2023
Candied sweet potatoes are exactly the sort of food that suits this season: sweet, hot, and packed with calories; even two or three pieces are enough to make you feel satisfied.
Seeing Chen Yue finish three pieces in a row, Chi Xiaoman picked up a piece of braised beef and set it on his plate. “You should eat more meat too.”
Chen Yue lowered her lashes and slowly ate the braised beef she’d been given.
Actually, Chen Yue’s eating pace was also fairly slow.
But Chi Xiaoman still watched her.
She watched her chew the braised beef and swallow it all the way down before she finally seemed to relax.
Then she picked up a small piece of broccoli for herself.
She nibbled at it in tiny bites.
Only after she’d finished the hard-to-eat broccoli did Chi Xiaoman speak.
“Chen Yue, you need to eat more meat every day.”
Chen Yue stopped.
“Even if there’s not much we can do while we’re filming,” Chi Xiaoman said softly, “if you really can’t eat too much every day, then eat a little more meat. That way your body will stay healthy.”
Chen Yue nodded, then looked at her slight shoulders and said softly, “Look at you, and you still have the nerve to say that to me.”
“Me?” Chi Xiaoman laughed, a little embarrassed. She wrinkled her nose. “Actually, don’t let me look this skinny—I can still eat a lot of meat.”
“Really?”
“Really.” Chi Xiaoman emphasized it; to prove it to Chen Yue, she immediately picked up a shrimp, stuffed it into her mouth, chewed a few times, swallowed it whole, then curved her eyes at her with a bit of childish pride. “See?”
Chen Yue smiled. “Mm. Yes.”
“Mm, you have to eat more too.” Chi Xiaoman said that, then after a pause looked at her face, as if hesitating, but still picked up another piece of broccoli for her. “And vegetables too.”
Chen Yue paused, then said, “Okay.”
After that, she went on eating the broccoli Chi Xiaoman had given her.
Chi Xiaoman kept watching her eat too.
Her gaze was gentle, very soft. Chen Yue chewed the broccoli slowly and couldn’t help thinking of a long time ago—Chi Xiaoman had been like this too, coaxing the child at the neighboring table to eat the overcooked noodles.
Chen Yue lifted her eyes.
Chi Xiaoman looked away again, head down as she ate her corn.
Chen Yue smiled.
Embarrassed, Chi Xiaoman wrinkled the tip of her nose. “What are you laughing at?”
“Nothing?” Chen Yue shook her head.
“Fine, then just eat properly.” Chi Xiaoman said, “Talking too much while eating isn’t good for your stomach.”
“Okay.”
Chen Yue agreed.
They both ate very little, so a meal would never last long. But today, Chen Yue still ate a few extra bites; she worked through the braised beef until only one piece was left, then set down her chopsticks.
“Hm? Why did you leave so little?” Chi Xiaoman asked at once. “Was it not good?”
“It was good.” Chen Yue answered simply.
“If it was good, why didn’t you eat more?” Chi Xiaoman looked confused. But she reacted immediately, and after thinking for a moment, still put the last piece of braised beef onto Chen Yue’s plate. “Next time I’ll…”
“Next time tell Auntie A-Yun to make more and bring it over.”
Chen Yue looked at her.
“I saw you didn’t eat much this afternoon, so I thought you probably didn’t like it anymore,” Chi Xiaoman explained. “I only brought a little when I came back just now.”
“But luckily I still brought some.” She pushed the braised beef toward her again and urged, “Hurry and eat.”
“Okay.” Chen Yue agreed.
She didn’t stand on ceremony with her. She picked up the last bite of braised beef and ate it slowly.
With Chi Xiaoman, Chen Yue usually got the right to finish the very last bite of food.
She didn’t need to be sensible, and she didn’t need to be mature.
Sometimes she even deliberately left it there.
Because she wanted Chi Xiaoman to coax her into eating.
Like a little kid who refused to eat.
Chi Xiaoman didn’t rush to clear the thermal container while Chen Yue was still eating the braised beef.
Instead, she watched obediently until Chen Yue finished that bite, then slowly gathered up the bowls and chopsticks.
Only then did Chen Yue ask her, “Chi Xiaoman, do you want to ask me why I suddenly hugged you just now?”
Chi Xiaoman froze.
After a long while, she shook her head. “Not really.”
“I do have something I want to ask you, but it’s not that yet,” Chi Xiaoman said.
“What is it?” Chen Yue asked.
Chi Xiaoman was silent for a moment.
She cleared away all the leftovers, then began wiping down the bar counter too; even for such a simple meal, she’d made all the preparations, bringing wet wipes with her, tearing them open, wiping the tabletop until it was clean.
She wiped it several times.
Then, hesitantly, she asked, “Chen Yue, when you said your birthday wish was for me to keep you company while you ate, was that really just because you wanted me to eat properly?”
“Because you thought I never eat properly?” Chi Xiaoman lowered her lashes.
Chen Yue didn’t answer.
Chi Xiaoman looked up at her, studying her expression. The face hidden in shadow still held a lot of unreadable melancholy. So she made up her mind and said,
“Sister Chen Tong, do you know that over these past few years, whenever I ran into something, I’d think: if it were you, what would you do, how would you handle it…"
“I feel like I’ve always been learning from you, because I really want to be like you; to be a mature person, someone calm and steady, someone who can take everything into account. Until now, even before I saw you again, I always thought I’d already become a lot like you.”
“But now I realize, I’m not that much like you.”
Chi Xiaoman threw the used wet wipes into the trash, then looked around the hotel room Chen Yue had been living in; even after she’d moved in, it still didn’t have much of a lived-in feeling. It felt empty, so empty it didn’t seem like anyone was actually staying there.
“Actually, you’re even worse than I am at taking care of yourself. You always put other people ahead of yourself. You want me to eat properly; your birthday wish was just to be my Rainbow Sister. You brought me into the role, helped me face the camera, put medicine on my wounds, kept saying I was doing well, and told me to treat myself the way I treat you…"
“But it seems like you never do that for yourself.”
Hearing Chi Xiaoman say that, Chen Yue couldn’t think of anything at all. She couldn’t take in Chi Xiaoman’s words; she couldn’t answer. She could only look at Chi Xiaoman.
Standing in the light, Chi Xiaoman looked so worried and so endearing; she listed the evidence that Chen Yue didn’t live properly even after turning thirty, yet seemed unable to truly blame her too much.
“On typhoon days the fridge is empty, you often don’t eat, and today you only ate because I brought food over. You never dress for the season or the temperature, and not only did you wear shoes that didn’t fit, last time you told me that if anything happened, you’d definitely tell me.”
“But up until now, you still haven’t come to me to say anything. This morning, everyone else told me to ask whether the heating in your room was broken, because it’d be very cold at night, but you were the only one who never came to me to say anything. Even when you made your birthday wish, you didn’t make one for yourself…"
By this point, Chi Xiaoman’s lips had tightened a little nervously. “Actually, it’s not like I’m trying to control you or anything.”
“But I think filming is already hard enough, and it takes such a toll on your body. You always like taking care of other people, but at the very least, you should take a little more care of yourself.”
Saying that, she lifted her eyes to Chen Yue and called her, “Sister Chen Tong—”
“Chi Xiaoman.” Chen Yue suddenly cut her off. She knew she might look as if she hadn’t listened, but she didn’t seem to have any better way. “Can you hug me once more?”
Chi Xiaoman froze.
Sure enough.
She showed a very bewildered expression.
As if she’d completely failed to react in time.
But when she saw Chen Yue’s eyes, she still reflexively said,
“If you really need it.”
So Chen Yue didn’t wait even a second.
She walked straight over, just like before, acting like someone impatient and not at all mature.
She felt like a child looking at a picture book full of fairy tales.
She imagined her own arms as sturdy trees, and imagined herself as soft clouds, stretched open and long.
She hugged Chi Xiaoman.
Her arms crossed over that flexible back.
She buried her chin against her thin, narrow shoulder.
It took a long time before she answered.
“Mm, I do.”
Even though she agreed to the request, Chi Xiaoman was still clearly surprised by how direct Chen Yue was being. She probably didn’t know why Chen Yue was acting so out of character, and she would never know that every time Chen Yue thought of the name of that bottle of medicine, she imagined herself holding her like this.
It took her a long time to relax even a little in that embrace.
She drew her shoulders in.
Very reluctantly, she lifted a hand and patted Chen Yue’s back.
Then she raised her chin and lightly, very lightly, brushed her shoulder.
She didn’t say anything extra.
As if she was simply willing to give her a hug.
Chen Yue also didn’t speak. Buried in Chi Xiaoman’s thin shoulder, she let out a difficult breath.
That made Chi Xiaoman feel a slight, subtle awkwardness. She exhaled very faintly, as if afraid Chen Yue would also feel awkward about a lot of things, and slightly turned her chin aside to whisper, “Sister Chen Tong, you’re so thin now.”
“Mm.” Chen Yue said slowly, “So are you.”
Chi Xiaoman fell silent.
Actually, Chi Xiaoman really was very thin. Even after these days of deliberately putting on weight for Xiaoyu, the results still weren’t very good. When you held her, she felt like a very thin, very fragile glass figure that might break at any moment.
After a few seconds of silence, that glass figure silently patted her back.
Chen Yue also patted glass-figure Chi Xiaoman. “Eat properly.”
“Mm.” Chi Xiaoman answered.
Then she gathered her courage and said, “Sister Chen Tong, you too—later on, you have to eat properly, eat more meat, eat more vegetables, and live well, okay?”
“Okay.” Chen Yue didn’t object.
She held Chi Xiaoman quietly for a long time before softly saying, “Actually, I’m not treating myself badly.”
“This year I’ve done a lot of things that made me happy,” she told Chi Xiaoman. “More than in any previous year.”
“In that case…"
Still held tightly in her arms, Chi Xiaoman might have been a little awkward and unable to think clearly, so she patted her shoulder in a coaxing, child-talking-to-child tone.
“Then you’re already very great.”
Chen Yue wanted to smile.
But maybe because Chi Xiaoman’s breathing sounded a little restrained, maybe because she still couldn’t fully relax just from being close to her.
So she couldn’t quite smile.
“Xiaoman, pat me again,” she said to her.
Chi Xiaoman was stunned for a moment.
She might not know why, but she still did as asked, patting her back with a very light, soft touch. “Is this okay?”
Chen Yue didn’t speak.
She closed her eyes for a moment.
She could feel Chi Xiaoman’s warm body heat pressing against the side of her face, and could also feel Chi Xiaoman trying very hard to hold her breath.
“Okay.”
She said softly to Chi Xiaoman.
Three seconds late.
Chen Yue let go of Chi Xiaoman’s shoulders.
In a gentle voice, she said, “Xiaoman, I don’t want to say thank you to you.”
It was a strange thing.
Every time Chen Yue didn’t want to say thank you, she would follow it with the words I don’t want to.
A little deliberate.
But because it was Chen Yue, it also felt a little cute.
Chi Xiaoman didn’t mind it much either. “Okay.”
She looked at Chen Yue, still a little worried. “Did something happen to you today?”
“No.” Chen Yue shook her head. “Really, nothing happened.”
Chi Xiaoman didn’t say anything. She pressed her lips together and studied Chen Yue.
Chen Yue smiled lightly at her.
“All right then,” Chi Xiaoman gave in.
When Chi Xiaoman had finished tidying up and was ready to return to her room, Chen Yue asked again, “Then does that count as my second birthday wish?”
“You don’t have to count it that way, right?” Chi Xiaoman paused, as if she had no choice but to think about it because of the question, but in the end still chose to say, “It was just a hug. It’s nothing.”
Chen Yue didn’t speak.
“Chen Yue.” Chi Xiaoman called her again. “Actually, I thought about what you said today too.”
As if she had already thought it through during that bewildered, brief hug just now, she said to her,
“It’s not just me; I think sometimes you might also need a Rainbow Sister.”
Chen Yue didn’t speak.
She discovered something; it turned out that when she wasn’t acting like an elder in front of Chi Xiaoman, she could see more clearly all the details of Chi Xiaoman growing up, and see the thirty-year-old Chi Xiaoman much more clearly.
Just like tonight.
Chi Xiaoman brought her warm food, and smiled at her warmly too.
“Maybe it’s just like you said; this Rainbow Sister doesn’t need to do much most of the time.”
“But at least, like just now, when you want a hug, she can hug you. That’s enough.”
Even though she had been so unsettled and tense while being held just now, even though they were no longer people who were completely familiar with each other, she was still willing to tell her,
“I think that much, I can still do.”
Chen Yue of course believed she could do it.
-
After returning to her room, Chi Xiaoman washed the thermal container clean and didn’t have much time to linger over the two hugs that had just happened.
Compared with the intimacy of body heat, breathing, and skin touching during a hug.
She was even more troubled by the timing of those two hugs.
She didn’t understand why they had happened.
She didn’t understand what Chen Yue was thinking.
Because Chen Yue wouldn’t explain the reason.
Because if she asked, Chen Yue would always say: nothing happened.
Because even if today she told Chen Yue, “If something comes up, you have to tell me.”
By the next time, Chen Yue might still forget.
Still.
Even so, Chi Xiaoman didn’t think this was Chen Yue’s deliberate choice. It couldn’t even really count as a so-called “flaw.”
A year of being together wasn’t very long; she still didn’t fully understand Chen Yue’s upbringing.
But she roughly knew—perhaps Chen Yue had grown up this way, used to not speaking, used to smiling, used to solving other people’s problems, and used to being a smart, thoughtful child. A lot of the time she also ignored her own feelings, which was why every time she got stuck in a dead end, she would end up making herself sick.
As if only at those times, under the pressure of objective conditions, would she be willing to treat herself as someone fragile who needed care.
She was a planet that had been running on its own for a very long time, with a membrane of gaseous form wrapped around the outside; it looked soft, but it was always a copper wall and iron barrier.
So however worried Chi Xiaoman was, all she could do was avoid pressing too hard.
Because by the time she got back to her room, Chen Yue had sent her a WeChat message:
【Xiaoman, I’m fine. Don’t worry.】
As if she knew Chi Xiaoman would worry after going back, so she explained it on purpose.
Chi Xiaoman stared at those words for a long time, and typed a lot in the chat box too; she wanted to say, “Chen Yue, if anything happens, you have to tell me,” and she also wanted to say, “Sister Chen Tong, don’t keep everything bottled up inside”...
In the end, she only said:
【Is it still cold in the room?】
Chen Yue replied: 【It isn’t cold.】
【Mm.】 Chi Xiaoman didn’t say much more; because after getting that news this morning, she had already spoken to the hotel and asked them to check all the heating in everyone’s rooms, especially the innermost room on their floor.
【If it’s cold, you still have to say so.】 She reminded Chen Yue.
【Okay.】 Chen Yue replied.
There shouldn’t have been anything else to talk about.
Chi Xiaoman set her phone on the desk and went to read tomorrow’s script.
She didn’t leave the chat.
She looked at the script.
Then at the chat.
Unexpectedly.
On Chen Yue’s side, she saw 【typing…】.
A rare occurrence.
Chi Xiaoman put down the script, held her phone in both hands, and stared very carefully, afraid Chen Yue would say something and then take it back; after that, even if she asked again, the other side might not tell the truth.
From age twenty to age thirty, Chi Xiaoman had lost a lot of confidence and courage, and the qualifications to keep asking again and again, but over those long years she had also gained more patience.
Before Chen Yue asked it herself.
Chi Xiaoman didn’t keep pressing her about what happened.
She patiently held her phone and waited.
The typing indicator vanished and reappeared.
No one knew how long passed.
Chi Xiaoman yawned.
Her palm vibrated.
A message popped up:
【Have you been taking your medication these past few days?】
Just this question; did it really take that long to hesitate over?
Chi Xiaoman thought it was strange.
But after thinking about it, she answered honestly: 【No, I’ve been doing pretty well lately.】
【And it’s not as serious as you think】 she explained to Chen Yue: 【Most of the time I won’t have physical symptoms】
【And the small part of the time?】 Chen Yue asked.
Chi Xiaoman’s fingers stopped moving. Her hand curled slightly; after a long while, she sent:
【The small part of the time is just that I’m more likely to have nightmares, but it’s not serious. I don’t need to take medicine every time.】
【What nightmares?】 Chen Yue sent.
But then she seemed to realize immediately that the question was too direct, and added: 【Is it… the things from before?】
Actually, Chi Xiaoman had never told Chen Yue about this. Including the photo left in her phone after Lang Lang fell; up until now, she had never shown it to Chen Yue.
Before, it was because she didn’t want to affect Chen Yue’s filming. Now... now the reason seemed the same.
For the person who couldn’t forget that snowfall.
Having just Chi Xiaoman was enough.
There was no need to drag Chen Yue in ten years later too.
【No.】 Chi Xiaoman thought for a long time, then finally chose to reply this way:
【Just some random things. Maybe I thought too much during the day, so at night I’m more prone to overthinking.】
Chen Yue didn’t reply.
For a long time.
Chi Xiaoman wanted to explain more clearly, but she didn’t know whether saying more would make Chen Yue feel as though she was covering something up, so she held her phone and stared into space for a long while.
Buzz, buzz—
The phone vibrated in her hand.
Chi Xiaoman lowered her eyes and saw a new message from Chen Yue:
【Have you found your mother?】
That was an unexpected question.
Chi Xiaoman froze for a moment.
She remembered what she had told Chen Yue a long time ago—that she wanted to be an actress because she wanted her mother to see what she was doing.
At twenty, thinking that way was simple.
At thirty... it was probably just not very smart.
Chi Xiaoman lowered her eyes and replied: 【No.】
Chen Yue didn’t reply right away.
Chi Xiaoman waited a while.
Thinking Chen Yue was probably considering how to say it without making her sad, she took the initiative and sent:
【But I’m still willing to believe she might be watching me from some very, very faraway place. As long as I’m willing to wait, maybe one day she’ll have the courage to come find me.】
【What will you do then?】 Chen Yue replied.
【Then I’ll be angry with her. I’ll lose my temper at her. I’ll refuse to call her Mom. I’ll stubbornly refuse to acknowledge her for a long time, and I’ll keep giving her attitude whenever I see her outside.】
Chi Xiaoman said: 【Maybe just like every daughter does with her mother.】
Then she asked: 【Is that very childish?】
【No.】 Chen Yue’s reply wasn’t particularly surprising: 【At that time, I’ll support you.】
Chi Xiaoman didn’t type anymore.
Holding her phone, she drifted a little.
And Chen Yue didn’t ask anything more, either; she replied:
【Sleep well tonight.】
Her palm was numb from the vibration of that message, yet it also seemed to grow warmer because of it.
Chi Xiaoman carefully typed:
【You too】
She added: 【Sleep well every day.】
-
October ended, and Felicity Noodle Shop still hadn’t opened.
In November, the whole crew would transfer to Guizhou to shoot the road-trip portion.
So throughout October, Chi Xiaoman kept thinking about it during breaks from filming and would occasionally check whether Felicity Noodle Shop had opened.
But the result never matched what she hoped.
On the night before they transferred to Guizhou,
she still hadn’t seen Felicity Noodle Shop open.
Still, every time she drove over there with the crew van, she would buy some oden from the convenience store they passed on the way.
She never bought much each time.
And every time, it was the same few items.
After paying,
she would always ask the shop to pack it tightly, then put it into an insulated bag and carry it all the way back to the crew.
Once, Shen Baozhi went out with her and saw her go shopping, then detour to Felicity Noodle Shop, staring blankly at the storefront for a long time in the car, then taking another route to the convenience store to buy oden, wrapping it up in layer after layer after bringing it back. Thinking she was strange, she couldn’t help asking, “Xiaoman, since when do you love oden this much?”
“I’ve always really liked it,” Chi Xiaoman said. “It’s just that I didn’t have much money back then, so I couldn’t buy much.”
Shen Baozhi nodded. She probably had never really lived in an urban village herself, so it was hard to imagine. She only saw Chi Xiaoman buy it back like that every time, wrapped in so many layers, and couldn’t help asking,
“But why do you always have to drive so far to buy it? Aren’t there any convenience stores near our crew?”
Chi Xiaoman paused. “It’s on the way anyway.”
Shen Baozhi shook her head and said nothing more.
What she probably didn’t know was—
After Chi Xiaoman bought the oden back and peeled off all the layers of wrapping, she would wait in her room for a while, then go downstairs to collect the food the crew had ordered from the hotel restaurant. She’d pick up two portions each time and bring them back to the room.
Using the little microwave in her room,
she would heat up the oden a bit.
And warm the dishes slightly too.
Then put everything into the two thermal containers she’d brought back from home; after Fang A-Yun had used them, she’d said they were very handy, so Chi Xiaoman had started using them on set.
When the clock turned to eight,
she would carry the two thermal containers on time to the room at the very end of the hallway, lift her hand very properly, and knock twice.
The door would open from inside.
Sometimes the woman had just showered and her hair was still wet, carrying the scent of bath water. Sometimes she’d just gotten back, still in costume, her hair a little messy.
Sometimes her expression looked like she hadn’t expected Chi Xiaoman to come. Sometimes it looked as if she’d known very well that she would.
But every time.
She would smile at her.
So Chi Xiaoman would smile too, then lift the thermal container in her hand and tell Chen Yue—
“Today it’s braised pork ribs with yam.”
“Today it’s winter melon meatball soup.”
“Today it’s steamed pork ribs with taro.”
“Today we’ve got candied sweet potatoes.”
...
Chen Yue let her in, saying neither thank you nor “I’ll go find you instead”...
She would just look at her very quietly.
And Chi Xiaoman would also walk in very quietly, go to the bar counter, set the thermal containers down, take out wet wipes and wipe them once first, then arrange all the steaming food neatly; usually six small bowls, two bowls of rice, and two pairs of chopsticks.
Everything was arranged tidily.
Chi Xiaoman would check it carefully, then look up and smile at Chen Yue with curved eyes.
“Let’s eat.”
“Okay.” Chen Yue would agree, then walk over and sit opposite her, pick up her chopsticks, and eat the ribs, meatballs, taro... or candied sweet potatoes of the day.
Chi Xiaoman always had to wait until Chen Yue had taken the first bite of each dish, and until she said it was good, before she breathed out in relief and picked up her own chopsticks. Every time she saw a dish left with only one bite, she would also let Chen Yue have it.
They were no longer at the stage where eating together would leave one of them hungry.
But Chi Xiaoman still insisted on doing it this way.
In the past, Chen Yue might also have insisted on giving Chi Xiaoman the last bite.
But now she wouldn’t. She accepted Chi Xiaoman’s concession openly and tried every time to finish the last bite.
Most of the time, they didn’t talk much.
The atmosphere between them didn’t seem especially intimate either; both were quiet as they ate, as if they were only completing a task.
Or perhaps they were simply making sure the other had eaten properly.
If she felt the other hadn’t eaten enough that day, she would anxiously pick up a chopstickful of meat and say, “Eat more meat.”
If she felt they were already a little full, then when going downstairs to throw away the trash, she would ask whether the other wanted to go for a walk downstairs.
If they had seen the other mention wanting to eat something during the day, that food would appear on the little dinner table a day later, or maybe two days later.
And every time they finished eating.
Chen Yue would set down her chopsticks, look at Chi Xiaoman gently, and say,
“Xiaoman, when you go back tonight, sleep well.”
So Chi Xiaoman would also pause and tell her, “Mm, you too.”
It wasn’t an order.
So it didn’t put pressure on the other person.
Just a very simple wish.
Before the transfer to Guizhou, they had eaten more than ten such meals together.
There wasn’t much conversation, and nothing like that sudden hug on that day happened again.
But Chi Xiaoman felt a great deal of peace from it.
Because at this meal, they didn’t need to say anything; they could just eat quietly and not feel much pressure. Sometimes they would give the other a chopstickful of something they thought was tasty; sometimes they would just eat their own food. Because after eating this meal, when she returned to her room, she really did seem able to sleep well. Because every morning when she woke up, this was the first thing she needed to think about.
A few days before leaving for Guizhou, Chi Xiaoman had a scene she just couldn’t get right.
It was actually a very simple transitional scene. But her emotions never seemed to build properly, and she’d done several takes without passing.
After a few takes, Chi Xiaoman discussed it with Shen Baozhi.
They gave the order for everyone to go rest first.
She sat alone on set, staring blankly at the bowl of noodles she’d already eaten many times.
There were many people around holding cameras and filming her. Filming in Beijing was like this; every day there were a lot of onlookers near the set; some were hired photographers, some supported their film, and some had nothing to do during vacation and came specifically to cause trouble.
Chi Xiaoman was staring at the bowl of noodles, thinking about how she should act after the break ended, when several people peered over the barricade with their necks stretched out, phones raised to film her, shouting at her at the top of their lungs, “Chi Xiaoman, you’d better pack your things and get lost early!”
Chi Xiaoman stared blankly at one of the red knit hats.
Chen Yue seemed to notice.
She didn’t have a scene today.
But she was still on set, and after hearing that sentence, she frowned and came to sit over here, blocking Chi Xiaoman from seeing that person, and said gently, “It’s okay, take it slow.”
Actually, there wasn’t time to take it slow anymore. They were transferring to Guizhou very soon and couldn’t delay here any longer. And no one had expected that Chi Xiaoman would fail to pass such a simple eating-noodles scene.
Chi Xiaoman didn’t speak.
Chen Yue studied her for a while, then said, “Actually, you don’t need to care what other people say.”
Chi Xiaoman still didn’t talk. She picked at her fingers, stared at the bowl of noodles for a long while, then suddenly asked,
“Chen Yue, what do you want to eat tonight?”
Chen Yue probably didn’t know what she was thinking. Her expression was surprised, but after that she still answered very patiently, “Anything is fine.”
“Okay.” Chi Xiaoman nodded, looked at Chen Yue’s somewhat worried expression, and smiled. “Then let’s eat chicken today.”
After that, the scene went through very smoothly.
Life suddenly seemed to become this simple.
As if all the biggest worries in the world couldn’t compare to a dinner that arrived right at eight o’clock.
Because they’d had pork yesterday, lamb the day before.
Today it would be chicken.
The Chi Xiaoman who had grown up no longer excelled at imagination, or rather at expecting good things to happen. At the calmest moments, she was always the one who felt bad things were about to happen. So she didn’t dare hope life could continue this way forever.
Still, before leaving Beijing, whenever she had time she would go check Felicity Noodle Shop to see whether it had opened. And every time after eating and returning, before going to sleep, she would still hope—at the very least, that Chen Yue would be able to eat well and sleep well from now on.
There was no fighting between them, no opposition. They had become partners fighting side by side in the same crew, not needing to be too close; her nightmares wouldn’t drag Chen Yue down with her, and her existence wouldn’t make Chen Yue feel pain.
That was Chi Xiaoman’s only simple wish.
[Author’s Note]
On time for Little Neon’s fifty-second day update [sunglasses][sunglasses]
TL Note:
Rainbow Sister (彩虹姐姐) = a gentle, supportive older-sister figure who comforts and looks after someone.
oden is a Japanese-style simmered snack sold in broth