Chapter 41: Stray Dog

The next day.

The moment the alarm rang, Yin Xian shut it off.

As he got out of bed to wash up, he looked at the person sleeping on the floor and finally recalled what had happened the night before.

She’d come in and gone to sleep…

Her long yellow hair was curled, her pale face soft like a lump of dough. Eyes shut, she faced the bed, curled up tightly on her side.

A thin blanket was draped over her, but she hadn’t taken off her coat.

Tattered, pitiful, yet alert and ready to leave at any moment. Yin Xian secretly thought—she really was like a little stray dog.

She was still asleep when he left the house.

The tiny room was filled with her snoring.

“Snore, snore—” like the soft grunts of a pet pig when petted, rhythmic and not at all disturbing.

Yin Xian considered whether to wake her, since he wouldn’t be home.

In the end, he gently closed the door behind him.

At lunchtime, Yin Xian brought home an extra portion of food.

The bedding was folded neatly and stacked on a chair.

She was gone. Her shoes and backpack were gone, too.

Yin Xian finished both meals alone, then stuffed the bedding into the closet and locked the door from the inside.

He thought he wouldn’t see her again.

That evening after work—

Today, for once, he didn’t have to entertain clients. Yin Xian passed by the market just as it was closing, bought a handful of greens and a few eggs on the cheap, and headed home to make noodles.

Rounding the bend downhill, he caught a glimpse of a small figure crouched at his door.

When she saw someone approaching, she lifted her head. As he got closer and she recognized him, she happily ran over—to take the groceries from his hands.

“Have you eaten?” she asked.

“No,” he said.

“What a coincidence! Me neither.”

Thick-skinned, she followed him, waiting for him to unlock the door.

She’d been so cautious yesterday. Why wasn’t she afraid of him today?

Yin Xian switched on the main light and stepped inside.

The girl took off her shoes and came in with him.

When he looked back at her, she was peering into the plastic bag of vegetables. Noticing his gaze, she glanced up and gave him a shy smile.

Wang Jiexiang had made up her mind!

In fact, when she entered the room yesterday, she had already mentally prepared herself for anything.

A night passed, and none of those things happened—so she had really run into a good person this time.

She wanted to stay.

The kind big brother was washing vegetables. He wasn’t very expressive, didn’t talk much, and his serious face still scared her a bit. Wang Jiexiang mustered her courage and started the conversation.

“Big brother, what’s your name?”

He turned off the faucet and said to her, “Yin Xian.”

“Yin Xian? As in… sinister?” Wang Jiexiang didn’t quite catch it: “Which ‘sinister’?”

He didn’t answer, just picked up the basket of washed vegetables and went straight back to the room.

Afraid of being locked out, she hurried after him.

Once he dried his hands, he pulled out an old newspaper and pen, writing down his name.

Next to the neatly written “Yin Xian,” Wang Jiexiang also carefully wrote down her own name.

“Wang Jiexiang?” he read.

“Yes, yes,” she nodded. “Big brother Yin Xian, can I call you Brother Xian from now on?”

“……”

He didn’t seem to like it.

Wang Jiexiang tested a variation: “Or… Xian-ge?”

He lit the simple gas stove to boil noodles and gave a barely audible “Mm.”

“Xian-ge, thank you for taking me in yesterday. I have a very important question to ask you…”

Wang Jiexiang didn’t beat around the bush and went straight to the point: “Can I stay here for a while?”

Yin Xian was about to blurt out “No” when she quickly cut him off.

“I’ll cook, do laundry, clean, and handle any other chores you want. Once I find a job and start getting paid, I’ll split the rent with you.”

Seeing he was about to speak, Wang Jiexiang panicked and interrupted again.

“A lot of migrant workers share a place. Rent is expensive in the city—this way we save money. Once I get paid, I’ll even pay you back for groceries. I swear on my life I won’t be any trouble!”

She patted her head and looked at him anxiously.

“Xian-ge, what do you think?”

“Okay,” Yin Xian said. “Do you want chili in it?”

Wang Jiexiang was still savoring that light “Okay,” her face glowing with joy, and didn’t catch what he said after.

“Huh? What?”

“The noodles are ready. Want chili?”

He quickly served two bowls and opened the jar of chili paste.

“Yes, I can eat spicy!”

Wang Jiexiang clapped like a child.

Yin Xian set the noodles on the small table. She was so overjoyed, she couldn’t help twirling in the tiny room.

That twirl nearly knocked over the pot of noodle soup.

Yin Xian steadied the handle and gave her a long, steady look.

Wang Jiexiang immediately behaved, quietly sitting at the little table. She formed two fists, placed them on her chest, and waited demurely for the big brother to hand her chopsticks.

“I only have one pair of chopsticks. Can you use the plastic fork from when you ate instant noodles?”

Yin Xian’s words reminded her—

“I have chopsticks in my bag.”

Her backpack contained everything she owned.

Bedsheet, quilt—after dinner, she spread them out on the floor where she had slept the night before. With Yin Xian’s thin bedding underneath, it would be a bit warmer tonight.

One set of pajamas, a few shirts and pants—since the little home didn’t have space to hang them, she stored them together with Yin Xian’s clothes in the fabric wardrobe.

Toothbrush, cup, half-used shampoo and body wash… One by one, Wang Jiexiang pulled her belongings out of the bag. His home was now partially filled with her things.

The sight made her feel safe. As if with her stuff laid out, she wouldn’t be easily kicked out.

She liked to place her things next to Yin Xian’s—cup beside his, shoes beside his.

She had brought two bottles of unopened peanut oil and asked Yin Xian where to put them.

He looked around. In a ten-square-meter room with two people living in it, even finding a spot for two bottles of oil took some thought.

“I’ll put them away,” he said, taking the bottles, organizing the cupboard, and stuffing them inside.

Yin Xian casually asked, “Why did you buy two bottles if you were living alone?”

“My first job was selling oil. I bought them then.”

In her few months in the city, Wang Jiexiang had endured all sorts of hardships, with no one to confide in. She’d swallowed every bitter experience on her own.

Thinking about selling oil brought back memories of being ostracized by supermarket coworkers. Then she recalled her second job—washing hair at a salon, where she was also unwelcome and ended up not even getting paid.

When Yin Xian turned back after storing the oil, he was startled by Wang Jiexiang’s face.

She was crying.

Not the sobbing he’d seen last night—she clutched the edge of the quilt and cried silently. Big, round tears rolled down her cheeks like a broken string of pearls.

“Don’t look at me.”

She pulled up the quilt to cover her face and said in a soft, babyish voice.

Yin Xian obeyed and didn’t look at her again.

Wang Jiexiang held back a stomach full of words, waiting for him to ask.

He shook out the quilt, turned his back to her, turned off the light, and went to sleep.