laughed out loud.

But then she choked on the wind and coughed for a long time before slowly exhaling and saying,

“Chi Xiaoman, I would never talk like that.”

“Then the meaning is definitely about the same.” Chi Xiaoman said.

“But you have to go.” She stressed to Chen Tong.

Chen Tong paused and asked, “Do I really have to go?”

“Yes.” Chi Xiaoman nodded solemnly. “Because if you don’t go, then later if you don’t become an actress, or if you do become one, you might think—”

“What if, that winter, I had gone to Hong Kong? Would I have become an actress earlier? Would I already be a Best Actress?”

Lately she loved saying the words Best Actress.

Chen Tong laughed. “I wouldn’t think that.”

“But you’d regret it,” Chi Xiaoman said.

Chen Tong didn’t speak.

Chi Xiaoman’s pace slowed as she carried her. “Sister Chen Tong, don’t let yourself regret it much later because you didn’t go to Hong Kong.”

Her voice also softened in the wind. “Okay?”

In all fairness, Chi Xiaoman was very good at encouraging people, and very good at passing on the endless vitality inside her to others. That night, or perhaps not only that night, Chen Tong felt so much encouragement and unwavering support from her that she couldn’t bring herself to say no.

She stayed silent on Chi Xiaoman’s back for a long time.

In the end, she still chose to say,

“Okay.”

“That’s more like it!”

Chi Xiaoman was very happy with her answer and, carrying her beneath a dead tree, spun around in a circle.

Chen Tong started coughing.

Chi Xiaoman was so startled she immediately dared not move.

Chen Tong laughed and pinched her frozen-red ear. “Chi Xiaoman, you’re this happy that I’m leaving?”

“Of course not.” Chi Xiaoman carried her carefully, sniffing. “Actually, I’m really reluctant to let you go.”

“Hong Kong is so far away. I don’t have money to fly over and see you whenever I want, and I don’t dare call you too much.”

“If someday you become a very amazing actress and don’t have time to come back to Happiness Road to see me, I’d be sad too.”

Her tone was half true and half false.

Chen Tong touched her face. “Chi Xiaoman, aren’t you thinking too much?”

“Maybe.” Chi Xiaoman pretended to sigh, noticing Chen Tong’s pause.

Then she said, “But I still really hope you get selected.”

“Sister Chen Tong, you’re amazing. You’ve made such huge progress in just half a year. You can even go to Hong Kong now.” She sniffled and added, “No matter what the result is, I’ll still be really happy for you.”

“I know,” Chen Tong said slowly. She seemed to have no doubt about it.

“Mm, then let’s not say any more.” Chi Xiaoman turned her head and affectionately rubbed her face against Chen Tong’s. “You can sleep for a bit. We’ll be home soon.”

“Okay.” Chen Tong agreed.

And on her back, she quieted down.

Chi Xiaoman didn’t speak again.

She was actually the chatty type, and the only place where she could quiet down and empty herself was beside Chen Tong. She didn’t know whether, after Chen Tong left, she would still have a place where she could be both quiet and at ease. She also didn’t know how sad future Happiness Road would feel if only she walked it alone.

But she didn’t say it.

She thought she must not let Chen Tong know any of this.

As Chi Xiaoman walked toward Happiness Road.

She silently buried all these things very, very deep inside her heart.

But before they even reached their little garage.

She heard the harsh beeping of a motorcycle on the road.

Late at night.

That sound was very noisy.

Chi Xiaoman was afraid something bad had happened.

She hurriedly put Chen Tong inside, locked the door, and ran out with a stick to take a look.

The beeping hadn’t gone on very long.

Chi Xiaoman rushed over furiously, clutching the stick.

And then she saw, on the community road above the garage, a man and a woman standing by the roadside talking.

The man was very old, with very white hair and a hunched back.

The woman’s face was very pale, with very familiar glasses and very familiar corn-silk curls, only the yellow had almost faded from the ends of her hair.

It was Lang Lang.

In her anxiety, Chi Xiaoman couldn’t care about much else. She rushed over, only to hear the man ask,

“Little bitch, your dad comes to see you and you treat him like this?”

“Lang Lang!”

Chi Xiaoman ran over with the stick very quickly, yanked the already somewhat unsteady Lang Lang behind her, gripped her trembling arm, shielded her, and glared angrily at the man in front of her. “Who are you cursing at!”

The man clicked his tongue and clapped his hands. “So the little bitch even brought helpers out here?”

Chi Xiaoman’s face tightened; she swung the stick at him with all her strength.

She missed.

Without waiting for the man’s response, she raised the stick and waved it carefully through the air, then shouted at the top of her lungs, “Security! Security!”

Chi Xiaoman had one very useful trait: her voice was especially loud.

One shout.

Many windows in the building lit up.

It even drew a flashlight beam from the security booth.

The man dodged her stick, curled his lip, and looked at Lang Lang behind her. “Little bastard, not bad; someone’s actually protecting you now, huh. I’m telling you, just wait till next time!”

“Get lost!”

Chi Xiaoman grabbed a stone and smashed it hard into his thigh.

“Get lost! Did you hear me!”

“Fuck, I’m disciplining my daughter; what the hell does that have to do with you!” the man said, hurling curses as he dodged. Before leaving, seeing the security guard coming over, he dodged while throwing out a harsh threat: “I’m telling you, Wang Enqing, don’t think I’m afraid of you just because you’ve got backup!”

Lang Lang behind her didn’t speak.

She hadn’t said anything since just now, as though she were an animal in some kind of stress response. Her arm, gripped in Chi Xiaoman’s hand, was shaking badly, and her whole body seemed unable to move.

Chi Xiaoman was very close to her, able to feel her trembling directly, so she held her tightly.

She also stood firmly in front of her.

Not letting the man see her.

Chi Xiaoman herself clenched her teeth and braced hard with her shoulders, neck stretched stiff, and said to the security guard who came running over, “Yes, it’s him. He was trying to steal things. Don’t let him in again!”

She watched the security guard and the man leave together.

Still holding that stick in her hand, she didn’t dare let out the breath she’d been holding in her chest.

The winter wind was bone-chilling. Only after the two of them had completely disappeared from view did Chi Xiaoman still remain in place, standing like that in front of Lang Lang for a very long time.

She didn’t move and didn’t speak.

Lang Lang also didn’t speak. She was silently being held by Chi Xiaoman.

The two of them stood there blankly, one in front of the other.

Stunned for a very long time.

It wasn’t until many of the community lights slowly went out, and a woman slowly walked up the small slope from the underground garage, her steps slow and unsteady as she approached them, only to stop short and look over in astonishment when she was almost upon them.

It was Chen Tong.

Chi Xiaoman was suddenly startled.

Seeing Chen Tong’s pale skin in the winter night.

Cold sweat broke out all over her body.

The stick in her hand slipped at once and fell to the ground with a thud.

“What are you running out here for!”

Chi Xiaoman hurriedly ran over, wanting to stuff Chen Tong back inside to sleep.

But Chen Tong didn’t look at her.

Chen Tong was looking at Lang Lang behind her.

She stopped Chi Xiaoman, who was about to come over and take her back into the garage, and kept her gaze fixed on the person behind her, as though struggling to understand some fact. After a long while, she hesitantly said,

“Lang Lang, y-you...”

Chi Xiaoman pressed her lips together and looked back; she was also stunned in that moment, standing there for a very long time, her lips trembling with a bit of panic.

“Lang Lang, why are you bleeding so much from your nose?”

The cold of a Beijing winter night was biting; the wind, like some knife with spikes, scraped across the three of them.

Lang Lang stood in the wind, her face still pale. It seemed she had been like this ever since she met Chi Xiaoman; her skin was always very, very white, and she always got lots of small illnesses too, to the point that in winter she basically couldn’t come out of the house.

Hearing this, she instinctively touched her face. After realizing her hand was covered in blood,

“Oh, didn’t I tell you two?”

Lang Lang grinned and smiled at them, continuing to clumsily wipe her face with the back of her hand and the winter coat she had been wearing long enough to get a little dirty. After wiping for a while and not being able to clean it off, she simply shrugged without caring and said with a grin,

“I’m the type who gets overheated very easily in winter.”

[Author’s Note]

On time with Little Neon for the forty-sixth day [sunglasses]

[1] From that year’s news.

TL Note:

Shenzhou 10 spacecraft (神舟十号飞船) = China’s crewed space mission, used here to mean extremely fast.

Chang’e 3 probe (嫦娥三号探测器) = China’s lunar probe; named after the Moon goddess Chang’e.

Yutu (玉兔) = the Jade Rabbit, the lunar rover sent with China’s Chang’e 3 mission.