Heading for the Plains - Chapter 6

When Xia Chao woke up the next morning, Ping Yuan had already left for work.

At some point during the night, a small electric fan had appeared by her bedside, lazily sending a cool breeze her way.

No wonder the second half of the night hadn’t felt so stifling. She didn’t even know when Ping Yuan had come in; the woman moved like a cat, silent and spectral. Of course, it was also possible that Xia Chao had simply slept like the dead. Back home, Xia Ling used to scold her constantly for sleeping until the sun burned her backside.

I hope I didn’t snore when she came in last night, Xia Chao thought, rubbing her nose guiltily.

A message was already waiting on her phone. Ping Yuan had transferred her a hundred yuan for the day’s food and left a list of mundane instructions regarding the spare key, the kettle, and the delivery address.

Xia Chao scrolled further down to find a voice note. On the other end, a mechanical female voice announced a subway station in the background. It was crisp and formal while Ping Yuan’s voice remained clear and cool amidst the commute, though laced with a hint of a hurry.

Unfortunately, the pleasant voice didn’t carry very pleasant words. Ping Yuan simply asked: “Do you know how to use the kettle? If not, there’s chilled bottled water in the fridge.”

There was a pause, followed by a deadpan postscript: “The fridge opens by pulling the handle.”

She really thinks I’m an idiot, doesn’t she! Teaching her how to open a fridge. Did she think Xia Chao was some kind of savage who had never encountered modern civilization?

Fuming, Xia Chao decided that today, she would embrace modern civilization with a vengeance.

With grand ambitions, she hopped out of bed, brushed her teeth, washed her face, and walked over to the table to get a glass of water. Then, she froze.

Uh. The kettle Ping Yuan used was indeed very “modern.” Or rather, it wasn’t the kind of kettle Xia Chao knew, one with a round belly and a handle that you poured after the water boiled. It was an instant water dispenser.

Xia Chao didn’t know its fancy name; she only saw a matte casing that was incredibly smooth, several buttons with different temperature settings, and no obvious place to add water or a spout to pour from.

She wasn’t about to start a weightlifting session or perform an “ape-man” stunt on the machine. Realizing her predicament, Xia Chao slowly lowered her hand, hit by the sudden, shameful realization that she did feel a bit like a savage.

Humiliated, she opened the chat box and followed the instructions Ping Yuan had noted for her.

Ding. Water finally trickled out. She cautiously touched her lips to the glass, finding the water perfectly warm and drinkable.

Heh. Suddenly, she felt capable again.

For a split second, she wanted to take a photo to prove to Ping Yuan that she wasn’t a cavewoman, but then realized that the act itself would reek of insecurity.

She suppressed the urge to seek praise and followed Ping Yuan’s directions to the street below to buy a jianbing guozi (egg-filled crepe).

Since she had been exhausted from the journey, she had slept in late. By the time she got downstairs, the elderly residents finished with their morning exercises were already heading home with birdcages and grocery bags.

The red-brick sidewalk was lined with tall trees, not the broad-leafed banyans she was used to in the South. Xia Chao strolled under the shade, noticing a barbecue shop with its shutters pulled down, covered in graffiti and soot, a clear sign of a thriving night business.

A red paper was taped to the shutter: “Daughter finished the Gaokao. Closed for three days for a trip.”

That must be nice, she thought, smiling.

Old neighborhoods had this advantage. They were full of life. The cobalt-blue window glass, the stainless steel security bars, and the mottled walls still bearing slogans from a previous era like “Fewer births, better births, a happy life” acted like a bend in a river, catching the rushing flow of time and forcing it to slow down.

The breakfast stalls were winding down. The woman selling the crepes was a brisk, efficient auntie who struck up a conversation: “First time here, little girl? Whose kid are you? On summer break?”

Her familiar, natural tone suggested she had been working this spot for years and knew all the regulars.

Xia Chao initially wanted to say she was Ping Yuan’s sister, but remembering Ping Yuan’s attitude from the night before, she guessed the older woman wouldn’t want people knowing about their connection.

So, she just tilted her lips, dodging the specifics. “Mmh, I’m spending the summer at my sister’s place.”

Xia Chao had regular, handsome features, but her smile carried a hint of wild charm, a tactic that always worked on her mother and her old teachers. The auntie was no exception. The girl in the pale primrose-yellow T-shirt looked fresh and vibrant, her hair tied up neatly. She was easy to like.

The auntie’s voice turned maternal. “Summer break is wonderful! Such a pretty girl. Have fun this summer. I’m out here every morning.”

“I will, I will!” Xia Chao chirped, taking a bite of the crispy crepe. “Thanks, Auntie!”

She turned away with a grin, but the moment she entered the apartment complex, her smile faltered. It wasn’t because of their argument or a desire to annoy Ping Yuan; it was because after just one night, she realized Ping Yuan’s home was simply too good.

It was clean and orderly, the bedding was fragrant and soft, there were smart appliances she didn’t understand, and a large staghorn fern thrived behind the door.

Before leaving, she had checked the fridge, thinking about buying groceries to cook. The fridge was perfectly organized. Neatly partitioned with chilled lemonade and cocktails. It reminded her of Ping Yuan the night before, leaning against the fridge after work. Her slender fingers had gripped the clear glass, her pale neck forming a graceful, fragile curve as she drank.

The memory was so cool and crisp it gave Xia Chao’s heart a tiny, inexplicable chill.

Everything was in its place. The owner had her own life, her own aesthetic. Those cocktails with their cursive foreign labels hinted at a restrained kind of indulgence nothing like the men back home who got dead drunk on the roadside clutching bottles of cheap baijiu.

Fitting a “Xia Chao” into this small, refined universe felt like making it too crowded.

She didn’t doubt Ping Yuan’s sincerity in letting her stay, not because she thought Ping Yuan liked her, but because she had realized her “sister from the sky” was incredibly stubborn. Once Ping Yuan made a promise, she would fulfill it 120% just to completely settle the score with Xia Ling.

Yet, her connection to Xia Ling was already a tangled mess, and Ping Yuan had the kind of “sharp tongue and soft heart” that even a three-year-old could see through. Her words were harsh, but they were all bluster.

A total pain, Xia Chao thought. She didn’t want to take advantage of that soft heart.

Thinking of the fan from this morning—the small white blades spinning around—Xia Chao puffed out her cheeks and blew at her bangs. Being disturbed by a stranger for three months was annoying enough, right? Not to mention the years of repeating school, graduating, and going to college—all things that would likely rely on Ping Yuan.

Actually, she might not even make it to college. Xia Chao thought of her heartbreakingly bad grades and figured she’d be lucky to get into a vocational school. There was no point in wasting someone else’s energy to look after her, and certainly no point in wasting their money.

The big city wasn’t like the countryside; food, rent, and tuition were massive expenses. Xia Ling’s illness had already drained their savings. If she wanted to keep studying, she’d have to sell the house.

Xia Chao didn’t want to sell the house. It had the bed covered in her childhood drawings and the crooked old tangerine tree. The old wooden doorframe faithfully recorded her height; every time she tried to tip-toe, Xia Ling would unceremoniously press her back down.

The last mark stopped at 167 cm. She was a high school freshman then, two weeks before Xia Ling was diagnosed with cancer. Two weeks later, she had to put her studies aside to accompany Xia Ling to the provincial capital for tests, surgery, and chemo.

Now, she had grown much taller. Xia Chao tried to pull her lips into a smile, but her heart felt sour.

Working for a living wasn’t shameful. In fact, finding a job after high school was considered a major achievement back home. Girls like Honghong or Fengjiao had barely finished middle school before running off to the county seat to work.

So, work it is! Earn my own keep with my own hands!

She pumped herself up, optimistically deciding to visit the job market today. She had no idea that the current job market for graduates was anything but optimistic.

******

Author’s Note:

The older sister secretly sneaks into the younger sister’s room in the middle of the night… just to plug in a fan.

Support Heading for the Plains