Chapter 5: Give me a meal, on opening day

The sun was already tilting westward, casting long shadows between the brick alleys of West Lane Market.

Gu Mianmian held two bags, one heavy with bleach and soap, the other with scrubbing rags, sponges, and a small broom. It had taken almost all her remaining 100 yuan to get them.

Her fingers were stiff from cold, and her scarf smelled faintly of dust and detergent.

She took a shortcut through a narrow lane behind the fish market, her boots splashing through puddles left by the morning's melted snow. That was when she heard them.

"What's a little girl doing walking around with all that?"

Three men stepped out from the shadows. Greasy hair. One with a cigarette half-flicked in his mouth. Another with a baseball cap pulled low. Their eyes gleamed not with hunger, but greed.

"You shopping for the neighborhood? Why not share?"

Mianmian took a step back.

"I don't want trouble.." she said quietly.

"Then hand it over."

She turned to run.

A hand snatched at her bag. She resisted it and her bag ripped. Bottles crashed to the ground, the bleach spilling, brushes skittering across the wet cobblestone.

They laughed seeing the damage. One even gave her a shove that sent her sprawling into the puddle.

"Hey."

The voice was calm and cold.

All three men froze.

A man stood at the mouth of the alley, dressed in a cream coat, his cane glinting under the dull sky. His hair was slicked back. His expression wasn't anger, it was worse. Disdain.

Behind him, a man in uniform, his driver stood with arms crossed.

"You picking fights with women now?" Yanchen's voice cut through the air like glass. "You must be very brave."

The thugs exchanged glances. One cursed under his breath.

"Hey, man, it's just a misunderstanding. No need to—"

Yanchen stepped forward once. That was all it took. The men bolted.

Mianmian stayed where she was, kneeling beside the mess, fingers soaked and pink from cold bleach. Her face was blank, lips trembling slightly. Yanchen walked over, stopping a step away.

"You alright?"

She nodded slowly.

Then shook her head.

She didn't cry. But her voice came out thin. "That was... all I had."

He glanced down. Broken brushes. Ruined sponges. The bleach already draining into the gutter.

"Wait here.." he said simply.

Before she could respond, he turned and strode off. Five minutes later, he returned, with bags. Identical brands. And behind him, two young shophands from the supply store, carrying mops, cloths, and a full bucket of clean water.

Mianmian stared. "Why would you—?"

"You'll need help cleaning. Let them carry it to your place."

She stood, brushing herself off.

"I... I can't pay you back."

"Sure you can. What's your shop for?"

She blinked. "It's a restaurant."

He smiled, and for the first time, it reached his eyes.

"Then give me a meal. On opening day."

She swallowed. "You'll really come?"

"Write me a letter the day before.." he said. "I'll be there." He asked Mr Wei to give her the address who quickly rushed to do that.

Mianmian hesitated. Then, softly, she asked, "Why are you helping me?"

Yanchen turned, walking toward his car. The driver opened the door.

He paused, one foot inside.

"Because you looked like a hard working woman.." he said. "And maybe... because pretty girls like you shouldn't look so defeated."

Mianmian smiled as she accepted the piece of paper from the driver.

The words Lu Yanchen escaped her lips.

"Thank you so much Mr Lu, I will never forget your kindness.."

The two shophands helped carry the new supplies, chatting between themselves as they followed Mianmian back through the winding alleys.

She walked silently ahead, clutching the paper with Lu Yanchen's address pressed tightly in her palm.

She didn't look back.nDidn't dare to.

The moment had been too strange, too generous.

As though the sky, after weeks of spitting cold grayness, had suddenly parted and let light through.

But she knew better than to count on that light staying. People like her didn't get miracles. They got grit. Elbow grease and burned fingers from boiling water in rusted pots.

Still… her heart felt lighter. Just a little.

The two shophands didn't just stop at the front of her store. They followed her in, sleeves already rolled up.

"Where do you want the bucket?" one asked, already heading toward the back.

Mianmian blinked. "You're… helping?"

The taller one grinned. "Boss said to stick around."

"Boss?"

"The man with the cane," the other said, shrugging like it was nothing. "Told us you'd need more than a broom."

Gu Mianmian stood frozen in the doorway for a moment. The shop looked even older in the dim light, the wooden beams still covered in grime, the shelves coated in dust. But the two men had already gotten to work, laying out the rags and filling a cracked basin with water.

She cleared her throat, suddenly flustered. "You really don't have to—"

"Paid job, Miss," the first one said, wringing out a cloth. "We'd be fools to say no."

Her mouth opened and closed. Then she gave up and nodded.

"…Thank you."

And so, for the next hour, they worked in rhythm. One man scrubbed the front windows until the light could actually pass through. The other climbed up to wipe down the soot-stained corners of the ceiling. Mianmian took to the counters, pouring vinegar over the aged wood and scrubbing until her hands throbbed.

By the time they were done, her scarf had slipped halfway off her head, her cheeks were red with exertion, and her fingers were wrinkled like old paper.

The shop wasn't beautiful—not yet—but it no longer looked abandoned. It looked like someone cared about it.

The shophands packed up their buckets and rags, tipped their caps to her, and left with a quiet, "Good luck, Miss."

She followed them to the door.

The market was nearly empty now. Lanterns flickered. The scent of roasting chestnuts drifted from a cart two alleys over.

She glanced down at the paper still folded in her coat pocket.

Lu Yanchen.

She hadn't expected kindness.

She certainly hadn't expected help without strings.

But maybe… maybe not everyone who offered a hand was waiting to take something in return.

Gu Mianmian leaned against the doorway, wind brushing her hair back, the scent of bleach and vinegar still clinging to her sleeves.

Her muscles ached.

Her heart was lighter.

The road ahead was still steep, still uncertain.

But tonight, at least, it didn't feel so lonely.