Li Lanfang yelled from the old woman’s room, “Why don’t you go scold your father? Never comes home all year, just takes out your anger on me. Did I owe you something in my past life? If you’re complaining, cook yourself, you’re old enough!”
Qing Ye felt her ears buzzing, like a swarm of flies constantly bombarding her eardrums. Since arriving at this awful place in the afternoon, there hadn’t been a single normal person – everyone communicated by shouting, making her already irritated mood even more unbearable.
Xing Wu was about to speak when he saw Qing Ye lowering her head, unusually quiet, her chopsticks motionless. He finally held back from arguing with Li Lanfang, falling into a rare silence.
Xing Wu’s eyes caught the last remaining meatball in the bowl, and he pushed the plate toward Qing Ye. At the same moment, Qing Ye slammed down her chopsticks and stood up, walking inside.
Xing Wu looked at her bowl of barely touched rice and became angry too, turning his head to coldly say to her retreating figure, “Eat when there’s food to eat. Only fools fight with their stomach. Nobody here will coddle you.”
Qing Ye’s footsteps paused briefly before she pushed aside the curtain and went in. Eat your sister’s food – if she stayed any longer, she’d be eaten alive by mosquitoes.
Since the afternoon, she’d been wondering if Li Lanfang was missing a screw. Her husband never came home, and Qing Ye was a girl – instead of arranging for her to stay in Li Lanfang’s room, she had her sleep in her son’s room.
But when Qing Ye went upstairs and glanced into Li Lanfang’s room, those thoughts completely disappeared.
Li Lanfang’s room looked like a warehouse, piled with broken cardboard boxes everywhere. Hair dye bottles, shampoo bottles, and conditioning treatment boxes were strewn about, with just enough space in the middle for a bed, which was covered in clothes thrown everywhere, including bras – it looked like a pigsty. She immediately dismissed her earlier thoughts; at least Xing Wu’s room, though small, was neat and clean.
Qing Ye returned to the room, frantically scratching her legs which were both painful and itchy. Soon they were covered in red marks. Were even the mosquitoes here so demonic? Truly vicious insects from poor mountains and evil waters.
Heavy footsteps appeared on the stairs, and Xing Wu stopped at the doorway, glancing at her legs. He didn’t enter immediately, and Qing Ye pulled the ugly floral curtain shut with an unfriendly expression, drawing a clear boundary.
Footsteps sounded beside her, followed by the sound of opening cabinets and rummaging. Suddenly, a green bottle flew through the floral curtain and landed on the bed. Qing Ye picked it up – it was a bottle of essential balm oil.
She hated the smell of essential balm oil and threw it back. The floral curtain was yanked open, and Xing Wu coldly held up the small bottle, looking at her: “The mosquitoes here are toxic. If you don’t want scars, don’t be so damn prissy.”
Qing Ye bit her lip without speaking. Xing Wu threw the essential balm oil to her again, and soon the room was filled with its scent. Qing Ye applied it while sweating profusely, hot and sticky, with sweat dripping down her cheeks.
Shortly after, a cool breeze blew in, and the areas where she’d applied the oil felt refreshingly cool. She looked up at Xing Wu, who had his legs propped up on the desk, sitting by the window smoking.
Qing Ye found the smoke irritating and frowned, looking at him seriously: “Put out the cigarette.”
Xing Wu curled his lips playfully and took a leisurely drag, exhaling: “Get the situation straight – this is my house, my room.”
Qing Ye screwed the cap back on the essential balm oil, pulled open her suitcase, quickly grabbed some clothes, and ran downstairs with heavy footsteps.
Xing Wu shifted his gaze from the doorway to the window, slightly furrowing his brows.
Downstairs, Qing Ye ran into Li Lanfang, who was preparing to go next door to play mahjong. She couldn’t believe that Li Lanfang played in the shop during the day and still went out to play at night – how addicted was she?
Looking at Li Lanfang about to leave, she asked, “Where do I take a bath?”
Li Lanfang pointed to the backyard: “Next to the toilet. If you need anything, call Xing Wu. I’ll be back later.”
Then she hurried off.
Qing Ye turned and walked into the backyard, glancing at Xing Wu’s grandmother’s room, which was dark with lights out. The yard was empty, with the other half connecting to several neighboring houses. Qing Ye looked away and walked toward the so-called bathroom.
Upon entering the bathroom, Qing Ye froze – cement floor, cement walls, a completely rusted shower head, and a yellowish light bulb covered in tiny moths, utterly disgusting.
There was a wooden stool at the bathroom entrance, apparently for placing clothes. Qing Ye put down tissue paper as a barrier before placing her clean clothes on it. As she pulled down the zipper of her dress, suddenly a shirtless man burst in.