Old Photos
The pool water rippled gently in the breeze. The early shift had just changed, and the only sound in the corridor was the hum of the cleaning truck. Xiaomin asked around the lobby, "Excuse me, who's the longest-serving employee here? I have something to ask." Most of the young receptionists she asked looked confused: "I haven't been here long, I really don't know." The gardener wiped his gloves and shook his head, saying, "The long-term employees have changed several times, it's probably not easy to find someone." Xiaomin thanked him, and without haste, followed the signs towards the pool, her gaze like she was drawing lines on a map. She buttoned up her trench coat collar, tucked a folder under her arm, as if she were holding a small stack of secrets.
At the driveway entrance, a man walked in with steady steps. He glanced up and heard two waiters whispering, "That girl is looking for an old employee." The man stopped one of them, asking, "Who's looking for an old employee?" The waiter pointed towards the poolside, "That guest, we asked around, he should still be over there."
Chen Chen thanked her and hurried over. His gaze swept across the deck chairs and awnings, and he spotted a nimble figure in the distance, talking to a staff member near the lifeguard station. Xiao Min's eyes were like radar; as he approached, she subconsciously shifted her body slightly, quickly tucking her folder further into her arm. Chen Chen's heart skipped a beat: it was probably Hu Li's friend. But he didn't acknowledge her, instead stopping to observe her tone and pace to see if she was handling serious business.
"You're blocking my way," Xiaomin said first.
Chen Chen turned to the side, his smile fading slightly: "Who are you looking for, young lady? Perhaps I can help."
Xiaomin looked up: "And who are you?"
He nodded and said politely, "I was just passing by and happened to know a few of the long-time employees."
Xiaomin glanced at him, mentally categorizing him as someone trying to pick her up, then looked away, seemingly intending to ignore him. She turned back to the staff member and said, "Could you please think about it again? Was the oldest receptionist transferred to an office position? Is he still there? Where in the park can I find him?"
The staff member was taken aback by her question, but tried hard to recall: "Maybe someone in the back knows."
Xiaomin nodded: "Could you please lead the way?"
Chen Chen then spoke up: "What a coincidence, I was also looking for someone to take me to the backstage area."
Xiao Min said calmly, "Then hurry up."
Chen Chen chuckled: "This young lady has quite a temper."
"I have even less time."
The two exchanged words, like a taut string being released half an inch, neither truly clashing nor willing to back down. The staff member looked around and decided, "Why don't you two walk together? It'll save me the trouble of running back and forth."
Xiaomin walked ahead, her steps small but rhythmic, as if silently memorizing every corner and sign. Chen Chen walked beside her, not deliberately getting closer, occasionally glancing sideways to see if her heels would get stuck in the paving stones, or if anyone was following her. Xiaomin suddenly stopped and whispered to the staff, "If any of the old employees are still here, please let them know in advance that someone wants to interview us for work on a project."
Chen Chen immediately understood: she was probably from their area and knew how to handle things well. He slowed down slightly, letting her pass through the narrow passage first. His phone vibrated in his pocket, but he ignored it.
Xiaomin also took out her phone and wrote two words heavily on a notepad—"Front Desk," followed by a line: "First, inquire one by one in the park according to the list of long-term employees." When she put her phone away, her palms were slightly sweaty. Chen Chen noticed that her knuckles were a little white, but pretended not to notice and simply steered the conversation lightly: "The weather is nice today, perfect for a drink."
Xiaomin raised the corner of her eye, her gaze seeming to say "Who are you?", showing little respect: "I'll offer you some plain water."
He gave a brief smile: "Then two glasses of plain water."
As we reached the corner of the service corridor, the roar of the air conditioning units softened our whispers. A staff member pushed open the fire door: "The back area is this way, don't wander off."
"Don't worry, I'll just ask a few questions."
Chen Chen was certain in his heart that he had found the right person, and that this "chance encounter" was not accidental. He simply raised his hand, indicating that the epaulettes on her trench coat were slightly crooked, as if it were an unintentional reminder.
Xiaomin raised an eyebrow and casually straightened her epaulets: "Don't worry about me."
"Understood." He withdrew his hand and took a step back, keeping half a body's distance from her.
The smell in the back room had changed; it was a mixture of detergent and old wood. The sound of clinking cups and saucers came from the far end of the room. Someone glanced up at the two of them, then looked down again.
"Have you heard about this?" Xiaomin's voice was soft, yet direct. "Does anyone here remember that time someone sent a child back to the front desk?"
Chen Chen added, "Is there a receptionist named Lao Song here? If so, I'd like to ask him to recall something."
The staff member was taken aback: "Why are you all looking for Lao Song?"
Xiaomin and Chen Chen answered simultaneously, "Because he's important." Their voices overlapped, seemingly unintentionally, yet perfectly in sync. The staff member chuckled and led them through a row of lockers: "He'll be working overtime at noon; you're lucky."
Xiaomin's gaze finally softened slightly as she glanced sideways at Chen Chen: "We've all had a lucky day."
Chen Chen laughed: "Good luck is good luck, but I'll say less here."
Xiaomin: "Then don't take up my time."
He gave an "oh" and followed her, thinking to himself: This collaboration is probably unavoidable. He looked down and saw a small puddle on the ground, instinctively stepping aside to let her pass. A breeze blew in from the end of the corridor, ruffling her hair slightly, like a tiny, light flag.
Around noon, Lao Song took a last-minute leave and didn't come. The receptionist and the office clerk both said, "Let me check again for you." Xiao Min left her contact information along the way, then went to an outdoor sunshade and called Hu Li.
"How did the questioning go?" Hu Li asked in a low voice.
"No results for now." Xiaomin quickly explained the situation, and then asked, "Should we use Mu Tianlang's access to get through directly from inside the resort? To be honest, that would be much faster."
There was a two-second silence on the other end of the phone, then Hu Li said, "Wait. I don't want him involved in this right now."
Xiaomin said "Okay," and then adopted a more pragmatic tone: "Then I'll continue looking for people in the park. I'll get back to you as soon as I have any news."
Xiaomin paused, then softened her tone: "Also, eat first, don't always think about things on an empty stomach."
Before hanging up the phone, Hu Li chuckled and said, "You're like my mom."
"I'm gentler than your mom," Xiaomin teased her on purpose.
After hanging up, Hu Li put down her phone, opened her notebook, and slowly wrote down the questions she needed to clarify:
"First, why did my mother bring me to the port city for vacation? Was it intentional or unintentional? Second, why did the white van my mother rented stop twice that day—once temporarily and once returning? Third, who was the person I met painting when I got lost? Fourth, what does the purple vine in the painting represent? Fifth, arrange 'the saltiness of the sea, purple flowers, white van, mother, painting, boy, sea' into a timeline."
She slowed her breathing and whispered, "Don't use the Mu Clan's permissions for now."
After hanging up, Xiaomin had just put her phone down when Chen Chen came over with two glasses of water, saying casually, "Plain water for the ladies."
Xiaomin raised an eyebrow: "Thanks. What did the office staff say?"
"They say 'we're coordinating,' but we're actually waiting for approval." Chen Chen spread his hands, pushed one of the cups in front of her, and held the other cup still, as if afraid of disturbing her rhythm.
He moved the water glass further to the side of the table, as if asking casually, "You're looking for Lao Song, which area are you asking about? Could you tell me a little bit? See if you need my help."
Xiaomin's alarm bells rang: this person was probably not just passing by; he might be a reporter or someone with ulterior motives. She moved her chair back half an inch, her fingertips digging into the rim of her glass, her tone still indifferent: "It's old news, just checking procedures. There's nothing more to say. Let me confirm, then we'll see if we need any outside help." She glanced at him again, then asked casually, "What do you want with Lao Song? You're not a resort employee, are you? Then who are you?"
Chen Chen's smile faded, and he lowered his voice: "To put it simply, a friend asked me to help verify the information and ask a couple of questions. If it's inconvenient, just pretend I didn't ask."
Xiaomin hummed in agreement, neither confirming nor denying: "It's a bit too coincidental. Let's each ask our own questions, keep the boundaries clear." She smoothed her sideburns, her tone still indifferent: "You're quite the smooth talker, like someone in public relations."
"You're giving me the look of someone interrogating me." Chen Chen raised an eyebrow, his smile faint. "Don't be nervous, I'm not interviewing you."
"I don't give interviews either." Xiaomin pushed the cup back a little. "I'm a bit slow to react, but I don't get distracted."
"I can tell." He tapped her folder. "The corners are all frayed; you must have flipped through it many times. You've come all this way by yourself; you're quite capable."
Xiaomin looked up: "Are you praising me to try and get information out of me?"
"Honestly," Chen Chen took a sip of water, "Whatever you're looking for, it takes guts for a girl to come all this way alone. If it comes in handy, I can save you a few trips."
"You don't need to know who I am before you offer help?"
"I know you're here on official business," he said softly.
Xiaomin smiled and said, "You don't need to define me."
He nodded, then rephrased, "Let me clarify. Are you planning to start by asking at the front desk, or go through the list of long-term employees one by one? I have a few names on hand; I can help you prioritize them."
"How come you seem to know me so well?"
"I've been here before." He didn't say much, just offered her the shade, "Sit here, it's not sunny."
Xiaomin didn't move, glanced at his watch and then looked away: "Didn't you say you were mediating? Go mediate, don't waste your breath on me."
"Okay." Chen Chen smiled, tapping his knuckles lightly on the glass before stopping. "Can I leave my contact information? If Lao Song shows up early, I'll let you know immediately."
"No need, I can squat myself."
"Then I'll leave a note for future reference, just in case we run into each other." He took out a sticky note, wrote and crossed things out, and finally pushed over a short number, "Temporary number. If you don't want the hassle, just pretend you didn't see it."
Xiaomin glanced at it, then pushed the note back: "I don't trust temporary numbers." She paused, then pulled a small card from the folder. "This is a work WeChat account. We only use text, no voice messages. Just add 'Song' as a contact name." She looked up at him again. "You should also leave your proper contact information, email or business card, not a temporary number."
Chen Chen paused for a moment, smiled, put away the notepad, took out a business card from his wallet, and pointed to the bottom: "The company email is here. Scan the QR code on the business card with WeChat. I'll only reply with one word."
She nodded and handed over the card: "Add it and then remove the notification."
"Understood, ma'am, I understand the process." He scanned her work WeChat QR code, added the name "Song" to her contact, and then placed his business card on the top edge of her folder. "Then I'll do more and talk less. If you think I'm in your way, I'll stand further away."
"Standing further away is better."
"But my eyesight isn't far," he said with a self-deprecating laugh. "Don't worry, I'm not looking at you, I'm looking at the receptionist."
Xiaomin took a sip of water and smiled slightly: "You talk a lot, but you're still quite sensible."
"I said I'd cooperate." He paused, then added, "There's another little clue. Just now, a contracted cleaner asked the office staff if they worked overtime; her accent was local. Most of the long-term employees are locals, so you might be able to get there faster by asking her first."
Xiaomin noted it down: "Okay, this one will work." She then brought the conversation back on track: "But the old rule still applies: each of us asks our own questions and we don't interfere with each other."
"Yes, ma'am." Chen Chen raised his glass. "Let's make a small bet: whoever gets the real information first buys the drink—"
"Hot cocoa," Xiaomin accepted, raising her hand to shield her eyes from the sunlight. "Less sugar."
"Deal." He smiled. "I was afraid you'd find it too sweet."
I'm afraid you're afraid of hardship.
The two exchanged a glance but said nothing more. The wind ruffled the edge of the umbrella. Xiaomin quickly jotted down a few words in her memo, then added a line: "A male customer inquired about Lao Song—keep an eye out," intending to check it again when the front desk gave her a formal reply.
Chen Chen saw all this but didn't expose him. Instead, he changed the subject: "You just said you're slow to act, but actually you're not slow, you're steady."
"You don't need to define it," Xiaomin said, her tone a little softer than before.
"Then I'll define myself." Chen Chen stood up. "I'll go stake out the front desk."
"Go ahead, don't take up my time."
He nodded, took a half step back, then turned back and pushed another glass of water to her side: "Keep this one, don't forget to drink it."
Xiaomin didn't say thank you. Her gaze fell on the condensation on the cup. After thinking for a moment, she simply said, "Don't contact me directly if there's any noise. Just type one word."
Which word?
"Song".
"Understood." He raised his hand to indicate, then turned and left.
Xiaomin watched his retreating figure, a slight smile curving her lips again: This guy's got a sharp tongue, but he's still pretty useful. It's just that neither of them said anything explicitly; they both understood in their hearts. She bolded the keywords she had just written again, put her phone away, leaned back in her chair, and sighed.
As the wind blew outside, the two water glasses on the table gently bumped together.
Chen Chen put on his sunglasses as he turned the corner, his phone vibrating. He glanced down at it and replied with only one word: "Here." As his fingertips touched the glass, he thought of the water in front of her, the condensation still clinging to the glass, as if she were leaving the words for later.
Over at Xiaomin's place, the cup remained untouched, a ring of water slowly forming on the table. She wiped it away with her fingertip, then wrote the character "Song" on the table before quickly erasing it. A gust of wind ruffled the edge of her umbrella; she clutched her folder tightly, silently reminding herself: "Everyone ask their own questions, don't follow along." The next second, she stood up and walked towards the front desk.
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