Chapter 29
The decoration style of that apartment was also very simple, and it was surprisingly similar to the small apartment she lived in on Shahe Street. It had the same black sofa, but the leather was expensive, soft and cool. She slept on the sofa on the first night. As soon as she lay down, she felt as if she was wrapped up, and sleepiness swept over her.
The coffee table was also a glass coffee table, the same dark brown color, longer and wider, and could hold all her clinking pots and pans at once. She could even spread them out on it to make dumplings.
She once again had an independent bathroom and kitchen. The master bedroom and the second bedroom were separated by a wall. All the rooms were small and had no extra decorations. The master bedroom had a huge bookcase with only a hardcover edition of "Wuthering Heights" in it.
Jiang Huai really disappeared, but physical examinations became a daily routine for her. She was still in the same place, wearing pink cloth and a badge, and every time she had to take home a lot of supplements, mainly iron, and the rest were calcium, zinc, and multivitamins.
She still likes to eat spicy malatang without any numbness or spiciness, and rice noodle rolls that cost a few dollars on the street, but her figure has become visibly plumper and fuller, her loose teeth have become firmer, her hair has grown longer and is black and shiny, and she only needs two rubber bands now instead of three or four.
Every time she finished her shower and looked at herself in front of the misty mirror, she looked more radiant and charming. Nineteen and twenty years old were so different. The baby fat that had been a bit of a bother for her before was gone, her facial contours were more refined, and her dull eyes were as lively as a clear spring under the shade of summer trees.
The flower bud that would drop its petals when the wind blew finally bloomed, but she only felt lonely.
Customers liked her to sing Cantonese songs, not because she spoke Cantonese fluently. On the contrary, they liked her clumsy pronunciation, saying it was "like a baby's first words, with a unique flavor." Later, such explicit compliments disappeared and turned into commercial praises such as "beautiful as peach and plum, cold as ice." But the men who came here were to have fun, not to appreciate northern beauties, so in the end, no one said such boring words anymore. She really became a singer, with people listening but no one looking. When men looked at her, their eyes looked past her as if they were crossing an obstacle.
After she became proficient in singing on the stage, she also had the leisure to look at the people below the stage. The important people who came to Blue Sea were still the same, nothing had changed, except that she had never seen the first boss who called her "Baoqi" again, just like Xiao Tongdou.
No one mentioned Jiang Huai, neither "Mr. Jiang" nor "Mr. Jiang". Just like he said, he didn't exist. He just took some time out of his busy schedule to mark her: "Don't touch my things." Then he went back to his own world, another world that she could neither see nor touch, just like when he fell in the mud pit in the middle of the night when it was pouring rain. It was an occasional confusion of time and space. He expressed his gratitude for it, but it was more like alms.
Those days were the most peaceful days in the years without Kang Xingxing. She enjoyed this peace, because only peace could endure the pain.
So when Zhou Yue saw Jiang Huai again, she was somewhat caught off guard.
"Miss Zhou, which song would you like to sing today?" That day, Lao Hei was still wearing sunglasses, smoking a pipe, sitting next to the electronic keyboard with his legs crossed, and using the saxophone as a crutch.
Every time Zhou Yue saw him, she thought of Wong Kar-wai, so that day she sang "Forget Him", the theme song from "Fallen Angels".
The ambiguous red and blue lights of the spotlight on the stage alternated, sometimes on and sometimes off. The huge light ball above the head slowly rotated, spinning out bizarre colors, like colorful little fish swimming in the room, swimming across the faces of people below the stage, and those faces were all broken.
It was pitch black downstairs. Standing on the stage, one could only see the two or three rows closest to the stage, and behind them were just dark shadows. But the doorway was a little brighter, and the light from the corridor shone in, allowing one to vaguely see crowds of people, guests coming and going.
Zhou Yue was still wearing her red dance dress. On the clothesline, the dress looked tacky like a cheap prop in a photo studio, but on the stage, tacky was gorgeous, just like the exaggerated smoky makeup off stage was just right on stage.
She still likes to sing while standing:
"Forget him
It's like forgetting everything
It is equivalent to throwing away the direction and direction
Lost myself
Forget him
Forgetting joy
..."
When the song reached this point, someone came in, stood at the door for a while, then slowly walked to the last row and sat down.
“It’s always been him
It makes me appreciate myself
It makes me love
All the ordinary things
Become beautiful
..."
During the interlude, Zhou Yue glanced at the door. There was a shadow on the ground outside the door, which was stretched out long in the yellow light of the corridor. There must be someone standing there. No one came in after that.
"Forget him
How can I forget
Unforgettable to remember forever
From now on there will be no end
..."
After that, they sang a few more songs, both Mandarin and Cantonese. She noticed that there were only people leaving, but no one coming in.
During the break to drink water, she lifted the curtain and took a look. The person in the last row had not left, but the dancers in ballet skirts on the stage were dancing vigorously, and the lights were flashing faster and brighter than before, so she couldn't see the face of the person in the last row at all.
Looking at the door again, the shadow was still there, motionless. She began to wonder if it was a person or a prop.
Before returning to the stage, she glanced at her watch. It was twelve o'clock at night.
This time she only sang one song, "Burning Love," and stopped singing. Aunt Liu winked at her from the audience, meaning that she should finish singing and go backstage.
Zhou Yue was also confused about the situation. She finished singing absentmindedly, hurriedly greeted the audience, and rushed to the backstage. When she came out, there was no one at the door. She glanced at the last row, which was also empty.
In the long corridor, blue and pink spotlights flashed past her head in a staggered pattern. From a distance, she could see Aunt Liu standing at the door of the dressing room, smiling obsequiously at the people inside. She wanted to bow but didn't dare, and she didn't know where to put her hands. When she saw Zhou Yue, she was like seeing a savior. With a beaming face, she took a few quick steps, grabbed her hand, supported her shoulders, and pushed her to the door. She said in a coquettish voice to the people inside, "Mr. Jiang! Yueyue is here."
Zhou Yue looked at the people in the dressing room, then at Aunt Liu, and also called out, "Hello, Mr. Jiang."
"Yeah! Okay!" He responded crisply and clearly, his long black trench coat showing off his neat lines. He stood in front of a row of makeup mirrors with his hands behind his back, looking at the things on the dressing table. Not only did he not mind the smell in the room, he even picked up a box of rouge and smelled it. He turned around and looked at Zhou Yue: "Which seat is yours?"
Aunt Liu had already run off to who knows where. Zhou Yue looked back at the empty corridor and took a step inside. "I've finished my makeup and came here. I'm busy before going on stage, so I won't squeeze in with them."
"Oh..." He put down his rouge box and walked towards her. When he got close to her, he lifted her chin and a smile appeared on his face. The smile was as soft and sticky as the rouge, wandering over her face. "Are you unhappy to see me?"
Zhou Yue really wanted to say that she was unhappy. Her lips were tightly closed and the word "no" was about to come out of her mouth, but she soon remembered the long string of zeros she saw when she stood in front of the ATM that day. She should be happy.
"Happy." She tilted her head back and smiled, the blue glitter on her eyelids shimmering. "Just a little nervous."
"What are you nervous about?" His voice was soft and sticky. When his fingertips brushed across her cheek, they brought a faint fragrance. He lifted up the long hair on her temples and rubbed it with his fingertips, as if he was checking whether the rice seedlings were growing well.
"Maybe we're not that familiar with each other yet." She smiled sheepishly after saying that. He also smiled and put his arm around her waist. "Really?"
Zhou Yue lowered her head to avoid his burning gaze and caught a glimpse of a large bouquet of blue roses on the chair. He breathed above her head, so close that she could hear the vibration of his chest. "Do you like it?"
"I like it. Thank you, Mr. Jiang."
"How do you thank me?"
She had nothing to give him, from the beginning to the end, that was all she had. He certainly wouldn't think twice or spend extra effort trying to get anything from this little thing other than the male pleasure. If he wanted it, he would just ask for it, without asking her if she was afraid or if it hurt.
"You are not suitable for this." He smeared the blue eyeshadow on her eyelids from the eye sockets to the temples, and then smeared her mouth, completely making her face look clown-like. So she obediently went to the bathroom to wash her face and got into his car.
Coming out of the blue sea, the car was parked across the street. Under the dim streetlight, its streamlined, luxurious metallic sheen shone like a deep-sea fish covered in silver scales. The driver's face was unclear in the shadows, only a pair of hands in black leather gloves resting on the steering wheel, completely still. They stepped down the steps, and when they reached the car, they looked straight ahead and started the engine smoothly...
If we want to talk about the "beginning" of the relationship with Jianghuai, Zhou Yue thinks it should be counted from this day, to be more precise.
During the first one or two years, Zhou Yue didn't know where Jiang Huai lived. He always came to her place and never stayed overnight. When he was in a good mood, he would play in the water with her, looking down at her with a smile, forcing her to beg him. There was a hint of red at the corners of his willow-leaf eyes, like cinnabar dripping in the water, spreading from his eye sockets to his temples. If she didn't beg, he would laugh with a heavy breath, hold her and turn over to let her be on top. She was inexperienced and threw herself down in tears after a few seconds.
"What did you sing at the end?" He was in a good mood and would say a few more words after the performance. That day, he suddenly asked her what she sang when he was waiting for her backstage.
"Burning Love."
"Sing for me." He lay on her legs excitedly, took her hands, and let her arms wrap around his neck like a scarf.
"Please don't stay with me
Don't ask me too much
If you are willing to bear the consequences
Allow me to maintain myself
…
The remaining fire has only beauty left
The warmth that has burned is also precious
And the bitter love cremated the relationship
Love is gone and buried deep in my heart
..."
She leaned against the headboard, looked out the window and sang. He lay on her legs and looked at her with a smile. After she finished singing, he continued to watch her. After watching for a while, he clapped his hands. "Good!" The bedroom was filled with the sound of his clapping. After clapping, he rubbed her chest hard, which made her frown in pain.
"Don't sing this song next time." After he said that, he got up and took a shower. The sound of dripping water lasted for a while.
He was moody, and Zhou Yue thought that people with mysophobia were a little weird, but on second thought, she admired him. He had lived with her in a small rental house on Shahe Street for so long, his body was like a torn intestine, and he endured the pain to stay in the dirty public areas every day, dragging his feet and moving slowly. In such hot weather, the torment and anxiety were imaginable, but he never showed it on his face. He was really a very powerful and strong person.
She admired him and was grateful to him, so she waited outside the door with clothes in her hand waiting for him to come out. After waiting for a long time, she leaned against the door frame and was sweating profusely from the hot and humid steam flowing out of the door. As soon as the door opened, she immediately stopped yawning, stood up straight, wiped him with a towel, and helped him put on his clothes.
During this time, he remained silent, his chin raised, his arms lifted, letting her tend to him. His half-dried hair was damp and fragrant. When he was done dressing, he lowered his head to admire her and muttered to himself, "White still looks better."
"Yes, that's right."
But he wasn't always in a good mood. Sometimes he wouldn't even turn on the lights after entering the house, and would just sit on the sofa, causing her face to turn pale and her forehead to be covered in cold sweat. After tossing and turning, he would leave without even showering. He remained silent from beginning to end, his mind heavy. Only when she knelt on the floor in the faint moonlight outside the window to fasten his belt did he suddenly seem to realize that she existed. He smiled faintly, his tone so gentle that it was completely different from his previous brutality, and said, "Don't take it so seriously. I'll throw this away when I get home."
After hearing this, she still smiled submissively, adjusted the belt to the most suitable position for him, and moved the belt buckle to the middle.
He just stood there and watched, patted her face lightly, scolded her with a smile, "Stubborn bastard", and when she was done, he turned around and went downstairs without looking back.
But when he came again after a while, he was smiling happily again, gave her a lot of things, and lay on the bed with his head propped up, watching her flooded under his hands, and making fun of her pink skin that "looked like a pig." He only came in after he had tortured her until she was completely exhausted.
He was brutal in this regard, no matter how good his mood. He would tear her apart and crush her until she lay in bed, unable to get up, and then he would yell in the bathroom, "I'm fine!" and then yell again, "I'm fine!"
He would not call her more than three times, and she didn't know what would happen after the third time. But one night at the Blue Sea, she had no songs to sing, and customers were waiting, so she sang "Burning Love" again. More than a week later, he came again, and while whispering to her, he stroked her face and said:
"Can't I sing this song without saying anything? Don't make me say it for the third time.
(Did I ever tell you not to sing that song? Don’t make me say it a third time.)”
She remembered it carefully after that.
She struggled to get up, and before he called her for the third time, she took a towel and helped him get out of the bath and put on his clothes.
He came with a smile and left with a smile. Zhou Yue didn't know whether he was happy or not, but he should be happy. She served him with all her heart and deserved all those zeros.
He was so capricious that Zhou Yue felt he was a cunning and eccentric person. Sometimes he would speak a few words in dialect with his back to her, which she could not understand. After waiting for a long time without getting a response, he would turn around and look at her with cold eyes. But when he saw her stunned face, he would smile. It was not that he was angry, but mischievous was more appropriate.
She was from the north, so it was normal that she couldn't understand the dialect spoken in Jiangsu and Zhejiang, but she still tried her best to learn it. Fortunately, she had a good memory and could understand most of it later.
After a while, she figured it out. The most important thing when she was with him was to "keep each word to herself", and then she had to be obedient and take the medicine in front of him. He was very tolerant, and tolerance was enough.
Every time she sent him away, she heaved a sigh of relief. But when she calculated the difference, he still gave her more. So she felt a mixture of indebtedness and gratitude, but also something else. Fear? Or disgust? She couldn't tell.
In short, it's like a bowl of water that is tilted and can never be calm.
He said before that he wouldn't bother her often, but she didn't know from when on, infrequently became often. She didn't ask him why, nor did she think he was wrong, she just couldn't be at peace anymore.
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