Between Us : Chapter 14: The Pretty Landlord

Xu Jie settled into Chen Qian’s home just like that. His presence during the day wasn’t particularly noticeable, since high schoolers had such a packed schedule he had to be back at school for morning reading by six thirty, so by the time Chen Qian got up, Xu Jie was long gone.

Having received a favor once, Chen Qian headed straight for the kitchen after coming out of the bathroom. The moment he lifted the pot lid, the aroma of egg fried rice noodles hit him.

A sticky note was attached to the inside of the lid, written in bold and vigorous handwriting: “First rule of the house: don’t eat alone. Auntie said dried shrimp counts as seafood, so I already ate the shrimp fried noodles. This portion is all yours.”

What kind of tenant makes up house rules on their own, though the rule did make sense.

Chen Qian peeled off the sticky note and stuck it to the fridge door, then carried the noodles out to sit by the coffee table.

He hadn’t touched his computer in several days. Chen Qian ate while lifting the laptop lid and pressing the power button. While waiting for it to boot up, he opened his dusty phone photo album. The first thing that greeted his eyes were the photos from the day he got his lip pierced.

The lighting was insufficient, and Chen Qian wasn’t satisfied with any of them, but he couldn’t bear to delete them. The photos documented the fresh look he had after enduring pain. He was afraid of even the slightest pain when he was little, getting a shot in the butt would send him sprawling on the ground crying. And yet he had gone and gotten a lip piercing.

His fingertip slid across the screen, and the photo flipped back one more. Chen Qian froze.

This was probably the photo he had disliked the most at the time. The only reason he hadn’t deleted it was probably because he had been busy chatting with Xu Jie when it was taken.

The frame was dark, and to make matters worse, the light concentrated on the profile beside him. Xu Jie, who had entered the shot, had clearly become the main subject of this photo.

Back then, Xu Jie’s hair and shoulders were covered in snow. His school uniform was dusty and gray, his schoolbag slung down to his elbow. He looked utterly down on his luck, yet he had the kind of face that would get girls handing him bottles of mineral water when he played ball at school.

Looking at it now, this photo wasn’t quite at the level of being despised.

Chen Qian picked out another photo that turned out the best, and transferred both this one and that one to his computer. After slightly adjusting the brightness and clarity, he uploaded them to his personal webpage with the caption: “Getting a piercing really can intimidate people. Even little puppies gave up their seats for me.”

Closing the laptop, Chen Qian stuck his hands in his pockets and leaned back against the sofa, feeling somewhat empty inside.

He had been on leave for a whole week, and tonight he had to go back to Elk to report for duty. But he couldn’t tell whether it was because the break had made him lazy or because of his aversion to work. Chen Qian simply didn’t want to move. Especially after seeing Chen Qingrong yesterday and having her advise him to quit, that dense, prickling feeling of resistance gnawed at every inch of him inside and out. It was unbearable.

Chen Qian bit down on a cigarette and went out to the balcony to smoke. The Aisi brand tasted very mild, but Wu An couldn’t get used to it, so he had passed along the entire carton given to him by some ex-husband.

He didn’t smoke often, usually only when he was in a bad mood, so a carton could last him quite a while.

Below the balcony was someone else’s iron eaves. The eaves were covered in years of accumulated trash underwear blown down from upstairs during typhoons, plastic boards thrown out during other people’s renovations, snack packaging tossed out by kids after sneaking a treat. Chen Qian flicked his ashes onto it without a care in the world. He was almost done when his phone’s vibration called him back inside.

He answered and sat on the carpet by the coffee table, reaching under it to pull out an ashtray and placing it on the tabletop.

With the cigarette held between his fingers resting on the edge of the ashtray, Chen Qian listened to Yu Huo speaking on the other end: “Senior, I’ve signed the contract with Ruan Yu. We’re scheduled to shoot on the 26th of this month, and next Tuesday we’ll go scout the location.”

Chen Qian idly rolled the corner of a magazine page as he asked, “Where are you scouting?”

“At Ruan Yu’s villa, by the sea. The scenery is great, and we won’t have to worry about lighting conditions,” Yu Huo was always enthusiastic when talking about shoots. “He gave me the spare key and said no one would be home on the day we scout. He told me to look around as I please. Senior, are you coming?”

Counting the days, he should be back from Paris by then, but Chen Qian didn’t agree right away: “It’s your project. What am I going there for?”

The joy in Yu Huo’s tone slowly faded: “I don’t want you to miss out on the scenery there. Besides…”

Chen Qian rubbed the smooth ashtray, waiting for him to continue, not even noticing the ash staining his fingers.

But Yu Huo never finished what he was going to say: “Never mind. Anyway, I sincerely hope you’ll come with me. I’m not good with words, Senior. Please think it over.”

After the call ended, the corner of the magazine page had been crumpled into a frayed mess by Chen Qian. He stubbed out the cigarette, wiped the dirt from his fingers with a tissue, and slid his body down, leaning his back against the sofa leg as if seeking support.

The magazine was two or three years old. Chen Qian could almost flip to the page he wanted at random. He pressed four fingers against the cover, his thumb against the back, and loosened his grip slightly to let the paper slide quickly between his fingertips. Sensing the thickness, he stopped at a certain page and opened it.

In the column named “Time,” the largest piece on the page was no different from one of the photos hanging on the wall of his study—the one Xu Jie had drawn on the floor-to-ceiling glass of the bridal shop.

His first submission in life. He hadn’t expected to get lucky and have it published by a photography magazine. Though it wasn’t any well-known magazine, it was enough to give Chen Qian the tentative encouragement he needed.

He learned the ropes, developed an eye for appreciation, but remembered to keep his passion in check, because he had no money, no education, and no connections.

A faint smell of smoke lingered in the air. Chen Qian pulled open the drawer and counted the remaining cigarettes. Seven packs left.

He set himself a goal: finish these seven packs, and regardless of what lay ahead, quit the job first.

Since he had to go in early tonight to report back, Chen Qian showered at around five and stood in front of his wardrobe to dress up. Inside there was only one semi-sheer black chiffon shirt. The long pointed collar was adorned with pearls that hung down over his chest, covering the parts that invited stolen glances. A thin belt cinched his narrow waist, and the flowing wide-leg pants didn’t overly emphasize his leg shape.

He was originally in the habit of spraying light perfume on his wrists, but

Chen Qian picked up the perfume bottle on the nightstand, examined it, and set it back down. He still couldn’t bring himself to accept something he didn’t particularly like.

In the end, Chen Qian dabbed on a drop of essential oil to pass as perfume. Working at that kind of place, it was inevitable to get reeking of alcohol. When he got off work and raised his hand to catch a scent that belonged to him, it would make him feel much better.

Throwing on a mid-length mink fur coat, Chen Qian checked the weather forecast before leaving. The forecast showed nothing but cloudy skies from now until the early hours of the morning, so he didn’t bother with anything extra. He simply pocketed his phone and keys and headed out.

The Elk Bar was cold and deserted before the night session began. Elk didn’t operate during the day, generously letting the surrounding small quiet bars earn their fill, only opening the gates to paradise at night, letting pleasure-seeking patrons break down the threshold.

Chen Qian entered through the side door. Elk’s venue was more than ten times larger than “Gulong,” the place he usually frequented. The ceiling lights were gorgeous and colorful, casting medieval Western masterpieces onto the walls in a way that always dazzled the eyes. But they still couldn’t compare to the fully equipped stage, after all—paintings were dead, while performers under the spotlights were alive.

Only a few servers were cleaning inside, and the bartender behind the counter was taking stock of supplies.

Chen Qian wasn’t in a rush. He walked lightly along the sound-dampening carpet toward the supervisor’s office. A sign hung by the door, plainly telling everyone who sat in this position and what their name was: Zhao Chuan.

The door was a heavy, intricately carved solid wood door, but it was tightly shut at the moment. Chen Qian knocked twice, got no response, and let it go. He didn’t bother to investigate whether the office was truly empty or whether Supervisor Zhao was too busy getting down to business to open the door.

He hadn’t been here in a week, and the restroom fragrance had been changed to a lighter citrus scent, which smelled much more pleasant than the original.

The innermost stall was closed. Chen Qian went to the third from the end. The moment the door clicked shut, a sudden sound of the partition being hit by a heavy object rang through the enclosed space

“Brother Chuan, it hurts!”

There wasn’t much displeasure in this complaint; instead, it was mixed with a few parts of coquettishness. Chen Qian’s hand, which was undoing his waistband, paused.

“Change position. Arch your back. Hold it yourself… That’s right.” A crisp sound like a clap. “Come on, Brother Chuan will be good to you.”

So the supervisor’s office really was empty. Zhao Chuan had come to the restroom to get the job done.

Chen Qian calmly lowered the toilet lid and sat down, pulling out his phone to open a mini-program game he had bookmarked.

While a scene of winter passion was playing out on the other side, Chen Qian was over here playing a mini-game, about to break his friend circle’s top score. Just as his score was about to surpass it, a deliberately sweet scream came from next door, causing his hand to slip. The ball he was controlling crashed into an obstacle, and the game ended.

How infuriating. Chen Qian clicked on the leaderboard to see who held the top spot in his friend circle. It turned out to be Xu Jie’s profile picture white background with black text that read, “Won’t change my profile picture until English scores above 100.” His anger dissipated immediately.

Chen Qian exited the mini-program and listened quietly as clothes rustled. Zhao Chuan said to the person, “What’s going on, it’s a bit loose. Go back and do some Kegels.”

The person whined, “It’s because Brother Chuan has used it too much.”

Two sets of footsteps sounded outside the door, stopping when they reached Chen Qian’s side.

“Brother Chuan…”

“What’s there to be afraid of? At this hour, besides the servers here, who else is around? Who doesn’t know you’re under my protection?”

The heavier footsteps faded away, leaving only the sound of running water from the sink area in the restroom.

Chen Qian acted as if nothing had happened, flushed, washed his hands, and calmly pulled open the door to go wash up.

The wall mirror above the sink reflected two figures. The other person was about Chen Qian’s build, with permed and dyed hair and foundation on his face. Having just finished his business, the corners of his eyes were still flushed red.

Having worked at Elk for so long, Chen Qian knew every colleague’s name, face, and temperament. The person standing beside him was a popular pole dancer at the bar, named Yuan Shuang.

During downtime, the servers would chat and gossip. When they talked about Yuan Shuang, they all said his body was incredibly flexible. He could bend his thighs upward so far that his toes could point above his head.

Yuan Shuang was holding an eyeliner pencil. When he saw Chen Qian come out, his grip on the pencil faltered, but his mouth remained defiant: “And I wondered who it was. Enjoy eavesdropping, did you?”

Chen Qian didn’t respond, only taking his time washing his hands, keeping the water flow low to avoid washing away the scent of the essential oil on his wrists.

Yuan Shuang leaned in toward the mirror to check. His eyeliner wasn’t drawn well, so he wiped it off with a makeup remover pad: “Don’t act like some swan either. Who knows, maybe one day you won’t be able to hold your head up anymore.”

Chen Qian turned off the faucet, pulled two paper towels, and gently dried the moisture between his fingers.

It was rather flattering of Yuan Shuang to compare him to a swan. Ducks truly couldn’t compare to swans. Someone like Yuan Shuang, who could pull off all sorts of provocative moves on stage, once offstage, could be picked up by any customer and served on any plate as a piece of white jade.

Yuan Shuang tossed the remover pad away and suddenly changed his tune: “Wait, no. You’re not a swan. You’re a little bee, buzzing around making a fuss.”

The paper towels, soaked with water, were crumpled into a ball by Chen Qian.

“Little bee” was a job title at the bar, categorized as part of the atmosphere coordination team. They relied on their own abilities to drive customer spending. Most of their tips had to be handed over, though they could keep the spare change for themselves.

The boss of Elk, Zhao Pinggao, was an old acquaintance of Chen Qingrong’s, and he showed extra care for his old friend’s son. He made an exception for Chen Qian all tips received, regardless of amount, were his to keep.

After several years in the industry, aside from sending money to Chen Qingrong and paying rent and utilities, Chen Qian had saved up quite a sum. He really should thank this job for that, but he still couldn’t adapt to it.

He also didn’t like hearing others describe him so blatantly like this.

Yuan Shuang kept running his mouth: “Little bees should sometimes put away their stingers too. Lifting their butts up to get stung by others instead would be…”

The word “good” was stuck in his throat. Yuan Shuang’s palm was suddenly empty the eyeliner pencil had been snatched away by Chen Qian.

Chen Qian gripped his jaw with the web between his thumb and forefinger. Unlike the gentle way he treated Xu Jie, his fingertips applied pressure that made Yuan Shuang hurt too much to utter another word.

He had stayed silent for so long because arguing was pointless.

But when someone stepped on his bottom line, anyone who didn’t fight back was an idiot.

The pen tip pressed against the outer corner of Yuan Shuang’s eye. Chen Qian smoothly drew a clean line of eyeliner for him. When he finished, he pushed the end of the pencil into Yuan Shuang’s half-open mouth, stuffing it in until Yuan Shuang’s eyes teared up from the pain before he stopped.

“Yuan Shuang,” Chen Qian said softly, “have you told Supervisor Zhao that not only are you loose down there, but you’re loose up there too?”