Chapter 42: In All Honesty, It’s Truly the First Time
Jiang Xiaoyuan felt a chill on the back of her neck, caught in her throat, and for a moment, she couldn’t respond.
Qi Lian: “What’s the matter? Have you offended someone recently?”
Jiang Xiaoyuan tried to think back… she had indeed offended someone, like the crazy old lady from Sister Zhang’s courtyard, but she had definitely never seen this car before. The pink vehicle stood out among the sea of black, white, and gray, like a giant walking bow, so lively it was bizarre. Anyone who saw it would remember it.
“No,” Jiang Xiaoyuan forced down her fear, but anger began to rise again. “I don’t know what kind of lunatic this is.”
She had just survived the hardest, busiest days, finally getting a sense of direction and catching a glimpse of hope. Before she could even celebrate, her boss announced he was quitting, and now, after running out to deliver a letter, she was sprayed with exhaust fumes by some roadside maniac. It was as if this world had no sense of justice.
Jiang Xiaoyuan’s rising temper was like bile, threatening to burn a hole in her stomach, and as soon as she opened her mouth, it burst out: “Do you think that virus keeps sending people into this timeline because it’s cursed? Like, it can’t stand seeing anyone content?”
Qi Lian rarely saw her so furious and found it amusing. He shoved his hands into his pockets, leisurely following beside her, waiting for her to continue venting.
Unfortunately, her complaints were like a brief shower of red rain from the heavens — after just one sentence, she refused to go on. Jiang Xiaoyuan had always hated people like Xiang Lin’s wife[mfn]Xiang Lin’s wife is a fictional character from Lu Xun’s short story “The Blessing.” She is known for her incessant nagging and complaints about her misfortunes, particularly the loss of her husband and child. Her constant repetition of her tragic story has become a symbol of obsessive dwelling on misfortune in Chinese literature.[/mfn] who droned on endlessly. She extended this to herself, too—no matter how bad things got, she never complained twice.
Qi Lian waited for a long time but heard nothing more. He glanced down at her, “Why’d you stop?”
“That’s all. I still have to go and log grades,” Jiang Xiaoyuan sighed, both exasperated and tired. “By the way, did you come here to see me?”
“Hm,” Qi Lian reached into his pocket, pulling out a bright red invitation card that screamed ‘Taobao style.’ “Fangzhou is getting married this weekend. He asked me to drop this off.”
Jiang Xiaoyuan wasn’t a little kid who enjoyed lively gatherings. She took the invitation with a pained expression, handling it like a hot potato, clutching her chest as she asked, “So… how much is the fine for this ticket?”
Qi Lian: “…No worries, just give what you think is right.”
Jiang Xiaoyuan opened the invitation and flipped through it several times but couldn’t make out anything from the bride’s name. “When I quit, he had just broken off with a blind date. It’s been less than six months, and he’s already met someone new, and they’re getting married? That’s too fast!”
It felt like Chen Fangzhou wasn’t marrying a person but picking out a house. After a quick assessment of the location and amenities, he just decided to go with it.
At this speed, if he had face blindness, he might not even recognize his partner’s face, right?
But their household registration will soon be tied together.
In life, birth, marriage, career, and death are supposedly significant milestones. Yet now, they seemed to be reduced to some quantifiable, standardized process, which, on reflection, was terrifying. Because watching others accept it so easily, you start wondering—why can’t I accept it?
Especially when you see others living comfortably, without all the messy drama of breakups, incompatibility, affairs, divorces, or financial ruin—they live well-off, content lives.
In contrast, it’s those of us who resist this quiet existence who end up as outliers, possibly stuck in limbo between settling and aiming too high… That unspoken anxiety gnaws inside—
Am I misplacing my self-worth?
Am I overestimating my importance?
Am I just a small, insignificant worker ant in the grand scheme of things?
Are my struggles, in others’ eyes, just like Don Quixote waving a fake knight’s sword swinging at windmills?
Am I deceiving myself?
The empty school post-exams echoed with a violin concerto playing The Butterfly Lovers from a slightly off-tune broadcast. Jiang Xiaoyuan smiled bitterly and tucked the invitation away.
She had recently worked with Jiang Bo on a drama adapted from a mythological story. The stage design required artistic flair, and Jiang Bo, being the perfectionist artist he was, insisted on capturing its “soul.” Jiang Xiaoyuan had no idea what the “soul” of a design was, but to avoid being clueless when her boss asked, she crammed ancient and modern love tragedies overnight. The plots were all similar, and the language was difficult, making her struggle through the texts, often getting them mixed up.
But now, thinking back to those jumbled stories, she found them oddly absurd.
All those grand, life-and-death struggles were retold in reality with such calm indifference and quick resolution.
Jiang Xiaoyuan said: “Ever since the days of feudalism and slavery, people have been fighting for the freedom to love—some hanged themselves, some jumped into rivers, and some even turned into butterflies instead of remaining human. But if you think about it, there was really no need. Those ancient fools fought so hard, yet aren’t we still stuck in arranged marriages today? The only difference is that back then, parents picked someone for you, and now we force ourselves to go out and find someone on our own. Honestly, I think it was easier back then.”
Qi Lian replied, “Everyone has different priorities. You think Old Chen’s life is sad; he probably feels the same about you. He told me the other day that you young people switch jobs every other day. When will you ever settle down?”
Jiang Xiaoyuan: “…”
That hit a sore spot, and she had no energy left to feel pity for the ancient romantics.
“You’re right. My boss might quit soon,” Jiang Xiaoyuan tried to keep her tone even. “So, I might really be looking for a new job soon.”
Bosses are like landlords—temperamental and erratic. At the slightest shift in the wind, they’ll make you pack up and leave. Relying on anyone else is like leaning on a collapsing mountain or shaking tree. The key is to harden your own wings as strong as possible.
On the outside, Jiang Xiaoyuan maintained a calm, serene expression, but inside, she was cursing. Resolutely, she thought, “Sooner or later, I’ll join the ranks of the corrupt elite. I’ll make a hundred people pack up and leave just to make up for all this suffering!”
Qi Lian: “You’re changing jobs? That’s good, actually, because I—”
“Shut up!” After spending so much time with Empress Dowager Jiang, Jiang Xiaoyuan had naturally developed a queenly aura. With just a few words, she shot him a glare. “If you’re thinking of charity, don’t even start.”
Qi Lian: “…”
He was completely shut down and awkwardly rubbed his nose.
As he looked at her again, he realized that without him noticing, she had transformed.
Jiang Xiaoyuan now resembled a true fashionista. She never lacked taste, but lacked the know-how of “affordable elegance.” Under Empress Dowager Jiang’s guidance, she had mastered it. She could now take cheap clothes, alter them with her own hands, and turn a poorly-cut market stall item into something truly high-end.
Jiang Xiaoyuan was beginning to reveal the sharp-edged self that belonged to another world—the world she originally came from. She was like a jeweled knife, small but gleaming.
Qi Lian had long understood her many hints—the virus was gone, and she didn’t want him around anymore. But he shamelessly pretended not to understand.
Can someone without legs run again?
After searching for so long, he had found his answer, and he couldn’t help but be drawn to it.
The attraction between people is sometimes like the gravitational pull between planets—the greater the mass, the stronger the force. If someone can live with enough substance, even if they stand alone in the universe, others will be drawn to them, even just to peek at what they’re doing.
“Actually, I was going to say, ‘If you get rich, don’t forget me,’” Qi Lian said. “When you make it big, remember to let me buy some shares. How about that? Oh, and by the way, Old Chen also asked if you could do the bridal makeup for his wedding. He wants to save money wherever he can.”
Jiang Xiaoyuan: “…”
The first half of that was touching, but the second half… knowing a man like Chen Fangzhou is really a stain of her life.
The next day, Jiang Bo showed up at school looking even more exhausted and disheveled than usual. He got straight to the point with Jiang Xiaoyuan: “Have you finished entering the grades? Everything wrapped up?”
Jiang Bo couldn’t stand anyone dragging their feet, and he’d blow up at anyone who delayed things even a little. Jiang Xiaoyuan was used to this. Once he gave her a task, she would finish it immediately, staying up all night if necessary, never delaying it to the next day.
Seeing her nod, Empress Dowager Jiang, with a face full of both sadness and joy, continued, “Archive the old lesson plans for future reference—come with me, we’re going to process my resignation.”
Regardless of whether Jiang Bo chooses to go solo or work as the balding driver Lao Jiang, as long as he leaves, Jiang Xiaoyuan has no reason to stay at the school anymore—especially since the salary the school offers teaching assistants is quite unreasonable; it’s not suitable for her to remain.
“I’ve already made arrangements with someone to help you sign up,” Jiang Bo said. “Around September or October this year, he’ll contact you and ask for some personal information; just give it to him directly.”
Jiang Bo walked quickly, his feet almost seeming to have wind beneath them, as if he would fly away at any moment.
He asked, “You said you’re a top student? Is your English particularly good?”
Jiang Xiaoyuan was taken aback by this and hesitated to boast—her English was actually quite mediocre. When she studied abroad, she mostly managed to order food, and most of the time she was surrounded by Chinese speakers. When dealing with foreign classmates, the mode of communication was basically “you gesture, I guess.” Back then, her listening skills were barely acceptable, but after returning to the country and being thrown back into this environment, it had been two or three years; she probably couldn’t even manage listening anymore.
As she hesitated, Jiang Bo didn’t slow down, asking as he walked, “What about daily conversations? Professional English is fine too, right? If you can manage that, I won’t need to hire a translator.”
Jiang Xiaoyuan: “…”
In the next moment, she was overwhelmed by enormous surprise, feeling completely flustered: “You… you… you’re planning to take me with you?”
Jiang Bo put one hand in his pants pocket and glanced back at her impatiently: “Just say whether you can or not.”
Without thinking, Jiang Xiaoyuan replied: “Of course I can!”
After enduring a long period of trials and tribulations, Jiang Xiaoyuan reached a conclusion: if she wanted to accomplish something, when the opportunity arose, no matter how uncertain she felt, she had to muster the courage to seize it, no matter how inexperienced she was, she had to put on an air of “I’m very reliable.” Regardless of the specifics, she needed to grab the chance first.
As for how much she lacked, and how desperately she had to catch up later—that was a matter for afterward.
Some things, if she didn’t try, she really wouldn’t know she could do them.
Although the experience of “appearing distinguished while suffering behind the scenes” was terrifying, each time she went through it, Jiang Xiaoyuan felt an inner sense of invincibility.
Actually, once she thought it through, what was there to be afraid of?
After all, it couldn’t be worse than being a hapless worker, marrying some man she barely knew after a few years back in her hometown.
Although Jiang Bo didn’t turn around, there was a hint of amusement in his voice: “Good, I like your boldness to say anything.”
Jiang Xiaoyuan’s footsteps, following behind him, were almost flying as well. She eagerly asked, “So what’s next? Are you planning to open your own studio? I’ll tell you, Emp … Emp… cough!”
In her excitement, she almost blurted out her boss’s nickname, so Jiang Xiaoyuan quickly bit her tongue and awkwardly corrected herself: “Mad… Madam[mfn]Empress Dowager in Chinese is 太后 (tài hòu), while madam in Chinese is 太太 (tài tài) – more specifically, an elected leader-wife; or a wealthy married woman who does not work.[/mfn], do you need a shareholder? I can get you investors! Need a hairstylist? I can help you recruit my former boss! Models aren’t a problem; I can step in myself. I can do errands, miscellaneous tasks, sales, and public relations—I’m a jack of all trades!”
She got so carried away that she accidentally tripped over the threshold at the end of the hallway, nearly breaking the heels of her eight-centimeter high heels, and let out a yelp as she flew forward.
Jiang Bo didn’t help her, standing with his hands in his pockets and coolly glancing at her: “You can do everything? Great-granddaughter, can you fly?”
Jiang Xiaoyuan struggled to get up from the ground, her silly grin still intact. At that moment, she suddenly spotted a pink car parked downstairs through the window.
Jiang Bo’s office was on the second floor, and the view was almost like being at ground level; Jiang Xiaoyuan instantly recognized that the car was the same one that had zoomed past her the day before.
Then, she saw a woman in her sixties standing in front of the car. The woman looked very fashionable, wearing a form-fitting long dress, her hair styled neatly in a bun. Her hair was gray but not overly conspicuous, and her face was made up, bearing the telltale signs of too much cosmetic surgery. Her face was quite stiff, with deep and shallow nasolabial folds running across her cheeks, resembling two steel blades dividing her face in half.
The woman slightly raised her head, her sharp gaze landing on Jiang Xiaoyuan, seemingly wrapped in unspoken malice.
Jiang Xiaoyuan was momentarily stunned, completely unsure how to react and not recalling having ever seen such a woman before.
Jiang Bo followed her gaze, silently standing by the window. When the woman in front of the car saw him, her expression changed instantly, as if she had switched masks to reveal a so-called kind smile. Yet, the bright smile that had just adorned Jiang Bo’s face dimmed immediately.
Without saying a word, he grabbed Jiang Xiaoyuan by the shoulders and pulled her up from the ground.
“Watch where you’re going,” Jiang Bo said coldly. “What are you thinking?”
Jiang Xiaoyuan hesitantly followed him upstairs, carefully asking: “Teacher Jiang, do you know that person?”
Jiang Bo didn’t respond, quickly turning to ascend the third or fourth flight of stairs. Just when Jiang Xiaoyuan thought he didn’t want to answer, he suddenly said: “I know her, she’s my mom.”
Jiang Xiaoyuan stumbled slightly, almost tumbling down the stairs.
Her mind raced through a jumble of melodramatic stories, and just barely steadied herself by the handrail, she let out a dry laugh: “Then why didn’t you greet her and let her wait downstairs?”
“I didn’t invite her,” Jiang Bo said, not looking back. “Why are you asking so many questions?”
Jiang Xiaoyuan: “Uh… I just feel like her gaze towards me isn’t very friendly. Did I offend your mother in some way?”
Finally, Empress Dowager Jiang turned to glance at her: “Have you met her?”
To her honest surprise, this was the first time.
Jiang Xiaoyuan shook her head.
“Good that you haven’t met,” Jiang Bo said. “Stay away from her in the future.”
After saying this, his entire demeanor seemed to darken, and Jiang Xiaoyuan didn’t dare to ask further, quietly following him up the stairs.
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