After Nan Zhendong left, that same night, Nan Jiu’s Grandfather closed the door to the Tea House, leaned on his cane, and sat down heavily in the carved redwood chair in front of the tea hall.
With full force in his voice, he scolded Nan Jiu, “Who told you to cut your hair so short? Look at yourself—is that supposed to look good? And what on earth are you wearing?”
Nan Jiu leaned crookedly against the peeling pillar. Her T-shirt hung short off her shoulders, and whenever she moved her arm, her belly button was exposed—pierced with a diamond.
Her pants were baggy and hung low on her hips, with no elastic or belt, only a drawstring that she hadn’t tied, dragging down like two big pig intestines.
Nan Jiu’s Grandfather didn’t understand the layers, perms, or dye jobs from hair salons. All he knew was that her hair looked like a dog had gnawed at it—not only uneven but covering her eyes, making him angrier the more he looked at it.
A few years ago, he had sent off a neat, clean girl; now his son had raised her like this and sent her back again.
Just as he was about to lash out, the Tea House door opened from outside. Song Ting appeared, dressed all in black, stepping through the night.
Nan Jiu’s Grandfather swallowed the words at his lips and looked toward Song Ting. “How did the negotiations go?”
“Basically no problem. I’ll go up to the mountain again next week.”
After speaking, Song Ting noticed someone in the Tea House and shifted his gaze to look at Nan Jiu. She was pale and thin, like a piece of fragile paper; the innocence had faded from her face, and her eyes held nothing but indifference.
Nan Jiu’s Grandfather forced a smile, one that didn’t reach his eyes, and said to Nan Jiu, “Look at yourself. Even your Uncle Song can’t recognize you anymore. Call him over.”
“I recognize him.”
Song Ting withdrew his gaze and turned to lock the door.
Nan Jiu said nothing, yawning slightly. Song Ting still didn’t bother her.
The small room where she had slept for three months still had the same bed, but it was covered up. Nan Jiu’s Grandfather tapped it with his cane and said, “Why are you just standing there? Not going to sleep, planning to stick to the wall? Clean your room yourself. Your Uncle Song’s been running all day, don’t trouble him. You’re a grown girl now.”
“Everyone’s been running all day.”
Nan Jiu straightened up and muttered before heading to the small room.
Nan Jiu’s Grandfather’s anger flared, “This girl really needs to be straightened out.”
“You need patience when communicating with girls her age.”
Song Ting poured hot tea into the old man’s cup, then went upstairs.
After Song Ting finished his bath, Nan Jiu’s bed still hadn’t been made. He took down the bed cover and tried to move the mattress, which was thick and heavy—much harder to handle than the Dormitory Bed at school.
Song Ting knocked on the open door. Nan Jiu turned around.
“I’ll do it.”
With one hand, Song Ting lifted the mattress, quickly removed the bed cover, and took out a clean pillowcase and bamboo mat. He filled a basin with warm water and began scrubbing repeatedly.
Nan Jiu wanted to help but Song Ting was so efficient she couldn’t get a word in. So she sat on a small stool by the wall, propping her chin in her hand, just waiting.
His half-dry hair stuck to his cheekbones, the cold hardness of his side profile adding an unruly edge. As he bent to arrange the bed, his back muscles flexed strong and broad, his lower back curving inward, muscles tight against his bones.
Earlier, Nan Jiu had thought he looked more mature than before; after the bath, he changed into a cotton T-shirt and gray sweatpants. Looking at him now, he hadn’t changed much from years ago—just his skin was bronzed, like a dark-skinned athlete.
“How old are you?”
Nan Jiu asked curiously.
“Eight years older than you.”
Song Ting didn’t look back, bending down to carry the basin out.
Nan Jiu sat on the stool counting the years. When Song Ting returned, he glanced at her—still curled up on that little stool just like four years ago. The only difference was the little girl had grown into a young woman.
“Let the mat dry for a while. When you finish bathing, you can sleep.”
Song Ting finished the last wipe and instructed.
Nan Jiu rummaged through her suitcase for clothes and went to shower. Nan Jiu’s Grandfather sat behind the counter counting receipts. Seeing her come over, he asked, “Did you make Uncle Song help you tidy up again?”
Song Ting sat at the opposite tea table balancing the accounts. In front of them both, Nan Jiu opened her eyes wide and lied, “No.”
After speaking, she glanced at Song Ting nervously. Song Ting didn’t call her out, instead tapping his Calculator without raising his eyelids.
After Nan Jiu went upstairs, Nan Jiu’s Grandfather said to Song Ting, “Don’t spoil her. She needs to face some hardship. Let her handle her own affairs. Assign her chores in the shop.”
Song Ting’s mouth twitched slightly as he hit the zero button.
The Tea House’s bathing area was on the second floor, and Song Ting was the only one using the bathroom now. The old man rarely climbed the stairs these days and usually just washed himself in his own room. When Nan Jiu brought in her pajamas, Song Ting had already cleaned the bathroom.
The Shaver and men’s toiletries were put away in his room, and the floor was mopped dry.
The last time Nan Jiu came back, she was still young. The summer bathroom was stuffy and suffocating, so she would always leave the door ajar to let in some cool air. Once, when Song Ting went to sleep in the attic, he heard her singing from the bathroom because the door was open.
After that, Song Ting deliberately avoided her when she bathed. If Nan Jiu carried clothes upstairs, he would sit in the tea hall waiting for her to finish before going to sleep.
Nan Jiu was slow in the bath, singing and dawdling, sometimes delaying her shower just to watch TV. Song Ting had nodded off waiting more than once. Of course, Nan Jiu didn’t know this before; she thought Song Ting was just on night duty in the tea hall.
Fortunately, this time she knew the door was locked.
The big cauldron on the roof of the Hat Teahouse was gone, replaced by cable TV inside. Nan Jiu wasn’t interested in TV anymore; she preferred immersing herself in Network Games.
Nan Jiu’s Grandfather had asked Song Ting to assign her tasks, but after a few days back, Nan Jiu reconnected with old friends from the alley and spent all day out, rarely seen.
Both Nan Jiu’s Grandfather and Song Ting were busy during the day and had no time to watch her. Nan Jiu always slipped out whenever she could. Luckily, even with all her playing around, she always returned in time for meals.
***
Song Ting left, and Nan Jiu’s Grandfather told her he had gone to the mountains. Nan Jiu didn’t ask which mountain or what for. She wasn’t interested in Song Ting’s affairs and rarely spoke to him.
Partly because she had her biological uncle and felt no connection to this older man who was her “uncle” only in name. And partly because Song Ting never showed her much warmth, so she naturally didn’t try to please him.
Song Ting was gone for five days, and it wore Nan Jiu’s Grandfather out. Usually lazy Nan Jiu could be useful when needed. Seeing the old man so tired he couldn’t stand straight, Nan Jiu stopped going wild, got up early, and helped him out.
At times like these, she found herself hoping Song Ting would come back soon. As long as he was away, she couldn’t escape.
Monday afternoons usually had fewer customers. Seeing Nan Jiu restless, Nan Jiu’s Grandfather allowed her to go out and play for half a day.
Nan Jiu was like a wild horse let loose. Once outside, she had no idea when she would return. The sky darkened, but she was still gone. Nan Jiu’s Grandfather paced back and forth, peeking out at the alley entrance several times but saw no sign of Nan Jiu—only Song Ting.
Song Ting carried two large bags of tea leaves, saw Nan Jiu’s Grandfather standing at the Tea House door, and quickened his pace. “The shop not busy?”
“Not bad. Most customers have left. Little Jiu still hasn’t come back.”
Song Ting put down the tea leaves inside and asked, “When did she leave?”
“Gone after lunch.”
“I’ll go look for her.”
Song Ting didn’t enter but hurried toward the alley again.
***
That night, Song Ting told Nan Jiu’s Grandfather to wait for news at home. He didn’t know how many places he’d been to before finally finding Nan Jiu at an Internet Cafe.
Nan Jiu had come out with Li Chongguang from the alley. Li Chongguang lived inside a side alley. He was two years older than Nan Jiu and had been in the same class as Liu Yin.
As kids, they played video games together at Liu Yin’s house. Li Chongguang knew a group of aimless youths nearby and had brought Nan Jiu along to join them at the Internet Cafe to form teams for gaming.
When Song Ting arrived, a skinny youth looked like a skeleton, was leaning over and holding the mouse in front of Nan Jiu with a sly expression.
Song Ting’s shadow loomed behind him as he grabbed the young man’s collar and dragged him back to a nearby chair. The young man turned, ready to curse, but upon seeing Song Ting, he suddenly changed his tune: “Brother Song.”
Someone at the Internet Cafe recognized Song Ting and shouted, “Yo, when did you get back?”
Song Ting ignored it and bent down to Nan Jiu. “Come home.”
Nan Jiu looked at Song Ting, frozen for two seconds, and replied casually, “You go ahead, I’ll finish this game.”
Song Ting didn’t leave. He pulled a chair over and sat a few steps away. Tall and broad, having just come down from the mountains, his clothes were still the rough ones he wore for work—not his usual casual wear.
A brown leather belt held his black short-sleeve shirt, the frayed pant cuffs rolled up over his boots. The pale blue glow from the computer screen cast shadows across his sunken eyes and straight nose, adding to his sharp and intimidating presence.
Though he didn’t urge her, the moment he sat there, the noisy group around Nan Jiu fell silent. Not only silent but sitting straight. Team battles required cooperation; without communication, the atmosphere died, and the game lost its fun.
Nan Jiu noticed the change in mood and shifted slightly, asking Li Chongguang, “Why are you all afraid of him? He’s not my family; he can’t control me.”
“It’s not that…” Li Chongguang looked uneasy and hesitated, “Has your grandfather told you about him?”
“About what?”
Li Chongguang glanced at Song Ting. Song Ting’s eyes flicked coldly toward him. Li Chongguang quickly changed the subject, “Never mind, forget I said anything.”
Nan Jiu slammed the mouse down heavily on the table, turned her head, and curled her lips in a slight sneer. “I know the way home. Can you not stay here?”
“Finish this round.”
Song Ting reminded her, the sharpness at the corners of his eyes clear even without expression. His words carried weight and were not to be ignored.
But his warning was aimed at a rebellious teenage girl. Nan Jiu was immune to it; the more he tried to control her, the more she pushed back. She picked up the mouse again and entered the next round. The youths forming the team still glanced nervously around, unsure whether to start.
Nan Jiu’s gaze swept over them. “Start the game! Why are you all frozen?”
The young men looked at Song Ting, and when he said nothing, they gradually relaxed and began the next round.
Nan Jiu tilted the corner of her mouth with a hint of challenge, eyes flashing through the reflected screen light at Song Ting.
Boss Zhuang of the Internet Cafe came out from a back room, knowing Song Ting didn’t smoke, and brought over some good tea he was drinking.
“Long time no see. Been busy lately?”
Song Ting raised his hand to take the tea. “Same as always.”
“You’re here today because…”
Song Ting nodded toward where Nan Jiu was sitting.
“Nan Jiu, the granddaughter of Nan Jiu’s Grandfather.”
He took a slow sip of tea and tapped the table evenly. “Underage.”
Boss Zhuang’s face went pale, quickly assuring, “It won’t happen again.”
He went over and spoke briefly with the Network Administrator. Suddenly, all the computers in Nan Jiu’s row lost their connection. The youths, in the middle of heated battles online, were forced offline. Furious, they stood, swearing and pounding keyboards demanding an explanation.
The Internet Cafe erupted into chaos. Boss Zhuang came over demanding IDs from the group, and they went silent. Nan Jiu fixed her gaze on Song Ting, who sat calmly drinking his tea.
Not only was her game interrupted, but she also lost face in front of her newly made friends. Angrily, she strode up to Song Ting and demanded, “You told the boss to cut off our internet? Even my dad can’t control me—who do you think you are? My grandfather calls you ‘godson,’ and you actually think you’re my uncle?”
Nan Jiu’s outburst silenced the noisy Internet Cafe instantly. She was so angry she didn’t notice the young men standing beside her quietly stepping back, wary of Song Ting.
Other bystanders also shifted their attention to him. The atmosphere grew strange and tense, but Song Ting paid no mind, calmly finishing his tea.
Nan Jiu, seeing no reaction, felt her anger hit like punching cotton, only fuelling her fire.
“I’m not going home with you. What can you do to me?”
Song Ting’s actions answered her question. He put down his cup, grabbed Nan Jiu’s wrist, and started to lead her out.
The stubbornness in her surged, and she flailed her arms, struggling with all her might. But Song Ting’s strength easily overpowered her. Her tantrums and rebellion flared at once, and she clawed and scratched at Song Ting like a furious little lion cub.
Song Ting’s face remained cold, veins bulging on his forehead. No one dared intervene with this girl throwing a tantrum barely reaching his chest.
Boss Zhuang wiped sweat from his brow, fearing this girl might get thrown with a shoulder throw. A few years ago, when there were disturbances at the Hat Teahouse, he had seen Song Ting personally subdue several men with his muscular build. Even tough guys couldn’t withstand his punches.
None of the young men playing with Nan Jiu dared to intervene. Only Li Chongguang, somewhat loyal, ran to the Internet Cafe door to persuade Song Ting, “Let’s talk it out. Don’t be so harsh.”
Song Ting looked at him coldly.
“Am I being harsh?”
“No, no.”
“Step aside.”
“Okay.”
Nan Jiu watched Li Chongguang retreat and rolled her eyes.
The Network Administrator leaned to Boss Zhuang’s side, eyeing the figure leaving the Internet Cafe.
“Who’s that girl? So wild.”
Boss Zhuang narrowed his eyes meaningfully.
“Who else would dare pluck a feather from a tiger’s back besides Nan Jiu’s Grandfather’s people?”