Chapter 9 Sophomore Year
Seeing that Nanjiu had almost finished her meal, Old Man Nan asked her to calculate the bill for today. Song Ting knew exactly how many pots of tea he had sold. If the money Nanjiu collected matched the amount of tea she had sold, there was no problem with the bill.
The incoming funds were clearly visible on the phone, and the remaining balance was the cash. Nan Jiu sat at the counter, taking out all the change he had received today and counting it.
Old Man Nan leaned back in his chair, looked at Song Ting, and whispered, "How much did Xiaojiu's computer cost? I'll give you the money."
"No need, it's all in the past." Song Ting didn't raise his head and poured the leftovers together.
"If her uncle had your magnanimity, he wouldn't have gotten angry with the boss over a few thousand dollars."
Old Man Nan rarely mentioned his children. Once, when Uncle Nan Jiuqin needed help, he went to Nan Zhendong's house to borrow money, but not only did he not get the money, he was also turned down. Ever since then, a rift has existed between the two brothers. Although they both settled in Fengdu, they rarely interact. Even when Nan Zhendong remarried, Uncle Nan Jiuqin didn't attend.
In order to mediate the conflict between the two brothers, Mr. Nan gave his youngest son some money to help him through a difficult time. When Nan Zhendong and Aunt Nan Jiu learned about this, they complained to the old man.
The saying that conflicts between children are often due to the elder's lack of moral integrity became a thorn in the side of Mr. Nan. When he was young, he and his wife ran a teahouse, so busy that they left their three children to their own devices. By the time he decided to properly discipline them, they had grown up and left Maoer Lane one after another.
The good news is that Song Ting and I are destined to be together. Although they are not biological children, he was raised by Old Man Nan. Now that they are together day and night, it makes Old Man Nan's later years not too lonely.
......
Nan Jiu counted the money twice, but it didn't match the amount Song Ting reported. She asked Song Ting suspiciously, "Did you overestimate the amount? Did you overcharge for a pot of Fuding Lao Shou Mei and a tea snack platter?"
Old Man Nan took over the conversation: "Ever since your Uncle Song took on this job, he has never made a mistake. Think carefully about what went wrong."
Song Ting and Old Man Nan looked at Nan Jiu tacitly.
Nan Jiu frowned, rummaging around, then suddenly looked up: "I know. Around three in the afternoon, there was a man who didn't pay. He was wearing a black hat and had a mole on his chin. He turned left when he left the house and didn't leave the alley. He must live in the alley. I'll go find him tomorrow."
Old Man Nan and Song Ting exchanged a glance, both of them surprised. The "uncle" Nan Jiu was referring to was Qian Tuzi, who lived in Pozihou and was a regular at the teahouse. Qian Tuzi had a bad memory and often forgot to pay, and Song Ting never asked for it.
They spent years in the teahouse, so when their money was low, they naturally knew what the problem was. Nanjiu's first day there, and it was a weekend, so all eight tables were full that afternoon, with people changing seats several times.
The teahouse's menu categorized various teas, each with a different price. Nanjiu, in such a chaotic environment, was able to recall details like who hadn't paid and their whereabouts, and even quickly matched the missing money to the type of tea. This showed that, while she had no interest in tea, she had a natural sensitivity to money and was naturally adept at managing business accounts.
Although Mr. Nan said nothing, he looked at Nan Jiu with a warmer look and said, "Just check it out. I don't want the money. Just write it down."
"Why don't you want it?" Nan Jiu heard the old man say this and immediately replied, "We run an open business with clear prices. If you refuse to pay today and he runs away tomorrow, how can you make any money?"
"Don't you think about it? Why didn't your Uncle Song stop such a big person from leaving the store?"
Nan Jiu turned his gaze towards Song Ting: "Is he your relative?"
"His son is in charge of investment promotion in the old street." Song Ting told her.
Nan Jiu didn't understand what attracting investors had to do with them, so Old Man Nan took over the conversation: "Collecting money is a science. Some money should be collected, but some money is better not to be collected. When several people come for tea, when to collect money and from whom to collect money? If you master this science, you will also learn how to be a good person."
"I'm a good person." Nan Jiu put the change away.
Seeing that she didn't care, Mr. Nan said to her, "Go wash the dishes."
"Give me five minutes to rest, my waist hurts." Nan Jiu moved to the recliner next to him, supported his waist and slowly lay down.
She was not talking nonsense, her waist really hurt at the moment, but her expression was a little exaggerated.
Song Ting stood up and put the dishes together. Old Man Nan raised his hand and said, "Leave it there until she collects it. The wages are not for nothing."
Song Ting didn't stop: "Let's talk about it after your waist is healed."
As soon as he left, Nan Jiu turned sideways and told Old Man Nan that Song Ting didn't give her tea in the afternoon.
"I checked online, and I received the call perfectly. Everything was perfect. I even stood up and was almost giving him a 90-degree bow."
Old Man Nan found a fair cup and said, "Let me see how you catch it."
Nan Jiu sat up straight and reached out to take the cup with both hands. As soon as his hand touched the cup, he was slapped by Old Man Nan.
"You can't let your nails touch the rim of the cup. Why don't you dig your fingers in?"
Nan Jiu retracted his hand and glanced down: "My manicure is long, and I didn't touch the rim of the cup on purpose. Is this the reason?"
"You think this is a small matter? It's a rule to avoid touching the rim of the cup with your fingers. If you encounter a picky customer, the tea has to be poured out. Some customers may not say it out loud, but they'll feel uncomfortable. You have to make a habit of holding the bottom of the cup when receiving tea so that you don't make mistakes when things get busy and people get mad at you. It all comes down to experience."
Song Ting had Nanjiu doubting himself for the entire afternoon, even though he could explain it in a single sentence. People can't teach people, but things can be taught. Nanjiu now subconsciously held the bottom of his glass when drinking boiled water.
Song Ting finished cleaning up the dishes and came out of the kitchen. Old Man Nan asked, "Do you still have the topical medicine that Old Yang prescribed last time?"
"There's another bottle upstairs."
"Give it to Xiaojiu." After saying this, Grandpa Nan turned to Nanjiu and said, "Try using that medicine after you take a bath. It's more effective than the plaster you get at the big hospital."
That night, Nanjiu took the dark brown glass bottle and tried to find the instructions on it, but there were none. She opened the bottle and was hit by a pungent smell that made her cough.
......
Song Ting finished his shower today and put on his shirt before opening the bathroom door. Just as he returned to his room and lay down, someone knocked on the door from outside. He stood up again to open it.
Nanjiu stood at the door holding the bottle of medicine: "It doesn't say how to use it."
"Apply it on your waist and rub it gently in a clockwise direction to promote absorption." The door was half open. Song Ting held the door handle, his broad chest blocking out the light from inside the room.
"...You mean, let me put my arm behind my back and massage it myself?" This method of applying medicine successfully persuaded Nanjiu to give up. "Grandpa, was it this troublesome last time?"
"I did it for him." Song Ting replied to her.
Nanjiu handed the medicine bottle to him and said, "Thank you for your help."
As she spoke, she walked inside. Song Ting hesitated slightly and said, "Come to my room to apply it?"
"What else? Go to my room?"
She asked frankly, and if Song Ting tried to stop her, it would seem awkward, so he simply opened the door wide and let her go.
Nanjiu's eyes lit up as she walked into the house. The teahouse's attic had once been a secret base for her and her cousins, who always loved sneaking upstairs to play without their parents' knowledge. She remembered it as always cluttered with miscellaneous items, many of which the old man couldn't bear to throw away, now covered in dust. As Nanjiu grew older, she stopped going up there. After all these years, it was no longer the place she remembered.
The walls had been repainted, and the floor had been laid, the same style as the one in her room. The room contained a wardrobe, a five-foot-tall bed, and a desk. The air conditioner on the wall was blowing cold air, making the room cool and spacious, and the air was filled with the faint scent of tea, much like the scent of Song Ting.
She pulled out the chair in front of the table, turned her back and sat down, lifted her pajamas a little, revealing a small part of her slender waist, turned around and asked Song Ting: "Is this okay?"
Song Ting took a quick glance and opened the medicine bottle. The pungent smell immediately spread in the air, diluting the fragrance of the tea.
There was a book stuck upside down on the table. Nan Jiu saw that the title was "Market Strategy and Innovation Practice".
"Are you still reading this kind of book?" Nan Jiu turned the book over and glanced at it quickly.
Song Ting bent down and replied to her: "Look through it when you have free time."
"You know I'm an economics student, right? I have plenty of books like that. I'll send you some next time."
"good."
Song Ting rubbed the medicine in his palm to warm it, then pressed it against her waist. Nan Jiu flinched as his fingers touched her skin. Song Ting removed his hand and looked up at her.
Nanjiu buried his face in his arms and hunched his shoulders: "I'm ticklish, you continue."
Song Ting used his palm instead. His palm was large and warm. The moment it touched her, an indescribable feeling crept in. The touch on her skin was like the bite of a bug, tickling Nan Jiu's heart. She suppressed the urge to twist her waist and tried to distract herself with words.
"Did you keep in touch with Zhou Yan later?"
The rough lines of his fingertips burned into her skin: "No."
"Haven't you had a partner in the past few years?"
"It's not your business." Song Ting retorted with one sentence.
Back then, Nan Jiu had unknowingly messed up Song Ting's blind date. Looking back, though Song Ting had no parents and spent his days at Old Man Nan's side, living a life of seclusion, he was a man of integrity at heart. Perhaps he hadn't wanted to marry into the family, which was why he let Nan Jiu talk nonsense.
Although Nan Jiu figured it out later, he still felt it was a thorn in his side. Whenever he met Song Ting, he would remember the existence of this thorn.
"Do you think I want to worry about you? Are you planning to be single forever? I think people should look forward to it. Don't punish yourself because of your parents' problems. Looking back, it's not worth it."
Song Ting's family affairs had always been a taboo for him. Even though everyone in the alley knew about it, no one would confront him about it, not even Old Man Nan. It was a tacit understanding that they could chat, joke, and share with Song Ting, but they would never bring up this bloody past. He never expected that after all these years, the first person to persuade him to let go of his parents would be Nan Jiu.
Song Ting didn't respond. Nan Jiu also stopped talking, lost in his own emotions.
Her smooth skin glided like silk across the lines of Song Ting's fingers. Thanks to her long dance practice, Nan Jiu's waist was free of excess fat, her line narrow and flexible, as if it could be snapped with the slightest force. Her slender arms extended, her head resting on them, her platinum hair cascading over her shoulders. Her curled eyelashes fluttered slowly, revealing a sense of unrestrained wildness hidden within her pure desire.
Nan Jiu's eyes fell on the bed. The ice silk mat was the same style as the one in the side room, except that Song Ting's was gray. It seemed Old Man Nan didn't follow trends; Song Ting probably bought everything.
At night, Maoerxiang is as quiet as a solitary lamp, and the teahouse's attic exists in a time and space where no one cares. Cool air blows from the air conditioner, and breath flows silently between inhalation and exhalation.
Nan Jiu was sitting uncomfortably, and she leaned slightly. Her waist twisted unintentionally in Song Ting's palm, her curves like a dangerous key. Song Ting immediately took his hand away, stood up, and said to her, "That's enough. Go back and massage it yourself."
Nan Jiu had just gotten used to it when Song Ting said to let go. She turned around in confusion, but Song Ting had already turned his back and was wiping his hands.
Nan Jiu spends years in the dance studio. To help beginners clearly see the points of force in each body part, she often wears a short tank top, exposing her waist and abdomen. Stretching, tugging on clothes, and performing lifts between students and teachers are all commonplace, and she doesn't see any need to be shy about it.
Nan Jiu pulled his pajamas up, stood up from the chair, and smiled: "I'm not embarrassed at all. Uncle Song, are you still embarrassed?"
Song Ting wiped his hands clean, turned around, and said calmly: "You are not a child anymore, go back and wipe it yourself."
On the surface, this meant that Nanjiu had grown up and could handle small things like applying medicine on his own. But it also seemed like he was hinting at something else.
Nan Jiu picked up the medicine, waved goodbye, and went downstairs. Song Ting closed the door, his palm still warm.
......
Nan Jiu walked downstairs, placed the medicine bottle on the counter, poured a glass of water, and sat by the window, lost in thought for a moment. The skin on his waist, where it had been pressed, felt hot, as if it were on fire. The warm, soothing touch of Song Ting's palm lingered on his skin, replacing the dull pain.
The next morning, Mr. Nan asked her if she had applied the medicine last night. Nan Jiu nodded. Seeing that she answered perfunctorily, Mr. Nan asked her, "Why did I see the medicine on the counter this morning? Didn't you apply it in your room?"
Song Ting was scrubbing the tea set behind Old Man Nan. Upon hearing this, he slowed down his movement holding the teaspoon.
Nan Jiu glanced at Song Ting out of the corner of his eye and replied nonchalantly, "The smell is too strong. I took it out after wiping it off."
Old Man Nan told her to keep applying it so it would heal quickly. Nan Jiu responded with a few words, and neither she nor Song Ting mentioned what happened last night.
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