A Guide to Wasting Life - Chapter 6

Xu Nianzhu jumped out of bed, like a turtle retreating into its shell. She boiled some water, stirred in honey, and took a sip.

At that moment, she felt an overwhelming sense of conflict-hoping he would reply, yet also dreading it.

A pessimistic optimist. She was always such a tangle of contradictions, caught between wanting to live and yet flirted with self-destruction. She yearned for love, but then she’d squander it, almost intentionally.

An unsolvable problem, it seemed.

After all, they were just strangers crossing paths. Perhaps this was the best ending for the situation.

Xu Nianzhu let out a silent sigh and thought of the question she hadn’t yet dared to ask that day.

Trying to distract herself, Xu Nianzhu decided to take a shower. She set the water temperature just high enough to turn her skin red, enjoying the sensation as if it gave every pore a fresh start. The bathroom filled with steam, and for a brief moment, she felt like an idle little fairy with no cares in the world.

Having missed the hotel’s breakfast buffet, she felt a twinge of regret. If nothing else, the signature salty soybean milk she had tried over the past few days had left a lasting impression. Unlike salty tofu pudding, which could seem off-putting at first glance, this was a pleasant surprise.

After drying her hair, Xu Nianzhu picked a comfortable long dress from her suitcase and put it on. Sitting down at the desk, she opened her laptop. She had planned to edit the photos she had taken over the past few days into a nine-image travel post for Weibo. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t focus. The sentences she typed out were clunky and riddled with awkward phrasing.

So, forcing herself to move on hadn’t really made her feel better, after all.

Forget it. She wouldn’t post anything.

Just as she was about to close her laptop, Xu Nianzhu noticed a new direct message notification pop up on Weibo.

She clicked on it. It was from a younger girl she knew through chatting online, a high schooler in Jiang City.

Zoee: [Sis Salty Fish, I just saw you’re online! My mom asked me to check with you about something~~]

Zoee: [/cute emoticons/]

Xu Nianzhu’s Weibo handle was “Big Salted Fish,” so naturally, she had this girl call her “Sis Salty Fish.” She couldn’t have her keep calling her “good sister” and always taking advantage of that, could she?

Big Salted Fish: [Yep, I’m here. What’s up?]

Zoee: [I’m in my senior year of high school now, and my English is a little weak. My mom was wondering if you were planning to move back to Jiang City after graduation, and if so, would you be willing to set aside some time each week to tutor me?]

Zoee: [My mom and I both really like you~~]

During her first year of graduate school, a senior sister in her department was busy writing her thesis and introduced her to a part-time tutoring job. Since she was studying English, Xu Nianzhu thought it would be a good opportunity to gain some experience, so she agreed.

Over the next three years, she would regularly share videos of her explaining high school English practice exams and some tips for the graduate entrance exam on Weibo. Bit by bit, she accumulated a loyal fan base. Some considerable income was also saved up this way.

Big Salted Fish: [It’s still uncertain right now. But if I decide to go back, I’ll let you know in advance.]

Zoee: [Okay, sister. I won’t disturb you then. Have a pleasant journey!]

Big Salted Fish: [No worries, you should focus on your studies too. Last year, go for it!]

Zoee: [Go, go, go!!!]

Phew-

Closing the page, Xu Nianzhu let out a sigh in front of her computer screen.

Is she, a jobless drifter, inexplicably finding a relatively easy job within her comfort zone?

But the work location…

Maybe due to drinking too much lately, Xu Nianzhu’s eyelids were twitching, making her realize there’s no need to be superstitious about which eye indicates good or bad luck.

She got up, pressed her fingers against her forehead, passed the floor-to-ceiling mirror, and walked to the window, pulling the curtain aside with a swoosh.

It seemed that Hang City had particularly welcomed her these days; behind the oil-painted clouds, a magnificent light blue poured down. The hotel was near the commercial street, and as she gazed into the distance, vehicles flowed continuously at the intersection, while pedestrians hurried along.

A few weeks ago, a social interview had completely spurred Xu Nianzhu to embark on this spontaneous trip.

The interviewee mentioned that in China, not only is there no gap year, but even a gap month doesn’t exist, and sometimes there’s even just a single or dual day off. He said that when he went for an interview, the HR directly asked him why he hadn’t worked in March and April of the previous year, implying that he must have been fired.

That made her feel like a screaming chicken in front of the screen.

Then, she resolutely threw a dart at a map to decide on a city and booked her train tickets and hotel.

She had booked a ten-day stay at this hotel, and this was the fifth day. The plans for today had been disrupted, but she wasn’t bothered. She thought about going downstairs for a nice meal and then casually wandering near Xi Lake.

Xu Nianzhu turned to the side, leaning against the window, and suddenly noticed a single faint handprint lingering on the otherwise clean glass beside her.

In a flash, a vivid image from the previous night exploded in her mind.

There, in front of that floor-to-ceiling window, Zhou Qi had pinned her arms behind her back, circled his arms around her waist, and lowered his head to kiss her lips.  Every little gasp was swallowed up, then she playfully bit him back, immediately tasting the metallic tang of blood.

Zhou Qi’s expression remained unchanged, only a slight smile playing on his lips. He murmured in her ear, “Don’t be naughty, just relax in a bit,” before pressing a lingering kiss on her tattoo.

She hadn’t noticed the deep red mark until she was showering, but now, it all came flooding back. Xu Nianzhu’s face flushed crimson. She unconsciously touched her right shoulder, then slowly lowered her head, a subtle smile playing on her lips.

Such a bad boy, she thought.

Then, Xu Nianzhu remembered Chaichai.

She remembered the name of the villa complex, but couldn’t get in touch with Lin, the college student. She regretted not exchanging contact information. It would have been nice to take Chaichai for a few days of fun.

Is this what they call missing someone after seeing something that reminds you of them?  She was surprised by the cliché phrase that popped into her head, thinking it was a bit dramatic, especially considering she’d only met the guy a few times.  But perhaps, subconsciously, that’s exactly what she was feeling, just too shy to admit it.

It was similar to how she often felt perfectly content being alone, yet would secretly cry when she witnessed others’ happiness.

She couldn’t find an answer.

Closing the small window, Xu Nianzhu turned to pack her bag.  Her camera battery was fully charged. Bending over, she unplugged the charger and slowly replaced it. As she was stuffing it back into her bag, a knock came on the room door.

Her thoughts were interrupted.  Assuming it was room service, she glanced around the room. It wasn’t messy, but a quick tidy-up wouldn’t hurt. She called out a little louder, “Just a moment, I’ll be right there.”

Slipping on her slippers, she hurried to the door, reaching for the metal security chain.  Then, she heard a familiar voice outside.

-“It’s me, Zhou Qi.”

Click.

Her hand trembled violently, the chain slipping from the track as the door swung open simultaneously.

Staring at the man standing before her, Xu Nianzhu froze, rooted to the spot.

Didn’t he say he was leaving? The sudden unreality of it all washed over her.

Zhou Qi was wearing thin-rimmed glasses today, a Klein blue shirt and white pants. He took a few steps closer, stopping right in the warm beam of sunlight filtering through the window, looking like a tiny sun bathed in golden gauze.

She felt herself warming under his gaze, her already flushed cheeks burning even brighter.

Her vision swam, and she closed her eyes.

It was as if Xu Nianzhu had grown used to the feeling of a stone causing ripples on the surface of the lake, only to sink and disappear completely. She stood there, motionless for a long moment before finally snapping back to her senses.

Her emotions were tangled, but she chose to believe that joy made up the majority of them.

So it turns out, waking up from a dream doesn’t always have to end with just waking up after all.

“I sent you a message, but you never replied. I got anxious, so I came to knock on your door instead,” Zhou Qi explained. “If I’m disturbing you-”

“Oh… my phone!” Xu Nianzhu interrupted, suddenly snapping out of her daze. She mechanically turned toward the bed to retrieve her phone. But before she could move, a warm, solid hand gently rested on her shoulder.

“I’m not leaving.” Zhou Qi’s eyes softened as he tilted his head slightly, extending the paper bag in his hand. “If the art museum is out of the question today, then how about we eat Small Roll Noodles and Spicy Dish first, and then go watch the sunset over Xi Lake?”

And just like that, everything lined up perfectly, as if by fate.

Xu Nianzhu tilted her face up to look at him, her lips curling into a smile. Yet the corners of her eyes felt dry and salty, as though holding back the smallest of oceans.

Since everything had started with fate, might as well leave the rest up to it too.

She took a deep, steadying breath and, almost without thinking, opened her arms slightly. Her voice was soft, almost inaudible: “Can I… hug you?”

Before the words were even fully spoken, she was suddenly enveloped in a broader, warmer embrace. It was tight, grounding, as if it reached down to her very bones.

Standing on her tiptoes, Xu Nianzhu’s cheek pressed gently against Zhou Qi’s collarbone. The clean, pleasant scent of him filled her nostrils completely. Her hands, which had initially looped loosely around his waist, instinctively moved up to clasp behind his neck.

“You’re really not leaving…” she murmured into the space between them, her warm breath brushing against his skin. Almost as if to confirm reality, she playfully pinched his earlobe. Watching his ear flush red, she couldn’t help but break into a laughter that was equal parts amused and exasperated.

The moment brought a sudden memory from her childhood, one that had been long buried. Back then, she had hugged her mother the same way-when her mom returned home after being away on a business trip for weeks.

She had abandoned her homework without a second thought, rushing to the door with abandon. Wrapping her arms tightly around her mom’s waist, she had tried to jump up to hug her mother’s neck. But her mom had pushed her away coolly, brushing off imaginary dust from her clothes with a look of disdain.

At the time, Xu Nianzhu couldn’t understand her mom’s expression. She thought maybe her mom was uncomfortable because of the summer heat and her own sweat. So, she even added, “I just took a bath.”

“Hugs, hugs-what’s so special about hugging? Aren’t you a little too old for this? You’re a girl; shouldn’t you know better?”

“Look at Mrs. Lin’s kid next door. She scored higher than you on the midterms, and here you are running around acting like a child. Have you been slacking off while I was away? Where’s your discipline? Your ambition?”

Her enthusiasm had met a ruthless barrage of bullets. In the end, Xu Nianzhu had slinked back into her room, deflated. She never brought up the matter again.

Later, there had been a fierce argument between her parents.

That was when Xu Nianzhu overheard a long-buried secret.

Oh. So, she wasn’t actually her “mother’s” biological daughter after all. It was only because her mother had struggled to conceive a younger brother that Xu had been treated with “care” for that fleeting period of time.

Memories began to overlap, spreading like ripples on a lake.

Xu Nianzhu didn’t know what was wrong with her. That small, carefully contained ocean inside of her suddenly surged into a full tide, and no matter how much she tilted her head back or blinked furiously, nothing could stop it from overflowing.

It had been such a long, long time since her eyes had felt this sore and swollen in front of anyone else.

When Zhou Qi felt a few damp drops land on his neck, his already stiff body froze entirely. Completely at a loss, he instinctively thought he must have said something wrong earlier. He swallowed, glancing sideways in an attempt to catch a glimpse of her face.

But as soon as he shifted ever so slightly, the girl’s arms tightened around his neck, pulling him closer, her face burying even deeper into him.

People always long to be understood but fear being seen through.

Realizing this, Zhou Qi immediately stopped moving. Not a single further attempt to peek. Instead, he quietly crouched down, holding a steady posture that he thought might make her more comfortable. Gently, he nudged the paper bag at his feet to the side and softly closed the door.

The outside world was shut out, leaving only the two of them in this private little bubble again.

After what felt like an eternity, the “scarf” around his neck loosened just a tiny bit, and Zhou Qi took the chance to let out a quiet sigh of relief. Slowly, he bent forward, rummaging in the bag for the pack of tissues he had brought.

“Not feeling well?” he asked, his tone light but clearly concerned.

Xu Nianzhu shook her head.

“Feeling unwell physically?”

She shook her head again.

“I shouldn’t have come?” Zhou Qi hesitated, blurting out the one question that had been nagging at him the most.

Once again, a shake of the head.

This time, Xu Nianzhu raised her trembling hand and used the back of it to roughly wipe away the traces of tears clinging to the corners of her eyes. She sniffled hard, her voice stubborn and defensive as she retorted, “Zhou Qi, did you put on some kind of medicated oil or something? My eyes are stinging so much, they’re literally sweating!”