The blind date with Zhou Yan went smoothly enough. Song Ting was polite and attentive, pouring tea for her and offering tea snacks, but he didn’t bother to explain any of Nan Jiu’s nonsense to Zhou Yan. They hadn’t been talking long before the meeting was hurriedly wrapped up.
Nan Jiu entered anxiously from outside. Nan Jiu’s Grandfather was busy behind the counter and glanced up at her briefly.
A little later, after finishing his tasks, Nan Jiu’s Grandfather knocked on her door. Nan Jiu lay on her bed, the TV off, staring blankly at the ceiling.
He came in and sat on the bamboo stool, hands resting on his cane handle, and asked, “Lost your soul?”
Nan Jiu snapped back to reality, looked at him, then shot up from the bed and went to the door, peeking out before closing it behind her. She turned back with a stiff face and a tight voice, “Song Ting’s father killed his mother?”
Her grandfather was momentarily stunned.
“Who told you that?”
Nan Jiu didn’t betray Li Chongguang and vaguely replied, “People were talking at the gate, I overheard some of it. It sounded scary.”
“His mother suffered while she was alive, following his father. But his father got what he deserved.”
Outside, the sun had set and the light dimmed. The room was dark without the lights on. Nan Jiu sat on the edge of the bed, her neck stiff, eyes fixed unwaveringly on her grandfather.
He looked at her like she was a wooden post planted there and said, “This isn’t something you should be told. You can know, but don’t go gossiping outside. If your Uncle Song hears it, it won’t be good.”
“I know.”
Nan Jiu had some self-awareness.
“I really didn’t expect his family to have such a big problem. He seems normal to me, I mean, his emotions are pretty steady.”
Nan Jiu’s Grandfather blinked slowly through his cloudy eyes.
“So what now? It’s happened. If he can’t bear it himself, who else can help? If your heart isn’t strong enough, you’d have collapsed long ago.”
Nan Jiu couldn’t put herself in his shoes. Her parents were only divorced; if it were as bad as that, it would be like the sky was falling for her.
Then she realized something worse. That afternoon, she had thought that even if the blind date didn’t work out, Song Ting could still get together with Liu Yin.
But her grandfather said Liu Yin’s family would never agree. A few hours ago, she didn’t know the reason behind that and hadn’t cared.
Now, thinking it over, her expression darkened. The scandal back then had stirred the entire alley, and Liu Yin’s family surely knew about it well. No family would feel comfortable marrying their daughter into that.
Zhou Yan might be Song Ting’s only choice, but Nan Jiu had foolishly ruined that chance. If Song Ting can’t find a wife in the future, the guilt would be heavy on her.
Nan Jiu squinted and her voice trembled, “It’s over. Did I ruin his whole future?”
Her grandfather glared at her.
“You!” He stood up and sighed as he headed for the door, but ultimately didn’t scold her further.
***
After seeing Zhou Yan off, Song Ting went about tidying the tea table as usual, busy with chores around the tea house.
Nan Jiu cracked the door open just a bit, eyes darting around. When Song Ting passed by the door carrying the tea set, she opened the door and leaned out.
“Um…”
Song Ting stopped, his broad shoulders blocking the hallway light.
“Have you explained things to her?”
Nan Jiu half-hid behind the door, her eyes flickering nervously.
Song Ting lowered his head, his gaze briefly scanning her face. His expression was casual, not blaming her.
This only made Nan Jiu more guilty.
“It’s not hopeless, right? I think Zhou Yan likes you. You should text her more, praise her a lot — women like to hear compliments. If that doesn’t work, you can ask her out again, and I’ll explain everything clearly to her.”
Song Ting said nothing in reply but instead asked, “Who did your makeup?”
“Liu Yin.”
Nan Jiu, seeing he wasn’t mad, opened the door and stepped out.
“Looks good, right?”
Song Ting withdrew his gaze and turned around.
“Too mature. Doesn’t suit you.”
“Does complimenting someone make you lose a piece of flesh?”
Nan Jiu muttered after his back as he rounded the corner. Then quietly added, “No wonder you can’t get a wife.”
Song Ting stopped abruptly, twisted his neck. Nan Jiu immediately felt a chilly breeze and hurried back inside, shutting the door firmly.
***
Song Ting and Nan Jiu’s Grandfather were busy managing the tea house all day and had no time to cook. Aside from breakfast, Wu Guiying handled the other two meals. Wu Aunty helped out in the tea house and received a small monthly wage.
Although not much, she was happy with the work. Her family lived in the alley, and when it was slow, Nan Jiu’s Grandfather let her go home to rest but still paid her. Wu Aunty’s husband died early, and her daughter was not nearby.
She liked earning the extra money with little to do. Occasionally, if Wu Aunty couldn’t make it, cooking duties fell to Song Ting.
One noon a few days later, Nan Jiu woke up late. Song Ting and her grandfather had already eaten. Wu Aunty left some food for Nan Jiu, who sat alone in the Small Kitchen eating.
Wu Aunty called Song Ting outside the kitchen and told him, “Zhou Yan’s side sent word. She actually likes you, but her family feels your situation is inconsistent and worries there might be trouble. Here’s what I think: prepare some gifts, and I’ll help you make a visit.”
“Then we can figure out how to smooth things over. Also, her family requested that any children you have take the surname Zhou. But they also promised to prepare an apartment for you in the city.”
Though unspoken, this basically meant Song Ting would have to marry in and join Zhou Yan’s family. From Wu Aunty’s perspective, although Zhou Yan was older and ordinary-looking, just agreeing to provide a dowry apartment was enough reason for Song Ting not to refuse.
However, this temptation didn’t change Song Ting’s expression. He said calmly, “Forget it. No need to bother.”
Wu Aunty wanted to persuade him more, but someone called Song Ting from outside. He thanked her and went to attend to customers.
That evening, Nan Jiu watched TV in her room while Song Ting and her grandfather counted the accounts outside. Nan Jiu’s Grandfather brought up Zhou Yan’s matter with a troubled look.
“I heard from Wu Guiying, this all happened because of Xiaojiu.”
Nan Jiu lowered the volume and pricked up her ears when she heard her name.
“It’s not Xiaojiu’s fault,” Song Ting’s muffled voice came.
“Are you also unwilling?”
“The mountain business just started these past two years.
After spring, I’ll be gone there often. Not being home would also bother them. You all don’t need to worry on my account.”
After their conversation about the mountain affairs, Nan Jiu turned the TV back to normal volume.
***
The summer break was almost over in the blink of an eye. Nan Zhendong came to pick Nan Jiu up and brought his eldest son Xiao Kai along to visit the grandfather.
Five-year-old Xiao Kai had successfully turned himself into a hefty 70-jin chubby boy. Nan Zhendong and Liao Hong didn’t think their son was overweight; instead, they bragged to everyone about his big appetite and lack of fussiness.
Xiao Kai usually stayed at his grandmother’s house. Liao Hong disliked Hat Alley’s remote poverty and was unwilling to return, so Xiao Kai rarely saw his grandfather. Nan Jiu’s Grandfather stuffed a big Red Envelope into Xiao Kai’s hands, ignoring the boy’s heavy frame and insisting on carrying him onto his lap.
Wu Guiying had gone to her daughter’s home, so that morning, Song Ting went to buy groceries. Nan Jiu’s Grandfather asked Nan Jiu to help Song Ting in the kitchen.
Nan Jiu ran into the kitchen with a sulky face. Sometimes she cracked an egg on the counter, sometimes she stirred frantically with chopsticks in the ceramic bowl.
Song Ting asked her to chop some tomatoes, but her chopping sounded like she was hacking at pig trotters. The usually quiet kitchen became a noisy mess after she came in, as if she wanted to blow up the whole place.
Song Ting took the kitchen knife from her.
“You don’t have to do this. Go sit over there.”
Nan Jiu turned and headed to the small stool but kicked the pickle jar on the way.
Song Ting heard the noise and turned around. Seeing her angry face, he asked, “Who upset you?”
“Grandpa.”
Nan Jiu lifted her slender neck and complained, “The moment my little brother arrived, look how doting he is. Usually limping around with his cane, pretending his legs hurt, but when the kid’s here, all pain disappears and he won’t let go. I even saw him give Xiao Kai a Red Envelope, but it’s not New Year or a festival. Why give a Red Envelope? He’s my grandpa too. Why didn’t he give me one?”
“Isn’t that favoritism? I think it’s more than favoritism—it’s male preference. I thought he was different from my dad, but now I see they’re the same. It’s like there’s a throne to inherit at home, so precious is the son. Why even have me in the first place…”
Song Ting finished cutting the vegetables, heated the oil, stir-fried, seasoned, then plated the dish. Nan Jiu’s complaints kept coming, even escalating to a whole discussion on gender imbalance.
Song Ting glanced sideways and caught sight of Nan Jiu sulking on the stool. The corners of his eyes twitched into a barely noticeable smile.
After all, it was just jealousy over grandpa doting on the grandson, but she couldn’t express it openly and instead hid away in the kitchen, quietly upset.
“Have you ever thought about…” Song Ting switched off the exhaust fan and leaned against the stove.
Nan Jiu looked up at him.
“Thought about what?”
“This is your brother’s first visit. For feelings and propriety, it’s only right to give a Red Envelope. If we talk about what’s been invested, your grandfather has spent way more on you than that Red Envelope, hasn’t he?”
“It wouldn’t be fair if your brother came all this way and your grandfather ignored him but only talked to you. That’s not balancing things.”
Song Ting’s words smoothed the knot in Nan Jiu’s heart. The anger bottled up inside her began to subside. Even though she disliked seeing her grandfather so affectionate toward Xiao Kai, she had to admit it was natural for him to spoil his grandson. No matter how unhappy she was, she had to hold it in.
At home, this happened every day. Liao Hong was Xiao Kai’s mother, and Nan Zhendong, mindful of the young boy, centered the family around him. Any feelings Nan Jiu expressed were dismissed as childishness, so to be “mature” she had to bottle it all up.
Over time, she had become like a Ninja Turtle, silently enduring. Her expectations of her parents were worn down by repeated neglect until she simply no longer cared.
Her feelings toward her grandfather arose because she could get more affection there. But that affection wasn’t hers alone; it was just that the other grandchildren weren’t around at the same time. Grandpa could spoil her just as much as he could spoil the others.
Nan Jiu swallowed her grievances and went to wash her face. When she came out, her expression was once again indifferent, as if she hadn’t just been the one complaining.
Seeing her act like nothing was wrong, Song Ting handed her the plate.
“Take it and eat.”
Nan Zhendong had met Song Ting only twice, both brief greetings. This time, having some free time, he wanted to have a proper drink with Song Ting. Song Ting bought two bottles of White Liquor. During the meal, they clinked glasses and talked family matters.
Nan Zhendong mostly scolded Nan Jiu, saying his daughter was hard to manage, stubborn, and didn’t listen.
Nan Jiu seemed numb, showing no reaction to her father’s scolding, just keeping her head down to eat.
Nan Jiu’s Grandfather glanced at her and spoke to Nan Zhendong, “Say less. She’s a grown girl now.”
“What does it matter? I’m not saying this in front of strangers. Xiao Song is family.”
Nan Zhendong grew more talkative after a few drinks.
Song Ting smiled lightly and changed the topic.
“I recently went up the mountain. Several inns have been built at the foot. Some kids staying there didn’t know what rice plants were and trampled a large area of crops while playing.”
“Kids nowadays don’t know what rice looks like,” Nan Zhendong said, picking up a spear of asparagus.
Song Ting raised his cup. His black eyes, set under deep brows, were thoughtful.
“Right, kids are young and inexperienced, but adults should know better…”
“‘If a child is not taught, it’s the father’s fault.’”
Nan Zhendong quoted the saying. “If adults teach properly, how would the children destroy the crops? But you didn’t finish the last half of the saying.” Song Ting left it hanging.
Nan Jiu’s Grandfather obviously caught the meaning and raised his eyes at his son. Nan Zhendong might or might not have realized it.
Nan Jiu, with her perfect reading comprehension, understood Song Ting was speaking up for her, though it was said very subtly.