Chapter Eleven – Life Goes On

Yishu continued her routine of commuting between work and home, as if this alone constituted the meaning and entirety of her life.

Yan Lu often filled her spare moments with talk about Xu Shixi. Yishu responded absentmindedly, sometimes with a word, sometimes with silence. After Xu Shixi finished arranging the project in the city’s old village, his visits grew infrequent. Occasionally, after an exchange of polite greetings on WeChat, their conversations would trail off into mundane accounts or long stretches of emptiness.

With Guo Yamei’s rivalry gone, Yishu’s performance at the company soared ahead of all others. It seemed certain that the second quarter’s rewards would not hold any surprises.

At night, Yishu wheeled her bike into the narrow alley and saw, from a distance, the warm glow of her home’s windows, floating in the darkness and stirring memories of days past. Unfortunately, the recollections were too tangled and lengthy for her to retrieve before entering.

The clang of the iron gate was met by the opening of the corridor’s wooden door. Su Yihui stood at the threshold, clad in a pilling knit pajama set, his silhouette wavering like a ripple.

Yishu called out cheerfully, parked her electric bike in the corner.

“Why did you come back so suddenly, without letting me know?” Yishu gently guided Yihui inside. “Yihui, I have something to tell you.”

It seemed Yihui already knew what she was about to say. He lifted the corners of his mouth slightly, “Sis, you don’t need to say it. I know everything.”

You know everything?

Yishu looked up at his misty eyes, which, under the yellow incandescent light, glimmered with a thin veil of moisture.

A week earlier, Su Yihui had returned home once. That day, his antagonistic roommate Tang Chao had unexpectedly stayed at school, and the thought of twenty-four hours of torment made Yihui unwilling to remain overnight. After finishing Saturday morning classes, he hurried off campus.

The village was unusually quiet, which instead stirred the tranquility within him. The bright red “demolish” character stamped on the wall was stark and glaring. With his level of understanding, everything became clear at once.

Upon returning, he realized he had left his keys in the dormitory. No one was home, no one was around. He walked silently on the familiar flagstone path.

Why hadn’t his sister told him?

“I know you must have your reasons,” Yihui said, forcing a smile.

Yishu gazed at Yihui before her, through the hazy light, glimpsing the slight frame beneath his clothes. Nineteen years old, perhaps already a young man, yet he still looked like a middle schooler.

The innocence and youthful awkwardness lingered, but his maturity far surpassed most peers. In Yishu’s memory, Yihui never threw tantrums for snacks, toys, or new clothes and shoes. After attending boarding school, he never complained about academic or life troubles.

“I found a small apartment near the company,” Yishu said, pouring water in the kitchen. “It’s barely enough for two.”

“An apartment?” Yihui took the glass. “It must be expensive, right?”

“Not too expensive. It’s called an apartment, but it’s not much different from an ordinary building,” Yishu was about to sit, only to realize the living room sofa had been moved to Yunbei’s warehouse. “The rent is covered by the relocation company. And the place I rented is cheap, so there’s some left over.”

The demolition would begin after Labor Day. Almost all villagers had already left.

At one-thirty in the morning, sleep weighed heavily in the air, yet neither of them could rest.

The next day, after lunch, Yishu hurried to work, dropping Yihui off at the bus stop at the village entrance.

She seemed to forget, once again, to remind him about his studies.

The sun’s radiance was subdued, shrouded by clouds in golden halos. It was a tranquil, breezy day.

The moment she stepped through the company doors, the atmosphere turned subtly strange, growing heavier the deeper she went. In the office, colleagues stared blankly at their screens, wearing nearly identical expressions.

The usual clatter of keyboards sounded as if muffled, so quiet one could hear the wind passing through the walls.

Yan Lu whispered the morning’s news to Yishu.

For a moment, Yishu forgot to think.

Guo Yamei entered, dragging her words, returning to the seat she had occupied for seven years. A thin layer of dust covered the desktop, which she made no effort to wipe away, simply sitting and powering up her computer.

Yishu glanced at her, but the carefully concealed traces of tears were betrayed by her bloodshot eyes.

Guo Yamei seemed to sense Yishu’s gaze from the diagonal, and slowly raised her head, only to see the backs and profiles of colleagues absorbed in their own business.

“Did you know all along?” Guo Yamei slammed the desk. “Just waiting to see me humiliated.”

“No one wants to see you embarrassed,” Yishu replied, tempering her tone as she looked at Guo Yamei’s tear-streaked face. “I just want to live my own life.”

“Why didn’t you tell me there was a problem with the measurements!” Guo Yamei’s arrogance resurfaced.

“I reminded you before; you told me not to meddle,” Yishu answered seriously. “You took my order—am I supposed to smile and thank you, be grateful? Wouldn’t you double-check or recalculate yourself?”

Saying this, Yishu felt uneasy, but facing Guo Yamei’s aggression, she could not simply submit.

The fleeting pride in Guo Yamei’s expression vanished instantly.

Was I cruel? Did I plan all along to make her look bad? Yishu felt unfamiliar with herself in that brief moment.

Night brought wind again, the clouds shrouded the deep blue sky. Yishu watched Guo Yamei’s departing figure, as if she might be swept away at any moment.

“Did you spend this long in the restroom?” Yan Lu teased stiffly.

“Yan Lu, do you think I was cruel?” Yishu sat down. “I knew the measurements were wrong, but didn’t clearly tell her. I thought I was noble for hinting, but maybe it was just an excuse for self-comfort.”

“Don’t be silly. You think your pretended magnanimity is noble?” Yan Lu typed, “That’s hypocrisy.”

“Ah, you made me mistype.”

If she hadn’t always been so antagonistic, perhaps things would have turned out differently. Why is life filled with inexplicable hatred, rejection, and ridicule?

In the days that followed, Yishu was constantly bombarded with urgent orders. The number of seamstresses in the workshop was limited, and there were many backlogged orders. Every time she asked for help, she endured reproach from women of all ages.

But she had no choice.

Yishu walked into the small adjoining print room, politely asking Min Hangrui to print her orders first.

Min Hangrui snorted, rolled his eyes, pouted. Unable to resist her persistent requests, he eventually typed the order number, printing five urgent orders.

Yishu thanked him. He remained unmoved, continuing his work.

Min Hangrui was an unusual figure at Kaisheng—he spoke to no one, and even when he did, never more than three sentences. Sometimes Yishu mused that even the introverted and quiet Yihui was not so withdrawn. Hangrui was truly enigmatic.

Passing the shipping department, she ran into Lu Xuyang. She noticed his whole demeanor had changed, radiating energy.

Master Yao said that just days ago, Lu Xuyang had finally married. His wife was an ordinary office worker a few years younger. They met through friends, shared a few dinners, their parents met twice, and that was it.

Yishu handed the urgent orders to Master Yao. He looked troubled, then passed four of them to his assistant and apprentice, Xiao Chu. Those four were simple styles, plain herringbone linen, no need to match patterns—just add seam allowance when cutting.

Master Yao’s wife, Sister Fan, also worked as a seamstress at the company. Over fifty, she was faster than the young workers and had the best temper. Whenever there were urgent orders, Yishu always asked her for help.

Her skilled craftsmanship shone at the sewing machine: hemming, lightning-fast straight stitches, beautiful corners, another hem, another seam. Yishu was dazzled watching.

Nearby, several women of similar age, speaking with accents from other regions, chatted with Sister Fan.

The details were unclear, but seemed to be about resigning.

Yishu felt a little lonely, stopped listening, whispered a few words to Sister Fan, took off her shoe covers, and left the workshop.

One day, two days, three days… seven days. Time flew by rapidly.

After Labor Day, demolition in the village proceeded at a relentless pace. New buildings, made from broken bricks and cement blocks, rose quickly in this unremarkable borderland.

Yishu occasionally couldn’t resist riding over, standing on the bridge and gazing from afar. She wanted to step closer, but her feet felt rooted, unable to move.

The last spring breeze stirred memories—those hard to forget, those she wished to forget—all temporarily sealed away.

Now, she rented a place in a nearby residential area.

Jinlan Community.

An “old” neighborhood.

The tightly clustered apartment buildings meant that even at noon, residents below the fifth floor could not see the sun. White walls were stained with cement streaks from rain, and the elevator was plastered with countless advertisements. When the doors closed, Yishu clearly heard the rattling inside with every movement, as if it might fall at any moment.

Fortunately, the previous tenant had spent money on simple renovations, making it cleaner and tidier than other units. The greedy landlord took the opportunity to raise the rent by three hundred yuan. After much negotiation, Yishu managed to cut it by one hundred.