Frivolous - Chapter 9

Chapter 9

 

Xu Wan privately inquired with the well-informed Taozi, who said that Chen Ran had been buried in the recording studio for a long time.

 

More than a month later, Chen Ran finally found the time to see Yu Lanzhou. She didn’t expect that the first thing the other woman would do upon seeing her was frown.

 

Chen Ran’s heart twinged with a dull ache. With an awkward smile, she handed over the USB drive. “Could you listen to these? Please?”

 

Looking at the folder containing over ten new files, Yu Lanzhou asked, “How long did this take?”

 

Chen Ran shook her head, her pale face swaying along with the movement. She said with a smile, “I don’t know. I was cooped up in that room so long I lost track of time.”

 

No wonder. She looked like a vampire who hadn’t seen the sun, her face much thinner than it had been a while ago.

 

Yu Lanzhou asked, “Have you been eating?”

 

“At the company cafeteria, twice a day.”

 

“Why?” Yu Lanzhou watched her, her gaze deep, as if trying to see through her.

 

Chen Ran rubbed the texture of her jeans with her fingertips and answered awkwardly, “I didn’t really have the time.”

 

It felt like she was deliberately playing for sympathy, prompting Yu Lanzhou to cast another deep look at her.

 

Next, Yu Lanzhou clicked on the song titled Mama. After listening intently with headphones, she nodded and said, “It’s good. Not bad.”

 

Yu Lanzhou’s standards were notoriously strict; receiving such an evaluation was no small feat. Chen Ran had very few memories left of her mother, but her nose would occasionally recall her scent. So she wrote in the lyrics:

 

Like jasmine, like warm light, like flowing water.

 

Many times, she would dream of her mother and father. In the dreams, the three of them were by the lake in Dali, facing the azure waters, wearing orange down jackets. Chen Ran would be riding on her father’s shoulders, hands held high, singing Passing Through the World.

 

But when they passed away, that song didn’t even exist yet. Whenever she realized this, Chen Ran would wake up with a start.

 

When she snapped back to reality, Yu Lanzhou was listening to the subsequent songs. Chen Ran sat upright beside her, waiting. Half an hour later, Yu Lanzhou took off the headphones.

 

Chen Ran asked the jade-like woman sitting opposite her, “Do these songs live up to the standard of ’23’?”

 

“They do. They’re very good.” Yu Lanzhou propped her hand against her temple and pointed to the song title Long Remember the Wind and Flowers on the screen. “Will this be the lead single?”

 

It began primarily with guitar strumming, sounding as if one were amidst a vast sea of clouds. Then, a graceful flute melody entered, followed by Chen Ran’s pure, low-register humming. It was a very well-structured and brilliant song.

 

“Yes. How did you know?”

 

“I guessed.” It was the song that most embodied the characteristics of “23”—not angry, but somewhat healing. “But personally, I prefer the previous one, Mocking Lyrics (Chao Ci).”

 

On current platforms, that one would more easily evoke empathy.

 

“Then I’ll change it to that one.”

 

“There’s no need,” Yu Lanzhou let out a soft snort of a laugh from her nose, sounding a bit helpless with her. “Chen Ran, can’t you be more decisive? Stick to your own ideas. Don’t be so hesitant in everything you do.”

 

“Oh, okay.” Chen Ran lowered her head. Stick to my own ideas… the idea of who I like?

 

What was she thinking?

 

Yu Lanzhou watched as a pink flush began to stain Chen Ran’s cheeks, spreading to the back of her ears. Normally, anyone seeing Chen Ran’s flawless face would feel more or less awkward, whether they cared for her or not. But seeing that face show an expression of shyness was particularly rare.

 

Yu Lanzhou steadied herself and said, “Pick a few more from these to replace the old ones. Set the release for the 6th of next month. Tell Yang Jingou that I said so.”

 

“Okay.”

 

With everything settled, Chen Ran stood up to thank her. “Thank you.”

 

“It’s fine.” Yu Lanzhou raised a hand slightly. “Also, stop running over here all the time. Your boss is Yu Tingzhou.”

 

“But Boss Yu doesn’t give me guidance.”

 

“And do I?”

 

“Haven’t you already?”

 

Yu Lanzhou hadn’t really “done” anything; it was all an excuse. An excuse for Chen Ran to get close to her, and an excuse for her to let Chen Ran get close.

 

Yu Lanzhou pinched the body of her thin wristlet watch. It was already 8:00 PM. She asked, “Have you eaten?”

 

“No,” Chen Ran answered very quickly, her voice rushing out like someone sprinting a 100-meter dash against a stopwatch. “…Not yet.”

 

Yu Lanzhou looked at Chen Ran’s fair collarbones, which were slightly prominent due to her weight loss, and said, “Let’s go. Together.”

 

Playing for sympathy worked.

 

Chen Ran’s heart instantly leaped with joy at those words. She feigned composure and asked, “Is it convenient?”

 

“There’s nothing inconvenient about it.”

 

The car drove to a Southern French restaurant. Chen Ran followed Yu Lanzhou inside, her eyes carefully probing her surroundings inch by inch—including the luxurious decor and the gestures of the other diners.

 

After they sat down, Yu Lanzhou said to Chen Ran, “I’ll just order a few things.” Her tone was questioning, but very subtle. According to etiquette, she should have politely handed the menu to Chen Ran and asked what she wanted. But she seemed to have seen Chen Ran’s awkwardness and took the lead as a way of looking after her.

 

Chen Ran nodded.

 

The dishes were served quickly. Yu Lanzhou’s manner of eating was very deliberate and slow. A glass of purified water sat by her right hand; occasionally, she would pick it up and take a sip, her posture elegant. Most of the time, she was watching the fountain flowing by the terrace, hardly moving her chopsticks.

 

Chen Ran kept her movements restrained, but she was thinking: These things are arranged beautifully, but it feels like I won’t get full. Consequently, she frequently reached her chopsticks toward the Ratatouille, which looked like a staple dish.

 

When Yu Lanzhou happened to glance at her, Chen Ran raised her brows and said, “This is delicious.” It was a bit like a European version of Di San Xian (a Chinese potato, eggplant, and pepper dish).

 

To cover her tracks, she scooped at the potato soup, only to find it was empty. Her eyes instinctively searched, and she saw Yu Lanzhou’s portion—with only one spoonful taken—still sitting to her left.

 

Just as Chen Ran was about to tentatively ask if she could have the leftovers, Yu Lanzhou called the waiter over. “Another serving of this potato soup.” Then she pointed to the dishes Chen Ran had eaten the most of. “And another serving of each of these as well.”

 

After the waiter left, Yu Lanzhou leaned back against the soft chair, looking at her with a leisurely gaze that held a slight watery shimmer.

 

The plan failed. Chen Ran squeezed her palms.

 

The phone Yu Lanzhou had placed on the table lit up. She swiped the screen, and upon seeing the message, her expression froze. Her brow furrowed, and her face became serious. Then, using her thumb and forefinger to zoom in, she looked again before turning the screen face down.

 

When Chen Ran had mostly finished the newly served food, Yu Lanzhou handed her a tissue and suddenly spoke: “About your last two years… do you have anything to tell me?”

 

Chen Ran shook her head.

 

Yu Lanzhou shifted her posture, crossing her legs with a natural grace. She said, “Then let me ask a different question. Have you lied to me?”

 

“You finally show some concern for me.” Chen Ran gave a smile that looked like a sense of relief and nodded. “Yes, I lied to you. I didn’t go to university.”

 

A few days ago, Taozi had tipped her off: Yu Lanzhou had only asked Xu Wan to check which university she attended, but hadn’t yet sent anyone to inquire about her last two years.

 

Yu Lanzhou looked down at Chen Ran’s expression, appearing indifferent.

 

“Aren’t you going to ask me why?”

 

“Not going to university isn’t such a big deal. What I’m asking about is the fact that you hid it and lied to me.”

 

Coming from the mouth of Yu Lanzhou, an outstanding MBA graduate of Pingjing University, Chen Ran didn’t know if this counted as a form of irony.

 

“I hid other things and told other lies too. Do you want to ask about those?”

 

“No need.” Her tone was extremely flat and loose.

 

For a child who had just come out of an orphanage not to go to university, money must have been the primary factor. Perhaps her own words—”Don’t let your thoughts see the light of day”—were the answer. Sensing that past mistakes were about to be uncovered, Yu Lanzhou chose to escape. Later, she had never sent anyone to investigate Chen Ran’s whereabouts, likely because she didn’t want to see information about her living a bad life. Yu Lanzhou didn’t want to feel guilty.

 

Summer was nearly over.

 

Chen Ran felt a sense of regret. She stared blankly at the water droplets sliding down the side of the glass next to Yu Lanzhou’s hand. But in an instant, Yu Lanzhou thought of something else and asked, “In these past years, have you really not contacted Yu Zhou at all?”

 

“No.”

 

An inexplicable irritability rose in Yu Lanzhou’s heart. “I didn’t mean back then that you and Yu Zhou couldn’t continue to be in touch.”

 

“I know.”

 

“If you knew, why didn’t you contact her?”

 

“I wanted to carve out a path that was clean.”

 

Yu Lanzhou’s voice was very low. “Clean? How were you not ‘clean’ with Yu Zhou?”

 

Chen Ran looked up, giving her a look that was both innocent and aggrieved. Is that what I meant…?

 

Yu Lanzhou pondered: in other words, because of that one sentence of hers, Chen Ran had completely severed all ties with the Yu family. The orphanage was no longer her home. If she wanted to be “clean,” it must have been arduous.

 

Looking at the hand Chen Ran used to hold her spoon now, the little crescent moons that should have been on her fingernails were nowhere to be found. Her hair wasn’t lustrous or smooth; instead, the ends showed the yellow tint of malnutrition.

 

Chen Ran hadn’t failed to notice the several times Yu Lanzhou had looked at the tips of her hair. Such inquisitive gazes made her physical movements lose confidence. Even though she had spent two months trying to restore her body to look presentable before coming to hear Yu Lanzhou’s concert, she still felt helpless about the slight yellowing emerging at the ends of her hair. She should dye it again.

 

She heard Yu Lanzhou ask flatly, “So, these two years… what have you been busy with?”

 

What kind of life had she been living?

 

Chen Ran didn’t really know. The days and months of those two years had simply passed. Since coming to Pingjing after her release from prison, it seemed she had always been busy with making a living, busy with paying back the “debts” she owed.

 

In the past year, Chen Ran had worked countless part-time jobs. Telemarketing, scanning QR codes, handing out flyers, food delivery, coffee shop clerk, clothing store assistant… back then, her jobs changed frequently; she had to taste all the bitterness and exhaustion of this world to atone for her sins.

 

The longest job was washing dishes in a hotel kitchen. Many guests chose to get married around the New Year; every wedding banquet required a massive amount of dishes. In winter, the hot water couldn’t keep up, so Chen Ran began to develop chilblains again. At night, the chilblains would flare up, and despair, along with itching and pain, would spread across her entire world.

 

Subtracting the 2,000 yuan security deposit withheld by her landlord and the 4,210 yuan she never received because the telemarketing boss ran away, she had saved a total of 43,411 yuan in wages over a year and a half. All of it was given away. She struggled just to survive and pay her debts, yet she still thought about chasing dreams.

 

The eighteen-year-old girl she met working at the hotel had returned to her hometown of Hanglin. She posted photos on social media: His mom prepared it long ago—our wedding house. About to start renovations. When she made a video call to ask Chen Ran how she was doing, Chen Ran clinked her beer can against the screen.

 

Chen Ran wondered: Why has this world not granted me a single touch of warmth?

 

The girl asked her, “Why not go somewhere else? The pressure of living in Pingjing is too high.”

 

Following the crowds pouring in and out of the subway every day, living a mediocre and busy life, Chen Ran also felt a sense of nausea. But she said, “Actually, anywhere is fine, except Hanglin.”

 

“What’s wrong with Hanglin?”

 

Chen Ran pulled the tab of another beer can with one hand. After taking two sips, she said, “The person I like is in Hanglin.”

 

Now, Chen Ran returned to the present and answered Yu Lanzhou’s question: “Busy with life, Teacher Yu.”

 

In reality, the word “survival” would have been more appropriate. Yu Lanzhou had the luck of being indulged by heaven and earth, while Chen Ran had the bad luck that followed her for life. Yu Lanzhou had indeed never suffered much, so she couldn’t have any painfully vivid imagination or feeling regarding Chen Ran’s experiences.

 

“Then I won’t pry any further. I wish you a smooth path in your life ahead.” With her around, Chen Ran shouldn’t have to live poorly again.

 

“Thank you. But Teacher Yu, please ask me one more question.”

 

“What question?”

 

“Ask who ‘that person’ in the lyrics of Deep Sea is.” Chen Ran’s brow relaxed, but her hand hidden behind her back was trembling. Her expression was gentle, wanting to move toward Yu Lanzhou with initiative once again. “Do you want to ask?”

 

“I’ll ask.” Yu Lanzhou still saw Chen Ran’s nervousness. She paused, then asked in a relaxed voice, “Who is it?”

 

“It’s Y.”

 

Chen Ran looked at her with bright eyes, like twinkling stars. It’s you, Yu Lanzhou.

 

“I see.” Yu Lanzhou gave no reaction, just as she had when Chen Ran questioned if she was Y. “Let’s go back.”

 

As expected. Chen Ran convinced herself not to feel disappointed, but her heart still felt a momentary void. She stared at Yu Lanzhou’s back as she walked ahead, standing in place dazed for a moment.

 

“Keep up.”

 

“Oh.” It felt like a drop of clear water had splashed onto Chen Ran’s heart.

 

Walking slightly behind Yu Lanzhou, a great sense of vanity rose in Chen Ran’s heart. Yu Lanzhou wore a white draped printed shirt and a black long skirt of a material Chen Ran couldn’t identify; she looked cold and noble. Walking beside such an unapproachable person, Chen Ran felt as if she were walking off a stage after receiving a top-of-the-class scholarship.

 

She sat in the low-profile yet luxurious car with a certain posture, suddenly wanting to see what the “meteor shower” of these luxury headlights actually looked like in reality. Then she thought: I really do love fame and fortune after all.