Heading for the Plains - Chapter 31

What Xia Chao didn’t expect was that Ping Yuan would drive her straight back to the milk tea shop.

It turned out that the large pre-order from the morning had been placed by Ping Yuan herself.

No wonder she had appeared at the shop. When Xia Chao got out of the car and saw the mountain of unprinted labels on the counter, she nearly blacked out. She had been wondering what kind of maniac would order thirty cups of milk tea first thing in the morning! She’d shaken them until her arms felt like they were going to fall off!

It was her own sister!

Xia Chao wore a look of tragic indignation. Ping Yuan looked at her, the corners of her mouth curling imperceptibly, while her words remained ruthless: “There are still ten cups left to shake. Can you finish them for me?”

“I thought… we were closed,” Xia Chao wheezed in a desperate struggle for survival.

“Is that so?” Ping Yuan wore a “think again” expression. “Didn’t we wait until after the police station to shut down the ordering system? This was a morning pickup order, and I’ve already confirmed receipt.”

She reminded her with smiling eyes, “Technically, I’ve already paid.”

Modern-day slave drivers had nothing on her. The shop was a mess, and Xiao Zhen had gone home. Xia Chao looked around, feeling isolated and helpless; she truly wanted to hang Ping Yuan from a lamp post like a flag.

But facing Ping Yuan, she was habitually “wimpy.” Xia Chao looked at her, a thousand words of protest condensing into a single smile: “Fine.”

The shop was officially shut to the public. She tidied the counters, inventoried the stock, and began the rhythmic thump-thump of shaking the final ten cups. Without the rest of the staff, the workload was staggering. Xia Chao moved so fast her arms were a blur.

Meanwhile, her “supervisor” leaned against the bar, chin in hand, sipping the lemon water Xia Chao had poured for her. She wore a thoughtful expression. “Working in a milk tea shop really is exhausting, isn’t it?”

Then why are you making me do it?! Xia Chao really wanted to hit someone. She dumped ice into a shaker while casting resentful, accusing glares at Ping Yuan.

The “inhumane” Ping Yuan simply smiled and reached across the counter to tuck a stray lock of hair that had escaped Xia Chao’s cap back behind her ear.

“Hair,” she said succinctly.

Her slender fingers brushed against Xia Chao’s ear. Because she had been holding her cold glass, the touch was wet and cool, yet soft as a feather. Xia Chao, predictably useless, was immediately pacified.

The coolness only made her ears feel hotter. She fell silent and went back to shaking the tea with renewed vigor.

Ping Yuan watched her with amusement. A kid who kept her mouth shut really did work faster. Xia Chao’s forearms tensed with beautiful muscle definition as she worked, and before long, the task was done.

Unfortunately, the batch from the morning had melted because of the drama with the Tian family. Xia Chao had carefully put them in the fridge, and now she brought them out to pack with the fresh ones. The temperature was just right.

She carried the boxes toward the trunk. Ping Yuan finally felt a prick of conscience and stepped over, gesturing that she would help.

Xia Chao wouldn’t hear of it. She shook her head, indicating she was perfectly fine, and carried both boxes steadily to the car.

Ping Yuan watched her in silence.

It turns out some people even look good carrying boxes. Xia Chao’s posture was straighter than most, her movements crisper, and even the line of her arm beneath her sleeve looked more capable.

It made Ping Yuan remember, for just a second, the feeling of Xia Chao’s arms around her waist that night.

******

The summer heat was oppressive.

Even Ping Yuan didn’t know why that thought had surfaced. She stood there in a daze, watching the faint blue veins in Xia Chao’s arm as she worked. Suddenly, a hand waved in front of her face.

“What’s wrong?” the girl asked, looking at her with concern. “Hey, why did you suddenly space out?”

Ping Yuan snapped back to reality. She lowered her lashes, resuming her detached composure. “Nothing.”

“Really?” Xia Chao teased with a grin. “Make sure you don’t space out while you’re driving later.”

Ping Yuan’s expression flattened. “I know.” She climbed into the car and shut the door.

Xia Chao stood there, utterly baffled. Wait… does Ping Yuan actually… love carrying boxes? She knew Ping Yuan was a competitive person; maybe she felt it was impolite that Xia Chao hadn’t let her help. Note to self: let her carry them next time.

The orphanage was on the outskirts of Q City—a small, grey-brick building from the last century, decorated with colorful tiles. It had a tiny courtyard surrounded by a ditch. The walls were painted with blue-and-white fertilizer ads and vibrant, rustic murals.

This was where Ping Yuan had grown up.

Xia Chao peered out the window with curiosity. A few brown ducks were foraging in the ditch. A yellow dog with a black muzzle lay in the shade by the iron gate; it looked up alertly at the sound of the car, then put its head back down.

Ping Yuan drove skillfully into the yard and parked under a crooked old tree. She came back often. While the orphanage’s funding wasn’t as tight as it used to be, she still dropped by with treats like milk tea, burgers, or fried chicken for the kids.

She still remembered being a child here, flipping through thin, low-quality magazines in the library and salivating over the McDonald’s ads. Twenty years ago, coupons were still paper, perforated like stamps. Those colorful slips of paper were the hard currency of the orphanage. The children would hoard them under their pillows like they were genuine treasures, feeding their hungry imaginations.

Ping Yuan remembered her first cup of milk tea at age seven. It was a thin plastic cup with a cheap seal and black pearls, bought by a teacher when they went to the city hospital. That sweet taste was unforgettable. It wasn’t until seven years later that she learned from her “swan-like” city classmates that “real” milk tea was brewed from milk and black tea—not the cheap chemical powder she’d had as a child.

The sting of that poverty-driven inferiority had haunted her adolescence. At fourteen, she had sat among her peers with a practiced, neutral expression, pretending the insults directed at her didn’t land. Even now, that subtle sense of shame pushed her to work harder, climb higher, and stay guarded.

But she didn’t want the children here to suffer the same. So, she brought them the “fresh” things from the city whenever she could.

Ping Yuan got out of the car and checked her phone. Because of the delay at the police station, the teacher who was supposed to meet her had gone into town. She messaged Ping Yuan, apologizing and asking if she could distribute the tea herself.

Ping Yuan felt a bead of sweat roll down her back. She was used to being the “delivery driver,” not the “benefactor.” She usually just handed things over and left. She knew that to sensitive orphans, receiving something from a teacher felt different than receiving it from a stranger.

Standing there alone, she felt a rare sense of being out of her depth.

When Xia Chao joined her, she saw the “invincible” sister from the police station standing awkwardly by the trunk, wearing a beautiful but icy “do not approach” face, stiffly waving a cup of milk tea at a curious seven-year-old girl.

Ping Yuan’s “cold face” was high-powered. The little girl, who had been curious a moment ago, immediately vanished behind the slide the moment she made eye contact.

Xia Chao sighed. I knew my fear of her wasn’t a hallucination! Who could handle that face?

She walked over, took the condensation-covered tea from Ping Yuan, and put on her best “spring breeze” smile. The little girl peeked out from behind the slide.

Xia Chao waved her over. “Want some milk tea?”

The girl with pigtails approached cautiously. “Teacher says don’t take things from strangers.”

“Teacher is right,” Xia Chao chirped. “But we aren’t strangers. Look, the big yellow dog at the gate didn’t even bark when we came in.”

The girl’s eyes lit up. “How do you know his name is Big Yellow?”

Because I made it up, Xia Chao thought. Isn’t every country dog named Big Yellow? But aloud, she just smiled. “Because your sister bought this for you. That one over there.” She gestured toward Ping Yuan and whispered, “She looks a bit grumpy, right?”

The little girl looked at Ping Yuan, who was standing there like a statue of ice, and nodded solemnly. “Mhm.”

Ping Yuan: “…” She swept a cold glare toward them. “…I can hear you.”

Xia Chao pretended not to hear, blinking her bright eyes in a silent plea for mercy. Ping Yuan let out a soft huff, looked away with a trace of embarrassed “grumpiness,” and refused to look back at her.

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