Chapter 15: Debts of Affection Accumulated

Jiang Fan had just finished washing the dishes and was about to sweep the floor when the security captain’s wife arrived on a ladies’ motorcycle.

Although many locals looked down on outsiders, the landlady was kind and amiable to everyone, and the plump wife of the security captain also took a liking to him. She had heard that the new tenant was recommended by him. The rent was fifty yuan, not a penny less, but she agreed to add an old-fashioned iron bed to the room free of charge.

With a deposit equal to one month’s rent, she collected a hundred yuan, handed over the key and the receipt, and, for once showing some generosity, reminded him, “Keep the receipt safe. If you lose it, your deposit won’t be refunded. If someone checks your temporary residence permit around the village, just show them the receipt and say you’re my tenant. Those guys doing the checks won’t dare give you any trouble.”

She didn’t say anything more, then rode off on her motorcycle.

The captain’s wife appeared to be around forty, not much different from rural women her age inland. The expensive clothes she wore looked rather out of place on her nearly 180-pound frame, and the unevenly applied lipstick did not beautify her but made her look somewhat comical.

Her seemingly considerate reminder, coming from her lips, was laced with local pride and a sense of superiority, her smug expression making it hard to like her. At their first meeting, Jiang Fan judged her as someone who bullied others by relying on her connections and was not someone easy to get along with.

The bed she promised would only arrive in the afternoon. Jiang Fan and Hao Meng carried their luggage into the rented room, finding it about the same size as Wang Yong’s.

The old house, built in the fifties or sixties, had its broken windows boarded up with planks. The mottled walls bore traces of time, and moss grew in some of the cracks, evoking a deep sense of history and the passage of years.

The room, about ten square meters, was empty save for a tap installed against the farthest wall and a drainage ditch leading outside. Even in broad daylight, the room felt dim and drab.

At last, they were settled. Hao Meng said to Jiang Fan, “Let’s go. We can tidy up after the landlady has the bed delivered. Let’s buy you an outfit for your job search—dressing a bit more formally will help make a good impression.”

The hardworking “Superwoman” in her mother’s heart, and the pragmatic woman seen by bar patrons, Hao Meng did all she could to spare Jiang Fan hardship in his wandering, never once thinking of her own gain or loss.

Though his circumstances left no room to refuse her kindness, Jiang Fan said nothing polite in return. Yet relying on a woman for his basic needs filled him with both gratitude and a sense of masculine shame.

When he heard Hao Meng still planned to buy him clothes, he refused without hesitation: “These clothes I have are still new. Once I find a job, I’ll have a uniform. Really, there’s no need to waste money.”

Seeing how generous he was to others despite his own poverty, yet so frugal regarding himself, Hao Meng bargained with him: “Just listen to me this time—one outfit, one bedding set, nothing else. Don’t overthink it. Once you start earning, you can pay me back.”

“Just those two, nothing else, okay?”

Though reluctant, Jiang Fan felt he couldn’t reject Hao Meng’s kindness, especially seeing the determined look behind her playful tone. In his mind, he kept a tally of everything she spent on him.

The area around Baisha Commercial Street was lined with factories. As they shopped, the two also inquired about job opportunities.

Passing by the Baisha post and telegraph office, Jiang Fan glanced inside, felt the ninety-some yuan in his pocket, then pretended to look elsewhere.

His subtle action did not escape Hao Meng’s notice. Knowing him a bit, she asked directly, “Are you thinking of sending your master a message to say you’re safe?”

“Yes. That old man’s a real trickster—gave me an empty envelope with no address and sent me off on a train to who-knows-where. I want to find him and give him a piece of my mind.”

Mentioning Li Jiuguan brought a smile to Jiang Fan’s face. Their banter was typical of their relationship; talking of rebuke was really an expression of deep longing.

“Go in and send a telegram. Let the old man know you’re safe as soon as possible, so he can have peace of mind.”

Seeing how much Jiang Fan thought of his master, Hao Meng, though she didn’t know Li Jiuguan, guessed he must be a kindly old man. Otherwise, how could master and apprentice become as close as father and son in just three years?

Knowing that Jiang Fan, at this point, dared not even contact his own family, Hao Meng, wanting to ease his burdens, took his arm and walked with him into the post office.

A telegram was charged by the character—twenty cents each. To save money, Jiang Fan thought for a long time before condensing all his inexpressible longing into about twenty words: “Old man: Haven’t found my senior apprentice; this rascal you sent away is still alive and has found shelter.”

When the clerk said the fee was seven yuan, Jiang Fan winced and asked, “Isn’t it twenty cents a word? I only wrote twenty-five words.”

“Eleven characters for the address, those count too.”

The clerk, used to such questions, replied without surprise.

“Can I omit the address?”

“Telegrams must have at least a simple address. That’s the rule.”

Jiang Fan thought how a letter would cost only eight cents, while a telegram, which didn’t even say all he wanted, was so expensive. Regretful, he took the telegram paper back and said politely, “Sorry, let me think about it. I’ll come back later.”

The clerk gave him a look of disdain and muttered, “Are you making fun of me? If you’ve nothing to do, don’t waste my time.”

It was working hours and the post office was empty. Seeing the clerk’s arrogance, Hao Meng said nothing, but she snatched the telegram paper from Jiang Fan and said, “The sooner the old man hears from you, the sooner he’ll be at ease. We young people can save a bit elsewhere—let this money be spent here.”

Though he regretted the expense, after reporting his safety to his master, Jiang Fan’s mood was noticeably lighter.

They had agreed to buy only an outfit and bedding, but after that, Hao Meng still felt Jiang Fan lacked everything and wanted to buy him more.

With her coaxing, she ended up buying him basic necessities like toothpaste, toothbrush, soap, and laundry powder.

As evening approached, after tidying the room, Hao Meng said to Jiang Fan, “You’ll stay here for now. Look for work nearby during the day. I’ll come check on you every couple of days. If anything urgent comes up, you can call me anytime.”

“Didn’t you used to say I could only call after seven in the evening?”

“Now you have a blank check—you can call whenever.”

They’d already shared many intimate moments, yet Hao Meng still tried to convince herself this was just friendship, not love. She longed to see Jiang Fan every day, but worked hard to restrain her feelings.