On My Way - Chapter 10

Chapter 10 - A Girl Like Jelly

It was nearly midnight by the time we finished the hot pot. We had all had a bit to drink, so I went outside first to call rides for everyone.

"Dongxue, you’re too kind; we could have just hailed our own taxis," Qian Langfeng’s wife insisted.

"It’s all the same who pays. It’s so cold out, what matters most is staying warm," I replied with a smile. "Today was a bit rushed, but next time I’ll host. I’ll treat you and your wife to some authentic Northeast Chinese cuisine."

The cars arrived one after another. Fang Qiang, who was a little tipsy, grabbed my arm and said, "Dongxue, where do you live? I... I’ll take you home first!"

I said, "I live at Yuxin Courtyard. It’s quite far."

Fang Qiang remarked, "Why live there! That rent must be insanely expensive!"

I smiled and said, "I’m not sure, actually. I bought the place."

I then calmly pulled his hand away and ushered him into the car.

"Impressive... Yuxin Courtyard only has large-sized units—" Fang Qiang’s drunken voice faded as the car pulled away.

I looked back and saw Cheng Xia, who was standing quietly where he had been, his face buried deep in his coat.

I was a bit surprised and said, "Didn't your ride arrive a while ago?"

"I sent it away," he said. "Want to walk a bit?"

I hesitated.

A long time ago, every time we finished a meal, I would pester him to walk back with me. For one, it helped digest the food, but mostly, since seeing him was no easy feat, I wanted to spend as much time with him as I possibly could.

But I knew I had to be up early tomorrow, and I had a mind full of tasks waiting for me. "Walking a bit" was a luxury I could ill afford...

"Alright, let's walk," I said, tilting my head up and giving him a deep, genuine smile.

We walked along the seaside, chatting as we went.

I told him about my experiences in Africa: the spiders larger than a human head, the incredibly cheap seafood, the mind-numbing work, and the crisis-ridden life.

He spoke very little, simply listening quietly and asking an occasional question.

"Can you imagine?" I said. "My room didn't even have a desk. Whenever I was in a rush, I’d just sprawl out on the floor to write my reports, hahaha!"

"Couldn't you buy a desk?"

"The nearest supermarket was really far away. Later, Old Feng—that’s my leader—made one for me."

In truth, such items were far too expensive in Africa, and I hadn't been able to bring myself to buy one after checking the price several times. Old Feng had caught a glimpse of me looking, and the next day, he showed up carrying two small tables.

I asked why he brought two.

He kept a straight face and said, "A girl like you needs a vanity table."

Cheng Xia didn't say anything more, keeping his head down and watching his own footsteps.

I dreaded awkward silences, so I laughed at myself: "But with how rough I’ve become, a vanity table would go to waste anyway."

They say that after the age of twenty-five, you are responsible for the face you wear.

When I was in my teens, I could be considered decent, but years of exposure to the elements had left my skin rough and dark, my hair like a handful of dry straw. Standing next to girls of my age from the city, I looked like an entirely different species.

That day, we walked for over five or six kilometers before I finally caught a taxi home.

The house I bought had a small courtyard on the ground floor where my grandmother planted fruits and vegetables. Anything we couldn't eat, she would take out and sell.

Every time I saw this house, the infinite remorse in my heart seemed to recede like the ebbing tide.

I had sacrificed my beauty, six years of my youth, and the ease and happiness of a young girl to the god of fate.

In exchange, I had bought a warm, cozy home in this city.

It was a trade that was absolutely worth it.

"It’s too late, my grandma is asleep, so I won't invite you in. Get home safe!" I said.

Cheng Xia nodded, took a few steps, then turned back and said, "I think you’re very beautiful."

I froze for a moment.

He continued: "You once posted a picture of a little leopard on your social media. I think it looks just like you—beautiful and full of vitality. It’s just... it runs too fast."

Before I could recover, he had already hopped into a taxi and left.

I remembered that I had once gone to East Africa to watch the animal migration and had snapped a photo of a leopard with a thoughtful expression, with the caption: Who is it thinking about?

It was visible only to Cheng Xia.

He hadn't "liked" it, but the rascal—he’d actually been secretly stalking my social media the whole time!

I was quite happy, and in the natural flow of things, I forgot to ask him what he meant by that last sentence.

Just as I had deliberately ignored what he had actually gone through during these past six years.

After the initial arduous period of friction, the project began to enter a stable phase.

Some people quit because they couldn't stand the life-or-death pace, but those who stayed formed a bit of a bond.

When I had a moment to catch my breath, I invited everyone out for a meal.

"I’m an employee just like you," I said. "I won't force anyone to work themselves to death. I just want to express my gratitude to everyone who stayed. Whether it’s bonuses or future prospects, I won't treat you unfairly."

That was the truth. I decided to give them every cent of the funding I could apply for, and for anyone with the potential for promotion, I submitted all the paperwork.

One of the construction workers toasted me, saying: "Manager Ren, I’ll stick with you and do my job honestly. You’ve got a sharp mind and you work hard, plus you’ve got connections higher up. Your future is limitless."

Connections higher up...

I managed a bitter smile. Because of my relationship with Old Feng, I had naturally become an antagonist to some people in the company.

But only Old Feng and I knew the truth—our relationship wasn't "intimate" at all. If something real happened, he wouldn't protect me.

However, I couldn't explain this to them, so I could only smile bitterly and drink to every toast.

We drank until we were heartily satisfied. When they finally left, burping with booze, I was the last one there, arranging for a driver to pick up those who had gotten completely plastered.

Engineer Li was slumped over the table, dead drunk. When I went to help him up, I accidentally saw his unlocked phone screen—it was a group chat.

Tyrannosaurus: What kind of bullshit is that swamp ape spouting again? I’m going to vomit.

Feihuo Xiezhu: Without Old Feng, she’s nothing. She’s not even fit to lick his boots.

Zoro: Well, you can't blame her for being so energetic; she’s got her legs spread wide, hasn't she?

That "Zoro" was the same construction worker who, just a moment ago, had looked at me with an honest face and promised to "do his job honestly."

And that "swamp ape" was clearly me.

I turned Engineer Li's phone face down. When the driver pulled up, I woke him up and told him to send me a WeChat message once he got home.

After that, I returned to the office to continue working overtime.

It wasn't that I wasn't disappointed.

Sometimes, I even had a wicked, impulsive thought: What if I actually had been with Old Feng? How would they react then?

Old Feng dealt with these disgruntled people with ruthless efficiency.

But I couldn't. If I wanted to live a respectable life, I couldn't take a single wrong step. I had to climb the ladder, clean and clear.

In these moments, I would always think of Cheng Xia.

I’d picture him standing at the construction site gate, waving at me, telling me in his clear, resonant voice about the books he’d recently read, or sitting at my house helping my grandmother plant vegetables, his forehead shimmering with beads of sweat.

He was so clean. Only when I looked at him could I temporarily forget about work and take a deep, long breath.

It made me feel full of fighting spirit, ready to battle for another hundred rounds in this muddy, murky construction site.

That is the true value of a "white moonlight"—not just because of how pure and bright he is, but because he genuinely, truly illuminates my path.

I sent Cheng Xia a message, asking if he wanted to grab a late-night snack together.

We had resumed contact, but neither of us had ever brought up that final, brutal argument from six years ago, nor did we talk about "liking" or "love" anymore. We interacted just as we used to, sharing the trivialities of daily life, with him occasionally picking me up after work to go eat something delicious.

The only difference was that I was no longer that self-deceiving little girl. I knew better than anyone that this was loneliness, not love.

But there were always moments, like right now, when I especially wanted to see him.

I messaged Cheng Xia to ask if he wanted to grab a late-night snack.

He replied quickly, saying he had just finished working overtime and had eaten with his colleagues, but he could come pick me up now.

"Godzilla is out; want to go watch a movie?"

"Sure."

Speaking of movie theaters, they really are the best places to sleep. Every time I walk in, I end up sleeping like the dead.

I finished up my work, splashed some water on my face, and clumsily applied some makeup.

I knew full well that with my skill, I couldn't do anything fancy, but I just wanted to look a little bit better when I saw him—even just a tiny bit.

I waited at the construction site gate, and Cheng Xia’s car soon arrived.

"It’s so cold, what took you so long?" I started to get in, but the passenger window rolled down.

A girl, sweet and delicate as jelly, leaned out the window and waved enthusiastically at me: "Hi there, sister!”