Chapter 6 Coincidence
"You can't drink," Xiaomai asked her grandmother helplessly after hanging the piano on the wall and leaning against the door frame, "It's already eleven o'clock. Have you forgotten that you insisted on going to the bar last night? The bathroom was filled with vomit inside and outside. It was horrible. We came back so nauseous that we couldn't eat the next day."
"We can find a clean place. Convenience stores have window bars where you can drink coconut milk. 'There's no night without a moon, no place without bamboo and cypress, but there are few idle people like us two.' Do you understand Su Shi's feelings when he went to find Zhang Huaimin?"
Hang Liumei walked to the wardrobe in her cotton slippers and picked out a coat to wear. "Now is the time for you to enjoy your life to the fullest. Grandma is old, and she can't eat what she wants, can't play what she wants, and there are still a lot of things waiting for me to deal with. Time flies, don't be like me, leaving behind regrets and gray hair. Let's do whatever we want to do now!"
"I haven't finished the homework due tomorrow," Mai Xu said, standing still with his arms folded. "If I don't hand it in, it will affect my grades, and then my GPA. If this continues, you won't be able to apply to a good university abroad as you wish."
Hang Liumei had just finished applying half her lipstick in the mirror when she pulled out a piece of paper and wiped her mouth as she spoke, "Then why don't you hurry up and write. I regret so much when I gave up the opportunity to go abroad for academic exchange. No one's going out tonight. Don't be so playful. Listen to your parents when the time comes. Go to the United States and Europe. When grandma can't walk anymore, you have to go to foreign museums to see the authentic Dunhuang paintings on my behalf. You promised me that!"
I had been meaning to joke with her a few more times, but after hearing her last few words, Xiaomai felt a pang of sadness and stopped arguing with her grandmother. Hang Liumei walked into the living room, where the documentary "Hexi Corridor" was playing on TV.
"This is good, let's watch this." Hang Liumei pulled a pillow behind her waist, put on her reading glasses and started watching TV.
After just a few minutes of watching, she fell asleep on the sofa clutching the remote. Xiaomai was used to it. But it wasn't always like this. When he was little, he did his homework amidst the sounds of his grandparents watching the TV, chatting, and flipping through books. The three of them all loved watching TV series. During the winter and summer vacations, Xiaomai would catch up on "Wind and Cloud Heroes" and "Digimon," his grandfather would watch "Romance of the Three Kingdoms," and his grandmother loved "Ode to Swordsman." These were the times when the remote control was most likely to be snatched up.
They've lived in this neighborhood for nearly twenty years and are reluctant to move, drawn to the pleasant environment and the lively atmosphere. Across the street from the complex are restaurants. A few years ago, when Grandpa was still alive, he'd often buy two pieces of rose cake to pick up Xiaomai from school—one for Xiaomai and one for Hang Liumei. After returning home, they'd eat their beloved spicy rice noodles while watching TV—a memory unique to the three of them.
Xiaomai would often close the door in her bedroom to do her homework and play on the computer. Grandpa and grandma would often huddle together watching TV and fall asleep. Later, grandma would be alone, the sound of the TV filling the whole house, but no one was watching.
So Xiaomai later spent as much time with Hang Liumei as possible. At this moment, he gently took the remote control from her hand and turned off the TV. He was thinking about whether to cover her with a blanket and let her take a nap before calling her back to the room, or to send her back now.
Hang Liumei woke up first: "Why did you turn it off for me? I'm still watching! I'm not asleep!"
"Don't stay up late. Go to bed today. If you want to watch it tomorrow, I'll cast the screen for you."
After making sure Hang Liumei was asleep, Xiaomai returned to the room, fell on the bed with her hands behind her head, staring at the ceiling, not wanting to sleep.
He turned over and checked his phone again, but she still hadn't replied.
The next morning, Xiaomai was woken up early. Hang Liumei pulled Xiaomai's quilt and urged him, "People will be here soon, and you're still lying in bed with your back naked!"
Xiaomai scratched her arm and sat up. She looked at the time and saw that it was only half past six. "No one would come so early, grandma..."
"Then hurry up and get breakfast! Don't you still have to squat in the toilet after eating? Lazy donkeys often pee and shit. You can't keep occupying the toilet and playing with your phone like this after we move in. Try to hold it in until school. Change your clothes. I'll be waiting for you outside. Come out and quickly pick up the things you threw outside..."
Xiaomai knew that his grandmother was happy; she loved the hustle and bustle, and it had been a long time since they had any new guests. When he came downstairs just in time, Hang Liumei was still rummaging through boxes and drawers, searching for the beautiful pair of slippers her family had bought on their trip to Bali years ago. She had seen them just last week, but now she had no idea where they were. She had to find them quickly for the guests.
Wheat stood like a poplar before a gate framed by imitation Greek columns. Old men and women walked by, carrying vegetables and eggs, chatting. Behind him, a group of children from the kindergarten were out doing morning exercises. Wheat, slender and upright, looked out of place amid the daily grind.
He pulled on a pullover and went out. Unexpectedly, although the sun was dazzling, the wind was also freezing. He put on his hat and put his hands in front of his eyes to block the light, leaving a shadow on his face, and only his angular chin could be seen.
Pu Zhihe came over from the other side, pulling a suitcase. Xiaomai acted cool and jogged over, trying to take the handle from her, but Pu Zhihe refused: "One of the wheels on this suitcase is broken. Pushing it requires some skill, otherwise it will get stuck. I'd better do it myself." He had no choice but to follow her with his hands in his pockets.
When they reached the path next to the fountain, Pu Zhihe called Xiaomai, "Let's take a shortcut this way, through the central square. It's faster that way."
Xiaomai stood there in astonishment. Pu Zhihe tilted her chin forward and said, "When I was in junior high school, I lived with a relative for a month. It was Building 13 up ahead. I didn't expect the world to be so small, did I?"
That summer, Director Ou was taking a group abroad, and Pu Zhihe was traveling with the Artists Association to collect materials. He sent her to stay temporarily with her aunt, who advocated singleness and remained unmarried at an advanced age. Later, her aunt got married quickly, sold her house, and moved abroad, and Pu Zhihe never visited again.
Talking about this neighborhood, they all remember the open-air movies in the summer, where everyone would gather on the steps, feeding mosquitoes and eating popsicles. The movie wasn't important; they just wanted to spend the summer catching fireflies with their little fans. In the winter, there was the Lantern Festival, where riddles were displayed from the curbs on either side of the fountain into the square, creating a festive atmosphere of crimson and gold amidst the lush green of the bushes.
The beige building is built around a garden with a fountain as its center. Every night when the street lights are on, the fountain is filled with mist, clouds and flowers are intoxicating nearby, and the bright moon and fresh breeze are in the distance.
Magnolia blossoms fell to the ground. Pu Zhihe squatted down to pick out intact buds that hadn't been trampled or scattered. Xiaomai stood by, waiting. Beside him was a tree of unknown flowers. He could reach the branches where new buds were sprouting with just a stretch of his hand.
Pu Zhihe was about to look up when a shower of petals fell on her. She instinctively closed her eyes, and the petals fell from her face into her open hands. When the noise died down, she stood up and patted her clothes.
Xiaomai blushed slightly, but luckily, his dark skin made it barely noticeable. He spread out his palms. "I was trying to pick this for you, but I lost my balance and bumped into a tree."
"It's okay, thank you." Pu Zhihe picked up the flower with a smile, but when she looked at Xiaomai again, her eyes changed. She stared at him and whispered, "Listen to me, don't move now."
She slowly raised her hand. Xiaomai didn't know what she was going to do. She was frozen in place by those words and stood there obediently. His serious face was reflected in Pu Zhihe's light brown pupils.
Because of her thick eyebrows and eyelashes, her makeup was minimal, with only a casual smear of eyeshadow. The sun cast a translucent glow on her cold, pale skin, revealing the dark circles beneath her eyes. Her hair rustled in the wind, like the trembling antennae of a butterfly. Pu Zhihe's eyes, blinking like a pair of mesmerizing wings, evoked a sense of detachment.
Pu Zhihe tilted his head, the sunlight streaming down from his forehead, flowing over his handsome brow and nose bridge, and falling on the delicate tip of his nose along with Xiaomai's gaze. He stood there expressionless, feeling a sense of inexplicable panic in his heart.
Hang Liumei had once taught Xiaomai that if you don't know where to look when chatting with someone, just look at their nose. This way, you don't have to worry about making eye contact, nor do you have to worry about not listening carefully. Xiaomai came to a new conclusion today: this method doesn't work when talking to people you don't know well enough.
Pu Zhihe slowly raised his hand, then suddenly reached towards his right shoulder, pinched the wings of the bumblebee that landed on it, and threw it deep into the grass with a wave of his hand.
After completing the action in one go, both of them breathed a sigh of relief.
Pu Zhihe picked up her suitcase and set off as if nothing had happened: "Let's go. By the way, when did you move here?"
"I moved here when I was in first grade. I went to the primary school outside the east gate. I could get to school just by crossing the yard."
"Then it seems we couldn't have met before. When I was in the second grade, you were only three years old and had just started kindergarten."
Xiaomai turned to look at her. "It seems like there's a big age difference, but if you consider that I'm in college and you're a graduate student, it doesn't sound that different."
"No matter how you count, you're still ten years old," Pu Zhihe laughed at him. "It's like a child who calls you brother when they see you, but only calls me auntie when they see me."
Xiaomai smiled gently. They had already reached Hang Liumei's house. He opened the door and let Pu Zhihe in first. On the floor lay a pair of brightly colored printed woven slippers. Pu Zhihe guessed they were for her.
The house displays a rare sense of contradictory unity. The entire house is painted in natural wood with a creamy white hue. Few items are left carelessly placed outside. Whether it's the coffee table or the counter, they're all bare, a prime example of the art of letting go. The living room alone looks like a model apartment, pre-furnished.
But the situation outside the living area is different. The dining area is the brightest spot in the house, and Hang Liumei likes to paint here, so she only has a large, space-consuming table piled with paints, brushes, books, and papers. Against the wall is not a wine cabinet but an easel, on which hangs Hang Liumei's unfinished exhibition work.
One side is aloof from worldly affairs, while the other side is full of vivid colors. The two sides are clearly distinguished.
Hang Liumei and Xiaomai took Pu Zhihe to see her room. It was simply furnished with only a bed and a wardrobe, but the window was large and looked out onto the garden.
After everything was packed up, Pu Zhihe thought that as an assistant she also had to take on some of the daily affairs, so she specially learned a few light and quick dishes before coming. Unexpectedly, Hang Liumei had already ordered takeout.
"Zhihe, come here, this will be our office from now on. It's not very formal, but painting is not restricted by place. It's more convenient to be at home when you get old. Let's just have a meal at noon. Xiaomai has to go to class in the afternoon so he has no time to cook. You can try his cooking skills when you have a chance in the future." The three of them gathered around the coffee table, and Hang Liumei was in high spirits.
While helping her, Pu Zhihe looked at Xiaomai with a hint of disbelief in her eyes, which quickly turned into admiration.
"Then I'll come back as soon as possible after class tonight to make you some midnight snacks," Xiaomai was encouraged and asked, "Are you going to stay home or go out to collect folk songs? Do you want me to drive you there?"
Hang Liumei immediately waved her hand at him: "No, no need at all. It's okay if you don't rush back today. Zhihe and I can make our own arrangements. Zhihe should be able to drive, right?"
Pu Zhihe nodded and told Xiaomai to study with peace of mind, and Xiaomai no longer insisted.
After dinner, Xiaomai went out. Pu Zhihe asked Hang Liumei where to start her work and whether she wanted him to help her count and organize her works first.
"There's no rush for any of this. The most important thing right now is that you change your clothes. We're going to the music festival soon."
Going to a music festival? Pu Zhihe was still wondering if she had heard it wrong when Hang Liumei had already changed her clothes and walked out of the bedroom.
She was wearing a black leather jacket and jeans, with sunglasses on her head. She turned around in front of the mirror and asked Pu Zhihe, "Do you think this outfit is okay with your young eyes?"
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