Song Ting threw Nan Jiu onto the curb and let her scream.
After that rough tugging, Nan Jiu’s hair and clothes were a mess—utterly embarrassing.
The moment her hands were free from restraint, she immediately clenched her fists and lunged at him, baring her claws: “You’re just working at my grandfather’s tea house, aren’t you? What gives you the right to meddle in my business?”
“How am I meddling in your business?”
Song Ting looked down at her from above, the veins on his forehead already faded, his expression calm once more.
“That year, if it weren’t for you pushing my grandfather to send me back, would I have been tossed around like garbage? I could’ve stayed here. My grandfather was even inquiring about transferring me.”
“Do you know what I’d face if I went back? Did you ever ask if I wanted to go back? All of you treated me like a burden, kicking me around.”
“I left my mother’s place for a few days. Did they call the police? Did anyone look for me? They’d rather see me get snatched by traffickers on the street. What a shame it was you—not a trafficker, but no better than one—who made my grandfather change his mind and send me away.”
“If you didn’t want me here, why come looking for me? Whether I go back or not is none of your damn business. Even my own uncle didn’t care—so what kind of uncle are you? You really think too highly of yourself…”
Once those words slipped out, it was like opening a floodgate. Nan Jiu wasn’t without grievances or anger, but she was still young, lacking the leverage to fight fate.
When she ran away that year, she had gathered every ounce of courage to risk everything to change her situation, only to buy herself three months of peace before being sent back again.
She had never spoken these truths to anyone—not even her grandfather. She was used to building walls of indifference around herself in the face of neglect and disdain.
But today, Song Ting had pried open a crack in that wall. She hated this meddlesome man. In front of him, she tasted helplessness and could only lash out with harsh words.
Song Ting didn’t get angry at her attitude, nor did he stop her. Passersby on the street occasionally glanced over at their quarrel; whenever this happened, Nan Jiu’s voice softened slightly—probably out of pride. Song Ting simply turned around, positioning Nan Jiu inside the street so she could vent freely without worry.
Quarrels require back-and-forth. Song Ting refused to argue, and with her doing all the talking, she soon ran out of steam. Nan Jiu licked her lips; the sudden quiet left a flicker of confusion on her face.
Once she finished her tirade, Song Ting finally spoke: “Are you hungry?”
“…Hmm?” Still caught in her resentment, Nan Jiu froze for two seconds, then without thinking replied, “A little.”
“Let’s go, eat something.”
Song Ting turned and led the way, pulling out his phone to call Nan Jiu’s grandfather, telling him he’d found Nan Jiu and was taking her out for a night snack before heading back.
Nan Jiu lagged a couple steps behind, watching Song Ting’s calm back in disbelief.
She had already spoken harshly enough, yet not only did he show no anger, he didn’t put himself in the position of an elder to lecture her. Instead, he wanted to take her to eat. Suddenly, Nan Jiu found Song Ting… a little strange.
The atmosphere between them felt awkward—though really, only Nan Jiu felt that way. Song Ting remained composed.
After finishing the call with Nan Jiu’s grandfather, just as he was about to turn out of the alley, he suddenly spoke: “That year, I drove out looking for you.”
He stepped out of the alley, gestured to the street stall owner, and went over to grab a menu. Nan Jiu froze at the alley’s mouth, a crack silently splitting open in her heart as complex emotions seeped in—a bittersweet mix.
Song Ting called Nan Jiu over to sit. She awkwardly shuffled to the table. The awkwardness thickened—not like hitting a pillow but like hitting nothing at all—she felt like a fool, throwing punches at empty air.
After the sizzling wok’s aroma filled the air, Nan Jiu eyed the dishes being brought over and said, “Why did you order so much? I already ate at the Internet cafe.”
Song Ting raised an eyebrow, teasing her: “I didn’t eat.”
“…” Nan Jiu obediently shut her mouth.
Though she claimed to have eaten, once she picked up her chopsticks, she ate no less than Song Ting. While eating, her gaze inadvertently caught the scratches on Song Ting’s arm—clear claw marks oozing blood. It was impossible for her to apologize, so she simply turned her body to one side, pretending not to see.
Song Ting noticed her silence and broke the ice: “I heard you’re already in a relationship?”
“How rare is that?”
Nan Jiu shifted her gaze.
“Have you ever dated early?”
“No.”
Song Ting raised a hand, signaling the owner to bring another bowl of rice.
“Tell that to a ghost. What did you do in school then? Studied hard, aimed high every day? You don’t look like a good student.”
Song Ting lowered his head to pick up food, smiling but silent.
“Who said I’m dating? My grandfather? What does he know? It was my dad who told him. Everyone believes my dad but never asks me. Always like that.”
Just then the owner set a bowl of rice on the table, which Nan Jiu grabbed and shoved into her mouth with a cynical bite. Song Ting asked the owner for another bowl.
“At your age, instead of worrying about things that have no future, you should think about your prospects.”
“Funny, who says there has to be a future? People my age just mess around. Having a boyfriend means marriage and kids? That’d be a huge loss.”
Song Ting made no comment on Nan Jiu’s reckless attitude and instead asked, “Have you been living at your dad’s these past few years?”
“Thanks to you, I’ve been living at school.”
Nan Jiu stopped talking after that. She bowed her head and stuffed her mouth full of rice, chewing hard. While her classmates looked forward to weekends at home, she never did—not once. Her dormmates brought their laundry home on Fridays; only she stood in the freezing corridor in winter, scrubbing dirty clothes with numb fingers stabbed by the cold.
She wouldn’t tell anyone this—no one asked, no one cared. Even now, she just chewed on these bitter memories along with the rice and swallowed them down.
Back at the tea house, the teahall’s lights were still on. Nan Jiu’s grandfather sat at the tea table, playing with a newly acquired tea pet.
After Song Ting returned, he went straight to sorting tea leaves. Nan Jiu sneakily stuck to the door, trying to slip back to her room.
“Come here.”
Nan Jiu’s grandfather slammed the tea pet on the tray, his voice steady.
Having mingled with all sorts of people throughout his life, the old man carried a bit of that underworld toughness. Though he rarely scolded Nan Jiu, when he did, she dared not disobey.
She lowered her head and walked over. The old man jabbed his Wutong Cane into the ground: “Starting tomorrow, there’ll be a curfew. No going out at night.”
Nan Jiu’s lips didn’t move; her words were muffled deep in her throat.
The old man raised his voice: “If you want to say something, say it out loud. Stop talking behind my back.”
“I’m not talking behind your back. I just said if I can’t go out, then buy me a computer.”
The old man glared: “Want to buy it? Ask your dad. Dream on.”
Song Ting carried the tea leaves toward the cabinet. The old man’s eyes flicked to the bloodied scratches on Song Ting’s arm. Anger flared, and he swung the Wutong Cane, striking Nan Jiu’s calf.
Though the old man often threatened Nan Jiu with the cane, he never used force—this time, it really hurt. She screamed, clutching the table leg and standing on one leg, glaring: “Why did you hit me?”
“Why do you think I hit you? Song Uncle came back from the mountain, didn’t even get a sip of water before going out looking for you. What did you do?”
“He drank. The Internet cafe owner gave him some.”
Nan Jiu’s voice trailed off.
Seeing her talk back, the old man pushed up on the cane, hair standing on end with fury, ready to strike again. Song Ting appeared out of nowhere, bent down to pick up the scattered tea pets, standing between the old man and Nan Jiu.
Nan Jiu shrank into the corner of the table. Song Ting tilted his head, signaling her to go back to her room. She hurriedly limped away.
The old man plopped back into his chair, hammering the cane on the floor: “You shielding her is useless. She doesn’t respect you.”
Song Ting lowered his head, picking up a tea pet: “She’s still young.”
Nan Jiu listened at the door for a while. Only after the old man returned to his room did she pick up her clothes and head upstairs to shower.
The old man left his door open and heard Nan Jiu’s footsteps coming down after the shower: “Does your leg still hurt?”
Nan Jiu’s footsteps paused, her voice bitter: “It hurts like hell. I’m limping.”
“Good. Then don’t run around.”
Boom boom boom—Nan Jiu stomped loudly.
Though the old man dashed her hopes for a computer, the next day he quietly asked Song Ting about the price. After hearing it would cost thousands, he pretended he never asked.
Nan Jiu couldn’t go out at night but was still allowed to sneak out during the day—until her outings were cut off. From that day forward, the Internet cafes around Hat Alley all turned her away at the door.
Even Li Chongguang, who always bragged about how well he did in the area, suddenly vanished and stopped inviting her out. Nan Jiu couldn’t help but suspect that all this had something to do with Song Ting.
One afternoon, Nan Jiu hummed a tune as she went out but returned twenty minutes later with a scowl. At that moment, Song Ting was standing by the tea table, attending to customers.
Nan Jiu leaned against a pillar, waiting for him to be free. As he headed toward the counter, she stepped forward and demanded, “Are you the one keeping me from going out?”
Song Ting didn’t stop walking and didn’t spare her a glance: “Did I tie you up with a rope?”
“Don’t play dumb. Was it you?”
Song Ting glanced down at her leg and asked lightly, “Does it still hurt?”
He didn’t deny it, instead teasing her. Nan Jiu was furious; she’d insulted him every way possible, pointed at his identity and scolded him for having no right to control her. That night, seeing him so calm and unruffled, she never expected he’d respond by clamping down on her even tighter.
Grandpa always said the tea house was a complicated underworld. Song Ting running it well wasn’t without some tricks. Nan Jiu rarely had moments alone with him, and when she did, Song Ting was usually taciturn.
She had never seen him smooth-talk any customer. So she thought Grandpa exaggerated Song Ting’s abilities. Now, she realized Grandpa’s praise had some truth.
Whatever little guilt Nan Jiu felt for hurting Song Ting that night vanished quickly. In fact, she grew to resent him all the more.
But where there are rules, there are ways to circumvent them.
After two quiet days, Nan Jiu started sneaking out again. Li Chongguang feared Song Ting, but Liu Yin was unaware of all this and happily welcomed Nan Jiu to come over.
Nan Jiu saw Liu Yin wearing makeup and high heels and admired, “College is great—you can dye your hair however you want. I plan to dye mine purple right after high school.”
Liu Yin said, “I graduated from a Five-year Vocational College already.”
Nan Jiu said nothing; she had thought Liu Yin was still in college.
Liu Yin noticed and said, “I did well on the Middle School Entrance Exam. Most of my class went to Technician School or started working in factories early. This cashier job I have now is something many of my classmates envy.”
Liu Yin turned on a drama on her computer. Nan Jiu stared blankly at the screen. She had middling grades on the exam but still got into a decent high school.
If she had stayed, she probably would’ve been a transfer student at Liu Yin’s school—and whether she’d get into high school was uncertain. She’d resented her grandfather and hated Song Ting, but she didn’t realize they had actually given her more choices for the future.
Liu Yin now worked at a mall cashier in the old town, on shifts. Nan Jiu could only visit her on Liu Yin’s early shift days. They no longer played games but usually hung out in Liu Yin’s room watching dramas and variety shows.
Every time Nan Jiu came over, Liu Yin asked if Song Ting was at the tea house.
After a while, Nan Jiu sensed something odd.
At dinner, Nan Jiu’s grandfather told her, “Tomorrow, someone’s coming to the tea house. Dress neatly and talk less.”
Nan Jiu laughed, “When don’t people come to the tea house? How am I not dressed neatly?”
Grandpa said earnestly, “Wu Guiying set up a girl for your uncle. She’s coming to meet him tomorrow. No one’s at his place—we can’t embarrass him.”
Nan Jiu swallowed her meat and asked, “What about his family?”
“That’s none of your business. Take that cropped top far away—don’t wear it tomorrow. Showing your belly button, what kind of look is that?”
Nan Jiu grinned, “If I don’t show off my tiny waist, isn’t my great figure wasted?”
Grandpa glared, then picked up a piece of braised pork and put it in her bowl.
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