Nan Jiu changed into her vest and finally agreed to walk with a straight back. Song Ting was behind the counter unpacking cigarettes; he took out a pack, slipped it into his pocket, and tucked the rest into the drawer beneath the counter.
Nan Jiu’s Grandfather leaned back in his reclining chair, holding a palm-leaf fan, lazily fanning now and then.
“Charge the cigarettes to the account,” he said.
“No need, I’ll pay myself,” Song Ting replied, then went off to attend to the customers.
Nan Jiu dragged a small stool over beside the reclining chair, snatched the fan from her grandfather’s hand, and fanned vigorously, whispering, “Working here and still managing cigarettes? You’re really generous.”
Nan Jiu recognized the cigarette brand. In the past, every time Nan Zhendong picked her up from school, he would buy cigarettes at the downstairs convenience store.
Nan Zhendong’s spending on cigarettes was not small; her stepmother often argued with him about it, urging him to quit. The brand Song Ting just bought was twice as expensive as the ones Nan Zhendong usually smoked.
Nan Jiu’s Grandfather replied, “Those aren’t for him. Your Uncle Song doesn’t smoke.”
“Then why does he buy cigarettes?”
Nan Jiu tilted her head, staring at her grandfather.
He explained, “Just like the old tea houses, besides customers coming to drink tea, there were ear pickers, foot masseurs, newspaper sellers, fortune tellers, sesame candy hawkers… When all kinds of people gather, trouble is bound to happen — petty theft, quarrels, fights. We have to keep an eye on everything while serving tea, and if tensions rise, step in to mediate quickly.”
“Now your Uncle Song runs this place, and he has his own way of keeping order. When new faces come, offering a cigarette and chatting a bit helps figure out who they are. If regulars start arguing, pulling them aside with a cigarette calms them down.”
“This cigarette, he might not smoke it, but he can’t be without it. You need to learn a thing or two from your Uncle Song about these social rules.”
Nan Jiu heard and promptly forgot. She was still young and uninterested in the tea house’s business intricacies. Seizing a break after Song Ting finished serving tea, she sneaked up to him and handed back the change from buying her vest.
Song Ting glanced down but didn’t take it. “Keep it,” he said, then went back to his work.
With Nan Jiu’s Grandfather’s protection, Nan Jiu didn’t have to care about others’ moods. Instead, she became a favorite; the old tea customers always smiled warmly and often secretly slipped her some treats.
School had started, but Nan Jiu didn’t want to return to Feng City. She stayed by her grandfather’s side for three months straight. Her father was absorbed in the joy of the new baby and paid little attention to her. Her mother was only too glad to avoid having Nan Jiu complicate her life, ignoring her completely.
Nan Jiu quickly made a group of friends her age in Hat Alley. No homework, no classes—every day was wild, like a bunch of feral kids.
Of course, she wasn’t hanging around the tea house for nothing. Nan Jiu’s Grandfather would have her arrange the tea snacks. The pairing of teas and snacks was very particular.
Black Tea should be paired with sour fruit preserves to enrich its flavor; Green Tea, with its slight bitterness, needed sweet treats like Osmanthus Cake or Yam Cake to balance it out; the oil in nuts could offset the tannins in Oolong Tea that irritated the stomach. Different snacks matched Black Tea and White Tea as well.
Presentation mattered too. Customers came to the tea house to relax and chat leisurely. The snacks couldn’t be haphazardly arranged—it had to be orderly and pleasing to the eye.
Nan Jiu quickly caught on. She quietly adjusted the platters, stacking the same pastries in alternating piles, ensuring both beauty and, unnoticed, a few pieces went missing. As for where those went—they all ended up in her stomach.
Most of the time, Nan Jiu lived with her father and stepmother.
After her stepmother became pregnant, she mostly stayed at her parents’ home, and her father often went there too. Nan Jiu rarely had regular meals or snacks at home. Unable to eat properly there, she wanted to eat everything she saw when she was out.
Occasionally, Nan Jiu’s Grandfather would remind her not to steal snacks. Whenever that happened, she knew it meant the guests were important, so she’d behave and serve the right amounts.
One day near closing time, two men arrived who seemed familiar to Song Ting.
He led them to a table in the inner room, and the three sat around discussing matters. Nan Jiu, a little night owl, was curled up in the side room watching TV.
Steam hissed from the spout of the copper kettle, and her grandfather was watching it, telling Nan Jiu to bring the snacks to the table.
Nan Jiu jumped up with a thud, running over to her grandfather, picked up the platter, and started to leave. Her grandfather tapped her leg with his Wutong Cane.
“No stealing.”
Nan Jiu pulled her hand back just as it touched the platter. Living with her grandfather, she ate dinner early and was hungry now. Ten years old was a greedy age.
She put down the snacks, eyeing the Walnut Cake. While Song Ting talked to the two men, he picked up a Walnut Cake, hid it behind his back, and handed it to Nan Jiu.
Nan Jiu didn’t dare eat it in front of her grandfather. Clutching the cake, she slipped to the flower pot behind Song Ting and stuffed it into her mouth in one bite.
On her way back past her grandfather, Nan Jiu planned to sneak quietly back to her room. Her grandfather didn’t look up but scolded in a low voice, “Stealing and don’t even wipe your mouth?”
Nan Jiu retorted defiantly, “I’m not stealing. Your godson gave it to me.”
Her grandfather tapped her shin with the cane.
“Call him Uncle Song. No respect.”
Because her grandfather took Song Ting as his godson, Song Ting’s generation was above Nan Jiu’s, and she was supposed to call him Uncle Song. But after so long, she never did, and Song Ting never minded her childish behavior.
When her grandfather went to serve tea, Nan Jiu snatched the cane and hid it under her bed.
Without his cane, Nan Jiu’s Grandfather moved just fine.
After serving tea, he didn’t ask where the cane had gone, as if he’d forgotten about it entirely.
After the two men left, Song Ting locked the tea house door. Nan Jiu’s Grandfather fiddled with his abacus beads and said, “You were supposed to watch Nan Jiu arrange the snacks, and she gave you less. Didn’t you say anything?”
He clearly knew Song Ting was aware. Song Ting dealt with customers daily and could tell at a glance the correct number of snacks. With the old man pressing, Song Ting had to confess.
He calmly replied while clearing the plates, “She’s your granddaughter.”
Working for Nan Jiu’s Grandfather, one had to know when to keep quiet. The old man often turned a blind eye, but if Song Ting started fussing, that would be overstepping.
The beads clicked in his hand, a smile tugged at his lips, and the matter was dropped.
***
Nan Jiu went back to her room to watch TV. The best thing about staying with her grandfather was she could change channels freely—a luxury she couldn’t enjoy at her father’s house. Back in ’08, the tea house’s TV still used a Satellite Dish, and the signal often faltered.
Halfway through a show, the screen would go snowy, driving Nan Jiu to fetch a wooden ladder and climb up on the roof to tinker with the antenna. She didn’t understand how it worked, but every time she fiddled with the aerial or gave the dish a few knocks, the signal returned. If it didn’t, she’d just keep knocking until it did.
One afternoon, Nan Jiu’s Grandfather was napping in the recliner. Nan Jiu snuck up on the roof again, butt sticking out as she stepped on the tiles by the eaves, “casting spells” on the dish.
Song Ting was fetching something from the attic when he heard the roof creak. He opened the attic window, put his hands down for support, and jumped onto the roof.
He saw the tile under Nan Jiu’s foot hanging over the edge with nothing below. Song Ting grabbed her arm and pulled her down.
Hearing the noise, her grandfather asked what happened. Afraid of being scolded, Nan Jiu ran back to her room and hid behind the door, eavesdropping on Song Ting and her grandfather’s conversation.
Song Ting didn’t mention her climbing the roof but asked when Nan Jiu would start school. Her grandfather knew Nan Jiu’s constant presence at his old tea house meant neglecting her studies, which was a problem.
He asked Song Ting about nearby middle schools. Education resources in Hat Alley were poor, and Song Ting advised that if she could study in a big city, she shouldn’t delay it.
A few days later, Nan Zhendong was forcibly called back by Nan Jiu’s Grandfather. After a fierce scolding, he was ordered to bring Nan Jiu home.
Thus ended Nan Jiu’s first and only runaway.
Before leaving, Nan Jiu pulled her hidden cane from under the bed and leaned it against the old recliner.
***
After returning, Nan Jiu’s Grandfather paid to hire a tutor for her, to catch her up on missed lessons. Though he instructed Nan Zhendong to pay more attention to Nan Jiu, her home life didn’t improve.
As her baby brother learned to walk and talk, Nan Jiu’s living space at her father’s house shrank. Even her bedroom corner filled with her brother’s toys and diapers.
At that time, they lived in a company-provided apartment in Victoryhua. Although slightly out of the main urban area, the 80-square-meter apartment had three rooms and a spacious living room.
Nan Zhendong’s stepmother, Liao Hong, born in the city center, always carried an air of superiority. Every trip to her parents’ home, she boasted about “moving to the city.”
Under Liao Hong’s influence, Nan Zhendong finally decided to sell the 80-square-meter apartment and move the family into a 54-square-meter high-rise in the city center.
The building wasn’t in an official residential community. Several similarly sized high-rises stood tightly packed together; opening the window meant looking across at a neighbor in his underwear eating watermelon.
Liao Hong didn’t feel their living conditions had worsened. On the contrary, she beamed and boasted to acquaintances about their new home’s excellent school district, proximity to the market downstairs, and convenient bus routes.
The 54 square meters was the registered area; after common spaces, the actual living area was only about 40 square meters. The new home had only two rooms and a cramped living room that barely fit a dining table.
How to divide the two rooms? Nan Zhendong and Liao Hong decided on a whim to send Nan Jiu to boarding school. Naturally, the new home no longer had a room for her.
According to the divorce agreement, Nan Jiu would spend school holidays at her mother’s. This conveniently got Nan Zhendong and Liao Hong rid of Nan Jiu.
Ironically, just two months after moving, Nan Zhendong’s colleague told him the old neighborhood’s subway construction had started. Over the next few years, the area near the subway saw the largest lifestyle plaza in Feng City built, attracting major chain supermarkets and entertainment venues.
Residential buildings and office towers sprung up around the plaza. The Victoryhua area became integrated with first- and second-tier cities. Medical, educational, and business resources gradually shifted to the city center.
The wealthy and young people rushed to buy houses in Victoryhua, and the old neighborhood’s housing prices skyrocketed. Most of Nan Zhendong’s old colleagues living there enjoyed the benefits of urban renewal.
Fortunes changed swiftly. Living in Victoryhua became a symbol of status.
Nan Zhendong and Liao Hong went from ambitious youth to blaming each other, then constant quarrels. Every time Nan Jiu returned from school, the cramped home and chaotic atmosphere annoyed her deeply. She began making excuses not to go home, even spending weekends wandering outside.
In high school, Nan Jiu cut her hair short, got ear and navel piercings, and fell in love with street dance and skateboarding. Every Sunday she would go to the Commercial Backstreet to dance and show off her skills. Starting mid-first semester of senior year, her grades plummeted.
Nan Zhendong got a call from school and finally noticed the change in his daughter. He took Nan Jiu home and suddenly played the role of a strict father, trying to reform his rebellious daughter. Nan Jiu didn’t argue, didn’t talk back, didn’t get angry—she just smiled faintly as if watching a joke.
Determined to discipline her properly, Nan Zhendong’s “discipline” was to send Nan Jiu to live with her grandfather.
He told Nan Jiu’s Grandfather that her failing grades were because she had fallen in with a rough crowd and might be in a relationship, which was affecting her studies.
He believed that sending her out of Feng City, away from that environment, would help her get into Peking University or Tsinghua University.
Perhaps Nan Zhendong truly thought this way. After a meal in Hat Alley, he felt relieved and returned to Feng City without a care in the world.
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