33. Which way the wind blows

At six o'clock in the morning, Yi Yi returned from her run, soaked to the bone. The early winter chill mingled with the sweat, clinging to her skin and making her shiver. The aroma of millet porridge wafted from the kitchen, where Zhuang Jia, wearing an apron, was frying eggs in a pan.

"You're back?" He glanced back at me. "Take a shower quickly, don't catch a cold."

"Hmm." Yi Yi took off her fitness tracker and placed it on the table. The data showed that her pace today was 6 minutes and 20 seconds, ten seconds faster than last week. She stared at the number for two seconds, a little voice in her mind saying: See, you're getting better.

But another voice sneered: "Does running faster mean you can outrun time?"

She shook her head, suppressing the thought, and went into the bathroom. The hot water washed over her, and the rising steam blurred the mirror. She reached out and wiped away a patch, seeing her flushed face and defined jawline. Her two months of perseverance had indeed brought a physical response. But the void in her heart was still filling far too slowly.

At the breakfast table, Kai Kai was excitedly talking about how the school was going to organize a "career experience day".

"Mom, what do you think I should dress up as? A doctor? A firefighter? Or like Dad... um, a white-collar worker?"

Zhuang Jia placed the fried egg on her son's plate: "What's so great about being a white-collar worker? You're in front of the computer all day."

"So, Dad, what do you do?" Kai Kai asked, tilting his head.

Zhuang Jia was stumped. He opened his mouth, and finally said, "My dad is... a project manager. It's about getting a lot of people together to get something done."

"That sounds so boring," Kai Kai said bluntly, then turned to Yi Yi and asked, "Mom, what did you do before?"

The air fell silent for a moment. Yi Yi was drinking her porridge when she heard this. She looked up and met her son's curious gaze, and also caught a glimpse of Zhuang Jia's slightly tense profile.

“My mother used to be a journalist,” she smiled, her tone light. “She traveled everywhere, met different people, and wrote different stories.”

"Wow! That's so cool!" Kaikai's eyes lit up. "Then why aren't you doing it now, Mom?"

“Because…” Yi Yi paused for a moment, her smile unchanged, “Because Mom has an even more important task now, which is to accompany Kai Kai as he grows up.”

"When I grow up, can Mom go back to being a reporter?"

Children's words are innocent, yet like a needle, they gently prick the softest spot in one's heart. Yi Yi's throat tightened, and after a long while, she finally said, "Hmm, maybe."

Zhuang Jiaqing cleared his throat and changed the subject: "Eat quickly, we're going to be late."

After seeing Kaikai off, only the two of them remained at home. Yi Yi was clearing away the dishes when Zhuang Jia stood behind her, hesitant to speak.

"Um..." he finally spoke, "have you heard back from those resumes you've been sending out lately?"

Yi Yi continued, "Several people have asked me to come for interviews, but that's not really appropriate."

"Why isn't it appropriate?"

“Either it’s too far from home, or the salary is too low, or…” She turned off the tap, turned around to wipe her hands, and said in a flat tone, “They think I don’t have relevant experience and I’m too old.”

Zhuang Jia frowned: "Older? Thirty-seven is in the prime of life."

“Not in the workplace.” Yi Yi smiled, a little self-deprecatingly, “Especially for people changing careers. They’d rather have a fresh graduate who’s a blank slate, at least they’re obedient, energetic, and can work overtime.”

"Well... how about we don't look too far away, and just look around near home? Even if the pay is less, we can start with that?"

Yi Yi looked at him without saying a word. That look made Zhuang Jia a little uncomfortable, so he added, "What I mean is, don't put too much pressure on yourself, take it slow."

"Zhuang Jia," Yi Yi suddenly asked, "do you want me to go out and work?"

Zhuang Jia was taken aback: "Of course I hope so. Haven't you always wanted to?"

"I'm asking, do you want this from your perspective?" Yi Yi leaned against the kitchen counter, her gaze calm. "If I go out to work, it means you'll have to share more responsibilities around the house. For example, picking up and dropping off Kai Kai, the occasional parent-teacher meetings, and you'll have to prepare dinner when I work overtime. Can you accept that?"

Zhuang Jia was stumped. He instinctively wanted to nod and say "No problem," but his mind flashed back to the packed meeting schedule for next month, the unpleasant conflict with the project manager over picking up his child at the last minute, and the overtime and business trips Yi Yi might face if she found a job… The "No problem" stuck in his throat, turning into a hesitant, weak "There… there's always a way."

Seeing the flicker in his eyes, the faint flame in Yi Yi's heart dimmed further. She nodded, didn't ask any more questions, and turned to get the vacuum cleaner.

"Let me do it," Zhuang Jia said, taking the machine from her hands. "You take a break."

It was "I'll help you" again. Yi Yi's hand froze in mid-air before she finally withdrew it. "Okay."

She walked to the balcony and looked at the gray sky outside the window. Her phone vibrated; it was a group chat with three people.

He Miao: "Sisters, urgent help needed! Gun Gun's homeroom teacher just called, saying he got into a fight with a classmate! He wants me to come to school right now! What should I do? Should I call He Tian first?"

Ding Xiaojuan replied instantly: "Don't panic, find out the reason first. Don't call He Tian yet, he has an important announcement today, right? Be polite when you get to the school, but also listen to what the child has to say. Do you need me to come with you?"

He Miao: "No need, no need, I'll go by myself. I just... my hands shake. I've never had my parents called in by a teacher before."

Yi Yi typed: "Take a deep breath. Listen to what the teacher has to say first, don't rush to scold the child. Gun Gun isn't a child who deliberately causes trouble, there must be a reason."

He Miao sent a crying face: "I know, but I'm so scared... scared that he'll really go astray."

Ding Xiaojuan: "Stop! Don't scare yourself. Hurry up and get to school."

Yi Yi put down her phone, her heart clenching with worry for He Miao, and feeling lost herself. Being a mother is like walking a tightrope; on one side is love, on the other is fear, and the balancing pole in her hand can easily tip to the side if she's not careful.

In the afternoon, Yi Yi went to the cultural company that had given her a second interview. It was located in a creative park on the outskirts of the Fourth Ring Road. It was a loft-style building with exaggerated graffiti painted on the walls. The employees were all wearing hoodies and jeans, typing away on their laptops at open workstations. The air was filled with the scent of coffee and youthful energy.

“Hmm… I do have the idea,” Director Lin pushed up his black-rimmed glasses, “but the pace is too slow. Nowadays, users only have a three-second attention span, so you have to grab their attention in the first three seconds. Yours is taking too long to build up to.”

Yi listened attentively: "I'm still learning about the platform's style."

“It’s not a matter of tone, it’s a matter of mindset.” Director Lin leaned forward. “Sister Yi, let me be frank, please don’t take offense. In our industry, what we need is a knack for online trends, the ability to instantly grasp trending topics, to play with memes, and even to be a little ‘crazy.’ You…” He carefully chose his words, “…are too conservative. Your copywriting is like a magazine column, attractive, but not viral.”

“I can change it,” Yi Yi said.

“I know you can learn,” Director Lin leaned back in his chair, “but we need someone who can get started immediately. And…” He glanced at the resume, “You’ve been out of work for too long. These days, short videos are iterating at a rate measured in days, and I’m afraid you won’t be able to keep up.”

The meaning was quite clear. Yi Yi nodded and put away her things: "Thank you for your time."

Stepping out of the park, a gust of cold wind made her shiver. Her phone rang; it was Zhuang Jia.

How's the noodles?

"It didn't work out," Yi Yi said succinctly.

"...It's okay, we'll look again." Zhuang Jia paused. "What do you want to eat tonight? I'll go back early and make it."

"Whatever." Yi Yi hung up the phone.

She strolled slowly along the street, passing a shopping mall with eye-catching winter clothes hanging in the windows. She went inside and wandered aimlessly through the women's clothing section. A well-tailored cashmere coat was priced at five thousand eight. She touched the fabric; it was very soft and warm. A saleswoman approached her: "Madam, if you like it, you can try it on. This one suits your style perfectly."

Yi Yi shook her head and put down the label. Five thousand eight hundred yuan was enough for her to pay three months' social security, or to enroll Kai Kai in half a programming class.

She walked to the cosmetics counter, looking at the dazzling array of bottles and jars. A young girl was trying on lipsticks, pursing her lips in front of the mirror, then turning to her companion and asking, "Which color looks best?"

"They all look great! Buy them!"

"Oh dear, I'm going to be broke again this month."

The girls laughed heartily, their youth unrestrained. Yi Yi looked at them and recalled that when she was in her twenties, she had also agonized over a lipstick for a long time before finally gritting her teeth and buying it, feeling like she owned the whole world.

Now, the whole world has become a collection of mortgage payments, tuition fees, medical reports, and resumes that have been lost in the ocean.

My phone vibrated again; this time it was Ding Xiaojuan.

"He Miao's situation has been resolved. Gun Gun got into a fight because his classmates mocked him for not having a father to play basketball with, saying that He Tian only knows how to play video games. Gun Gun got angry and pushed someone. The teacher made both sets of parents apologize and write self-criticisms."

Yi Yi breathed a sigh of relief: "Does He Tian know?"

"He Miao hasn't dared to say yet. She said she'll wait until He Tian is done with his work today." Ding Xiaojuan sent a sighing emoji. "Raising a child is really hard. By the way, how did your interview go?"

"No chance."

"That's normal. Finding a job these days is like finding a partner; you have to click with them and the timing has to be right. Don't rush it."

"No rush," Yi Yi replied. "I'm just a little tired."

"Want to grab a drink? I'm free tonight."

"No, I want to go back as soon as possible."

Yi Yi put away her phone and walked to the glass dome of the mall. The setting sun shone in from above, casting an ethereal golden hue on the cold marble floor. She looked at her reflection, wearing an old-fashioned down jacket, her hair tied in a simple ponytail, and her face showing an undeniable weariness.

A stylishly dressed young woman, dragging a suitcase, hurried past her, her perfume wafting over—a saccharine, overpowering scent. The woman spoke excitedly on the phone as she walked: "Just landed! The project's done! A celebratory party tonight—we have to drink until we drop..."

The sound faded into the distance. Yi Yi stood there, suddenly remembering a long time ago when she too had dragged her suitcase, flying from one city to another, for an interview, for a clue. Back then, she felt tired, but her heart was full, she had direction, and she had expectations.

Now? Which direction are we heading?

She walked out of the mall; it was already dark. The streetlights were on, and cars streamed by. Everyone was heading to some destination—going home, attending social events, or continuing to work overtime. Only she stood at the crossroads, somewhat unsure which way to go next.

The phone rang again. This time it was Xian'er.

"Where are you? Feeling down? Come out, I'll treat you to hot pot, fight fire with fire."

As Yi Yi watched the names flashing on the screen, her cold fingertips seemed to regain a little warmth.

“Okay,” she said. “Send me the address.”

A hot and spicy hot pot can indeed temporarily dispel some of the chill. Xian'er ordered a table full of dishes, including tripe, beef aorta, duck intestines, and pig brains... all of which are "heavy flavors" that Yi Yi rarely touches.

"Eat! Turn your grief into appetite!" Xian'er put a big mouthful of tripe on her plate. "If you lose your job, you can find another one. Men are no good... uh, Zhuang Jia is alright, just a bit dull."

Yi Yi gasped for breath from the spiciness and took a swig of ice-cold beer: "It's not his fault. It's my own fault... I couldn't find the right spot."

"What position?" Xian'er raised an eyebrow. "The position of a wife? The position of a mother? Or your own position?"

“I have both.” Yi Yi poked at the oil dish in her bowl. “I feel like I… I’ve forgotten how to be myself. As a wife, I feel resentful; as a mother, I’m filled with anxiety; as myself… I’ve almost forgotten who I am.”

Xian'er put down her chopsticks and looked at her: "Yi Yi, do you remember when we were in college, you wrote a report about the demolition of urban villages?"

Yi Yi was taken aback, then nodded.

"Back then, you spent three days in the ruins of that almost-demolished area for your interview, chatting with the last few holdouts, eating their leftovers, and sleeping in a leaky shed. The article you wrote when you came back was praised by the professors in the department for its vividness and realism." Xian'er's eyes were sharp. "Back then, Yi Yi was willing to disregard everything and go all out for what she wanted to do. Where is that spirit now?"

Yi Yi remained silent. That drive…when did it disappear? Was it during her pregnancy? When she quit her job? Or was it slowly worn away by the daily grind of housework and waiting?

“I’m not saying your current choices are wrong,” Xian’er’s tone softened. “Being a mother and taking care of a family are important choices. But you can’t lose yourself in these choices. You have to find a way to replant the person ‘Yi Yi’ back, so that she can grow together with her identities as ‘Zhuang Jia’s wife’ and ‘Kai Kai’s mother’, instead of being covered up.”

"How do we plant it?" Yi Yi smiled wryly. "We only have so much time and so much energy."

“Squeeze. Steal. Rob.” Xian’er enunciated each word clearly. “It’s like you stealing time to run. Even if it’s only one hour a day, just for yourself, to read, write, learn some useless things, or even daydream. The key is that during that time, you are not anyone else’s anyone, you are Yi Yi.”

She paused, poured Yi Yi a glass of wine, and said, "Also, when communicating with Zhuang Jia, don't beat around the bush. Men think in a linear fashion. If you hint at something, he won't understand; if you feel wronged, he'll think you're being dramatic. If you want him to share your burdens, just make a list; if you're feeling down, just say, 'I'm feeling really bad right now because of this and that, and I need you to do this and that.' Don't make him guess, and definitely don't sulk and then suddenly explode one day."

As Yi listened, her eyes welled up with tears. She wasn't unaware of these principles. But when she was immersed in emotions for too long, those principles became like a lighthouse on the shore—visible, but intangible.

“Xian’er,” she sniffed, “why are you always so clear-headed?”

"Because I've learned my lesson the hard way." Xian'er laughed self-deprecatingly. "I've been hurt badly enough, so I've learned how to feel pain. I've learned that there are some things you have to figure out for yourself, and no one else can help you with them."

That hotpot meal lasted a long time. When they came out, there were hardly any people on the street. Xian'er took a taxi and left first, while Yi Yi stood by the roadside waiting for a ride. A cold wind blew, the alcohol hit her, her stomach burned, but her mind was unusually clear.

She took out her phone and sent Zhuang Jia a WeChat message: "I had dinner with Xian'er tonight and we talked a lot. We need to have a serious talk about the future. Not complaining, but planning. When it's convenient for you."

She sent the message, looked at the screen, and waited a while, but there was no "typing..." message. Maybe he was busy, or maybe he was hesitating about how to reply.

She put away her phone and looked up at the night sky. The city's light pollution was severe; she couldn't see any stars, only a hazy, deep blue expanse.

But the wind is still blowing. Though it's unclear which direction it's heading, at least it's still moving.

The car arrived. Yi Yi opened the car door, got in, and gave the address of her residential complex.

The street scenes outside the car window rushed past, like fast-forwarded clips of life. She leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes.

Let's talk. Whatever the reason, we must talk. Lay out all the pent-up misunderstandings, grievances, expectations, and fears. There may still be arguments, there may still be disappointments, but at least we won't be alone in the dark anymore, like blind men feeling an elephant.

The road ahead is long, and the wind is still blowing. As long as you're breathing and moving forward, there's always a chance to find your own direction.

Even if it's slower, even if it's a longer route.

But once you set off, you're moving forward.