WBAI Chapter 32

When Jiang Xiaotian went to the company cafeteria for lunch, he ran into his sister. His sister worked as a fashion editor at 《Charm》 magazine, though very few people in the company knew about their sibling relationship—after all, 《Charm》 had so many employees, and they weren’t even in the same department.

Whenever Jiang Ting encountered Jiang Xiaotian at work, she usually treated him like a stranger, never initiating conversation. It was an unspoken agreement between the siblings: I won’t bother you, and you don’t bother me either.

Despite maintaining this distant dynamic at the company, the two actually had an extremely close relationship.

Jiang Ting had been complaining to Jiang Xiaotian for days—one of the signed models under her had been terminated by the company due to a gambling addiction. 《Charm》 had strict policies regarding its exclusive contracted models. If a model’s personal life negatively impacted the company’s reputation, it counted as a breach of contract, and the company had the right to unilaterally terminate the agreement.

《Charm》’s contracted models earned a minimum annual income of no less than seven figures, not to mention the top-tier models. High signing fees meant the company imposed many restrictions on them.

Jiang Ting was responsible for the fashion section targeting young men aged 18 to 26. The model who’d been fired had been her most promising talent—young but already among the company’s top-tier models, with a look and vibe that perfectly fit the next season’s theme. And yet, he’d thrown away his bright future all on his own.

With the model position now vacant, the most crucial part of the shoot had gone awry, completely derailing the original shooting plan. This season’s internal cover for her section was either going to be a disaster or a blank page.

The company wouldn’t care about the struggles of a single editor. You’re in this position, so do your job. If the model was gone, she just had to find another one.

Finding a temporary model wasn’t hard, but where was she supposed to find a stand-in with the looks and qualifications of a top-tier model?

Jiang Ting had been so stressed these past few days that Jiang Xiaotian could visibly see the exhaustion weighing on her.

Jiang Ting sat by the window, clutching a cup of coffee, lost in thought. Jiang Xiaotian drifted over like a ghost, carrying a bowl of ramen[mfn]拉面 (lā miàn): Ramen (/ˈrɑːmən/) (拉麺, ラーメン or らあめん, rāmen; [ɾaꜜːmeɴ]) is a Japanese noodle dish with roots in Chinese noodle dishes. It is a part of Japanese Chinese cuisine. It includes Chinese-style alkaline wheat noodles (中華麺, chūkamen) served in several flavors of broth. Common flavors are soy sauce and miso, with typical toppings including sliced pork (chāshū), nori (dried seaweed), lacto-fermented bamboo shoots (menma), and scallions. Nearly every region in Japan has its own variation of ramen, such as the tonkotsu (pork bone broth) ramen of Kyushu and the miso ramen of Hokkaido.
[/mfn]. Seeing that there weren’t many people around, he casually took a seat across from her.

“Just coffee for lunch?” Jiang Xiaotian asked, slurping up a mouthful of noodles with his chopsticks and eating it.

“No appetite,” Jiang Ting replied, glancing at him. “What are you doing here?”

“Saving your life.”

“Speak like a normal person.”

Truth be told, the moment Jiang Xiaotian first saw Xie An’yu today, he had the idea of introducing him to his sister.

“You’ve been looking for a model lately, right? I can recommend someone to you.”

“Little bro, don’t joke with me,” Jiang Ting groaned, pressing a hand to her forehead. “Just hearing about this makes me want to explode on the spot.”

Jiang Xiaotian clicked his tongue. “I’m not joking.”

Jiang Ting lifted her eyes to look at him. “Do you have any idea how many models I’ve scouted these past few days? Not a single one can save this shoot.”

It wasn’t that Jiang Ting lacked other model resources—she just had high standards. The replacement had to be at least as good as the previous model. As a fashion editor at 《Charm》, the models she had access to were already quite outstanding, and yet she was still at a dead end. She really hadn’t expected Jiang Xiaotian to be of any help.

“I’m not joking with you, I’m serious,” Jiang Xiaotian took out his phone, flipped through his gallery, and held it up to Jiang Ting. “See for yourself.”

Jiang Ting glanced casually at the screen, then suddenly froze. She quickly grabbed Jiang Xiaotian’s phone for a closer look.

Earlier that morning, while Xie An’yu was trying on outfits and posing for photos, Jiang Xiaotian had secretly snapped a few pictures of him. Truthfully, he thought Xie An’yu had real potential. Though he seemed a bit reserved when they were alone—someone like that would likely feel uncomfortable in front of a camera and might not be suited for modeling—Xie An’yu had only been a little stiff with his poses. His expressions and demeanor were spot-on.

When the photographer told Xie An’yu to stop treating the lens like a pair of human eyes, he immediately found his rhythm.

When his expression went blank, his face turned cold, giving off an air of distance—exactly the kind of detachment fashion photography needed.

“There are a few more in front,” Jiang Xiaotian said.

Hearing this, Jiang Ting swiped back through them, then looked up and asked him, “Who is this?”

“Just tell me if he’s good enough.”

Jiang Ting looked at the phone screen and nodded. “Judging by the photos alone, he looks very promising.”

Jiang Xiaotian grinned. “Then you’re in luck. He looks even better in person than in the photos.”

Jiang Ting scoffed. “That’s a bit of an exaggeration, isn’t it?”

“This was taken with the default camera, and I was sneaking shots. Didn’t you notice the angles are kinda awkward?” Jiang Xiaotian said. “Not a professional shoot.”

Jiang Ting examined the photos again and nodded. “It is kinda awkward.”

“So, who is he exactly? A friend of yours?”

“I can’t tell you who he is,” Jiang Xiaotian took his phone back, acting all mysterious. He then used a map app to search for an address and sent it to Jiang Ting’s WeChat. “If you think he’s good, go see him yourself. I’ve sent you the address on WeChat—next Friday morning at nine.”

Jiang Ting didn’t quite understand what Jiang Xiaotian was playing at and was very puzzled. “What’s wrong with you? Why can’t you just tell me who he is? No, if you’re introducing someone, just introduce them. Why make it so complicated? If you want to introduce him, just give me his contact info, and I’ll arrange a time with him.”

“It’s a bit of a delicate situation. I just want to be the middleman here,” Jiang Xiaotian said. “I’m not that close to him either, so I don’t have his contact details. Stop asking so many questions—I’m definitely not messing with you.”

The main issue was that Jiang Xiaotian wasn’t sure about Yu Feng’s stance. If Jiang Ting contacted Xie An’yu directly through him, it would inevitably reveal that Xie An’yu was staying at Yu Feng’s place—something Yu Feng might not want outsiders to know.

Jiang Xiaotian could tell Yu Feng didn’t like his private life being scrutinized. Otherwise, as his assistant, he wouldn’t have only visited Yu Feng’s home for the first time today.

In any case, he couldn’t bring this up openly with Yu Feng. Given that Jiang Xiaotian and Jiang Ting were siblings, even if his intention was just to help Xie An’yu find work, it would look like he had ulterior motives. He’d only been Yu Feng’s assistant for less than a year and didn’t want to leave his boss with the impression that he was always looking for shortcuts.

Besides, Yu Feng was his boss. How could he possibly say; My sister needs a model—mind if the little brother staying at your place goes for an audition? Even if he had skin as thick as a city wall, he wouldn’t dare, especially since Yu Feng was the type to keep work and personal matters strictly separate.

So, for this matter, Jiang Xiaotian could only quietly play matchmaker for Xie An’yu. The rest was up to fate.

Being a model for 《Charm》 was definitely better than working for some unknown small shop—the pay alone wasn’t even in the same league. Besides, Xie An’yu wasn’t planning to sign a long-term contract with the shop, which meant he wasn’t restricted in where he could model.

If Jiang Ting really thought Xie An’yu was suitable and wanted to discuss a collaboration with him, given his financial difficulties, he probably wouldn’t have any reason to refuse.

Jiang Xiaotian just wanted to act as a middleman. If this worked out, he’d both help his sister solve her urgent problem and provide Xie An’yu with a money-making opportunity—a win-win situation.

Jiang Ting frowned at Jiang Xiaotian. Although she didn’t know what trick Jiang Xiaotian was pulling, the person in the photos indeed met all her requirements.

“Nine o’clock Friday morning?”

“Yes.”

“Just take a quick look. If you like him and want to talk to him, don’t mention I sent you. It’d be best if you pretended to stumble upon him while shopping.”

Jiang Ting snorted. “I haven’t even met him in person yet, and you’re already so sure I’ll pick him?”

“I already told you, the real person is on a whole different level from the photos,” Jiang Xiaotian said, deleting the photos he took of Xie An’yu from his album.

***

Yue Lai had already been working at the bookstore for over a week. Zhou Yi’s university was relatively close to the store, so he sometimes dropped by to check on Yue Lai. Yue Lai had adapted quickly to the job. He wore a cartoon pin on his uniform indicating he was deaf and mute, so customers knew his situation at a glance. Aside from checking out, no one disturbed him with other matters.

Yue Lai had previously mentioned inviting Zhou Yi and the others to his home for a meal, but conflicting work schedules had kept delaying it.

This □□day, all four of them finally had free time. Zhou Yi had become Yue Lai’s point of contact, so he handled the arrangements for the dinner.

They planned to meet for dinner. The three of them drove together, but the alley where Yue Lai lived was too narrow for cars, so Zhou Yi parked outside, and they walked the rest of the way.

“The old houses here are well-preserved,” Zhou Yi remarked, glancing around. “They look like they’ve been here for ages.”

By evening, every household was cooking, filling the alley with the aroma of food. Zhou Yi’s stomach growled, and he unconsciously quickened his pace.

Yue Lai’s grandfather answered the door. The old man’s eyes crinkled into invisible slits as he smiled at the sudden influx of guests.

A modest-sized round table was set up in the courtyard, already laden with several dishes. Yue Lai was still busy in the kitchen.

A small white dog darted over to Xie An’yu, pawing at his legs. Xie An’yu crouched down and rubbed the little dog’s face, while it kept nuzzling his cheek with its nose.

This was the same little white dog that used to hang around the back door of the restaurant where Xie An’yu had worked for Lu Yang. It had grown a lot since then, though it was still as chubby as ever. Back then, the dog had been wearing a collar, and Xie An’yu had assumed it had an owner. Later, he learned the collar had been put on by Yue Lai—it was an anti-flea collar.

A few days after leaving the restaurant, Xie An’yu had secretly gone back. The little white dog appeared punctually every mealtime. Knowing no one would feed it after he and Yue Lai were gone, Xie An’yu had taken the dog with him.

The little white dog stayed at Yue Lai’s house, and Yue Lai named it Qiuqiu. Though he couldn’t speak to call the name he’d given, the puppy would come whenever he clapped his hands.

Yu Feng glanced down at the small dog by Xie An’yu’s feet.

He remembered this dog. When Xie An’yu had chatted with him using the alias ‘Xiao Da’, he’d once sent a video of a white puppy. That puppy had a tuft of light yellow fur on its chest—just like this one.

“What a plump little fatty,” Zhou Yi crouched down to ruffle its head. “Been eating pig feed every day? How’d you get so fat?”

Xie An’yu lowered his gaze and smiled faintly, gently rubbing the puppy’s belly.

“Exactly, fed like a little pig every day,” Yue Lai’s grandfather chuckled as he ushered them inside. “Have a seat, I’ll go get Yue Lai.”

Yue Lai was shooed out by his grandfather, who insisted on cooking the last two dishes himself.

By now, Yue Lai had grown quite familiar with Zhou Yi—they met even more frequently than he did with Xie An’yu. But this was his first time meeting Yu Feng.

He greeted Yu Feng in sign language, and Xie An’yu, beside them, explained, “That means ‘hello’.”

Yu Feng acknowledged with a hum and returned the ‘hello’ sign.

When Yue Lai pulled out his phone to type something for them to read, Yu Feng suddenly signed a somewhat long phrase: “Just sign directly. I’ll translate for you.”

Yue Lai looked at him in surprise.

Though Xie An’yu had self-taught some basic everyday signs, he still couldn’t understand more complex signs. He looked between Yu Feng and Yue Lai in confusion.

“You know sign language?” Yue Lai signed to Yu Feng.

Yu Feng nodded.

Xie An’yu’s understanding dawned on him: “Brother Yu, you understand sign language?”

“Not only does he understand it, he can sign it too,” Zhou Yi said.

Yue Lai looked delighted. Beyond his grandfather and his teachers and classmates at the special needs school, he’d rarely encountered others who understood sign language. It felt like someone new had unexpectedly stepped into his isolated world.

Excitedly, Yue Lai began signing with both hands.

“What did he say?” Zhou Yi asked Yu Feng.

“He says he’s very happy that besides his grandfather, there’s now someone else who can effortlessly understand what he’s saying.”

Zhou Yi chuckled. “The way he’s looking at you—like you’re the God of Wealth himself. Those shining eyes.”

Yue Lai glanced at Zhou Yi in confusion. Yu Feng initially didn’t plan to translate Zhou Yi’s nonsense into sign language, but while it might be nonsense to him, to Yue Lai every word mattered. For those who cannot hear, receiving information is inherently difficult, and in their eyes, every word spoken by those communicating with them is precious.

Perhaps this was part of sign language’s purpose—bridging speech and gesture, bringing sound into silent worlds, drawing lonely hearts closer together.

Yu Feng translated Zhou Yi’s words into sign language. Yue Lai smiled, then signed a phrase to Zhou Yi.

Yu Feng translated, “He said seeing me excites him more than seeing the God of Wealth.”

Zhou Yi burst out laughing. “Your status has suddenly been elevated to the level of a deity.”

Anyone spending time with Yue Lai could see his cheerful nature. Had he been able to speak, he’d surely have been quite the conversationalist.

“Why aren’t you sitting down yet?” Yue Lai’s grandfather came out from the inner room holding a tray, “Come on, sit down quickly! The dishes are getting cold and you haven’t even picked up your chopsticks. Yue Yue, how do you greet guests like this?”

Yue Lai used sign language to communicate with his grandfather, telling him that Yu Feng also knew sign language.

Grandpa Yue placed the dishes on the table and looked at Yu Feng with some surprise, “Really? Did you learn it specifically?”

Yu Feng hummed in affirmation.

Grandpa Yue set the plate down on the table, “Why would you learn this?”

“My younger brother can’t hear either,” Yu Feng said.

Xie An’yu was taken aback and looked at Yu Feng.

He had never known that Yu Feng had a younger brother.

Yue Lai’s grandfather frowned, “Was he also born that way?”

“No, he is deaf due to acquired nerve damage.”

“Is it treatable?”

“It can’t be treated,” Yu Feng said, “He has already passed away.”

Xie An’yu felt that Yu Feng’s voice seemed even lighter than the sound of the wind.

Yue Lai’s grandfather eyes widened in shock, “Passed away? How could it be so early… Was he sick?”

Zhou Yi stood up to pour drinks, interrupting them, “Let’s not talk about sad things while eating. When are we going to start? I’m about to faint from hunger.”

Yue Lai’s grandfather nodded repeatedly, “Right, right, let’s not mention those things. If you’re hungry, hurry up and eat. What’s this? Do I have to give the command before you dare to pick up your chopsticks?”

Zhou Yi laughed and said, “Of course! If you, as the elder, don’t speak, how dare I, as the junior, touch my chopsticks?”

Yue Lai’s grandfather gave an ‘Hey’ sound. “Hurry up and eat, don’t be polite. All these dishes were made by Yue Lai. Try them and see how they taste.”

Yue Lai’s grandfather poured a bit of baijiu[mfn]白酒 (bái jiǔ): lit. white (clear) liquor; baijiu (distilled liquor), is a colorless Chinese liquor typically coming in between 35% and 60% alcohol by volume (ABV). Because of its clarity, baijiu can appear similar to several other East Asian liquors, e.g. Japanese shōchū (25%) or Korean soju (20–45%), but it often has a significantly higher alcohol content (35–60%).
[/mfn] into his small cup, wanting to toast Zhou Yi. He knew that Yue Lai’s current job was introduced by Zhou Yi, and he was very grateful to him.

As the old man was about to pour liquor into Zhou Yi’s cup, Zhou Yi quickly stopped him, “No, no, no, I can’t drink baijiu.”

“Not even a small sip?”

Zhou Yi shook his head with a smile, “I really can’t handle baijiu, and I have classes tomorrow morning, so I’m not drinking today.”

“You’re a teacher?” Grandpa Yue was a bit surprised.

“Yeah.” Zhou Yi nodded, “Actually, if anyone should be thanked, it should be Xiao Xie. If he hadn’t introduced Yue Lai to me, I wouldn’t have had the chance to recommend this job to him. You don’t know, my buddy who runs the bookstore always praises Yue Lai, saying he’s sharp-witted and quick on his feet.”

Zhou Yi was good at making elders happy, and hearing that the bookstore owner approved of his grandson made Grandpa Yue smile from ear to ear.

Yue Lai patted his grandfather’s shoulder and signed for him to drink less.

“It’s fine, I’m happy. What’s wrong with drinking a bit more?”

Yue Lai and his grandfather had relied on each other since childhood. The tacit understanding between them had developed over time; Yue Lai could understand some short phrases just by reading his grandfather’s lips.

Xie An’yu’s phone vibrated in his pocket. He took it out and glanced at it; it was a call from his aunt.

Xie An’yu stood up with his phone and walked outside.

“Auntie.”

“An’yu, have you had dinner?”

“I’m eating now.”

Xie Li responded with an ‘Mm’: “Are you free on the 21st of this month? If you are, come to Auntie’s house for dinner. The 21st is Wu Meng’s birthday, and we plan to make a birthday meal at home to celebrate properly.”

Xie An’yu was momentarily stunned and didn’t reply.

“Come over if you’re free, okay?” Xie Li spoke softly, “It’s been so long since Auntie last saw you.”

“Yes, I’ll go.”

Xie Li beamed with joy. “Don’t bring anything, just come as you are. Auntie will be waiting for you.”

Xie An’yu hung up the phone just as Zhou Yi walked out of the courtyard.

Zhou Yi glanced at Xie An’yu and said, “I’m going out to buy some fruit.”

“Professor Zhou,” Xie An’yu called out.

“Mm?” Zhou Yi stopped and looked at him. “What is it?”

“Brother Yu’s younger brother…” Xie An’yu hesitated, trailing off.

“Quite unexpected, right?” Zhou Yi smiled. “Didn’t expect him to have a younger brother, did you?”

Xie An’yu gave a small hum of agreement.

“They’re not blood-related. There’s no biological connection between them.” Zhou Yi raised an eyebrow. “Why? Did you have something you wanted to ask?”

“His trouble sleeping… is it related to his younger brother?”

Yu Feng often went to the balcony to smoke late at night—sometimes around eleven or twelve, other times in the early hours of two or three. Xie An’yu had run into him several times.

Zhou Yi was taken aback. “How… did you know?”

Xie An’yu had only made an educated guess. When his own parents passed away, he had been the same way. It wasn’t that he couldn’t sleep—he was afraid to. The moment he closed his eyes, his dreams would be filled with images of his parents. Waking up meant the dream shattered, and that was far more painful than staying awake and facing reality head-on.

“He often smokes on the balcony late at night,” Xie An’yu said.

Zhou Yi sighed. “He’s much better now. It used to be way worse.”

Xie An’yu wasn’t sure what ‘worse’ entailed. Every time he got up at night and saw Yu Feng smoking on on the balcony, Yu Feng would turn around and casually strike up a conversation when he heard the noise.

Xie An’yu had never asked him why he was still awake so late, nor did he know how long Yu Feng continued to smoke on the balcony after he returned to his room.

“Has he been like this for a long time?” Xie An’yu asked.

Zhou Yi hummed in confirmation. “Longer than you’d think.”

It must have been six or seven years now. In the first couple of years after Cheng Sheng passed away, Yu Feng barely slept at all—far worse than now. At his worst, he even saw a therapist.

Zhou Yi’s narration of Yu Feng’s past came to an abrupt halt as he excused himself to go buy fruit.

After Zhou Yi walked away, Yu Feng’s voice came from behind Xie An’yu.

“I thought you made a phone call and traveled through time[mfn]穿越 (chuān yuè): to pass through; to cut through; to cross; to cut across; to traverse; (neologism) to travel back through time; to time-travel.[/mfn].”

Xie An’yu turned around, and their eyes met.

“Why has everyone run off after just starting dinner?” Yue Lai’s grandfather booming voice drifted from inside. “Has Xiao Xie not finished his call yet?”

Xie An’yu walked back into the courtyard. Yue Lai gestured to Yu Feng in sign language, and Yu Feng responded in kind.

For some reason, whenever Xie An’yu saw Yu Feng signing with Yue Lai, he felt an instant sense of calm, as if the world around them had fallen into perfect silence.

“Brother Yu.”

Yu Feng turned to look at him.

Xie An’yu signed a simple phrase he had learned to Yu Feng. He signed a bit slowly, his movements not very skilled.

“What does that mean?” Yu Feng asked.

Xie An’yu thought he had made a mistake in his movements and, with a bewildered expression, took out his phone to search on Baidu. As soon as he opened the Baidu app, he immediately realized Yu Feng was probably teasing him again, so he put his phone away and said, “Never mind if you don’t understand.”

Yu Feng laughed softly before suddenly replying, “Me too.”

The sign Xie An’yu had just made was correct, and Yu Feng had understood it perfectly.

—Nice to meet you.

—Me too.

[dropdown title=”List of Idiom in Chapter 32″]
心照不宣 (xīn zhào bù xuān): to understand something but not voice it; to have a tacit understanding; a tacit mutual understanding. Its core meaning is “mutual understanding without openly stating it”. In modern Chinese, it is often used to describe interpersonal tacit understanding.

兩全其美 (liǎng quán qí měi): to reach a resolution that satisfies both sides by taking both sides into consideration; to have it both ways; to have the best of both worlds; to satisfy rival demands (idiom); to have one’s cake and eat it too; satisfy both parties/sides; meet rival claims; to the satisfaction of both parties; suit both; taking care of both sides when doing something so that both sides can benefit.

家家戶戶 (jiā jiā hù hù): every household; each family; each and every family (idiom); refer to all families.

互通有無 (hù tōng yǒu wú): mutual exchange of assistance (idiom); to benefit from each other’s strengths and make up each other’s shortfalls; to reciprocate with material assistance; scratch each other’s back; each supplies what the other needs; help supply each other’s needs; exchange needed goods; to communicate what one has and what one does not have; to compensate for each other’s deficiencies by exchanging surplus items.

發號施令 (fā hào shī lìng): to issue orders; (figuratively) to boss people around; order people about; lay down the law. This idiom can refer to the ancient monarch issuing decrees, and can also be used in modern contexts to describe commanding others with an authoritative attitude. First attested in the 2nd century BCE in Huainanzi: 乃發號施令曰：“其國之君，傲天悔鬼，決獄不辜，殺戮無罪，此天之所以誅也，民之所以仇也。兵之來也，以廢不義而復有德也。”, An edict is being issued, saying, “The sovereign of this state is arrogant before Heaven, humiliates ghosts and deities, misjudge lawsuits and execute innocent people. A person like this—a public enemy of the people, should be sentenced to death according to the will of Heaven. The victorious troops are here to exterminate the unrighteous and resume the power of the virtuous.”

相依為命 (xiāng yī wéi mìng): to depend on each other for survival; to rely on one another for life; mutually dependent for life (idiom); to rely upon one another for survival; interdependent. It generally refers to the concept of mutual dependence, inability to live without the other.

一朝一夕 (yī zhāo yī xī): lit. one morning and one evening (idiom); fig. in a short period of time; overnight; one day; describing a very short period of time.

喜笑顏開 (xǐ xiào yán kāi): grinning from ear to ear (idiom); beaming with happiness; to be beaming with joy; to be smiling happily; light up with pleasure; Describes happy heart, full of smiles.

戛然而止 (jiá rán ér zhǐ): with a grunting sound it stops (idiom); to come to an end spontaneously (esp. of sound); (especially of a sound) to stop abruptly.
[/dropdown]

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