Frivolous - Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Back then, it had rained in the mountain city for a month straight. On her way back from picking up medicine for Chen Lie, Chen Ran was splashed by a passing car, her pants covered in muddy water stains.

Chen Ran only thought: It’s fine, as long as I didn’t get hit.

The mountain paths were winding and tortuous. Carrying a backpack full of medicine, she stopped several times to catch her breath. Workers of unknown trades walked ahead of her, carrying surveying instruments. The sky was filled with flowing dark clouds, but fortunately, she had brought an umbrella, so she didn’t have to worry about her whole body getting soaked again.

Once the person in front had walked far away, the quiet forest seemed to hold only the sound of her own breathing. But that breath was suddenly seized by a sharp, unexpected pain—as if something cold and sharp had pierced through her body from behind.

A car drove up the winding mountain road and pulled over. A woman in suit trousers stepped out. As Chen Ran fell forward, the last thing in her peripheral vision was the footsteps drawing closer and the increasingly blurred warning on a nearby sign: [Snake activity area, stay safe].

She seemed to smell a deep scent from the ocean.

Only later did Chen Ran learn that she had been shot by a compound bow. Because the location was in a remote part of the mountain city, the culprit was never found.

One day, two months later, Chen Ran heard A-mu say: “The Yu family is here again. They didn’t find anyone they liked last time, and they didn’t meet anyone suitable elsewhere, so they came back.”

Hearing this, Chen Ran couldn’t help but ask: “The Yu family?”

The Yu Shen Group from Hanglin?

“Yes, Ranran. Speaking of which, when you were shot by that arrow, it was the eldest daughter of the Yu family who sent you to the hospital. Luckily, it didn’t hit anything vital. Now that they’re back, you must thank them properly.”

The night before, Chen Lie walked over and leaned on the railing in front of Chen Ran, nudging her arm. “Sister, do you want to go?”

“Go where?”

“To the Yu family.”

“I don’t,” Chen Ran replied quickly.

Especially since there was Chen Lie, who needed to escape this environment even more than she did. Chen Lie’s illness… required money to sustain. It was a well-known fact in the orphanage that she had heart disease. They were picked and chosen like kittens and puppies, eventually becoming part of the oldest remaining group in the welfare home. By next year, Chen Ran would be required to leave the home automatically.

The next afternoon, the sun was scorching. Two cars drove into the mountain orphanage. A woman stepped out from the back seat and walked toward them. she wore a white qipao and pearl earrings; someone held an umbrella over her. The woman didn’t say a word, her gaze sweeping across the dozens of children standing in neat rows. Then, she walked into the crowd.

She stood in front of Chen Ran, pausing for the longest ten seconds. When Chen Ran smelled that familiar deep-sea scent on the woman, she knew: she had been abandoned by civilization and order, only to be brought by the only precious luck in her fate to cross paths with this woman named Yu Lanzhou.

While undergoing Yu Lanzhou’s scrutiny, Chen Ran’s throat rolled involuntarily. She noticed that the other woman’s gaze seemed tinged with a slight impatience and contempt. Even the red mole on the sclera near her lower eyelid exuded cold indifference. It was like an ocean Chen Ran couldn’t see the end of; she couldn’t maintain eye contact. It felt as if looking for one more second would cause her to sink into the depths.

She knew that to her, Yu Lanzhou might represent a danger as vast as the sea. But she couldn’t rudely look away entirely, so Chen Ran compromised by focusing her gaze on Yu Lanzhou’s jewelry. If one didn’t intentionally look there, anyone would be captivated by Yu Lanzhou’s features; she made even expensive earrings seem dull.

Yu Lanzhou turned and walked back up the steps.

After the initial screening, Chen Ran, who was supposed to take the opportunity to express her gratitude, hid in a remote corner and remained silent. Yu Lanzhou pointed at Chen Ran, who was standing in the shadow of a wall, and spoke flatly: “Her, then.”

She was quite good-looking; it wouldn’t be embarrassing to call her Yu Lanzhou’s daughter.

In truth, “quite good-looking” was just Yu Lanzhou’s inner stubbornness. It was a beauty that struck one at first sight. Exquisite features. Double eyelids and dimples. Her eyes were spirited but didn’t turn for just anyone, like a trumpet creeper floating in the deep sea. Yet, when she looked at Yu Lanzhou, there seemed to be a hint of emotion. Her bone structure was like a steep, rugged mountain. Her features were clearer and more vibrant than a hibiscus, carrying a touch of heroic spirit. She was like a noble orchid or a jade tree—proud and refined.

The sun was very bright. The bodyguard beside Yu Lanzhou was holding an umbrella, but perhaps his attention was divided; the corner of the umbrella almost poked Yu Lanzhou in the eye several times. Yu Lanzhou raised her palm to shield her eyes and said coldly, “Move the umbrella over.”

Realizing he might have poked her, the bodyguard bowed and apologized: “I’m sorry, Miss, I’ll be careful next time.”

“There won’t be a next time.”

“What?”

Yu Lanzhou didn’t repeat herself. Without needing a single glance from her, someone had already come up to replace him.

A-mu brought Chen Ran before Yu Lanzhou. While Chen Ran kept her head down, she heard a voice like cold jade ask: “How old?”

“Seventeen.”

Yu Lanzhou frowned. If she were to be her daughter… the age was a bit high. If word got out, people might think she had a child as a minor. She asked: “What is your name?”

“Chen Ran.”

“Which characters?”

“Chen with the ‘left ear’ radical, and Ran as in ‘burning’.”

“How are your grades?”

“Top one hundred in the whole school.”

Yu Lanzhou was displeased. Why did she have to squeeze an answer out of her for every question? “Let’s pick another one. These grades are too tragic.”

She pointed her finger toward Chen Lie. Chen Lie proactively stepped forward to answer: “My name is Chen Lie. Chen with the ‘left ear’ radical, and Lie as in ‘intense’. I’m twelve years old. My grades are top three in the class and top ten in the school.”

After answering, Chen Lie glanced at Chen Ran in the crowd, receiving an encouraging look.

“Switch to this one.”

A-mu walked over and whispered something in Yu Lanzhou’s ear. Yu Lanzhou looked at Chen Lie again, her emotions unreadable. A few seconds later, Yu Lanzhou tilted her head and said to A-mu: “It’s fine.”

“Is it really fine? I’m afraid of delaying you.”

“The Yu family isn’t short of this bit of money.”

The phone in her handbag rang twice. Yu Lanzhou looked at the caller and walked to a quiet flagstone path to answer. Chen Ran saw her beautiful, fair legs through the low slit of her qipao.

“Sister, that ’23’ isn’t writing songs anymore. The arranger over there said they only communicated online and don’t know the person’s specific details.”

“Investigate further,” Yu Lanzhou said briefly before hanging up.

That evening, Chen Lie was taken away by the Yu family. When she left, she took the small elephant plushie Chen Ran had given her.

A few days after Chen Ran’s college entrance exam results came out, Chen Lie called her, her voice full of excitement: “Sister, come over, I miss you so much. I’ve changed to a bigger bed; there’s still so much space even if both of us lie on it. Sister, come and see me when you have time, okay?”

Chen Ran could never quite explain her state of mind—it was like ants gnawing at her heart. She wanted to visit the Yu family to see Chen Lie, but she was afraid of running into Yu Lanzhou. Yet, if she didn’t encounter Yu Lanzhou, the trip would lose most of its meaning.

In Chen Ran’s memory, Yu Lanzhou hated her.

The first time she went to the Yu home to find Chen Lie—who was now Yu Zhou—the door to the second-floor room Yu Zhou mentioned was half-open. The frosted glass reflected a blurred, beautiful shadow. Before Chen Ran could walk in, the person inside finished dressing and stepped out.

Chen Ran quickly lowered her head, her gaze captured by a pair of fair, delicate feet. Chen Ran wasn’t a foot fetishist; in fact, she usually disliked other people’s feet. Aside from her mother and A-mu, she didn’t mind her sister Yu Zhou’s feet. But the feet before her were unadorned, covered only in a skin texture like a snowy mountain. She didn’t hate them.

When Chen Ran looked up, she unexpectedly collided with a pair of somewhat hazy eyes, with a red speck burning within the haze. It was Yu Lanzhou.

She was currently wearing a white bathrobe and drying her dripping hair with a towel. She coldly spat out two words to Chen Ran: “Get out.”

Chen Ran hurriedly retreated, stammering in panic: “I’m sorry, Auntie Yu. I was looking for Yu Zhou, I took a wrong turn. I’m sorry.”

She didn’t dare look at Yu Lanzhou again and fled downstairs. At that moment, her only thought was to escape the other’s sight. She ran into Yu Zhou coming up the stairs. Seeing Chen Ran walking down with her head bowed, Yu Zhou called out excitedly: “Sister, you’re here!”

Yu Lanzhou stood by the door, watching them without a word. The air seemed to stagnate.

Yu Zhou changed her tone, calling out to Yu Lanzhou with a hint of flattery: “Mother.”

“Mhm,” Yu Lanzhou walked over. “Don’t play too long. You have harp lessons tomorrow.”

“Yes, I understand, Mother.”

Five years later, after Yu Lanzhou’s first comeback performance, Chen Ran heard the audience gossiping in the restroom: “Did you hear anything special?”

Another person said: “The instrument was quite beautiful. No, I mean, the conducting was great to listen to.”

“She looks so noble. Like she could break eight hundred hearts.”

“I think eight hundred is an understatement.”

“She feels like she’d be a heartbreaker, very queer, yet she actually has a daughter.”

“I wonder if she’s cold-faced to her daughter too. Even though she looks polite and bowed to us, it feels like she looks down on everyone—no one can get close to her.”

“The CEO of Yu Shen is performing for you; of course you have to listen respectfully.”

“Wasn’t Yu Shen handed back to Yu Jijie?”

“Yeah, after Yu Jijie got sick, Conductor Yu doubled the performance results and then returned the power to her.”

“Sister is so beautiful and capable. Break my heart, please.”

“She’s in her thirties; you should call her Auntie. Her kid is already grown, and you’re still calling her ‘Sister’?”

“Anyone who gives me feelings is a ‘Sister’.”

Perhaps to hear more of such talk, Chen Ran washed her hands for three minutes. The audience at the concert didn’t critique the performance but instead focused on the conductor. If Yu Lanzhou knew, she would surely have a sour face.

And she was just like them, here for the conductor’s physical presence. She, too, deserved to be scolded by Teacher Yu. Thinking of this, Chen Ran smiled involuntarily, then remembered something and pulled back her smile.

Exiting the restroom, she was tidying her backpack while walking out when she bumped into someone’s shoulder. Her phone and the items in her bag fell to the floor. A girl in a professional suit, looking very capable, knelt down quickly to pick them up, apologizing repeatedly: “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I was running too fast.”

“It’s fine.” A bottle of Loratadine syrup rolled out of the bag, and Chen Ran leaned down to pick it up.

A pair of nude high heels appeared before her eyes. The owner of the shoes leaned down slightly, and a fair hand picked up the medicine bottle before Chen Ran could.

Scent. Unbearable. The ocean. Breath. Oxygen.

“Chen Ran?” Yu Lanzhou looked up at her first, then stood up. Those deep-sea eyes must have swept over her several times.

Every joint and muscle in Chen Ran’s body was tensed, struggling to say: Don’t show fear, don’t lose face. And especially, don’t show an expensive emotion like ‘longing’.

Chen Ran stood up, wearing a slightly stiff smile, and called out: “Auntie Yu.”

The girl who had bumped into Chen Ran said to Yu Lanzhou: “Teacher Yu, I’m sorry. The bodyguards were delayed; they’re two hundred meters away.”

“Mhm,” Yu Lanzhou responded flatly, then asked Chen Ran, “Why are you here?”

It didn’t look like an accident. She and Chen Ran hadn’t seen each other for at least two years.

Chen Ran hid the corner of the ticket stub in her palm, crumpling it. This ticket had been bought two months ago for the Yu Lan Art Hall in Pingjing, a 2,000-seat venue. Because it was Yu Lanzhou’s first performance in five years, it sold out in a minute even without promotion. Chen Ran had chosen a seat in the corner. Throughout the performance, Yu Lanzhou hadn’t seen her. But she had spent the entire night staring at Yu Lanzhou’s back. Straight, powerful, and graceful. Like the opening and closing of a dance piece.

Chen Ran said: “I came to deliver something to a friend.”

Yu Lanzhou concluded from the sound of her voice that Chen Ran was lying. Wasn’t she supposed to be avoiding her? Why wasn’t she hiding this time? She even dared to come and listen to her performance. She sought out the girl’s gaze, those beautiful eyes, hoping to find a spark of light within them.

But the result left Yu Lanzhou deeply disappointed.

Chen Ran’s eyes had changed. They had become somewhat dull and cold, as if filled with the weight of worldly affairs; she had become a vessel forced to endure it all. And when looking at her, there was a lot of… strangeness? Her skin was no longer as fair as before, but had a few faint freckles. However, an outsider would wonder if those tiny flaws were intentionally placed, for they did not detract from her beauty but instead added a sense of stubbornness and resilience.

Yu Lanzhou asked her: “Are you doing well? Are you adjusting to school?” By age, Chen Ran should be a junior. If she was just at school, she shouldn’t have such a look in her eyes.

Chen Ran didn’t dare look at her again, avoiding the eye contact. She stared at the white brooch on Yu Lanzhou’s chest, nodded lowly, and said: “I’m fine.”

Why were her words so few? Yu Lanzhou had many questions—why she left without a word, why she never contacted her afterward. Meeting Chen Ran in Pingjing now, Yu Lanzhou initially felt a pleasure similar to accidentally coming across a favorite song on the radio. So, in a good mood, she leaned down and picked up the medicine that had rolled to her feet.

Yu Lanzhou was now frowning at the bottle, then looked up to ask Chen Ran: “Allergies?”

“Mhm.”

“Is it still the same as before?”

Every time the rainy season or a humid change of seasons arrived, Chen Ran would get a rash on the inside of her wrists.

“The same.”

The fact that Yu Lanzhou remembered she got rashes felt like being cherished.

“Change to a different medicine. This one must have developed resistance.”

“This is the same kind you gave me two years ago.” Chen Ran’s gaze was blank. She spoke the words out of linguistic instinct, not realizing the throwback to the past or the implication of clinging to Yu Lanzhou.

“Mhm,” Yu Lanzhou didn’t deny it. “Then change to a different one anyway.”

“Okay.”

Chen Ran’s phone rang. It was Su Ping’an’s voice asking: “Is it over? I’m at the entrance. You’ll see me as soon as you walk out.”

“Oh, okay. I’ll need a moment. Three minutes.” She intentionally condensed her conversation with Yu Lanzhou into that short span of time.

Before Chen Ran could hang up, Yu Lanzhou asked directly: “Who is it?”

Chen Ran saw Yu Lanzhou narrowing her eyes, scrutinizing her. After hanging up, she replied: “A friend.”

“Boyfriend?”

“No, just an ordinary friend,” Chen Ran answered truthfully.

“Alright. By the way, Xu Wan,” Yu Lanzhou called the capable girl, “Go to my lounge and bring the phone from the table.”

A moment later, Yu Lanzhou handed Chen Ran the phone her assistant had brought and said: “As compensation. It’s new, the SIM card isn’t installed. Or should I have her buy another one?”

“No need. My old one wasn’t worth much.”

“I don’t like owing people. Chen Ran, don’t argue with me about this.”

“Okay.” The moment Chen Ran took the phone, her fingertips brushed against Yu Lanzhou’s fingers. In an instant, Chen Ran withdrew her hand. Holding the phone in her palm, she unconsciously rubbed the camera lens.

“Are you still composing?”

Chen Ran nodded, then said: “Not many songs. I just write for fun.” In prison, there were few opportunities to touch an instrument. Nights belonged to Chen Ran; when her cellmates were asleep and she couldn’t, she would sit up and go over scores and lyrics in her mind under the moonlight.

“Why did you stop posting them?”

“I want to organize them into an album.”

“Do you have my number?”

“No.”

Chen Ran swallowed the number she held in her heart.

Yu Lanzhou cast a glance at her. Beside her, Xu Wan said: “Teacher Yu, fans are already coming this way.”

“Alright, I understand.”

But she still had questions for Chen Ran. She looked at the schedule in Xu Wan’s hand and said: “Tomorrow at 12:30 PM, find me on the first floor of the Yu Lan Art Hall.” She wanted to hear… about the songs.

“Okay.”

The voice was as small as a mosquito’s hum, but Yu Lanzhou took it as an agreement. Chen Ran bowed slightly and said, “Then I’ll leave first, Auntie Yu.”

She ran out quickly. She took a helmet handed to her by a woman and sat on the back seat of a motorcycle in the night, her hands clutching the waist of the girl in front. That woman looked about the same age as Chen Ran; only her eyes were visible, exuding a mature charm.

Yu Lanzhou stared unblinkingly at the road outside the glass window. Seeing Chen Ran’s action of holding the waist, her eyes darkened.

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