🔊 TTS Settings
Chapter 5: Your Grandma
“Which flavor?”
“Five-spice,” the man in police uniform replied.
The Wang family girl ordered one five-spice, one spicy, and one soy-braised roast chicken. Then she leaned closer to Zhuang Jie and whispered a suggestion.
“Your chicken isn’t great. It’s a bit too fatty—easy to get sick of.”
…
“You shouldn’t use factory-farmed chickens. Go to Wuliang Village and buy free-range ones. The meat there is firmer.”
Zhuang Jie smiled and nodded, as if she would seriously consider it.
As the girl was still talking, the village director of women’s affairs came up from behind and smacked her lightly on the head.
“Always running around showing off everywhere, aren’t you?”
The Wang mother and daughter left. Not even a minute later, the kid ran back.
He looked at Zhuang Jie with an oddly grown-up seriousness.
“Sister, I’ve got a business proposal for you.”
“What kind of business?”
“There are a lot of tourists in Xiaxi Village. I can help you sell roast chicken. You just need to pay me per piece—”
Before he could finish, the man in police uniform came over and dragged him away.
Zhuang Jie burst out laughing. Now she knew exactly who this kid was.
That afternoon, Grandma Chen dragged Chen Maidong out for a walk. When they ran into Zhuang Jie, she chatted with her warmly for a couple of sentences.
Chen Maidong was watching a street artisan blowing sugar figurines when Zhuang Jie suddenly nudged him from behind and subtly motioned in a direction.
He followed her gaze.
A girl stood there—at the right age for marriage, pretty and composed.
Chen Maidong glanced at her, then pulled a cigarette from his pocket, tucked it between his lips, and lit it against the wind, taking a slow drag.
He squinted at Zhuang Jie.
“You trying to get me to add her on WeChat?”
Before he could finish, the cigarette was snatched from his mouth. Grandma Chen immediately smacked his shoulder several times.
“Look at you! Look at you!”
On the third day of National Day holiday, Zhuang Jie took her younger siblings to Beijing.
On the return high-speed train in the evening, her younger sister fell asleep leaning on her shoulder, while her younger brother sat beside her, talking to her in a low voice—about life, about school, about things on his mind.
Liao Tao worried deeply about her son, Zhuang Yan. In her eyes, he lacked any “manly spirit”—too soft, too sensitive, always emotional. He stayed in his room painting all day and never took initiative to go out and play. Worse, he insisted on applying to an art academy, which drove her crazy.
She didn’t expect him to become wildly successful, just wanted him to study something practical so he could support himself. But he was determined to pursue art school, spending his own food money on supplies and saving pocket money for training courses. When Liao Tao cut off his allowance, he quietly borrowed from Zhuang Jie instead.
Liao Tao kept reasoning with him—saying he was the only “man” in the family and should take care of his sisters, not the other way around. Especially since Zhuang Jie had a disability in her leg.
Zhuang Yan agreed in principle. He should shoulder responsibility. But after half a year of forcing himself to study, he became increasingly listless, his already poor grades plummeting further.
Zhuang Jie finally came back to talk to him, and after discussing with Liao Tao, they decided to let him try applying to an art high school.
That year, luck happened to be on his side—he got in by sheer coincidence.
On the train, Zhuang Yan suddenly asked, “Sis, do you ever look at yourself in the mirror at night?”
“I do. I look every time I wash up.”
“I mean really look. Like, seriously look at yourself.”
“What for?”
“Two days ago I wanted to draw a self-portrait. I kept staring at myself in the mirror… and the more I looked, the more scared I got. I ended up dropping my pencil and going to bed.”
He paused, then added quietly:
“If you stare at yourself for five minutes, really focusing, you’ll start to feel dizzy… like the person in the mirror isn’t you anymore. Like they’re a stranger.”
Zhuang Jie laughed and lightly hit him on the head.
“What kind of nonsense are you thinking about? You’re scaring yourself. Stop looking at mirrors like that—you’ll mess up your head.”
Zhuang Yan smiled faintly too.
Then, very seriously, he said, “Never look in the mirror at midnight.”
“Why?”
“Because you’ll see a ghost.”
He immediately lifted his feet up onto the seat, visibly frightened. He was terrified of ghosts—of anything invisible. He never watched horror or suspense films. Sometimes even sitting on the toilet, he worried a hand might reach up from inside.
Zhuang Jie laughed even harder.
“You’re such a coward.”
Zhuang Yan had soft features and a gentle manner of speaking—a boy who was naturally likable.
After getting off the train, Zhuang Jie received a call from Wang Xixia, asking if she wanted to come to a gathering at her cousin’s guesthouse that night.
Zhuang Jie wasn’t interested at first. She wanted to help Liao Tao package vacuum-sealed roast chicken. He Hongyue and his team were organizing the factory and purchasing equipment—they had already signed the contract and were rushing to relocate production.
But Wang Xixia said her cousin had brought a potential match, and she wanted Zhuang Jie to take a look.
“If you like him, what then?” Zhuang Jie teased.
“If you like him, then you like him,” Wang Xixia replied casually.
“Alright. I’ll come.”
Wang Xixia and Zhuang Jie worked at the same company—one in the Shanghai branch, one in Beijing. The company ranked among the global top ten in medical devices. Though they were in different departments, both were senior technical sales.
That evening, Zhuang Jie went over. The courtyard of the guesthouse was filled with men and women around a barbecue grill.
Wang Xixia subtly motioned toward a man by the grill.
Zhuang Jie glanced at him, pulled out a chair, and sat down.
“Last month someone contacted me, offering to raise my base salary to 18,000. The rest would depend on performance.”
“What company?” Wang Xixia asked.
“Pulley.”
“Funny. I got the same offer—20,000 base. Also Pulley.”
Zhuang Jie frowned slightly. “Why am I two thousand less than you?”
Wang Xixia laughed.
At that moment, a man walked over and handed them skewers, saying a few simple words before returning to the grill.
Zhuang Jie took a bite and asked, “Are you considering Pulley?”
Wang Xixia shook her head. “No.”
“Me neither.”
Zhuang Jie looked at the man again.
“He’s pretty considerate,” she said. Each skewer had a napkin beneath it, and he had also placed lemon water within reach.
“Not bad,” Wang Xixia replied.
“What does he do?”
“He used to be a ceremonial flag bearer…”
“What?” Zhuang Jie looked surprised and took another glance.
Then she leaned in slightly, intrigued.
“Sorry, I’m from a small town—never met anyone like that before. Can I take a photo with him later?”
Wang Xixia interrupted her lazily. “Stop it. His younger brother was a flag bearer. He’s just a regular retired soldier.”
Hearing that, Zhuang Jie suddenly remembered something.
“By the way, your cousin came to my stall yesterday to buy roast chicken. And that—what’s her name—his wife, the one with the manhole cover—”
It was too tangled to recall clearly.
“Wang Baozhu?” Wang Xixia supplied.
“Yes, her. Send me her WeChat later, I need to ask her something.”
“Okay.”
“Oh right, the village invited us to dinner on the seventh. Why would they randomly invite us?”
“No idea,” Wang Xixia said calmly. “They didn’t invite me. My cousin picked me up and brought me straight here—I haven’t been into town.”
Zhuang Jie nodded and said nothing more.
Wang Xixia and Chen Zhengdong’s story had been too tragic. After a year, this was Wang Xixia’s first time back.
They chatted for a while longer.
Wang Xixia’s blind date invited her for a walk. Her cousin asked, “Want to go stroll around Qinghe?”
“Sure,” she said.
Someone handed her a pale jade rabbit lantern. Her sister-in-law urged her on.
“Go on, go on. The oranges on the hillside are ripe—pick a couple on your way back.”
Wang Xixia left with the man.
Zhuang Jie also prepared to leave. After walking a few steps, she glanced back.
Wang Xixia was holding a ghostly white paper lantern, walking slowly beside the man.
White paper lanterns weren’t a good sign. From a distance, they looked like funeral lanterns.
That thought brought Chen Maidong to mind.
She didn’t notice her step slipping. Her foot twisted slightly—she nearly fell.
She didn’t actually fall, but she felt a sharp sting at the end of her residual limb.
She had only recently replaced her socket half a year ago. It had fit perfectly during the fitting, but in the past few days it had started to feel wrong—uncomfortable, misaligned.
She sat down against a large tree, removed her prosthesis, then took off the silicone liner. The inside was damp with sweat. She couldn’t just wipe it casually, so she fanned it in the air to dry.
Then she checked her residual limb carefully. Thankfully, there was no injury.
She slipped the liner back on, then the socket, and stood up to take a few steps.
Damn it—it really was the socket.
She called her prosthetist immediately.
The new socket material was supposed to be advanced, yet it had already worn out and deformed in less than half a year. Normally she only needed to replace it every year and a half. The socket was the key connection point between limb and prosthetic; if it didn’t fit, nothing else mattered.
The technician asked about comfort. Zhuang Jie admitted it was excellent.
“Then that’s fine,” he said. “If it’s the best comfort, just replace it. It’s only a few thousand yuan.”
Zhuang Jie snorted. “Easy for you to say. A few thousand is still money.”
He said the material should last at least one to two years, but she walked too aggressively, wearing it out faster. Others could use one for three years; hers lasted at most a year and a half.
Zhuang Jie thought he was talking nonsense. By that logic, people who ran often would need a new one every two months.
The technician mumbled something and hung up, then messaged her: wear a sock liner for a couple of days and wait until she returned to Shanghai for a replacement.
He knew how picky she was—she couldn’t tolerate even the slightest discomfort. A socket that was only slightly worn would still be usable for most people, but for her, even a tiny discomfort was magnified tenfold.
He sighed internally. Rich people really were different.
He saved her contact name as: Rich Country Bumpkin. She always said, “Bring me the best.” If they weren’t close, he would’ve taken advantage of her a long time ago—she looked exactly like someone easy to scam.
The fabrication of sockets was complicated and required great skill. They had gone through multiple trial sockets before making the final one.
Her prosthetic foot was high-performance, with vertical shock absorption and rotational torque. If properly trained, she could even run without issue. The full setup cost nearly seventy thousand yuan—enough to restore near-normal mobility. In daily life, most people wouldn’t even notice she was an amputee.
Her accident had taken her entire lower leg below five centimeters of the knee joint.
When she was younger, doctors didn’t recommend a high-end prosthesis because she was still growing and would need frequent replacements. Back then, prosthetics weren’t nearly as advanced either—she could be recognized as disabled just by walking. There was no room for trial sockets; she wore a permanent one directly, enduring abrasions and infections in silence.
Her biological father had died only three months earlier. Liao Tao had just given birth to Zhuang Yan and was still in postpartum recovery. The family had been in complete chaos.
Liao Tao always believed Zhuang Yan was overly sensitive because he had suffered emotionally in the womb, during the time of his father’s death.
Zhuang Jie disliked walking when her prosthesis didn’t feel right, so she called Zhuang Yan to pick her up by electric bike.
The person who answered was He Niaoniao, saying Zhuang Yan was chatting with classmates at the gate.
She told her to have him come to Xiaxi Village to pick her up.
He Niaoniao said she could ride the electric bike herself and offered to come instead.
“No, no—don’t come,” Zhuang Jie quickly refused. Xiaxi Village had many tourists and steep roads; she worried she’d ride straight into a ditch.
After hanging up, she spotted Chen Maidong’s group at the barbecue area.
An idea struck her.
“Hey, old classmate!”
Her voice carried but was drowned out by the noise. No one noticed.
She called over a nearby child, pointing at Chen Maidong under the lights.
“That man in the blue T-shirt—can you call him for me?”
The child ran off, then hesitated.
Zhuang Jie quickly added, “If he asks, just say his grandma is looking for him.”
Chen Maidong was eating with his colleagues when a kid tugged at him.
The child pointed at a willow tree on the slope.
“Uncle, someone up there is looking for you.”
“Who?”
“She said she’s your grandma.”
Chen Maidong set down his chopsticks and walked over.
He mainly wanted to see who was bold enough to impersonate his grandmother.
Only when he got closer did Zhuang Jie peek out from behind the tree.
“Hey, old classmate.”
The moment Chen Maidong saw her, he turned and walked away.
“Hey—old classmate! Do me a favor,” she said seriously.
He stopped and looked back.
Zhuang Jie limped forward, leaning on the tree.
“I just fell. Can you send me home?”
Then she added,
“You’re not busy, are you?”
