Every time his self-reflection reached its conclusion, he would inexplicably think of Ding Zhitong, realizing how similar his current avoidant personality was to hers back then.
After a flight of over two hours, the plane landed in Ho Chi Minh City.
The city was equally complex and noisy, with more vibrant architecture, more motorcycles, and a hazier atmosphere. Seeing the PM2.5 warning on the plane, Ding Zhitong felt somewhat disappointed, realizing this place was also unsuitable for running.
However, the next day, after visiting a factory in the suburbs, the local manager said he wanted to treat them to a meal and took them to a seaside location 200 kilometers from Ho Chi Minh City. As the sea breeze blew, the sky turned blue again.
As they got out of the car, her phone vibrated. She looked down to see Gan Yang asking: “Ding Zhitong, do you want to go running with me?”
She smiled without replying, knowing it was his arrangement.
That evening’s dinner was at a small seaside restaurant, with tables set on a concrete embankment next to recently returned fishing boats. Steamed crabs were served with barnacles still attached to their shells.
The sunset had already faded, the pink-orange afterglow turning deep blue as night slowly fell. As the meal progressed, drinks were inevitable. Li Jiaxin could handle it, while Ding Zhitong was content to be idle, joining for a couple of drinks before climbing down the concrete embankment steps to the beach below.
She was wearing canvas shoes that day, afraid of getting them wet, so she took them off, holding them with her fingers, and walked barefoot on the sand. The sand wasn’t very fine but felt real, and the seawater wasn’t cold. She stood there watching the tides wash up repeatedly until someone approached from behind. She turned to see Gan Yang.
Neither knew who initiated it, but they began walking along the waterline.
Ding Zhitong brought up the story she heard on the plane, asking, “That interpreter from Guangdong University of Foreign Studies, did you have a relationship with her?”
Gan Yang was taken aback, asking, “Why do you say that?”
Ding Zhitong replied, “She seems interesting. If I were you, I would have liked her.”
“Really?” Gan Yang responded ambiguously.
Ding Zhitong teased him, saying, “I thought we had reached a point of complete honesty.”
Gan Yang thought for a moment, then answered, “If you want to hear it, I’ll tell you.”
So it was true! Ding Zhitong nodded, saying, “I want to hear it, tell me quickly.”
Gan Yang sighed, feeling that her way of treating him was sliding towards being a close friend, yet suddenly remembered the past when, after their first time making love, she had also lain beside him inquiring about his ex-girlfriends.
That should have been around the end of 2011.
One day, the interpreter met him at the hotel entrance and suddenly stopped to look at him, saying, “I just realized you’re quite good-looking.”
Gan Yang didn’t know how to respond. He was wearing five-yuan shorts and ten-yuan flip-flops, holding a half-eaten banana, and said “Thank you” with mixed feelings – pleased at the compliment but wondering how bad he must have looked six months ago.
Sometime later, as the factory building was completed, several engineers came from China to debug the equipment.
Gan Yang treated everyone to a meal. After the dinner, the former shoe factory owner suggested experiencing “Vietnamese culture.” At first, the engineers were hesitant, but eventually, they all knowingly went along, leaving only Gan Yang and the interpreter to return to the hotel.
As they left the restaurant, the interpreter complained to him, “Why are all men like this? Even those who seem quite honest back home lose their humanity when they come here.”
Gan Yang didn’t know how to respond. The criticism was too broad – he was also a man, and although he didn’t go, the former factory owner would probably come back with receipts for reimbursement.
The interpreter seemed to realize this and casually reassured him: “I don’t mean you, you’re an exception…”
Gan Yang was complimented again, but his brain responded honestly: “I haven’t been feeling well lately.”
“Oh…” The atmosphere suddenly became awkward, and the interpreter glanced at him.
Gan Yang knew his words might lead to misunderstandings, but trying to explain further seemed even stranger and unnecessary.
Seeing his silence, the interpreter seemed to understand something and gave him a sympathetic look.
Meanwhile, the first batch of recruitment also began.
The local union was contacted through the interpreter’s connections, as one of the union’s “fathers” had a daughter studying Chinese at Hanoi University of Foreign Languages, who was the interpreter’s junior.
The girl was brought to the factory by the interpreter. She was short like most locals but very beautiful with a curvaceous figure.
The former factory owner’s eyes changed when he saw her, staring as he asked for her phone number. The girl didn’t mind, saying she wanted to practice her Chinese oral skills, and added them all on ZingChat.
A few days later, the former factory owner indeed invited her out again, under the pretext of a group dinner. During the meal, the girl was gentle and enthusiastic, speaking broken Mandarin, subtly mentioning that she was about to graduate and wanted an internship at the factory. The former factory owner, as the factory manager, naturally agreed readily.
Gan Yang watched from the side, occasionally joining in the conversation, but once she left, he found an opportunity to remind him, “Remember her father’s position, don’t cause any international labor disputes for me.”
Though said jokingly, the listener clearly understood it wasn’t a joke, immediately nodding and responding, “I understand everything you’re saying, but this time I’m serious.”
Although he emphasized “really,” Gan Yang still didn’t quite believe it and paid close attention for a while after the girl came for her internship.
The former factory owner did keep his word, always inviting a group of colleagues when dining out, and behaving properly. The girl got along well with everyone, often chatting with Chinese colleagues to practice her Chinese, and sometimes coming to Gan Yang.
Until one day, things took a strange turn.
The girl messaged him on ZingChat, saying she was writing an assignment about Lu Xun’s “The New Year’s Sacrifice” and had some questions.
Gan Yang hadn’t attended high school in China. He had read Lu Xun but had never done reading comprehension exercises. With the principle of serving the “union father” well, he opened Baidu and said, “Go ahead and ask.”
The girl asked, “In the story, Xianglin’s Wife was bought by He Laoliu as a wife. Do Chinese people still buy wives now?”
Gan Yang answered, “Of course not nowadays.”
But she sent a mischievous emoji, saying, “But you buy Vietnamese brides.”
Gan Yang felt awkward, thinking the conversation would turn towards abstract topics like international relations.
Instead, the next message was: “Would you buy me?”
Gan Yang was stunned, and before he could reply, she added: “For free.”
At that moment, he realized he didn’t feel like he had encountered good fortune in love, but quickly calculated in his mind how many people he would offend if he answered this question wrong – the union leader, the former factory owner, and the interpreter…
After calculating, he carefully joked: “You’re a very nice girl, I like you a lot, but unfortunately I’ve already been sold to someone else, also for free.”