Chapter Twelve — So Much Love, Nowhere to Tell

Sitting at the reception desk of "Kaisheng Fabrics," Yishu still felt as if it were all unreal.

Not long ago, it was Guo Yamei who sat here.
Not long ago, she could only glimpse the shop through social media or work group chats.
Not long ago, she was quietly grieving over a missed opportunity.
...
Her unease was slowly replaced by a sense of emptiness. The physical store was located in a newly constructed building on the outskirts. Few businesses had moved in, and it stood in stark contrast to the main building that had towered over Textile City for forty years. Compared to the occasional visitors downstairs—businessmen with briefcases, scanning their phones for directions—Kaisheng Fabrics on the third floor was all but deserted.

Growing tired of sitting, Yishu got up and wandered around the shop, glancing at the uneven stitching on the curtains, flipping idly through a brochure on the table. Time passed so slowly it felt like she could wring water from it. She wondered how Guo Yamei had managed here for half a month. Judging by the carefree smile in her photos, the best word to describe her seemed to be "content."

It was just after one in the afternoon, a lull in customer inquiries. Liu Hanzhang sent Yishu a message, asking her to come to the office. Sunlight poured straight in, unimpeded, making the air a touch stuffy.

Yishu noticed Liu Hanzhang looked weary, propping her chin with her left hand, eyes fixed on her computer screen, lost in thought. Guo Yamei, in a moment of overconfidence, had caused the company a loss of several tens of thousands. She resigned as store manager, taking responsibility. In fact, she was originally supposed to resign completely and compensate for all losses. That day, she sobbed uncontrollably. Even Liu Hanzhang hadn’t expected it—a woman usually so strong, now tightly bound by fragility and emptiness.

Crying, apologizing, pleading, bowing—these were all she could do. Liu Hanzhang, the longest-serving customer service representative at Kaisheng, had been with the company for fifteen years, joining after university and now, at thirty-eight, had earned her position as supervisor. Customer service rarely retained young people; apart from Su Yishu, Yan Lu, and Guo Yamei, the longest anyone had stayed was just over a year, the shortest only a month.

Having been through it all, Liu Hanzhang valued Su Yishu and Guo Yamei especially. As for Yan Lu, though she was steady by nature, she lacked ambition.

That day, the company’s leadership publicly criticized Guo Yamei. She seemed like a deflated ball, stuck to the ground. Her sobs drowned out anything she tried to say and blocked all unvarnished words of embarrassment.

Pity stirred in Liu Hanzhang; in Guo Yamei, she saw a shadow of her younger self, though one that felt particularly heavy.

Thanks to Liu Hanzhang’s repeated recommendations and pleas, Guo Yamei was allowed to stay, continuing as an online customer service representative. The losses would be deducted from her salary each month.

Yishu pieced the story together from Liu Hanzhang’s fragmented remarks and from gossip overheard in the tea room. Guo Yamei’s hysteria that day only made the conjecture ring truer.

The sunlight vanished from the eastern windows; it must be around noon. Yishu checked her phone: exactly twelve o’clock. She locked up, crossed the street, turned onto a one-way road, and found herself among a cluster of eateries. She bought a boxed meal and hurried back.

She hadn’t had time to stock the kitchen in her rented apartment, so takeout was her only option. In truth, by the time she bought ingredients, cooked, and added in the cost of water and electricity, takeout was more economical.

Entering through the east side’s back door, she caught a glimpse of Lakeview. In reality, it was a river; from above, it formed an ellipse, resembling a vast lake.

All afternoon, not a single customer came in. Even the number of people wandering the first floor thinned out. Fortunately, the company, recognizing the reality of the physical store, allowed for losses at this stage. The store manager’s base salary was raised from three thousand plus commission to five thousand, but without commission. Once more businesses moved in, and business picked up, the salary would return to three thousand plus commission.

She sent Yan Lu a message, but the replies were perfunctory at best. Yan Lu had left the company reluctantly and with no warning. Yishu felt guilty. With Yan Lu’s straightforward personality, she was utterly unsuited to customer service; in her first month, she’d offended countless clients, and Liu Hanzhang had spoken with her several times, considering dismissal. Yet, by some miracle, she stayed.

Outside, dusk under the setting sun was mournfully beautiful. Inside, as the lights gradually went out, darkness quickly swallowed the remaining glow.

After sending the day’s sales report to Liu Hanzhang, Yishu shut down the computer, locked the glass doors, and headed for the bus stop.

The evening bus was packed, not a seat to be had. The 708 to Jinlan Community came every twenty minutes at rush hour, yet it was always impossible to squeeze on when it was needed most.

Resigned, Yishu waited for the next one.

After six, the sun dropped rapidly below the horizon. A sudden downpour plunged the city into darkness.

“Get in, quickly.” Amid the clamor of rain, his voice carried with surprising clarity.

Yishu was shifting along the leaky shelter, searching for the spot with the most coverage.

“Um…” Her disrupted rhythm spread from her senses to her speech.

“This rain’s come on so suddenly—you didn’t get soaked, did you?” Xu Shixi gripped the steering wheel, glancing at the back seat in the rearview mirror.

Yishu tried to collect herself, but water dripped from her hair, clothes, and pants.

“I’m fine.”

“How can you be fine? You’re soaked through.” Xu Shixi retrieved a towel from the glove compartment and handed it to her. “Here, dry off. The rain’s too heavy to go out now—my place is nearby. If you don’t mind, come over and wait it out.”

“I think I should just get a taxi home,” Yishu said, setting the towel aside.

Xu Shixi watched the wipers sweep frantically across the windshield. “It’s pouring; you won’t get a cab easily. Wait until it lets up, then I’ll drive you home.”

Yishu no longer objected. To stubbornly refuse his kindness would be ungrateful.

A torrential rain submerged the city, yet somehow, both of them seemed to have grown fins and gills, surfacing with ease.

It was barely a kilometer from Textile City to Xu Shixi’s home, yet, prioritizing safety, he took twenty minutes to drive it.

They reached Fuyuan just before seven. The rain showed no sign of easing.

Inside the elevator, the lighting was exceptionally bright; reflected off the metal walls, it seemed even more intense. Yishu watched Xu Shixi’s broad back and her own anxious reflection in the metal as they rose from the first floor to the twentieth.

Xu Shixi enjoyed tranquility, so even before the building was completed, he’d reserved a unit on the top floor.

A bachelor’s apartment—unsurprising, yet vast and empty. Every piece of furniture stood precisely where it belonged, but the space felt hollow.

“Sit down. I’ll get you some hot water,” Xu Shixi said, tossing his keys on the table. “Or better yet, I’ll get you some clean clothes to change into.”

“Thank you.” Yishu tugged at her wet clothes; there was no need for courtesy.

The refrigerator looked as if it had been raided before a disaster—only two or three packs of frozen food occupied the spacious shelves.

Xu Shixi switched on his rarely used induction cooker, tore open a bag of frozen dumplings, and dumped them in. Three minutes after the water boiled, they were ready.

He brought the dumplings to the living room just as Yishu emerged from the bathroom in fresh clothes.

Above the dining table, three artful lamps, encased in black wire cages, cast a dim and hazy light.

“There’s only this in the fridge. It’s raining too hard to go out for groceries.”

“It’s delicious,” Yishu said, eating with her head down. The taste of frozen dumplings was ordinary, but right now, they were a delight.

The rain beat down harder.

An unexpected overnight stay—or was it expected?

Lying in Xu Shixi’s bed, she noticed the scent lingering on the pillow and blanket—a faint trace of laundry detergent, another of body wash, perhaps even a hint of cologne. She couldn’t tell which it was.

The ceiling loomed as distant as the sky—everything felt unreal.

He was just on the other side of the wall; was he also struggling to sleep?

Just as Yishu suspected, Xu Shixi, lying in the guest room, also tossed and turned, unable to rest.

Both imagined what the other might be doing. But it remained only in their imagination. Night is ambiguous; to meet it quietly, without a word or gesture, was perhaps best. Any movement might shatter the moment, break the story before it could unfold.

In the morning, Yishu saw the guest room door ajar. She crept closer and peered through the crack.

No one?

She pushed the door open—the quilt was neatly folded, the sheets smoothed.

In the living room, she found a glass of milk, a sandwich, and a note.

—Had to leave early for work. Don’t forget breakfast. Bus 609 downstairs goes straight to Textile City.

The morning after the rain was crisp and cool. The trees, nourished by shower after spring shower, grew lush. Yishu realized that some quiet stirring in her heart was beginning, little by little, to awaken.