2
What might someone be thinking when they exude kindness? Most people might not think anything, but some, like Zhuang Xiaodie, exploit this display of kindness to appear more respectable. Sleeping under bridges or in abandoned buildings every day, it's hard to define oneself: Who am I? What am I doing? Perhaps some people, catching a glimpse of themselves reflected in the window on their way to and from work, or catching a glimpse of themselves in the mirror while brushing their teeth before bed, ask themselves a life question. She no longer had the luxury of asking such questions. Though it was her own fault, the moment she turned and saw the girl, that question still rang in her mind.
——What am I doing?
The woven bag fell to the ground with a dull sound. The girl's eyes fell on it for a moment, then moved back to Zhuang Xiaodie's face. They looked at each other. Zhuang Xiaodie said, "Aren't you going home?"
The girl said, "I don't have a home."
Zhuang Xiaodie said calmly, "You're wearing a clean school uniform and carrying a schoolbag. You still have the leisure to sit on the stairs and draw. It's not fun to run away from home. Sister, this is not a place for you to stay. Go home quickly before it gets dark."
The girl smiled and said, "Then why don't you go home?"
Zhuang Xiaodie: "I don't have a home."
"Why are you the only one allowed to be without a home, but I'm not allowed to be without one?"
She unconsciously wrapped her wrist around the plastic bag and pressed the back of her hand against it. The heat was gone, and the dumplings were getting cold. Although it was already the end of spring and the temperature was gradually rising, the dumplings still cooled quickly. The dough became hard and the cold oil stuck to her throat. It was not easy to eat something hot these days. She turned and walked away - she couldn't walk far, as it was just a few steps away from the old place. She simply gave up and dragged a brick under her, opened the bag, poured the chili pepper on the dumplings, took out disposable chopsticks, mixed it, and hurriedly ate two or three. She loved spicy food, but spicy food was not a taste sensation but a pain sensation. Translated, it means she loved pain, which sounds like a strange hobby. But it was better than squatting on the ground and eating dumplings on a brick.
She ignored the girl - sometimes it's best to mind your own business. Although she was in a good mood when she gave the girl a steamed bun in the morning, it was only because she was going to do a part-time job and didn't need a steamed bun - only for today.
Giving a steamed bun to a lonely and helpless girl made her feel a little better, but now that she was following her—that was the girl's fault. She hadn't promised her anything more, and besides, she didn't have any more. There was a sound of something heavy falling behind her, and Zhuang Xiaodie forced herself not to turn around to see what the girl was doing.
Halfway through her meal, a notebook was suddenly handed to her, nearly poking Zhuang Xiaodie in the face. She dodged it and turned her face to the side. The girl squatted beside her, one hand hugging her knees, and the other hand thrust the notebook towards her face again.
A sketch depicts a woman with semi-long hair squatting on the ground eating dumplings. Her back is as rugged as a plastic bag that has been crumpled and unfolded.
Zhuang Xiaodie said: "Oh, you have a skill."
The girl turned a deaf ear to her sarcasm and said, "A painting in exchange for half a bag of dumplings, isn't that too much?"
That's quite excessive, Zhuang Xiaodie thought, but kept silent. She didn't have such a luxurious hobby right now. Seeing that she didn't react, the girl continued to shove the notebook into her face without fear.
Zhuang Xiaodie wanted to wave her arms to block it, but she took it instead. To be honest, she hadn't looked in the mirror for a long time and felt unfamiliar with herself.
The girl took the bag from her, took it from her, cupped the bottom with her palm, and lifted the dumplings up. She devoured them one by one in less than five minutes. She had no water, and the spiciness made her grimace. Zhuang Xiaodie silently handed her her water bottle and watched her proudly drink a quarter of the bottle she had filled before leaving. Then she let out a sigh of relief.
"Okay, let's go back quickly." Zhuang Xiaodie said, she lowered her eyes and twisted the bottle cap without looking at the girl.
"My name is Shentu Hai," the girl said. "Isn't this a cool name?" She extended her hand to Zhuang Xiaodie in a generous manner, indicating that they wanted to shake hands.
But Zhuang Xiaodie was so clueless about romance that she almost wanted to cover her ears. In this place, people were only called by nicknames—Lame, Dog, Old Hat. Exchanging real names felt like some mysterious ritual, tying people together, whether they wanted to or not. She didn't want that.
"My grandmother gave it to me. She took care of me," Shentu Hai continued. "Then she died."
Zhuang Xiaodie's heart skipped a beat, and she turned to look at the girl. The sunlight was already fading, but the girl's face was still covered in a shimmering veil. Her eyelashes were a fluffy golden color, trembling as if water was about to drip—it was just an illusion; the girl was looking at her.
"I'm going to sleep here tonight too," said Shentu Hai.
Zhuang Xiaodie said, "How can you sleep in this weather?"
Shentu Hai said: "Sleep with you."
"I have lice."
"I've observed you, and you haven't scratched anywhere today. You don't have lice."
"There will be men passing by at night."
"I brought a knife." Shentu Hai lifted up her school uniform and showed the dagger she had on her waist.
Zhuang Xiaodie was silent for a moment. Logically, she should have taken the girl to the police station at this point. But firstly, she hadn't eaten properly in years, so her strength might not be greater than that of a girl who might be brute force. Secondly, she couldn't go to the police station.
There are many people hanging around here, and the police have to round them up every once in a while and send the unemployed people back to their hometowns, but she doesn't want to go back to her hometown.
No matter what, I won't go back. Therefore, the police station is not an option.
The argument proved fruitless. Zhuang Xiaodie instructed the girl to throw away the trash, then unzipped the woven bag and began making the bed. While she called it "making the bed," it was actually just a few blankets. Late spring wasn't as hot as summer, but it was already quite warm. The girl's bag rested against her woven bag—a plain black sports backpack with a plump flamingo hanging from it.
The girl came back quickly, patted her butt without any hesitation, and sat down on the "bed" that Zhuang Xiaodie had just made.
She was very thin, even thinner than Zhuang Xiaodie, with long, slender fingers that reminded her of the shop assistant who had persuaded her to find a job. She opened her sketchbook and continued drawing. Zhuang Xiaodie sat down on the other side. Usually at this time, she would play with her phone and wait for nightfall. She wondered if this girl had a phone. If she did, maybe she could contact her parents to send her home.
In the blink of an eye, it was completely dark, and then suddenly bright outside. Zhuang Xiaodie looked up from her novel and saw the girl shining a flashlight into her sketchbook, still drawing. This time, she was drawing the river in front of them.
At night, Zhuang Xiaodie gave each girl a blanket. They slept in their clothes, listening to the sound of water and voices in the distance. It was relatively quiet here, and in fact, few people passed by, otherwise Zhuang Xiaodie would not have chosen this place.
She knew the girl was still awake.
"You followed me, weren't you because of that steamed bun this morning?"
"yes."
A very matter-of-fact tone.
Zhuang Xiaodie was silent for a while, then said, "I'm not a good person."
Shentu Hai ignored her and seemed to have fallen asleep.
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com
