Love For You - Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Miao Jing, You’ve Got Guts

What had that bunch of small-time hoodlums ended up doing?

Some were eating prison food; others had kicked the bucket.

As for those who were still free, the ones from well-off families had studied abroad and inherited their family businesses, becoming dressed-to-the-nines societal elites. Those with good luck had gone through the demolition process, opened factories, or contracted construction projects, becoming wealthy, nouveau-riche bosses.

As for those commoners who had turned over a new leaf: Da Tou Yuan married a "tian" girl—one went into the hair salon business for washes, cuts, and blow-dries, while the other became a beautician. Ah Yong became an auxiliary police officer, spending his years in the wind and sun on the streets in his uniform. There were also those selling used cars, delivering packages, or doing auto repairs. Chen Yi, the most formidable of them back in the day, had become the owner of a small pool hall. He knew a little bit of everything and touched upon a little bit of everything. With things rising here and falling there, other than that face of his, he hadn't exactly achieved anything remarkable.

The entire Guihua Street was an open-air food stall area; the late-night snacks lasted until two in the morning. Dai Mao, Zhao Kun, and Hua Qiang were sitting under the camphor tree, a table full of clear liquor, red wine, and beer. They said it was to welcome Chen Yi back, that he hadn't forgotten everyone after coming back from Yunnan with a fortune. Hua Qiang punished himself with three cups first, explaining that the arcade he had opened last year was reported and shut down. He had encouraged Chen Yi to invest back then, and though the money had all gone down the drain, he hadn't seen Chen Yi get worked up about it. He then went on to say how a man should make a comeback, listing off potential moneymaking paths, only to say he lacked connections and capital, and so on...

Everyone was eating and drinking to their heart’s content, but Chen Yi was somewhat absent-minded, smoking one cigarette after another. His phone on the table buzzed incessantly, but he acted as if he didn't hear it. He lay lazily in a plastic chair, his head tilted back, his eyes fixed on nowhere, swallowing clouds and spitting fog. His entire face was shrouded in thick smoke. A few young girls walked past, their gazes sliding from his sharp, arched brows to his prominent Adam's apple, their faces blushing as their hearts skipped a beat.

"Brother Yi, it’s a call from Sister Li Li, it’s ringing on my phone."

A beautiful woman strolled over from down the street, trailing Chanel No. 5. With rose-colored lips, red hair, a lace hip-hugging dress, and ten-centimeter heels, she was fiery and eye-catching.

Tu Li was Chen Yi’s girlfriend. She had graduated from a vocational dance school, and the two had met at a bar. Back then, Tu Li was dancing jazz in the bar, and during breaks, she would come down with a glass of wine to liven up the atmosphere. She spilled a glass of red wine on Chen Yi’s white shirt, and that was how they caught each other's eye. Later, as the relationship stabilized, Tu Li quit her day-night-reversing bar job and went to work as a cashier at Chen Yi’s pool hall. After a few months, seeing all the young girls flocking to the pool hall, she couldn't help but be jealous. Chen Yi couldn't stand it, so he helped her find a job at a gym front desk. She was supposed to work the night shift until eleven today, but she had slipped out early to see her boyfriend.

She spotted Chen Yi in the crowd at a glance, and her heart couldn't help but leap with joy. Her heels clacked as she walked over. Dai Mao and the others waved and called out "Sister-in-law." She giggled, pulled up a chair, sat down, and patted Chen Yi’s face. "Did you miss me?"

The dress was low-cut, revealing a bottomless cleavage. Men are lustful; when they first started dating, Tu Li asked Chen Yi what style he liked. His eyes had drifted toward the sexy models in magazines, and Tu Li, feeling that a woman couldn't hold her own if she wasn't "spicy" enough, intentionally leaned into that look.

Chen Yi’s gaze slid over. His brows, marked by a faint scar, knit slightly. His expression was indifferent, his long legs splayed open carelessly. His voice, soaked in smoke and alcohol, was husky and sexy. "You’re here."

Everyone joked and teased the two of them, toasted another round, and changed the subject. Tu Li clung to Chen Yi’s arm without restraint, her fingers rubbing his slightly rough chin before sliding up his chiseled cheek, caressing the skin behind his ear, and stroking the back of his neck, her fingertips twirling the black string around his throat.

The piece of jade hanging from the string swayed lightly with her movements, bumping against the man’s collarbone.

Under normal circumstances, Chen Yi would have already grabbed her with one hand, but tonight he seemed like a man possessed, completely unresponsive. It was quite strange.

Given Tu Li’s clinginess, everyone knew the score. The dinner broke up quickly, and everyone slipped away fast. Tu Li hooked her boyfriend’s arm and hailed a taxi, intending to go to his place, but was stopped by Chen Yi. "It's not convenient today."

"Why isn't it convenient?" Tu Li reached back to touch his rock-hard pectoral muscles, giggling. "Is Aunt Flo visiting? Or did you go limp on the road?"

He lit a cigarette, frowned, and took a deep drag. "I’ll take you home first."

"Who called me yesterday and provoked me to come over?"

"It’s really not convenient." He lowered his eyes, flicking the ash from his cigarette, and said in a deep voice, "Something came up at home."

"You’re a lone wolf, what kind of business could possibly be happening at home?"

"Are you fucking talking too much? Does it have anything to do with you?" His eyes turned sharp, a cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth as a murderous aura suddenly flared up. "The car is here. Get in."

Tu Li muttered under her breath, "Boring."

The two hadn't seen each other for nearly a month—Tu Li lived with her parents and a younger brother, so whenever they spent the night together, it was always at Chen Yi’s place.

After sending Tu Li off, Chen Yi went to the pool hall. The hall he ran was behind the back door of the vocational high school dormitory, and there was a branch of a junior college nearby. His main clientele was this group of young students. It was August, the summer break, so the school was empty and business at the pool hall wasn't great. Chen Yi didn't have to watch it every day; he left Bo Zai to handle it alone.

Bo Zai was an old neighbor of Chen Yi’s and had been hanging around Chen Yi since childhood. He was short and skinny, but he fought viciously. Later, he developed a limp, and he became more docile. After Chen Yi opened the pool hall, Bo Zai had been working there. Chen Yi paid him well enough to support his family, and since Bo Zai got married, his life had gradually settled down.

The pool hall stayed open until twelve. Chen Yi told Bo Zai he’d watch the shop tonight and to head home early.

Before Bo Zai left, he looked at Chen Yi with hesitation.

"What’s wrong, Brother Yi?"

"Nothing. I’ve been gone so long, you’ve worked hard watching the shop by yourself. Take a few days off; I’ll watch the shop."

"That works too. I’ll go home and rest, take my wife shopping tomorrow, and come back in two days."

Chen Yi slept for a night on the long sofa in the lounge. The next day, regulars came to play, and he spent the time playing and practicing with them. Tu Li called in the afternoon, saying she had an early shift and asking him to pick her up. He replied lazily that he was busy and didn't have time, then hung up.

Tu Li felt his temper was inexplicably moody, but Chen Yi had been moody before, so she figured she’d look for him again in a couple of days.

When Bo Zai returned to take over, Chen Yi went back home, planning to take a shower and pack a few clothes.

There was no one at home.

It didn't look like it did before he left; everything was neat and tidy. The doors to the two bedrooms were open, and the balcony door was open for ventilation—there was none of the damp, musty smell unique to the lower floors of old buildings; instead, it was crisp, cool, and filled with a cozy, faint fragrance.

There were fresh fruits on the table, and in the refrigerator, there was half a watermelon, fresh vegetables, eggs, milk, and beer.

Miao Jing had returned without a sound.

Chen Yi sat in a chair and lit a cigarette, chewing on the filter, lost in thought. After finishing one cigarette, he couldn't sit still and couldn't help but head outside.

He bumped into Miao Jing just as she was returning.

Miao Jing had gone out to run some errands—to the bank, then to the service hall to change her SIM card, and to correct her files and household registration information. She was also refamiliarizing herself with the environment. She had lived in Teng City for ten years, but in reality, she had visited very few places and had no particular impression of the city.

She was carrying a light yellow floral parasol. The light highlighted her skin, making it white as snow. Her face was small, her lips red, her teeth white, her brows like painted ink, and her eyes clear and bright. Her body was slender and tall, possessing a willowy, delicate softness, yet her temperament was by no means weak, nor was it amiable or intimate. On the contrary, she was cold, aloof, and stood tall in solitude. The simple long-sleeved shirt and trousers hung loosely on her frame, but every step she took and every fold of her clothes revealed the elegance and softness of her figure.

Chen Yi stood in the sun, brows pressed together in a gloomy expression, staring at her as she walked closer with measured steps.

"Chen Yi."

"Give me your phone number. Is the old one not in use? It became an empty number a long time ago."

She had just changed her SIM card. She stood before him, took out her phone, and waited for him to give her his number.

He turned his head impatiently, keeping his temper in check, and coldly recited a string of numbers.

The phone in his pocket buzzed, then started ringing. Miao Jing heard the sound and pressed the hang-up button. "This is my new number. Save it, too."

He grunted in cold acknowledgement and brushed past her, heading out on his own. Miao Jing didn't say anything, walked into the building, closed her umbrella, and went upstairs.

Fifteen minutes later, her phone pinged with a message from an unknown number.

[Don't smoke in the house.]

The man stared blankly at his phone, saved the number under the name "Miao Jing," and then accepted her WeChat friend request.

The first message—

[What time are you coming home tonight? The window latch is broken.]

What the fucking hell!

Chen Yi remembered that he had holed up in the pool hall for two days; he had only smoked one cigarette when he got home, and he hadn't showered or grabbed his clothes. He had to go back again.

Coming home again at ten in the evening, Miao Jing wasn't asleep yet. Seeing Chen Yi return, she asked if he had eaten, and if not, she would go cook.

He said coldly that he had already eaten and went straight into his room. The room had been meticulously cleaned. He looked for his towel, then couldn't help but take a deep breath and put his hands on his hips. "Where’s my towel?"

"It was too old, so I threw it away." Miao Jing handed him a new one. "Take this, I just bought it."

It was a light blue, wide-width bath towel made of soft, delicate cotton—Miao Jing had used his old towel as a rag to wipe the floor.

Chen Yi gritted his teeth, the veins in his temples popping out. He clutched the bath towel, slammed the door, and went into the bathroom. The shelf full of colorful bottles and jars had all been changed. He used to use one bar of soap for everything, but Tu Li had left behind plenty of colorful bottles, all of which were now gone, replaced by an entire set he had never seen before.

Someone knocked on the door. "The new soap is in the cabinet under the sink. Unpack it yourself."

The sound of water splashing echoed in the bathroom.

When he emerged from the shower, Chen Yi’s face was cold and his brows were drooping. A moment later, he walked out of his room, dressed neatly, and sat on the sofa. He tapped a cigarette out of the box, lit it, and took a deep drag the moment the flame flared, then lifted his eyelids and exhaled slowly.

The scent of tobacco was heavy, potent, and charred. It was strong and substantial, with a sandy, gritty texture in its smoothness—it wasn't plain sailing; it was rugged and rough.

"Miao Jing, let’s talk."

Miao Jing had been planning to sleep. She opened her bedroom door and leaned against the frame to look at him.

"Change your clothes before coming out." He watched her through the smoke, his eyes covered in a faint mist, gloomy and sinister.

She was wearing an ordinary gray tank dress with thin padding, the hem reaching the middle of her thighs. But the ice-silk material was exceptionally soft and form-fitting, showing off her waist as thin as a handful, her legs long and straight, and her skin as smooth as white porcelain. She turned back into her room, and a moment later, emerged in a white nightdress draped over her thin shoulders and arms. The dress hung straight to her ankles, enveloping her loosely, which only served to make her frame look even slimmer.

Miao Jing sat on the sofa, staring at him, her voice clear. "I said, you can’t smoke in the house."

"Tch."

He made a clicking sound with his tongue, the tip of it pressing against his cheek. He glanced at her, his eyes indifferent, took a couple of slow puffs, exhaled smoke rings unhurriedly, then leaned back lazily, resting his long, jean-clad legs on the coffee table. The posture was frivolous and crude. Through the smoke, Miao Jing saw his eyes filled with cold mockery. She pursed her red lips and said nothing, clearly unhappy.

He wasn't happy either. The two of them were at a stalemate, seeing who would break first.

"What major did you study in college? What kind of work did you find?"

"Even if I told you, you wouldn't understand." Miao Jing’s expression was detached. After a moment, she added, "My salary is eight thousand a month, with other subsidies every month and a year-end bonus. It’s not too bad."

Chen Yi scoffed. "I don't understand you college students. You exhausted yourselves studying for so many years, and at least you've seen the world, so you’re satisfied with eight thousand a month?"

Miao Jing turned her head. "I'm self-reliant. Why should I be dissatisfied?"

"What’s wrong with being self-reliant elsewhere? Why did you come back?"

"To work, to live, to get on with my life."

"You can live anywhere. Why did you have to run all the way here?" There was no ashtray on the table, so he flicked the ash onto the floor, his thick brows icy, his cold arrogance oppressive. "What did I tell you back then? I told you to get far away, to go as far as possible."

Miao Jing stiffened her neck, refusing to look at him or speak. She opened her eyes wide, the light in them rippling and turbulent.

After a long silence, he spoke again, his voice icy. "Where’s your mother? Did you find her?"

"She got remarried a long time ago and had a son. They opened a fast-food joint. She’s busy taking care of the kid and helping in the kitchen."

The silence stretched for the rest of the cigarette.

"Go live in the company dorms." He lowered his eyes, and it was a long time before he spoke again. "Or I’ll rent you a place."

"No." Miao Jing refused flatly.

"Are you fucking looking to die?" He tightened his jaw, his masseter muscles bulging along his jawline. His eyes were fixed on her, raw malice exposed. He flicked the cigarette butt onto the floor and snapped at her, "Do you think I want to see you?"

She turned her head back to look at his overbearing, man-eating expression, her cold eyes staring straight at him, her tone calm. "I told you, don’t smoke at home. Wipe the floor clean yourself."

Chen Yi flicked his lighter again, relit the cigarette, and dangled it from the corner of his mouth with a hoodlum’s air. He puffed a cloud of white smoke right at her. Miao Jing frowned, stood up, and leaned in. A faint, cool, ethereal fragrance wafted over. She snatched the cigarette from his lips with her slender fingers, crushed the butt on the edge of the coffee table, confiscated the pack of cigarettes and the lighter, threw them into the trash can, and poured the entire pot of lemon water from the table into the trash. She then turned and walked back to her room, all in one fluid motion.

The bedroom door slammed shut with a "bang."

He sat on the sofa, watching her smooth, practiced movements, and ground his back molars together, so angry he couldn't help but laugh.

"Miao Jing, you’ve got guts.”