How Did The Young Lady Go Bankrupt? - Chapter 7

Chapter 7: Crying

For lunch, Lu Zhiyao ordered a small bowl of vegetables, which was the most cost-effective option. However, when break time came around, Duan Zishu was nowhere to be found.

“Did she go to the restroom?” someone asked casually.

There was no one in the restroom, nor was there anyone in the back breakroom. Lu Zhiyao didn’t think Duan Zishu would wander off, yet she truly wasn’t anywhere to be seen.

After a moment of thought, she walked to the back door. This connected to a narrow alley; even though the shop itself was kept clean and bright, it couldn’t change the dilapidated and gloomy state of the long-neglected alleyway. A large trash bin stood there, and aside from taking out the garbage, the only other person who came here was a former employee who had a smoking habit.

Duan Zishu was standing in the alley, her back held very straight.

“Why aren’t you sitting down to rest?” Lu Zhiyao asked.

She meant why Duan Zishu didn’t go back inside to rest, but Duan Zishu seemed to interpret it as why she wasn’t sitting down in the alley. “I want to sit,” she said, “but it’s too dirty here.”

Duan Zishu held her head high, her gaze fixed on something far away, as if lost in deep thought. She had often been like this since long ago—staring out windows, looking at the horizon, her lips pressed shut without saying a word.

“Alright, come inside. Break time is precious.”

As if she hadn’t heard, Duan Zishu changed the subject: “Tell me, what is the meaning of working here?”

“Huh?” Lu Zhiyao was baffled by this sudden, strange question. Working, of course, was for making money—what else could it be for?

“This shop has high foot traffic. If every day is similar, there could be one to two thousand orders a month. Raw materials are bought wholesale at low prices, and labor is even cheaper. After deducting all costs, the profit is decent,” Duan Zishu said. “But you all, who have to stand for over eight hours a day, receive an insignificant portion. An hourly wage of sixteen yuan—labor and income are completely disproportionate.”

Lu Zhiyao was stunned; she had never expected Duan Zishu to say something like this.

No, wait—was the young miss preparing to lecture her, a person who had been a commoner for over twenty years, about how her wages didn’t match her efforts? She actually found it somewhat humorous.

“Actually, an hourly wage of sixteen is considered high in our area; the McDonald’s next door only pays thirteen. Besides, this is the part-time rate. My salary as a full-time employee is slightly higher than yours.”

Duan Zishu finally pulled her gaze back from the horizon, and Lu Zhiyao saw surprise on her face.

“That’s illegal,” she said. “Sixteen is already illegal, isn’t it? And what’s the point of just three yuan more?”

“How is it meaningless?” Lu Zhiyao couldn’t help but interject. “It’s at least twenty-four more a day—the price of a takeout meal. If I cook for myself, it’s enough to cover a full day and then some.”

“This is an abnormal phenomenon. You shouldn’t be accustomed to it, and you shouldn’t be happy just because you earned a tiny bit more,” Duan Zishu said with total seriousness, as if she were disappointed in Lu Zhiyao’s lack of resolve.

Lu Zhiyao’s mouth twitched. She had the urge to laugh, but there was nothing funny about the situation. She was simply shocked—a child of a capitalist… cough, a capitalist’s daughter was actually saying these things. If things continued at this rate, two more years of working, and Duan Zishu would be leading a worker’s uprising.

Who didn’t know that working was just feeding the boss? Who didn’t know their wages didn’t match their labor? But what was the point of knowing? Not everyone had the capability to change the world. Like most workers, as long as Lu Zhiyao wasn’t on the verge of starvation, as long as she could scrape by, her complaining would stay limited to her own lips. She lacked the ability to change society and the ability to change herself, so she just let things be. Thinking too much just made her head hurt.

So, she simply sighed: “Alright, what is it you actually mean?”

Duan Zishu turned around, blinked, and without any warning, two streams of clear tears flowed down her cheeks.

“I don’t want to do this anymore, Lu Zhiyao.”

“Eh, eh, eh?” Lu Zhiyao panicked instantly. She had almost thought Duan Zishu was about to belt out an anthem of the people, and now that the other had suddenly started crying, she had no idea what to do.

“No, you, sigh. No, sigh. You… sigh.” After stumbling through a string of incoherent words, Lu Zhiyao helplessly said, “This isn’t ‘experiencing life’; this is actually out here struggling to survive. If you say you’re quitting just like that, it puts me in a very awkward position.”

Duan Zishu shed tears in silence. Lu Zhiyao felt a bit of admiration for her; she couldn’t shed tears so calmly herself—it looked rather eerie.

She sighed again, feeling that the frequency of her sighing had increased lately: “Just hurry back inside. We only have forty minutes for the break.”

Duan Zishu didn’t speak, but her tears flowed even more fiercely.

Lu Zhiyao reached out to pull her hand to guide her inside. She saw Duan Zishu sob bitterly: “I don’t want to… I don’t want to be smug just because I earned an extra three yuan. I don’t want to stand for eight hours a day, I don’t want to eat noodles every single day…Even my mom wouldn’t exploit her employees like this, the company cafeteria has discounts, and you don’t have to eat noodles every day.”

Lu Zhiyao’s vision went dark. What was wrong with eating noodles every day? Don’t describe our daily life so miserably—was her life really that pathetic?

In the end, after venting every complaint possible, Duan Zishu’s words began to repeat.

“I don’t want to eat noodles every day.” She sniffled, “Wooo… I don’t want to eat noodles every day.”

Could you please not say those lines with that “tragic heroine” face of yours?

After acting out for a while, Duan Zishu stopped and looked over with those teary, hazy eyes: “Lu Zhiyao.”

She pronounced the name syllable by syllable.

“You weren’t like this before.” Duan Zishu’s voice was filled with grievance. “You used to like me very much. You liked me the most. You were always by my side, always helping me. You were always complimenting me, liking what I liked, and hating what I hated. You liked me so much.”

So, that was in the past.

Lu Zhiyao felt very uneasy. She had liked Duan Zishu back then—liked her so much that she didn’t have a life of her own. At first, she couldn’t accurately capture Duan Zishu’s emotions, feeling for a long time that the other was aloof, which left her constantly anxious. Once she got used to the emotions contained within Duan Zishu’s unchanging expressions, she still felt insecure. She liked Duan Zishu so much that her heart felt like it would explode; she couldn’t help but giggle at the mere thought of her name. How could Duan Zishu be so calm?

Duan Zishu had never said “I like you” to her, only nodding when Lu Zhiyao confessed; Lu Zhiyao hadn’t understood at the time if she was being rejected or accepted.

She hadn’t expected that now, when her focus on Duan Zishu was far less fervent than back then, she would receive such a massive response. But it still wasn’t “I like you,” but rather “You like me.” A reply to emotions from long ago had finally arrived, but they had broken up ages ago.

“Lu Zhiyao, don’t you like me very much?”

Lu Zhiyao thought of the Duan Zishu she had loved so dearly.

She had such a refined air, the kind you’d spot in a crowd instantly. Never mind that she was acting out now by complaining about not wanting to eat noodles; usually, she carried herself with poise—even the employees at the milk tea shop had quietly marveled at it.

She was proud and arrogant—qualities that could be counted as both faults and merits. Although her pickiness was annoying, Lu Zhiyao knew that only people who weren’t satisfied with the status quo would ever seek change. The fall from heaven to earth was massive; anyone would need time to adapt.

And there was something she still remembered clearly to this day. Back when they talked about the future, Duan Zishu didn’t speak of her own plans, nor did she express worry like the other second-generation heirs around them. She had looked at the flowers in front of her with those sorrowful eyes and given an answer that seemed completely unrelated to the topic.

“My mother doesn’t value me.”

Sorrow and resentment. It reminded Lu Zhiyao of her own mother. Her mother couldn’t be said to not value her; rather, she didn’t value anyone or anything. If Lu Zhiyao did poorly, there was no criticism; if she did well, there was no reward. Whether Lu Zhiyao was being rebellious on purpose or had won a scholarship, her mother would always just take a drink, look into the distance, and start with, “That year, I first entered the research institute…”

Kindred spirits—she felt they were kindred spirits. Only she could understand Duan Zishu, and only Duan Zishu could understand her. The magic of love at first sight was gradually solidified. Lu Zhiyao had truly, truly loved Duan Zishu; the past version of herself certainly deserved that sentiment.

Lu Zhiyao had changed a lot over the years, but Duan Zishu was still the same Duan Zishu—the Duan Zishu she had once loved. The reasons they fought back then were rooted in anxiety and insecurity, not because she had grown tired of Duan Zishu. So now, Lu Zhiyao couldn’t bring herself to be harsh toward her. Even though she had walked out of that relationship, she couldn’t deny her younger self.

So, she gave Duan Zishu a hug: “It’s always hard at the beginning. You’ve already done a very good job.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, at least you didn’t break anything.”

Duan Zishu gradually calmed down. “Only you would say things like that,” she said. “They only say I don’t do well enough, but I have already tried so hard.”

That effort seemed to refer to something else, not just this half-day of working.

Lu Zhiyao patted her back gently to soothe her.

Finally quiet, Duan Zishu buried her face in Lu Zhiyao’s shoulder as if seeking comfort. She was tall, and Lu Zhiyao worried her neck might hurt from bending over in such an unnatural posture.

“Peeling grapes is so boring, and my hands hurt.”

“Alright, go to the front desk this afternoon,” Lu Zhiyao said. In any case, the original plan was to have her work the front desk in the afternoon; there were only so many tasks a newcomer could do.

“…I don’t want to eat noodles every day.”

“Alright, I’ll take you to the supermarket tonight. I’ll make some dishes.” Lu Zhiyao didn’t object; buying groceries to cook oneself was cheaper than ordering takeout, and she wasn’t incapable of making more than just noodles—she just valued convenience.

“…”

After a long moment, Duan Zishu’s muffled voice sounded in her ear:

“I want a kiss.”

Lu Zhiyao felt a strange sensation; she pondered that even when they were properly dating in high school, Duan Zishu hadn’t been this obsessed with kissing—why was she so bold now? She led Duan Zishu by the collar and pulled her away: “Don’t push your luck.”

Duan Zishu straightened up, her expression once again cool and detached, as if the person who had said those words a moment ago hadn’t been her: “Let’s go eat, Lu Zhiyao.”