The next day, Sunday, He Dongli made her usual rounds before taking a half-day break.
Jiang Xingyuan had asked her to go antique shopping together; she had her eye on a vintage sofa and dragged Dongli to the physical store for a second opinion.
Jiang Xingyuan and Dongli became classmates after the class reshuffle in high school, and Jiang Xingyuan was a transfer student who joined midway.
They didn’t have much interaction back then, and their majors in university were even less related.
Jiang Xingyuan and Xu Xilin, on the other hand, had been close friends for five or six years.
During those years of mutual friendship, every time Jiang Xingyuan heard about He Dongli, it was always that she was calculating, exhausted from striving to cross social classes…
In short, the kind of person who always knew exactly what she wanted.
He Dongli smiled, knowing Jiang Xingyuan had already put things very tactfully and diplomatically.
In Xu Xilin’s mouth, she was anything but a good person.
And indeed, when they quarreled, Xu Xilin would look at He Dongli in disbelief, sucking in a cold breath.
She had even cursed He Dongli, saying, “You and your mother are the same, both with the morals of a whore. Everything you eat and wear comes from your mom sleeping with my dad.”
At that time, He Dongli didn’t understand and didn’t want to defend herself, nor did she want to expose Xu Xilin’s actions to the Xu Family, just hoping for some fairness.
But there was no fairness; back then, almost everyone believed that Yu Xiaohan had gotten involved with Xu Maosen for money, for comfort, for her daughter’s more stable future.
It was true, to some extent.
Xu Maosen did steer the direction of He Dongli’s life.
But being a stepdaughter in the Xu Family was no easy task; teenagers have their own sorrows, and the first of these is the uniqueness of their parents.
The Xu Family’s children mourned their lost mother, while He Dongli hid her grievances alone in the bustling crowds, missing her father who had died of lung cancer.
One night, she mustered the courage to tell her mother she didn’t want to live with the Xu Family anymore, didn’t want to attend No. 1 High School anymore, and wanted to go back to her hometown…
But what she saw was two figures, intertwined in intoxication.
Her mother’s voice was sickly, out of tune, as if the heavens had poured a scalding rain over her, drenching her to the bone.
She fled back to her room.
The next day was the midterm exam.
After one session ended, He Dongli was locked in the bathroom from the outside.
By the time she climbed out, fifteen minutes had passed.
She still handed in her paper early, then waited outside Xu Xilin’s exam room, and wiped the grime from her palm—acquired while climbing out of the bathroom—onto Xu Xilin’s face.
Xu Xilin cursed her as a madwoman.
He Dongli finally asked the question she’d held back for so long: “Between the child of a whore and a john, which one is worth more?”
Back then, He Dongli didn’t have any particularly close friends—not the kind you confide in.
Xu Xilin would pop up from time to time to mock her: laughing at her outfits, her underwear color, the fact that she didn’t know to wear special period underwear during her cycle, and how she wore socks with open-toed sandals, looking country.
She laughed at her for not knowing New Yorkers, at the name she signed on her sketches, at how her cousin from her hometown visited and how the act of being a well-mannered girl for years was ruined by her cousin’s delinquent ways…
He Dongli was sick and tired of Xu Xilin’s relentless harassment.
Over time, it seemed they both tacitly agreed: “Those who are not my kind must think differently.”
But Xu Xilin was used to gathering friends at school, and for the sake of being contrary, He Dongli gradually became seen as the odd one out.
She spent most of her time studying and wasn’t good at the trendy hobbies girls liked.
Piano and sketching—what people bragged about in their grade—weren’t even her true self.
She was forced to learn them; her parents had no special taste for the arts, just thought, “Other kids learn, so she should too.”
Joining the Class Performance Troupe was at the strong recommendation of the Homeroom Teacher, who said if she didn’t set an example, people would think No. 1 High School’s top students only cared about academics and grades.
Those two-plus months of training were the happiest time for He Dongli.
She enjoyed the anonymous bustle more than being a performer.
Of course, Jiang Xingyuan didn’t agree with He Dongli’s account of loneliness.
She always thought He Dongli was a maverick student.
Whenever there was a big exam, during answer-checking sessions back in class, if something was still in question, they’d always ask Dongli, “Which option did you choose?”
She’d announce her answer; some would cheer, others would groan.
Jiang Xingyuan still remembers their Homeroom Teacher loved dragging out classes.
During evening self-study, he’d still be lecturing during break.
One time, He Dongli got up and left through the back door.
Old Ban asked her where she was going.
She replied matter-of-factly, passing by the row of boys in the back, “To the bathroom.”
Everyone laughed, but thanks to Dongli, after that, Old Ban either gave breaks on time or reminded everyone, “If you need the bathroom, just go, no need to report.”
He Dongli was always the one who napped during lunch, rain or shine.
No matter how competitive things got in class, she’d always nap at her desk.
She even did the eye exercises during breaks, washing her hands first.
When asked, she’d answer childishly, “Because my eyes really are tired.”
But she had little patience for explaining problems.
Many boys would come to her with their workbooks, but after a long explanation, they still didn’t get it.
She’d write out all the steps, but they’d still be confused, so she’d just rest her head on her hand, indicating she’d done all she could.
She said she didn’t have close friends because wise people always walk alone.
Even when Xu Xilin’s bullying was blatant, He Dongli could find a bunch of macro, objective reasons for her.
To the clear-cut, even radical Jiang Xingyuan, this sounded too much like the “perfect victim” narrative.
Victims never need to be perfect.
Xu Xilin couldn’t take it out on her father, so she turned her anger on He Dongli, whose fate was almost the same as hers—a rather stupid form of malice.
But as far as Jiang Xingyuan remembered, He Dongli never really lost out.
Many classmates didn’t even know their relationship; Xu Xilin just liked to form cliques and exclude others, but couldn’t do anything to He Dongli openly.
At school, Dongli always shone.
None as pretty as her had her grades; those with better grades weren’t as pleasing to the eye.
Back in school, immature kids would never admit that a beautiful face is the eternal magic of this world—on a grand scale, it’s art; on a small scale, it’s just that a nice appearance is soothing to the soul.
At thirty, Jiang Xingyuan, who often wrote about society and human nature, would sharply criticize: “No one doesn’t love a pretty face; if they say they don’t, they’re just pretending.”
During university, Jiang Xingyuan and Xu Xilin lived in the same dorm building.
It was well known that Xu Xilin’s family was wealthy, and her brother, who sometimes picked her up, fit the perfect, rich dream guy image for girls.
Even after graduation, when they each started working, Xu Xilin was still the famed heiress in their circle.
She was beautiful, bold, and sometimes playfully naive, never lacking admirers.
The reason Jiang Xingyuan and Xu Xilin fell out was pretty cliché: because of a man.
Everyone thought he was after Xu Xilin, but it turned out he was using her as bait, and the real target was Jiang Xingyuan.
Xu Xilin couldn’t save face and blamed Jiang Xingyuan for seeing through it but not warning her.
When the two talked about it over drinks, Xu Xilin claimed, “There are plenty of men; I’m not the type who can’t afford to lose. But I can’t stand you being so secretive.”
That night, they parted on bad terms.
Not long after, Jiang Xingyuan’s mother fell seriously ill.
She dropped everything to care for her mother and, at the hospital, ran into He Dongli, who was in her residency.
That was the start of their friendship; at the hospital, He Dongli helped her a lot.
Every time her mother’s illness worsened, Jiang Xingyuan would grit her teeth and hold back tears alone.
On her mother’s last birthday, He Dongli prepared a bouquet of Lily of the Valley and an Orange-flavored Cream Cake to celebrate with them.
The cake was made by Dongli herself.
She said she hadn’t made one in ages and was out of practice, but she still smiled gently and boasted to Jiang’s mom like it was no big deal: “The orange fruit cake is my own creation—really delicious, you can’t buy it in stores.”
That night, Jiang Xingyuan posted a photo of the celebration with the cake on her Moments.
Only later did she realize Xu Xilin had unilaterally deleted her as a friend.
She turned to Dongli to tattletale.
Jiang Xingyuan shrugged it off, and from then on, she and Xu Xilin had no further contact.
The Jiang family ran a food company and a Chinese fast-food chain; Jiang Xingyuan wasn’t someone to be bullied either, so she posted in her Moments: “I’ll hang out with whoever I want. I’m not the RMB; not everyone has to like me.”
These days, He Dongli only occasionally visits her mother out of formality.
But she never changed her tune about one thing: Xu Maosen always treated her well.
After everything that happened, He Dongli understood this was called “loving the house and its crow.”
The reason she decided to come back after graduation was during the autumn recruitment, when Xu Xilin called her, saying her mom was sick and questioning why she hadn’t come back.
“You took all the benefits, and now you just leave your mom at the Xu Family and don’t care?”
He Dongli borrowed a classmate’s car and drove back overnight.
In the hospital room, the only one keeping vigil was Xu Maosen.
At that moment, she felt distant from her mother.
So distant that no matter what, she couldn’t reach her mother’s bedside.
When mother and daughter were alone, Yu Xiaohan still blamed her daughter for dropping everything and rushing back.
He Dongli asked her mother why she didn’t tell her.
Yu Xiaohan, tears streaming down her face, only said, “Sorry, Xixi.”
The two hadn’t used He Dongli’s childhood nickname in a long time.
He Dongli didn’t even understand what her mother was apologizing for.
Yu Xiaohan said her daughter had grown distant, hardly ever returning to the Xu Family.
For years, Yu Xiaohan refused to face a reality—one that was exposed by an outsider.
Zong Chi, in front of the Xu Family, almost arrogantly rebuked Yu Xiaohan, “You don’t understand your daughter at all. She doesn’t like being at the Xu Family or playing the filial child. Why can’t you admit that after your remarriage, your daughter is an outsider? Why can’t you admit you tied your daughter to the Xu Family because you yourself can’t leave, because you can’t leave this man?”
In the midst of everything falling apart, He Dongli said firmly to Zong Chi, “We’ve broken up.”