Love For You - Chapter 23

Chapter 23: Turning Eighteen, It's Quite Important

As Miao Jing started her second year of high school, her seventeenth year was devoid of maudlin sentimentality or girlish daydreams. She entered the science track, busy with her studies, and began to catch a glimpse of the grueling journey toward the college entrance examinations. Chen Yi, having graduated from vocational school, initially became an internal security guard at a nightclub—which is to say, he worked the midnight shift, keeping watch and handling unruly customers. Their paths in life began to diverge clearly at this point. Miao Jing didn't live on campus; she spent her days at school, cycling to and from home every morning and evening. Chen Yi worked from six in the evening until four in the morning, spending his remaining time playing ball, chatting, drinking, and having fun. Often, they would barely see each other at home for days or even weeks at a time.

Miao Jing left the house for school at 6:30 every morning. Occasionally, she would bump into Chen Yi coming home to sleep. Sometimes he wore a dress shirt, slacks, and leather shoes; other times, he switched back to a T-shirt and jeans. The neighbors had long since learned to give him a wide berth. When he returned from staying up all night, frowning and dangling a cigarette from his lips with a devil-may-care attitude, he would see Miao Jing sitting at the table eating an egg and drinking milk. He would toss a few hundred yuan her way; when she shook her head to refuse, he would head to the bathroom to wash up, claiming it was winnings from billiards and telling her to keep it to top up her school meal card.

Truth be told, they weren't short on money anymore. Miao Jing no longer had to worry about living expenses or the various fees for school tutoring. Chen Yi’s nightclub wages were enough to cover his own keep, and when he was free, he gambled on matches—a round of snooker was worth three to five hundred. With more wins than losses, the money he brought home was more than enough. Every month, he would give Miao Jing a thousand or two in scattered bills, which was plenty for her food and clothing. She no longer had to buy cheap street-market goods and could afford to wear pretty clothes and go out to social gatherings with her classmates.

With this money, Miao Jing bought clothes and shoes for them both, discarded worn-out household items, and replaced broken appliances. She would stand on tiptoes on a stepladder to replace the old lights in the house with energy-efficient ones, while Chen Yi stood below, reaching up his hands.

“Give it to me.”

“Do you dare?” She looked down at him. “I haven't cut the power.”

“Do I even look scared right now?” He stood with his hands on his hips, looking up at her with a deepening smile. “You’re changing a lightbulb without cutting the power—do you want to die?”

“My physics and electrical knowledge are very good.”

“How good can they be? Better than a professional electrician? Careful now, boast too much and you might get struck by lightning.” Chen Yi tugged at her pant leg. “Come down and go make the bed in my room.”

“Okay.” She clapped her hands, her eyes smiling as she climbed down. “The dining table leg is a bit wobbly; it needs a nail, too.”

“What else in this house needs replacing or fixing?”

“The rice cooker is broken, too. Can it be fixed?”

“Buy a new one; it doesn't cost much.”

“We’re barely home to eat these days anyway…”

“Since we have money, of course we should eat out.”

“Is my cooking that bad?”

“Don't you have a clue if it's bad or not? How many bowls of noodles have we eaten in the last two years? Tsk… no wonder you've grown as thin as a noodle.”

Did she look like a noodle? Was she so plain and unappealing?

Miao Jing felt a mix of bitterness and amusement. She ate both her lunch and dinner at school now, and Chen Yi handled his meals outside. She only had one day off a week, which happened to be on a different day than Chen Yi’s. They were like the sun and the moon, rarely overlapping, and it was a luxury to be together, doing repairs and adding small things to the house.

Chen Yi’s eighteenth birthday fell on Christmas Eve. The day passed as usual. He didn't get off work until five in the morning and returned after having a late-night snack with his coworkers. He had begun to grow accustomed to staying up all night, and these mornings were sustained by cigarettes to keep his spirits up. He brushed past Miao Jing downstairs in a hurry; the school uniform hung loosely on her frame, and a woolen scarf wrapped around half her face, leaving only her delicate brows and eyes visible. She pushed her bicycle and told him good morning.

Her voice was like frost on roof tiles—not particularly emotional, but pleasant to hear.

“Are you cold?”

“Not cold.” She countered, “Are you cold?”

He smelled of cigarette smoke, a white shirt worn beneath his black hoodie. With the hood pulled over his head, he looked quite like a roaming, dissipated youth.

“Not cold. Hurry up and get to class.”

Miao Jing nodded and walked off with her head down.

She didn't stay at school for lunch. After class, she hurried to buy a birthday cake and carried it home. Chen Yi had just woken up and was doing push-ups on the bedroom floor. The lean, beautiful lines of his shoulder muscles and traps shifted with his movements. At the nightclub, he didn't report his real age; in any case, to keep people from realizing he was only eighteen, he needed a more robust physique and a mature demeanor. The house was scattered with dumbbells, an ab wheel, and various other fitness equipment.

The moment the door opened, both of them froze.

Chen Yi was wearing only his underwear, shirtless and braced on the floor, sweat-drenched as he looked up. Miao Jing hadn't been sure if he was home, and as she looked over while carrying the cake box, she saw the perfectly straight line of his back down to his heels and his firm, rounded buttocks. Her face flushed a deep red, and she forced a calm composure as she set the cake box on the table.

He sprang up from the floor, his composed movements revealing a trace of urgency as he retreated out of her line of sight to pull on a shirt and pants. “Why are you back?”

“I bought a cake and some food.” Miao Jing unwound her scarf. “Have you had lunch yet?”

“Not yet.” His voice was muffled. “Just woke up.”

“Can I cook something?”

“Just eat something simple. Why are you back? No classes this afternoon?”

“The first period is P.E., I asked for leave, so I can go to school a bit later.” She was still holding a bag. “It’s Christmas Eve today; everyone is giving out apples.”

He knew. There were parties and carnivals at the nightclub these past two days, and the performances were quite spectacular—all full of decadence. Some women had offered him chocolate and apples, but he hadn't brought them home and had shared them with others instead.

Dressed, Chen Yi emerged with a calm face. Seeing the cake box, he parted his lips in a brief, stunned silence, but said nothing and turned into the bathroom to wash up.

Miao Jing had bought two ready-made dishes on the way. With thirty minutes to cook the rice and stir-fry two dishes, lunch was on the table in no time.

Sitting at the dining table, Miao Jing picked up her bowl and chopsticks, but hesitated before asking Chen Yi, “Um… should we eat the cake first? Or eat the cake after the meal?”

“How would I know?” He unpacked the cake in a carefree manner. “It all ends up in the stomach anyway, just eat it with the food.”

The cream cake was only six inches, small enough for two people. It came with numeric candles and a birthday hat. Chen Yi watched as Miao Jing inserted the candles for eighteen. He found the birthday hat too childish and tossed it into the trash. With a hiss of the lighter, flames flickered, reflecting in their four eyes. Miao Jing didn't know how to liven up the atmosphere, and Chen Yi’s expression remained indifferent, lacking any sense of festivity. He blew out the candles and dug out two pieces of cake.

“Eat.”

“Thank you.”

Both of them buried their heads in eating the cake. Miao Jing suddenly mumbled, holding her spoon, “Turning eighteen, it’s quite important.”

“Yeah.”

“I didn't buy you a birthday gift, because it’s all your money anyway.” She said in a small voice, “Buying something expensive or cheap… neither seemed quite right.”

“When you have time, help me buy a pair of boots. Leather boots, something decent—for kicking, something durable.”

“…” Miao Jing widened her eyes. “No fighting, no swearing…”

“…” Chen Yi twitched his lips and buried his head in his cake.

They ate the food as well. Chen Yi asked Miao Jing when her birthday was, and she said April 19th. There didn't seem to be an atmosphere of celebrating birthdays in their home. Chen Yi had never celebrated a birthday, but for Miao Jing’s, if Wei Mingzhen remembered, she would give her some money to buy a few pastries.

Miao Jing left for school at three in the afternoon, and Chen Yi had to leave around the same time. After lunch, they still had some time left, so they curled up on the sofa and turned on the TV. They took the remaining cake and each stuck a spoon in, finishing it off bite by bite.

They rode the bus together, both holding the same pole, standing side-by-side. Chen Yi was a head taller than Miao Jing. He glanced down at the person beside him, reached out a finger, and wiped her temple. Miao Jing looked up in a daze.

He curled his lip, sucked on the sweet, creamy fingertip, and joked, “Eating something can get cream all over your hair? Don't girls look in the mirror before going out? Don't you all carry mirrors and combs?”

Every girl was born knowing how to focus on the important things.

“Which girl does that?”

“All of them do.” Chen Yi said idly, “The girls at school, at the nightclub…”

He didn't finish the sentence and quickly pressed his lips together. The nightlife scene was a melting pot of all kinds of people; the environment was different from that of a key high school student.

Miao Jing’s expression shifted slightly. She blinked her lashes but said nothing.

The nightclub where Chen Yi worked had some local renown. It was an asset of a boss surnamed Zhai, as grand as a castle, exceptionally imposing and resplendent with gold and jade. It featured a performance hall, KTV rooms, bars, and a cigar and red wine lounge—it had everything. The guests were a mix of all walks of life. The internal security guards were generally veterans, burly and imposing. Chen Yi, standing at 187 centimeters with broad shoulders and a trim waist, looked exceptionally imposing in a suit. His facial features and gaze held an aura of arrogance that wasn't easy to mess with. He lied about his age, claiming to be twenty-one. He wasn't one for many words, but he was clever. When playing ball or drinking with others, he would first read their background and temperament. Relying on the wild, untamed spirit he had nurtured since childhood, he showed no sign of cowardice. He even brought Bozai and a group of friends who had dropped out of school into the fold as parking valets, monitor room staff, and casino tea-room servers, all living off tips.

Miao Jing knew that besides working the floor every night, he studied Sanda and boxing during the day. At home, he had equipment like a steel pipe brought back from the nightclub. He started customizing his own billiard cues; he was likely practicing with others. There was a billiards hall in the nightclub, and many people gathered there. Although billiards was considered a gentleman’s game, in mid-to-low-end urban entertainment venues, most of the people who gathered in billiard halls were thugs. Chen Yi met many people at the tables, and betting on matches was common. Furthermore, he was addicted to both cigarettes and alcohol, and he would often carry the scent of perfume on him.

She felt a sense of panic.

When he came back drunk at four in the morning after shielding others from drinks, he would wake Miao Jing up. Seeing his pale face and bloodshot eyes, she couldn't drag him to bed, or he would stay out all night, and for days on end, she wouldn't see a change of clothes or a trace of him coming home. It was rare that she would call him; on the other end, there would either be the sound of raucous laughter or the deafening music and screaming of the nightclub. It was only on his days off that she would find Chen Yi at home, lying around languidly, smoking lazily.

“Smoking is bad for your health.” Miao Jing spoke to him with rare solemnity. “The rate of lung cancer caused by smoking is 80%, and it causes chronic coughing, arteriosclerosis, coronary artery disease, and damage to the liver, bones, and reproductive function. You smell, and it leads to premature aging.”

“Premature aging is good. The older you get, the more charming you are. And I take two or three showers a day, where do I smell?” He crossed his arms over his eyes. “You should get me some cleaner soap. Every time I shower, I end up all slippery and smelling like flowers—it stinks to death.”

Miao Jing scratched her cheek. “Isn't there soap on the shelf?”

“Is that soap or perfume-scented soap? People come up to me and sniff, saying I smell like a sissy.”

“It doesn't have a scent.” Miao Jing raised her hand to sniff herself. “Who would get close enough to sniff you?”

“Women, obviously. Their noses are more sensitive than dogs’. They can’t smell their own perfume, but they’re very sharp at smelling me.” Chen Yi frowned, exhaling a puff of smoke slowly. “Thank heaven, at least you didn't get me milk soap.”

Miao Jing’s brows furrowed slightly. She pursed her lips, a glimpse of her eyes darting away in a sharp, sidelong glance. “Oh, the women who call you every morning? The ones who come to pick you up for work?”

He clicked his tongue and thought for a moment. “How about I find a girlfriend?”

Miao Jing paused in her movements, her tone inexplicably heavier. “Sure, whatever you want.”