My Destiny

"What do you mean by that?"

Zhao Ziwei took great care of his hands. I had never seen a man with such delicate, fair, and pinkish-white hands.

While meticulously filing his nails, he drawled out his question to me—without even looking up, as if I were an insignificant person in his eyes, utterly unworthy of discussing anything with him face-to-face.

His attitude irritated me somewhat. I had just earned an honor for the factory—the Municipal Propaganda Department had organized an activity to widely promote the Shenzhen Spirit, requiring each unit to select employees to participate in a quiz competition. Everyone in the factory was too afraid to take part, worried about embarrassing themselves if they performed poorly. I volunteered and ended up tying for second place. The Propaganda Department leader personally presented the award certificate. When Zhao Ziwei went on stage to accept it, he looked immensely proud, and during his acceptance speech on behalf of the factory, he spoke eloquently, as if he himself were an outstanding boss who best embodied the Shenzhen Spirit.

His arrogant attitude toward me was deliberately put on for my benefit, and there was another reason for it—after the bronze award certificate was hung behind the factory gate, he had once acted unusually affectionate toward me, even making inappropriate advances when no one was around. Of course, I found it frivolous and harassing, but I didn’t confront him directly, only saying things like "Please be more proper." To a boss, such words were essentially a warning, and he might have even taken it as a great insult.

He was definitely giving me a hard time because of that incident.

I had no choice but to repeat my request—I wanted to recommend a friend to join the factory as a Line Leader and hoped he would approve.

Finally, he stopped filing his nails. Pushing off with his feet, his boss chair slid backward. Then, he propped his feet on the edge of the desk, looked at me, and said slowly, "Don’t you need to rephrase that? Let me remind you, 'hope' and 'plead' convey very different meanings. 'Hope' is often used by superiors toward subordinates, as a euphemism for demands or instructions, while 'pleading' is an entirely different matter."

I immediately said, "Please forgive me, I used the wrong words earlier. I plead for your approval."

He said, "A Line Leader is returning to her hometown and won’t be coming back, is that the situation?"

I said, "Yes."

He said, "So that assembly line will be short one person. You want to hire a female worker in time to avoid chaos among the girls on that line once she leaves, which would affect work efficiency. Is that what you mean?"

I said, "Yes."

"But why do you think that if I need to hire someone, it has to be the friend you recommend? This is also a significant favor. The peak hiring season has passed, and jobs aren’t as easy to find as they were at the beginning of the year. As the boss, don’t I have favors of my own to give?"

"This..."

I hadn’t expected him to pull this move and was momentarily speechless.

"Line Leaders are promoted from within the factory’s existing workers. If we hire a stranger from outside, what motivation would the female workers have to work hard? Put yourself in my shoes—would granting your plea be the right thing to do?"

Clutching at my last shred of hope, I said, "The person I’m recommending is an experienced assembly line worker. She’s not only worked on packaging lines but also on various other types of assembly lines. If there’s a minor issue with the line, she can even fix it..."

He pondered for a moment, then said quietly, "Your recommendation is quite compelling. Full marks to you."I secretly breathed a sigh of relief, bowed, and said, "Thank you, Mr. Zhao." Just as I turned to leave, he called me back again. He raised one hand, palm facing himself, back of the hand toward me, and waved his short, stubby, doll-like fingers back and forth a few times.

I suddenly felt displeased—no one in real life had ever made such a gesture toward me. I had only seen it in movies and TV shows; those who made such gestures were mostly villains.

But I still walked over to him—he was smiling, and I didn’t hesitate.

"A little closer, will I bite you?"

I obediently moved as close as possible.

"Give me a kiss."

He tilted one cheek toward me.

At this point, I hesitated.

He said, "Don’t think I’m trying to take advantage of you. You’re neither a delicate princess nor a stunning beauty, so why would I bother taking such a small advantage? It’s neither practical nor interesting. I just want to help you change your temperament. Why does an ordinary girl have to act so aloof and cold in front of the boss? Being more agreeable, speaking more sweetly, and acting more obediently everywhere would only benefit you, not harm you..."

I found his demeanor shameless, and it filled me with disgust.

He continued, "Just talking about this matter at hand, isn’t it just a word from me? You give me a little joy, and I’ll grant you some favor. It’s a win-win situation, so why not? If everyone does it happily, the result is shared joy, right?"

Listening to him, his words seemed almost earnest and tirelessly instructive.

I asked, "How will the salary be determined?"

He said, "Starting as a Line Leader right away, of course, it’ll be set at the Line Leader’s salary."

Hearing this, I quickly bent down and swiftly brushed my lips against his cheek.

He took the opportunity to wrap his arm around my waist and said, "Hey, such a slender waist, utterly charming. If you force me to admit I’m a bit interested in you, it’s only because I like your slender waist..."

I wanted to slap him, but reason stopped me. My hand changed its target mid-air and firmly twisted his ear.

He cried out and released my waist.

I immediately fled, turning around at the door to flash what I thought was a sweet smile—for Li Juan’s sake, I couldn’t let a perfectly resolved situation go wrong again.I stood in a secluded corner of the factory, calming my complex emotions, nearly on the verge of tears. Tolerating a man I despised making advances toward me in order to accomplish something filled me with profound shame. I thought of "Principal Mother" and "Mayor Father"—if they knew, they would surely be displeased. I thought of my Biological Father, my two sisters, and my two brothers-in-law. I couldn’t quite predict how my Biological Father and my eldest sister would view it, but as for my Second Sister, I imagined she would think—if you can achieve what you set out to do, why dwell on such trivial, unpleasant details? Caring about that would mean living too delicately, wouldn’t it? For someone who has no right to live delicately, obsessing over unnecessary matters is just being overly sentimental. As for my two brothers-in-law, I doubted they would give it a second thought. If my goal aligned with theirs, they would likely see me as overly sentimental too. Though I had never spent much time with them, I seemed to have gleaned a consistent attitude toward women from various men at the bottom of society—whether fathers, brothers, or especially brothers-in-law. That attitude was: to achieve a goal, one must learn to let go of certain concerns when necessary. In the end, there’s nothing worth clinging to.

I thought of Yao Yun. I didn’t look down on her, and ultimately, this too was rooted in a tragically pragmatic, ends-justify-the-means logic. I also realized that this logic had become almost universally accepted across all social strata in China.

I thought of Li Juan—the way she sat cross-legged on her bed counting money reminded me of Zhao Ziwei’s advances toward me. To her, such things were surely trivial, not even worth mentioning, right?

To help her escape what had become an "ordinary" environment, I had unwillingly endured the same "plot," making me feel once again the helplessness and sordidness of the world.

I also thought of my sisters’ children, especially Yang Hui, who was now a naval soldier. If they learned of their aunt’s experience—and wasn’t this truly an experience?—their perspectives would surely differ greatly from their parents’ generation…

This subjective judgment finally brought me some comfort. In the end, I didn’t shed tears. I had become quite "rational."

Though I felt ashamed, I had no regrets.

If I was someone’s friend, I had to go to such lengths for them. Otherwise, how could I, Fang Wanzhi, expect Li Juan to consider me a friend?

When I told Li Juan, "It’s done," she asked with a hint of melancholy, "Did it go smoothly?"

I smiled and replied, "Quite smoothly."

In the first few days, almost all the girls in the workshop cast speculative glances at Li Juan, with a few even harboring suppressed resentment. It was no wonder—a new factory worker directly appointed as Line Leader was rare even in other factories. Though the Line Leader’s salary was only two hundred yuan more than that of an ordinary worker, for migrant girls back then, earning that extra two hundred yuan each month often required years of diligent and obedient work. To become Line Leaders themselves, petty rivalries and conflicts frequently arose among them. Even though I introduced Li Juan by saying that the hazelnuts and pine nuts they enjoyed were brought from her hometown in the Northeast, it made little difference.

Soon, Li Juan won the girls’ respect through her actions.For several days in a row, she arrived early and left late, performing maintenance on the four assembly lines—oiling where needed, tightening where necessary—ensuring the lines would no longer suffer sudden stoppages. Sudden stoppages were something the girls particularly disliked, as they usually required calling in specialized repairmen from outside the factory. From waiting for the repairman to arrive until the line was fixed, no matter how many hours it took, everyone had to work overtime to make up for the lost time. The Line Leader’s position was the "first seat" on the assembly line, and the work was relatively light—simply aligning items, checking for damage, and passing them to the next person. The work on the assembly line might seem simple and repetitive, but repeating the same motion nonstop for an entire morning, then an entire afternoon, day after day, left even experienced workers with sore necks and shoulders by the end of their shift. Newcomers often ended up dizzy, disoriented, or even vomiting from exhaustion.

Li Juan often left her "first seat" to check on anyone who seemed tired or whose movements had slowed, letting them take the Line Leader’s position while she sat in theirs. On the first Saturday and Sunday, she even went to the kitchen to help out. Kitchen work was even more familiar territory for her. The side dishes she prepared and the noodle sauces she made were praised by everyone as uniquely flavorful and delicious. Soon, all the girls grew fond of her. Those older than her affectionately called her "Juanzi," while those younger respectfully addressed her as "Sister Juan."

Having Li Juan under my "command" brought me great benefits as well—in the evenings, I could have her take over my supervisory duties, allowing me to return to the dormitory to review my night university courses. By then, I had successfully passed the entrance exam for night university, and Li Juan was also happy to sleep in the dormitory, chatting, singing, and playing around with the girls. Her cheerful, optimistic nature gradually returned, and her complexion began to improve.

One noon, Zhao Ziwei appeared in the cafeteria again and walked over to my table, where Li Juan was sitting beside me.

He hadn’t come to eat; it was clear he had "graced" the cafeteria specifically for Li Juan. As usual, he stood with his hands behind his back, tilted his chin toward Li Juan, and asked me expressionlessly, "Is that her?"

I said, "Yes."

Li Juan set down her chopsticks and stood up.

Zhao Ziwei said, "Sit, sit, no need to stand."

As soon as Li Juan sat down, Zhao Ziwei added, "As a Line Leader, you are undoubtedly competent."

Li Juan smiled and said, "I’ve done it before. Thank you for the praise, Mr. Zhao."

I had reminded Li Juan about Zhao Ziwei’s preference for being addressed as "Mr. Zhao." Hearing him praise her made me quite happy.

Zhao Ziwei continued, "However, I think you would also excel in the cafeteria. How about it—would you be willing to transfer there?"

Li Juan looked at me, seeking my opinion.

I didn’t think that would be a good choice for Li Juan—with so many different tastes to satisfy, it was difficult for cafeteria work to earn widespread praise. Showing off a little skill occasionally was one thing, but becoming a full-time cook was another matter entirely.

So, I took it upon myself to say, "Li Juan prefers working in the workshop. Juan, quickly thank Mr. Zhao for his kindness."

Li Juan then said, "Yes, I prefer working in the workshop. Thank you for your kindness, Mr. Zhao."

Zhao Ziwei laughed heartily and said, "You really do listen to her. Fine, fine, consider it unsaid, let it be…"

Humming a Peking opera tune, he walked away with a smile.

Li Juan whispered, "Our attitude just now—it wasn’t ungrateful, was it?"I said dismissively, "Being transferred from the workshop to the cafeteria isn't really a promotion or demotion. Can't you see he isn't disappointed? He's just bored and came to the cafeteria to wander around, showing his concern for the employees' meals."

"Regardless, I think he's still a pretty good boss," Li Juan clearly disagreed with my words. She always spoke her mind—that part of her hadn't changed much.

I just smiled.

Girls from other tables gathered around, chattering and pleading with Li Juan not to leave the workshop, not to leave them.

I was always the first to arrive in the night school classroom.

One day, someone arrived even earlier than me—when I entered the classroom, I saw a man standing by the open window, smoking. Although it was already mid-autumn, the autumn mosquitoes were still rampant. Even though the classroom was on the second floor, there were trees outside the window, and the ground was damp with grass. Opening the window would let mosquitoes swarm into the classroom like a charge.

I said, "Hey, why did you open the window? If you need to smoke, you should go outside. If too many mosquitoes get in, how can anyone focus in class?..."

He turned around, and I was stunned with shock—it turned out he wasn't smoking but had lit two mosquito coils on the windowsill. That alone wouldn't have shocked me. What shocked me was that he was the bespectacled, outwardly refined but inwardly filthy "pornographic photographer" who had been taken away by the police right in front of me!

He didn't recognize me at the same time. Who knows how many women involved in pornography he had mingled with? I had only been in front of his camera for about ten minutes, so I definitely hadn't left an impression on him.

He said, "The air conditioner is broken. Without opening the window, the classroom is too stuffy. This way, we get ventilation without letting mosquitoes in..."

But I didn't want to say another word to him. I turned and ran out of the classroom.

How could someone like that mix in with night university students? Shouldn't there be at least some basic character screening beyond just test scores? I felt I needed to report this to someone. Then I thought again—the night university admissions regulations clearly stated that even ex-convicts, if genuinely reformed and with proof from the police, could take the night university entrance exams, and discrimination against them was prohibited.

So I held back and didn't take any action. I only entered the classroom when the bell rang.

My seat was in the front row.

I was even more shocked—that guy was standing at the podium!

He said calmly, "The teacher who should be teaching this course is sick. The school asked me to substitute. I'm both happy and honored to teach night university students, but I have certain requirements for class..."

His requirement was for night university students to stand, bow, and sit like elementary school students.

He looked at me and said, "You will serve as the class representative for my course."

In this situation, no matter how unwilling I was, I couldn't say no.

I called out "Stand, bow, sit" three times before he was satisfied with our neatness. I was one of the younger students, with some older ones in their thirties. His demand was almost rude, and everyone looked displeased.He explained it this way: "It's not that I'm eccentric, nor do I care for superficial teacherly dignity. What I ask of everyone is simply a sense of ceremony for the class. Through this brief ritual, everyone will then focus their minds and settle in to listen attentively. For me, it's also a necessary reminder—since students show such respect for their teacher, the teacher should strive to deliver every lesson well and cherish the precious time of each class for the students; otherwise, the teacher does not deserve the students' respect... Good morning, classmates!"

He bowed back to the students: "Now, our ceremony is complete, let's begin class..."

Turning around, he picked up a piece of chalk and wrote five large characters on the blackboard: "Public Relations and Breaking Through Barriers."

His blackboard writing was beautiful, something that could not be achieved without a foundation in calligraphy.

He believed—Marx said, "The essence of man is the ensemble of social relations," but that does not mean all phenomena of human social relations will inevitably and exhaustively manifest in any specific individual. That is fundamentally impossible because each person's social relations are limited. However, facts from ancient and modern times, both in China and abroad, prove that the higher a person's cultural cultivation, the more broadly attractive they become, the richer their social relations, and the more fully Marx's famous statement is validated in them. By the same logic, this applies to organizations and enterprises as well, giving rise to the concept of "public relations." "Public relations" is by no means an individual concept but a holistic one in the name of enterprises and institutions—their contact with society is far greater than that of ordinary individuals, so a department is needed to handle relations with the public. The higher the social transparency of these relations, the better the image of the enterprise or institution. Benefits determine development, and benefits are ultimately measured in monetary terms. However, "public relations" work is not conducted directly for monetary purposes; it is carried out for long-term sustainable development and often manifests as expenditure, which is why public relations departments need public relations funds, just as propaganda departments need propaganda funds and business trips require travel expenses. This easily leads some people in our country to misunderstand, mistakenly thinking of "public relations" as "breaking through barriers," believing it relies on money to settle opaque social relations or accomplish things that cannot be achieved through normal channels, completely neglecting the responsibilities and obligations enterprises and institutions owe to various aspects of society. Thus, "public relations" instead becomes an excuse for them to engage in disguised corruption through power-money exchanges..."

While speaking, he did not pace back and forth on the podium or crack jokes. Instead, he stood motionless beside the blackboard, one hand in front and the other behind, with the hand holding the chalk in front, occasionally writing a few key words or phrases on the blackboard. His gaze remained fixed on the middle and back rows, rarely looking toward the front. His southern accent was noticeable, yet every sentence was in Mandarin, and his tone seemed to possess a magnetic quality that captivated listeners without them realizing it...

His gaze never once fell on me. Yet, I was drawn in by his words and fully agreed with the principles he explained.

I observed the students on my left and right and found them all deeply engrossed, with any dissatisfaction on their faces completely gone.

After class, I overheard students discussing animatedly. Some said they loved listening to his lectures, which were full of "substantive content"; others remarked that he resembled Zhou Enlai in his thirties, truly graceful and poised...The latter kind of discussion secretly angered me—how could that guy, clearly a hypocrite, be mentioned in the same breath as Zhou Enlai? Liars are often eloquent, and some bad people may even have a refined appearance. If I didn’t expose his true nature, wouldn’t more and more people come to like him?!

“What’s your major?”

Director Li, who was on duty at the school office, listened to my serious accusation and didn’t dare to take it lightly. With a pen in one hand, he flipped open a notebook with the other.

“Business Management.”

“Oh?…”

Upon hearing my words, he set down the pen, closed the notebook, and smiled.

Thinking he doubted my identity, I showed him my student ID.

He said, “You’re Fang Wanzhi, right? The teachers all praise you for listening attentively in class and arriving early. I’ve seen you during my class observations too. Your substitute teacher wears glasses and looks quite refined, doesn’t he?…”

I replied, “Yes, his appearance is too deceptive. I think we should report this to the public security bureau…”

Just then, the class bell rang again.

“Student Fang, this is a big misunderstanding. Please go back to class first. I’ll come to your classroom after class and explain your misunderstanding about Teacher Gao Xiang…”

Director Li spoke as he escorted me out.

Near the end of the second class, a note was passed to me from the back row. I opened it and saw a few words: “Please stay after class. Li.”

After class, I remained seated.

Gao Xiang unscrewed the lid of his thermos, took a sip of water, and asked me curiously, “Why haven’t you left yet? Do you have any questions to ask?”

I glared at him and retorted, "Don't you recognize me?" He approached me, bent down to examine my face closely, straightened up, and smiled, saying with feigned surprise, "It's you! We still have an unsettled account between us. You owe me money, and I owe you a photo."

I felt his demeanor was forced composure. His smile was cunning. His words revealed his guilty conscience.

In a solemn tone, I said, "It is your misfortune that I recognized you; and your recognition of me will make you understand why."

He smiled cunningly again, pretending to be casual as he said, "It's not that serious, is it? You're not a witch."

Just then, Director Li arrived in the classroom and asked cheerfully, "Have you two cleared up your misunderstanding?"

He said, "I have no misunderstanding about her. In fact, I even selected her as my class representative."

I said, "Don't believe him, Director Li. He's lying."

He smiled and said, "Having you call out 'stand, bow, sit' means I chose you as the class representative."

I said, "You still can't win me over!"

Director Li made a referee-like gesture and said, "Stop, stop! Teacher Gao, please sit down too. Let me explain."

Director Li explained that Gao Xiang was the vice chairman of the Shanghai Photographers Association and had been invited by the Shenzhen Federation of Literary and Art Circles to assist in establishing a photographers association in Shenzhen. The incident regarding his "Yellow Photography Exhibition" was purely a false accusation by petty individuals, and the public security authorities had already apologized to him. Initially, he taught photography art to meet the interests of night school students. Coincidentally, the teacher for the business management course fell ill, so he stepped up to teach business management, addressing the students' urgent needs...

Director Li asked me, "What do you think of Teacher Gao's class?"

My face flushed red to the tips of my ears. I wished the ground would split open right then, allowing me to disappear instantly.

I looked at Gao Xiang with an apologetic expression, but what I said was, "It's... acceptable."

Director Li also looked at Gao Xiang and said, trying to ease the tension, "Your class representative has high standards for the teacher's lecture quality."

Gao Xiang immediately replied, "I am ashamed, truly ashamed. I will seriously reflect on my shortcomings."

Director Li then looked at me and said, "A photographer teaching business management sounds quite mismatched. But Teacher Gao Xiang is a scholar-type photographer with a broad range of knowledge. He has even published a book on business management, which became a bestseller!"

"What I meant by 'acceptable' was actually... it was very good. That's what the students generally think..."

I had no choice but—no, I sincerely corrected my words.

"I thank the students for their affirmation. I will continue to strive for improvement!" Gao Xiang bowed to me like a gentleman.

Director Li laughed heartily.

That evening, Gao Xiang escorted me to the entrance of the hotel...

Half a month before National Day, the factory received an urgent order.

I suggested to Zhao Ziwei, "Let's encourage the girls to work overtime. Otherwise, we might not be able to complete it on time."

Zhao Ziwei asked, "Are the girls willing to work overtime?"

I said, "As long as the overtime pay is reasonable, they are all willing."

Hearing this, he avoided looking at me, leaned back in his boss chair, gazed at the ceiling in silence for a moment, and then said with a different plan and full confidence, "Then let's not have overtime. Don't worry too much about it. We can complete it. It must be finished on time."The next day, the assembly line was noticeably running faster. What needed packaging were high-end imported wines, each bottle quite expensive. The line had sped up, exceeding the usual quick-handed abilities of ordinary assembly line workers. One after another, girls dropped wine bottles onto the floor, shattering them—and those had to be paid for. Since I became Chief Leader, it was the first time in the workshop that a girl’s crying could be heard.

I asked Li Juan, "The assembly line is too fast, isn’t it?"

Li Juan said, "Only a fool wouldn’t see that."

I asked again, "What’s going on?"

Li Juan replied, "What else could it be? After we got off work, someone adjusted the line’s speed! At this pace, even I get dizzy after working for a while." As soon as she finished speaking, a girl fainted.

I immediately pulled the power switch, while Li Juan ordered a few girls, "Quick, help me lay her flat."

Fortunately, the girl wasn’t seriously hurt—just a momentary dizziness caused by extreme nervous tension.

I asked Li Juan again, "How can we get it back to the original speed?"

Li Juan said, "I’ve experienced this kind of thing before. First, we need to ask the workshop manager."

So I announced, "Everyone, take a break. I’ll go solve this. If I can’t fix it, we’ll stage a proper strike. Do you all agree or not?"

The girls all silently watched me without speaking.

I grew anxious and asked loudly, "Agree or not?!"

Only then did a few girls nod.

The workshop manager had a separate office and was said to be a relative of Zhao Ziwei. I had approached him before about workshop matters, so we knew each other.

"Right, I had someone adjust the speed. I don’t need to ask for your permission or get your agreement on this, do I? Is there any need for you to stand before me with a face full of displeasure?"

He was feigning ignorance.

I said, "You need to have someone readjust it back to the original speed, otherwise we can’t work."

He looked at me with contempt and said, "Are you requesting this from me, or are you ordering me?"

I replied, "If a request can solve the problem, then I earnestly request it."

He said, "A request won’t help either. To complete the orders on time, the speed has been increased by one notch. This is Mr. Zhao’s instruction. ‘One Big, Two Upright, Three Unconcerned’—that’s the factory spirit you summarized. If the female workers have complaints, you, as Chief Line Leader, should persuade them not to mind, right? By coming to me, you’ve already violated ‘Two Upright’—you haven’t positioned yourself correctly. Since Mr. Zhao has made a decision, it can’t be changed. Understand?"

His words left me stunned.

He tilted his chin toward the door, "If you understand, go back to the workshop and do what you’re supposed to do."

"Then, I’m informing you that we’re going on strike."

With that, I slammed the door and left.

"Sisters, it seems we have no choice but to start the strike." After hearing my words, the girls looked at each other, falling into a collective silence.

Li Juan pulled me aside and whispered, "Are you sure you want to do this?"

I retorted, "What other way is there besides striking?"

Li Juan whispered even more softly, "I think the girls are all frightened by what you said."The word "strike" kept spilling from my lips, and even I found it utterly unexpected and unbelievable. But as the Chief Line Leader, pushed to that point, I had no better strategy than to act on impulse. I could also see that the girls were all timid and afraid of trouble—they wanted me to stand up for them, yet feared being implicated and burned by the fire I might ignite. Yes, I saw that, but I was ready to risk it all.

At that moment, I recalled Turgenev's prose piece "The Threshold," feeling like the Russian girl he depicted.

This association made my blood boil and filled me with righteous indignation. What angered me most was that things should never have reached such an impasse. The girls were willing to work overtime to earn a little more money, and overtime could have easily ensured the orders were completed on time. It was a win-win situation—so why didn’t Zhao Ziwei do that? Why insist on adjusting the assembly line speed instead? Wasn’t it just to save on overtime pay? His pursuit of maximum profit shouldn’t come at the cost of disregarding people’s lives!

I whispered, "I have no way out."

Li Juan said, "Then I’m with you."

She squeezed my hand.

Zhao Ziwei walked into the workshop with his hands clasped behind his back, accompanied by his relative.

I thought a short, stout man walking with his hands behind his back, trying to look imposing, was actually quite ridiculous.

He didn’t raise his voice to scold anyone; instead, he spoke calmly, as if unperturbed: "I’ve been informed that you’re talking about some kind of strike. Is that true?"

When his gaze swept over the girls, they averted their eyes, their unease written plainly on their faces.

I said loudly, "Yes!"

At that moment, the air in the workshop seemed to freeze. The faint ticking of the electronic wall clock suddenly amplified tenfold, as if it were a sound effect in a movie. The girls all lowered their heads. Some even huddled closer together, as if instinctively forming ranks.

"Did I ask you? If I didn’t, don’t butt in."

Zhao Ziwei spoke without looking at me—clearly, he couldn’t be bothered to spare me a glance. He then turned around, his back facing me and Li Juan.

"Girls, this factory belongs to me, but it also belongs to you—it’s all of ours. We can discuss anything properly from both sides. Why let troublemakers stir things up and force a deadlock? How about this: starting today, those willing to work overtime can do so. The number of assembly lines running will depend on how many people volunteer. The hours and overtime pay calculations will be entirely up to you. As for the line speed adjustments, someone else did that—it has nothing to do with me. We’ll just restore it to the original pace. Isn’t it just a small matter? What’s there that can’t be negotiated? Now, those who agree, please return to your seats. Those who disagree, go to the finance office to settle your wages, pack up, and leave."

Though I couldn’t see his face, I could imagine his expression—doubtlessly amiable and sincere. His words carried an innocent tone, as if he’d been framed or manipulated.

One by one, the girls lowered their heads and walked back to their workstations, sitting down silently. No one looked up at Zhao Ziwei, nor at me or Li Juan.

The air no longer felt frozen, but the ticking of the clock didn’t soften in the slightest.

Finally, Zhao Ziwei slowly turned to face me and Li Juan again.He approached me, stared into my eyes, and said with a forced smile, "Well, it's time to settle things between us. Fang Wanzhi, you really don't know what's good for you! You wanted to come to the workshop to practice your profession, and I agreed. You wanted to become the Chief Line Leader right away, and I didn't say a word—I agreed. When you needed a residence permit, I had someone write glowing things on your reference letter. You went to night school, and I supported you. You introduced your friend here to join the factory and insisted she become a Line Leader right away, and I gave you enough face. But then, you two use cheap stuff from the Northeast countryside to win people over, you stir up trouble for no reason, and you think just by teaming up, you can turn this workshop into your own little kingdom where you call all the shots? I really want to spit in your face, but that would waste my saliva. My saliva is worth more than your face, so I'd rather spit on the ground—ugh! Pah! You two, get the hell out of here right now!..."

Once again, my blood boiled.

I said, "Zhao Ziwei, you're a bastard!"

As soon as the words left my mouth, he slapped me across the face.

I never expected he would dare to hit me. Covering my face, I instinctively closed my eyes, my mind went blank, and the air seemed to freeze, as if time itself had stopped.

"You think I wouldn't dare slap you? You asked for it—you insulted me first! Go ahead, report me to the city labor union! I'll get a lawyer to deal with you..."

Smack! An even sharper sound of a slap echoed.

When I opened my eyes, I saw Zhao Ziwei also covering one side of his face with his hand.

He pointed at Li Juan and ordered the man who had followed him to the workshop, "Hit her! Hit her for me! I'll take full responsibility for whatever happens..."

The man began rolling up his sleeves.

But Li Juan had already leaped over to the assembly line, grabbing a bottle of liquor in her left hand and another in her right, smashing both with two sharp cracks...

The two men stood there, stunned.

Li Juan retreated to my side, handed me a broken liquor bottle, and said with unwavering resolve, "We're acting in self-defense. If they dare bully women, we'll jab them in the face with these, make them remember the lesson of men bullying women forever!..."

She pointed the broken bottle in her hand at the man who had rolled up his sleeves, exposing his arms, while placing the fingers of her other hand one by one into her mouth, sucking off the liquor.

I, too, pointed my broken bottle at Zhao Ziwei and, just as he had approached me earlier, stepped toward him, forcing him to retreat step by step as he kept saying, "Don't do anything rash, don't do anything rash." Behind him, the girls all looked up, some shocked, others expressionless.

Meanwhile, Li Juan waved her broken bottle in circles in front of the other man's face, raising her other hand above her head with two fingers pressed together like a sword, striking a pose like a female warrior.

"Where do you think you're going? Don't you want your wages? Don't you want your things?"

I was so furious I lost my senses and headed straight for the factory exit, with Li Juan calling after me.

I said, "Forget about the half-month's wages."

Li Juan said, "What are you talking about!"

I said, "What if accounting refuses to pay?"

Li Juan said, "They wouldn't dare!"

I said, "They might have a reason not to—we smashed two bottles of liquor."

Li Juan said, "That was Zhao's fault. Hey, don't throw it away—keep holding it!"

So we continued gripping the broken liquor bottles as we made our way to the finance office.The girl in the finance office gave us a thumbs-up without asking a single question or saying a word, quickly settling our accounts.

We then went to the dormitory, took off our work uniforms, and changed into our own clothes.

I said, "I hope that girl in the finance office doesn’t get scolded because of us."

Li Juan said, "Don’t worry, that Zhao guy must have sent someone to notify her. Don’t just toss the work uniforms aside—fold them neatly."

I asked, "Is that necessary?"

She replied, "Absolutely. We need to set an example for the girls."

"After what we did, what kind of example are we even talking about?"

"That is an example too! At the very least, it proves to the girls that we shouldn’t let people like that Zhao guy walk all over us! Ah, you have no idea, that wine tasted amazing."

Her words made me laugh.

Before leaving the dormitory, I casually picked up a piece of chalk and wrote two lines on the small blackboard used for notices: "If you face oppression again, go to the city’s labor union! —Fang Wanzhi."

At that moment, I felt a bit like Wu Song.

Li Juan looked at it and said, "Good advice. That way, your example is complete!"

That evening, Li Juan treated me to noodles again. We each drank two cans of beer and got quite tipsy. Back at the hotel, we didn’t chat much and just fell asleep as soon as we lay down.

The next morning, Li Juan shook me awake.

She said anxiously, "Hurry up, get up! It’s terrible—what will people think if we’re both late?"

I sat up with a start, stared blankly at the small window for a moment, and then lay back down.

"Hey, why are you lying down again? Don’t forget, you’re the Chief Leader! If you don’t get up soon, I’m leaving without you!"

Li Juan began sitting on the edge of the bed to change her shoes.

I said, "Don’t forget what happened yesterday either."

She paused, took off her shoes, and lay back down. After a long while, she finally said, "So, we’re unemployed now."

Before National Day, it was indeed difficult to find a job, and finding a satisfactory one was even harder. Once the National Day holiday passed, most out-of-town shop owners were already making arrangements to return home before the New Year.

Li Juan and I sometimes looked for jobs together, sometimes separately, but each time we returned disappointed. I wasn’t too disheartened because I had another focus in life: striving to successfully obtain my night school diploma. If I couldn’t find a job for the time being, I’d just dedicate myself wholeheartedly to studying. With savings and stocks in my name, I didn’t feel like someone living hand-to-mouth. But Li Juan was different. Her only financial security was the 20,000 yuan she had brought from home—and that money wasn’t entirely hers. She had to send a portion of it to Company Commander Zhou’s elderly parents every month to ensure they and their grandson wouldn’t struggle financially. This "must" was a demand Li Juan placed on herself, one that seemed almost like self-imposed pressure to me, and something I couldn’t fully understand.Struggling to find a job, Juan sometimes couldn't help but look worried, even showing signs of inner anxiety. Although she tried not to act that way in front of me, a person who is restless from having nothing to do all day cannot successfully hide their unsettled state. Seeing this, I couldn't help but feel anxious too. For the two of us, that "home" was certainly not small, but if we stayed inside together—one buried in studying like a mute, the other unbearably lonely, wanting to talk but knowing that speaking would be a distraction—the space truly felt cramped. She would lie down for a while, staring blankly at the ceiling, lost in thought; then sit up, looking at me as if wanting to speak but holding back, and she couldn't go in and out too often—putting myself in her shoes, I realized how unbearable that feeling must be. Besides, unlike me, she was someone who preferred activity over stillness. Every time she found an excuse to go out, she would stay out for a long time before returning. I understood that it was purely to give me a stretch of time conducive to studying. Although that room was our shared "home," she seemed to draw a distinction between us, as if I were the "sub-landlord" and she were the "freeloader" benefiting from me.

At night, I often heard her tossing and turning, accompanied by soft sighs.

My heart ached because of it.

One night, when she was doing it again, I couldn't help but turn on the light and simply sat up, saying, "Juan, since you can't sleep, how about we chat?"

She looked at the ceiling and said, "Okay."

I asked, "What exactly are your plans?"

She replied, "What else can I plan? What do you mean?"

"Are you going back home before the New Year?"

"Didn't I just return to Shenzhen a little over a month ago? If I go back home before the New Year, wouldn't all the money I earn just be spent on travel?"

"So you're not planning to go back?"

"I've already decided not to. What about you?"

"I'm not going back either."

"That's best. Because you wrote to tell me you'd spend the Spring Festival in Shenzhen, and back then, Shenzhen felt like an empty city. I was afraid you'd be lonely, so I came back to find you. There are still a lot of unresolved matters back at my home. If it weren't for wanting to spend this year's Spring Festival with you, I wouldn't have traveled thousands of miles back to Shenzhen in August. Don't change your mind and leave me alone in Shenzhen."

"I swear I won't change my mind. I hope to spend the Spring Festival with you in Shenzhen."

"It's a deal."

"Let me ask you another question, maybe one I shouldn't ask. If you don't want to answer, just pretend I never asked, as long as you don't get angry."

"I won't get angry at all."

"Company Commander Zhou's sacrifice was a heroic one. Didn't the military provide a pension?"

"They did. For a rural family, it was quite a sum of money."

"Then why do you still have to send money to his elderly parents every month?"

"He had an older brother and two younger brothers, all living in rural areas, and none of them were doing well. His grandparents are still alive, living with his youngest uncle. He was the only successful one in his family. After that money was divided, his elderly parents didn't get much..."

"That's outrageous!"

I slipped on my slippers, got out of bed, and sat on Li Juan's bed, firing off questions like a machine gun: "What right does his older brother have to take a share? What right do his two younger brothers have? And what right does his youngest uncle's family have? What right?! Shouldn't his pension be used first to support his elderly parents and his son's life?!..."

My words carried a tone of accusation, as if Li Juan were the one who had arbitrarily divided Company Commander Zhou's pension.Her gaze finally settled on me, the corners of her mouth twitching slightly into a tolerant yet helpless smile.

"Wan Zhi, you ask that based on the principles you believe in. But the common folk have their own principles. The principles you hold and those of the common folk are often not the same. To ensure Company Commander Zhou’s good reputation remains untarnished after his death, shouldn’t we first make sure his brothers and the four families of his uncles find no fault? That means treating everyone equally, without favoritism..."

I opened my mouth but couldn’t find the words.

Until then, I had always thought that "the world" was just another term for human society. It had never occurred to me that there could be a further division within the world called "the common folk," and that they had their own set of "principles."

In today’s terms—I learned something new!

"Good sister, I can handle my own affairs. Go to sleep now, don’t worry so much about me."

She gently nudged me.

With nothing left to say, I quietly retreated to my bed and turned off the light.

After I lay down, Li Juan told me—Company Commander Zhou had enjoyed a leave before his death, and the two of them had spent a period of happy time together in the countryside. Sometimes Company Commander Zhou stayed at her house, and sometimes she stayed at his. Company Commander Zhou’s son was very close to her, and she had also met his elder brother, two younger brothers, as well as his uncles, grandparents—all of whom approved of her. Seeing that her family’s house was even more dilapidated than his own, Company Commander Zhou contributed most of the money to help her family build a new house. At first, she firmly opposed this, but Company Commander Zhou said, “Your parents are about to become my parents-in-law. Helping them move into a new house sooner is my wish.”

“Wan Zhi, before him, I never loved anyone else, and he loved me like a treasure. Not becoming his wife is the regret of my life. But since it didn’t happen, and it’s not justified by any proper status, for my family to build a house using his money—as you just said, how can we accept over a hundred thousand yuan from a martyr before his death for nothing? Besides, he has many poor relatives and left behind a son. I understand why you asked that earlier, and I know you meant well for me. But I’m not deliberately making things hard for myself either. If I don’t take on some responsibility for Company Commander Zhou after his death, my heart… I wouldn’t be able to feel at peace either. It’s not that I have no other choice…”

Li Juan spoke so calmly. Although she spoke softly, in the quiet of the night, I heard every word clearly. Moreover, I felt her voice was exceptionally pleasant, like the voices of characters in a radio drama, carrying an artistic quality. I had never felt that way before.

My heart felt sorrowful yet serene, and the turmoil I had felt for her vanished completely.

I wanted to ask if she had acted according to the folk “reason,” but I didn’t actually ask.

I turned to look at her, a beam of moonlight illuminating her face. Only then did I believe that tears truly glisten under moonlight.

That night, I had a series of dreams. First, I dreamed of “Principal Mother” and “Mayor Father”—both sternly criticized me for repeatedly overstepping boundaries.

“Principal Mother” said, “When you participated in demanding the bonus, you already went too far. Why did you do something excessive again at the factory?”

“Mayor Father” said, “Excessive actions must not be repeated. Once there is a second time, there will inevitably be a third; once there is a third, there will inevitably be a fourth; once there is a fourth, there will inevitably be a fifth…”

His words grew faster and faster, gradually becoming as rapid as chanting scriptures, repeating “once there is… there will inevitably be” over and over, until my head began to ache, and finally, the pain became so intense that I clutched my head and rolled on the ground.

As I rolled, I transformed into Sun Wukong. When I looked at my adoptive father, he had become Tang Seng, sitting cross-legged with his eyes closed, chanting the Tight-Fillet Spell. I leaped into the air, pulled the Golden Cudgel from my ear, and was about to strike him down with a blow. Suddenly, my adoptive father opened his eyes, shooting out blazing light, and shouted, “Fang Wanzhi, how dare you?” The blazing light struck me down to the dust. I heard a burst of hearty laughter—my adoptive father had transformed into Eldest Sister’s Husband, resembling the Bull Demon King. Beside him was the Lion King, another demon from Journey to the West, who also somewhat resembled Second Sister’s Husband.

Eldest Sister’s Husband said to Second Sister’s Husband, “Truly worthy of being our sister-in-law! Impressive, impressive, truly impressive!”

Second Sister’s Husband said, “To be precise, she’s also the seed of a celestial family! What kind of sapling you plant determines the fruit you get; what kind of seed you sow determines the flower that blooms, haha, haha…”

In the morning, Li Juan asked me if I had had nightmares during the night.I said it couldn't really be called a nightmare, just too absurd. So I told her about my dream and asked why I would dream such things.

She said, "Daytime thoughts become nighttime dreams—you understand this principle yourself."

I said, "I wasn't thinking about those things!"

She said, "You were, don't deny it. Let me interrogate you—is it because you can't forgive yourself for our behavior at the factory?"

I blushed and admitted it was a little, then asked in return, "Don't you feel anything bad about it?"

She said lightly, "No."

I pressed, "Really? Not at all?"

She said, "Really. Not at all. Hey, isn't your question a bit silly? Whether in high society or among common folk, they're all fucking bullies who prey on the weak! There's no place in this world where everyone is a gentleman! If we hadn't acted that way, could we have gotten the bonus? If we didn't get it, wouldn't it just have been pocketed by those bastards? At the factory, if I hadn't acted that way then, wouldn't I have just watched you get beaten? And if you got beaten and then tried to find somewhere to reason it out, wouldn't you still have been beaten? But I'm not brainless either—do you think I really would have stabbed someone hard with a broken bottle? Of course not! If that hadn't scared Zhao Ziwei and the other guy, I would have thrown the broken bottle and pulled you away to run..."

She laughed as she spoke later on.

That radiant smile of hers was something I liked.

I hadn't seen her smile like that in a long time.

I smiled too.

A few days later, I invited her to dinner.

She said, two people without jobs, why invite each other back and forth? Save some money!

I insisted, saying there was important business to discuss, and we needed a quiet place.

She said, what's going on? We're just a pair of unemployed migrant workers—what important business could we possibly have? After nine o'clock, the hotel is pretty much just the two of us left—isn't that quiet enough?

I said the matter I wanted to discuss with her wouldn't be good if overheard by anyone from the boss's family, and only then did she reluctantly agree.

During those days, I wasn't completely shutting out the world, focused solely on night university studies. Sometimes when I said I was going out for a walk, I was actually riding my bicycle around looking for jobs for both of us. Although the job search hadn't yielded results yet, I discovered a nearly seventy-square-meter storefront space for rent. After much thought, I decided to take it over.

When we sat down by the window at a Western restaurant and the waiter set out the knives and forks, I couldn't help saying, "Since coming to Shenzhen, this is the first time."

Eating Western food was by no means a treat for me. Back in Yu County, my adoptive father and adoptive mother would host banquets at home several times a year for their old classmates and friends, mostly in Western style, and they would hire famous chefs from the county or nearby Linjiang City. Chinese food often uses more oil, which they didn't like. Actually, hosting banquets at home was also part of their respective work, called "unity" and "united front." After I entered high school, especially after starting university, I also frequented Western restaurants in Linjiang and Guiyang. For classmates from better-off families, Western dining was about the different environment, atmosphere, and feeling compared to Chinese food.

Hearing my words, Li Juan pursed her lips and said, "Since I was born, this is my first time. What's so great about Western food anyway? What does it matter if Chinese people never eat Western food in their whole lives?"

I said, "We're already sitting here, don't ruin my mood."

When the steak arrived, I saw she really didn't know how to use a knife and fork. Following my demonstration, she cut a piece of steak and put it in her mouth.

I asked, "Is it good?"She said, "It's okay, it's my first time eating meat like this. Starting tomorrow, I'm going to resist corruption and never touch it again."

I pretended to be annoyed and asked, "How have I corrupted you?"

She replied, "When a farmer's daughter like me goes out to work, the relationship with money is completely different from that of a vice mayor's daughter like you. I'm really afraid of being influenced by you and becoming extravagant with money in the future."

I thought that since I ran away from home, I had already gained a deep understanding of how hard it is for workers to earn a little money, but I didn't want to argue with her. Her words were half-joking, half-serious, not worth taking seriously.

When I told her about my decision, her eyes widened like bells. She was stunned for a moment before saying, "That would cost a lot of money!"

I said if I sold my stocks, it would be enough; I explained that taking over a storefront was cheaper than renting one, at least saving on renovation costs, and I'd only need to continue paying the rent. The owner was in a hurry to find a successor and didn't make any other demands...

"Why is he in such a hurry?"

"He said his elderly mother has cancer, and he needs to go home urgently to fulfill his filial duties."

"Is it a restaurant or a shop?"

"A small restaurant, with pretty good business."

"How's the location?"

"I'll take you to see it after we finish eating."

"What are your plans after taking it over?"

"I want to hear your thoughts."

"Fang Wanzhi, listen to me clearly. If you're going to use such a large sum of money, I, Li Juan, have no opinion on this matter and absolutely refuse to get involved."

"Don't treat this as just my own matter! It's about both of us!"

"You want to pull me into this?"

"Don't you want to be your own boss?"

"Don't try to win me over. You already know that my twenty thousand yuan is earmarked for a specific purpose. I absolutely cannot invest it in your venture!"

"Well... if you don't invest, then don't. It's still about both of us!"

"What kind of relationship would we become then? You'd be the boss, and I'd be working for you. Good sisters..."

"Good friends!"

"Good friends turning into an employer-employee relationship—have you thought about what the outcome would be in the future?..."

"Can you stop pouring cold water on this? The ceiling of that storefront is very high. If we add a loft with a ladder, we could sleep comfortably up there, saving at least over two thousand yuan in rent every month!..."

"Wanzhi, I'll say it again. In this matter, you are you, and I am me. I absolutely refuse to get involved. I have no opinion at all! I won't touch anything that requires such a large investment!..."

"I've already said, if you don't invest, then don't. I'm not forcing you to put money into it!"

"Even investing your own money scares me! I'm very timid when it comes to money. Ten thousand yuan is a huge amount, and a hundred thousand is an enormous sum!..."

"Enough! Don't shout like that in a place like this. It's embarrassing!..."

We didn't enjoy that Western meal at all and left unhappily. On the way back, I walked ahead, and she followed behind, ignoring each other like strangers. Back at the hotel, we each lay down on our beds, still pretending to be mute.

After a long while, she sat on the edge of the bed and pushed me.

I forcefully pushed her hand away and said irritably, "Don't bother me!"I was truly furious—my decision was, of course, made with both of us in mind. If it were only for myself, I would never have entertained such an idea! The business world is ruthless, and every investment carries risks—did she really need to remind me of that? I had decided to sell my own stocks to invest for both of us, so how could she distance herself so coldly?!

"I shouldn’t have raised my voice in a place like a Western restaurant, embarrassing you. That was my fault. I’ll apologize to you, okay? I also understand that your decision was largely made with me in mind..."

"Good that you know it, and even better that you said it out loud." Half of my anger dissipated.

"But you also have to consider things from my perspective. Company Commander Zhou treated me too well, and as a result, I feel I’ll never be able to repay his kindness in this lifetime. If you lose such a huge sum of money for my sake, how will I repay you in the next life? Do people even have a next life?..."

I abruptly sat up and shouted at her, "Why must you always think the worst?!"

She retreated to her own bed and sat down, her face stern. "Don’t you shout either. If you keep shouting, I’ll shout too, and let everyone hear..."

I leaned over, picked up a slipper, and threw it at her. She caught it.

Setting the slipper aside, she said solemnly, "My father once told me a story from Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio. It’s about a hunter named Tian Qilang. Whenever a wealthy man showed him kindness, his mother would grow uneasy. Tian Qilang didn’t understand, so his mother explained to him: when the rich help others, they use money; but if the poor owe a great debt of gratitude, they can only repay it with their lives. Fang Wanzhi, I’m the eldest in my family, and I have only one life..."

I had read that Strange Tales story before. Halfway through her retelling, I had already picked up the second slipper, but her final words stopped me from throwing it at her.

I tossed the slipper aside and lay back down.

"Tell me where that storefront is. I’ll go check it out. How can I give my opinion without seeing it for myself?"

Her words made me privately admit that her attitude wasn’t entirely unreasonable.

I wasn’t angry with her at all anymore.

Yet I was utterly heartbroken.

That day, I suddenly understood—no matter how close we were as sisters, we had always been two girls with our own distinct rationalities. My "reason" was instilled in me by "Principal Mother" and "Mayor Father"—it was the "reason of the temple." Her "reason" was passed down to her through the "righteous path of the common people"—it was the "reason of the jungle." Like devout believers, we were both willing to rigidly adhere to our own "reason"—even when it came to friendship, our ways of cherishing it were so different. This meant that although we had bared our hearts to each other and could weather storms together, we still struggled to be "like-minded."

But I had already committed to her as a friend.

I could no longer imagine a life without her as my friend.

Hearing the story of Tian Qilang from her lips wounded me deeply once again.

I gave her the address and, still lying down, tossed her the bicycle key.

After hearing the door close, I wept.

"That venture is worth doing." These were the first words she said to me after her "investigation."

"But we can’t just open another restaurant." These were her second words.

My resolve about this matter had already wavered.

I asked coldly, "Why?"She sat cross-legged on the bed again, speaking with the fervor of a preacher opening a sermon: "Do you even need to ask? I think you studied business management for nothing. First, they run that restaurant as a whole family effort—the owner himself is a certified chef with proper credentials. If we were to open a restaurant, how much would it cost just to hire a chef of that caliber? They have the wife’s younger brother handling daily purchases, and they own a private car. The wife manages the accounts, mans the counter, and handles drinks, while their daughter and niece work as waitresses—think of all the labor costs they save! And if we did as you suggested, partitioning the space above for us to sleep in, would the health inspection department even allow it? It’s a nice idea, but have you ever seen a setup where people sleep on a loft above while cooking, stir-frying, and setting up dining tables below?..."

It felt as if she were launching a full-scale critique against me, which only made my own ideas resurface even stronger.

I retorted loudly, "I have experience as a kitchen assistant, and I’m no worse than you!"

She lowered her voice, saying, "Keep it down. Why are you getting so worked up? Is being a kitchen assistant the same as being a chef? Is cooking large-batch meals the same as running a restaurant that serves small stir-fried dishes all day? I’m pointing out flaws in your thinking—why won’t you listen patiently?"

I finally calmed down, sitting on the edge of the bed and glaring at her. "If I end up losing money, I’ll accept it. What does it have to do with you?"

She tried to sit next to me.

I said, "Don’t come near me. Let’s just divide our territory! From now on, that side is yours, and this side is mine!"

I made a slicing gesture between the two beds.

She paused for a moment, then obediently took a step back and sat on her own bed, glaring back at me. In a tone like an adult scolding a willful child, she said, "Hey, now you’re drawing a line between us like the Chu River and Han border! Whether you like it or not, I’m going to finish what I have to say."

She said that storefront was better suited for a supermarket—she had inquired about the two new residential complexes nearby, and the occupancy rate was already over seventy percent. That street had plenty of restaurants but not a single small supermarket. The advantage of opening a supermarket was that there was absolutely no pollution concern, thus avoiding any issues with health department inspections. Partitioning a loft above for sleeping wouldn’t affect the business environment, and she could manage the store alone most of the time, saving a huge amount on hiring staff. She believed that if we opened a supermarket, the returns would be decent...

I snapped back, "My business doesn’t need your involvement!"

She said, "If I also invest ten thousand yuan, wouldn’t it become our shared venture? I’d be both a minor shareholder and your employee. The salary you pay me just needs to be no less than what I earned as a Line Leader at the packaging factory..."

"Li Juan, what have I ever done to wrong you? How can I make you believe I’m your friend? Why do you keep hurting me with your words?!"

I raised my voice again.

She said, "You’ve never done anything wrong by me. Fang Wanzhi, of course you’re my best friend, Li Juan’s best friend, and my only friend in Shenzhen. If anyone dared to bully you in front of me, I’d definitely fight them to the death..."

"Then what did you mean by telling me the story of Tian Qilang?!"

Even though I believed her words, I still couldn’t hold back tears of hurt."How could Tian Qilang's story have hurt you? And how did my words just now hurt you? What part was wrong? Even brothers keep clear accounts—that's a principle that has held true throughout history. Because we set things straight beforehand, we can't be close friends anymore? Never heard of that! I've only heard of brothers turning into enemies because they didn't clarify their interests! Hey, I'm not used to talking to you across such a divide—I'm coming over to your side, okay?..."

She stood up.

I said, "Should I applaud in welcome?"

So she came over and sat down beside me.

I said, "What kind of friend keeps hurting others with these bland, cutting remarks?"

She said, "I have a sharp tongue but a soft heart—don't you know that by now? We never should have become friends in the first place—have you ever thought about that? Who are you? The mayor's daughter! How did you grow up? Can you deny you were raised under a halo of privilege? But I grew up among the poor! The pettiness, the penny-pinching, the scheming, the two-faced behavior in poor communities—I've seen it all and it doesn't surprise me anymore. I didn't even set foot in our small county town until I left home for the first time to come to Shenzhen! Even if you lost all your money, your Mayor Father would probably just say—consider it tuition. If you feel exhausted, you can go back to your Principal Mother's ancestral home in Yu County to rest—I imagine it's the kind of peaceful, privileged place where Lin Daiyu might have lived. Or you could stay in the apartment assigned to your Mayor Father in Linjiang City—probably at least 150 or 160 square meters. But if my life as a migrant worker turns tragic, if I end up penniless, where do I retreat to? If I go back home and don't work outside for half a year, how will my family get by? If you want to do something, wouldn't I be failing as a friend if I didn't cooperate? But if we lose money, even just ten thousand, that would be a huge disaster for me! So I have to think more than you do for my own sake—I have to take responsibility for making sure we don't lose. Becoming friends with you, Fang Wanzhi, has put so much pressure on me—is it easy being your friend? And you keep getting touchy, complaining that this or that remark of mine hurt you..."

I listened quietly as she poured out the "bitterness" of being my friend, realizing for the first time that my sincere desire to be someone's friend could actually feel like a "burden" to them. Understanding this, I lost all my anger and felt only self-reproach.

But I still argued stubbornly, "Anyway, it's a fact that you hurt me. If you don't make it up to me, I won't talk to you anymore."

I heard her chuckle: "Fine, I'll make it up to you. We're already friends—what else can I do but give in? Who told me I'm over half a year older than you! Alright, don't be angry—it's all my fault, okay?"

As she spoke, she wrapped her arms around me.

When her cheek pressed against mine, I realized she wasn't just laughing—she was crying too...