Chapter 3

November 28, 2025 | Author: Song Buliuchun As luck—or sheer bad timing—would have it, they ran straight into Wang Futian and He Meiyu on their way downstairs. Zhang Luo blinked. Speak of the devil. "Oh my!" Almost instantly, his mother’s snarky voice chimed in. "Where are you two coming back from together?" Zhang Luo completely understood why his mom sounded so full of venom. It had nothing to do with Wang Futian; his mom just had an intense, longstanding feud with He Meiyu downstairs. When Zhang Luo was little and full of energy, he used to run around the apartment. He Meiyu would constantly come upstairs knocking on their door, blaming them for not controlling their kid and keeping her awake. Later, He Meiyu bought a bicycle and parked it in the stairwell every day, making it difficult for everyone to get through. When someone from the neighborhood committee went to talk to her about it, He Meiyu assumed Liang Fengying was holding a grudge over the earlier incident and had reported her out of spite. She came over and threw a massive, screaming scene. From that moment on, Liang Fengying and He Meiyu were locked in an ongoing war. Whenever they crossed paths, they’d trade jabs—a small spat every two days, a major blowup every three. From hanging quilts out to dry in the courtyard down below to air conditioner units dripping water upstairs— They could fight about literally anything. So having just heard about He Meiyu and Wang Futian’s dirty little secret, his mom wouldn't be his mom if she didn't take this chance to throw some shade. He just hadn't expected it to be so absurdly convenient that they’d bump into them right as they stepped downstairs. "What do you mean 'together'? Fengying, don't just spew nonsense," Wang Futian quickly said with a straight face, rushing to explain. "We just happened to run into each other at the bottom of the stairs. We live in the same building, so we walked up together." "Oh, is that so?" Liang Fengying's eyes flashed playfully. "Then what was wrong with what I said? Why get so worked up? Where is your mind going, exactly?" He Meiyu let out a cold sneer, gave her hips a sassy toss, and rolled her eyes at Wang Futian. "Old Wang, don't bother squabbling with her. That's just how she is—a tongue stretched longer than a bolt of cloth, running off to the neighborhood committee to spread gossip whenever she feels like it. That's how rumors get started." Zhang Luo stared in amazement at this pair of cheating lovers— In his memory, had they really been this arrogant? Not only were they acting without a trace of a guilty conscience, but they were actually turning it around on his mom? Talking trash like that? Zhang Luo turned his head and saw his mom's face darkening, yet she looked slightly hesitant— She wasn't thinking of exposing them right to their faces, was she? Without rock-solid evidence, she couldn't call them out now. Otherwise, his mom really would end up looking like a gossip-monger with a tongue longer than a bolt of cloth. Opening his mouth, Zhang Luo locked his eyes onto He Meiyu and asked, "Auntie He, is that a new hair style? Did you just get it done today? It looks really nice. I should take my mom to get hers done too one of these days." He Meiyu’s face changed color in an instant. A year from now, when Wang Futian’s wife came looking for trouble, she publicly sobbed about many things. One of them was that Wang Futian had paid for He Meiyu to get her hair washed, permed, and cut at the Meimei Hair Salon. Over a couple of years, he’d spent nearly thirty thousand yuan on her, and she demanded He Meiyu pay every cent back. That scandal became a legendary tale widely passed around the entire neighborhood later on. Everyone knew about it. Even Meimei Hair Salon had its reputation dragged through the mud, taking a huge, undeserved hit to its business. "Ah, right, it was at Meimei Hair Salon on Yudong Street, right? I saw you getting your hair cut there with Uncle Wang before, Auntie He," Zhang Luo added, tossing more fuel on the fire. The faces of both Wang Futian and He Meiyu paled at the same time. Zhang Luo maintained an innocent, harmless expression, as if he hadn't implied anything deeper at all. "Mom, you should go there next time too. Who knows, maybe Dad will spend less time fishing and more time at home with you." Liang Fengying let out a confused "Huh?", not quite catching the drift. Of course, Zhang Luo didn't need his mom to understand. He only needed Wang Futian and He Meiyu to catch the drift— If you keep mouthing off, I won't just keep this between the four of us. Wang Futian looked at him with a mix of shock and sheer panic. "...Little Luo, when did you see me and your Auntie He getting our hair cut there? How... how come I don't remember?" "Oh, maybe I misremembered then," Zhang Luo laughed breezily, then turned to his mom. "Mom, let's go. I'm starving. What are you taking me out to eat anyway?" Only then did Liang Fengying snap out of her daze. "Eat, eat, eat! Always gotta eat the second it's mealtime—can't handle a second of hunger!" After scolding Zhang Luo, she glared at He Meiyu as if she had only just remembered how to retort. "So what if my tongue is longer than a bolt of cloth? Still beats your skirt being shorter than your legs! There are so many kids in this neighborhood, why don't you watch the example you're setting!" "..." Zhang Luo had a very realistic view of his mother's fighting power. She yelled loud, but her actual damage output had always been pretty weak. Honestly, this was a rare, stellar performance for her out in the wild. He Meiyu's face turned completely sour, but perhaps deterred by the landmine Zhang Luo had just laid down, she surprisingly didn't talk back this time. Feeling like she had won this round against He Meiyu, Liang Fengying clicked her high heels loudly as she walked down the stairs, looking like a triumphant, proud gamecock that had just won a fight. Looking at his mother like this, Zhang Luo felt torn between laughter and tears, while a quiet sorrow involuntarily bloomed in his chest. This vibrant, overflow of life... he could only see it again in this dream. Later on, when he was far away in Yuming and his father had passed away from illness, his mom lived all by herself in Xuyang. She never seemed to fight anyone with that kind of fire ever again. She had even ended up sitting at the same mahjong table with He Meiyu to play cards. That was life. When thirty-year-old Zhang Luo occasionally reminisced about the past, the images that popped up most often were of his mom looking lively or raising her loud, ringing voice. "Mom, can we call Dad and ask him to come back?" Zhang Luo said. Who knew when this dream would end. He wanted to see his father again while he was still inside this dream. When he was twenty-four, his dad was diagnosed with stomach cancer. It was caught too late, and he passed away in less than six months. Ever since then, he could only see his dad in his dreams. He had learned to treasure every single dream he had. Liang Fengying said, "Your dad rarely gets a weekend to go fishing. He works so hard during the week—why are you in such a rush to drag him back for dinner?" "I—" I miss Dad. That wasn't something a fifteen-year-old Zhang Luo could say out loud. Well, whatever. "It's nothing," Zhang Luo said. "Since you're paying, I just didn't want Dad to miss out, that's all. If you don't want to call him, then don't." Surprisingly, Liang Fengying pulled out her phone anyway. An old-school cell phone. Calling and sending text messages were its primary functions. "Fine, I'll call him," Liang Fengying said. As soon as the line connected, she blurted out, "Zhang Zhiluo, your son's worried you're missing out and wants you back for dinner." Zhang Luo: "..." "Come back if you want, or don't. I'm not forcing you," Liang Fengying said in a crisp, sharp tone before snapping the phone shut. She turned to Zhang Luo: "Anyway, I passed along the message. If he doesn't want to come back, that's on him." Noticing his mom was a little annoyed, Zhang Luo quickly offered a placating smile. "No worries, let him miss out then. Mom, you still haven't told me—what are you taking me to eat?" "Jiang Xiaoyu, obviously," Liang Fengying said. "Isn't that your favorite place?" Zhang Luo's eyes widened. "Huh?!" Liang Fengying: "What are you 'huh'-ing for? You think I don't know you love running off to that restaurant?" A distant, long-buried memory jolted back to life in Zhang Luo's mind. He loved going to Jiang Xiaoyu... not because he actually liked the food there. It was because at that restaurant... there was Jiang Xiaoyu.