Two of Bamboo, number 2

Tang Yiyi was roused from sleep by the shrill ring of the telephone. Glancing at the clock, she saw it was already eight o’clock. The call was from Xu Bin. She was about to answer when he hung up, and moments later, a knock sounded at the door.

She looked down at herself to check—her clothes were still neat. Hastily, she got up and opened the door.

Xu Bin stood in the doorway, hands on his hips. “What’s going on with you today? Not only did you skip your run, you overslept, too.”

“Uh… I had a nightmare last night, couldn’t sleep for ages after waking, and then when I finally fell back asleep, I overslept,” Tang Yiyi explained as she headed into the bathroom, rinsed her mouth, and wiped her face with a towel.

“You’ve been off lately. You had those huge bags under your eyes the other day, and now nightmares.” Xu Bin stepped back, giving her apartment a once-over. “Maybe you should get a priest in to ward off evil spirits.”

“Get lost!” Tang Yiyi pushed him aside and headed downstairs.

“For a girl, you really don’t care about your looks. You don’t even use moisturizer or anything, and with those eye bags, you should at least try some eye cream.”

“I’m not even twenty-five. Why would I need eye cream?”

“The earlier a girl starts taking care of her skin, the better.”

“Did Xiaoxiao tell you that?” Tang Yiyi paused on the stairs and looked back at him.

“I read it in a book. The first gift I ever gave Xiaoxiao was a Clinique skincare set. She was really happy.”

“You and Xiaoxiao get along so well. You should bring her home to meet the family one of these days.”

Xu Bin put a finger to his lips, shushing her.

When Mrs. Xu saw Tang Yiyi come down, she said the porridge had gone cold and offered to reheat it, but Tang Yiyi declined, saying she’d rather grab a bowl of noodles at the end of the lane.

As she headed out, she saw Qin Baike helping Er Tong into his car. She hurried over. Qin Baike spotted her. “Awake at last?”

She nodded, “More or less,” and leaned in to check on Er Tong.

Er Tong looked to be twenty-four or twenty-five, with striking, well-defined features. Thick brows, big eyes, long lashes—features more suited to an adorable boy, yet set in the face of a grown man.

He sat listlessly, casting her a sideways, disgruntled glance. Seeing how pale his face and lips were, she reached out to feel his forehead, but he impatiently turned his head away.

“No fever,” Tang Yiyi withdrew her hand.

Er Tong glared at her, bristling with resentment. “You actually gave me a topknot.”

“If you don’t behave, I’ll shave your head,” Qin Baike said coldly.

Er Tong turned away, indignant. “Where are you going?” Qin Baike asked Tang Yiyi.

She was about to answer, then paused, pointing toward Xu Mingjie’s grocery store. “Just picking up some snacks. I finished everything you bought me last time.”

“Don’t bother. I’ll go buy them for you later.”

“I can’t always let you do that.”

“You’ve already done me enough favors—what’s a few snacks? Listen to me, go on home.”

“Oh. Okay.”

She watched as Qin Baike’s car drove away, then heaved a sigh of relief and sauntered over to King Noodle House.

The place was bustling. Tang Yiyi found a seat. Xiang Qiaoting, on summer break, was also helping out. At thirteen, she was skinny and nearly one-sixty in height, dressed in jeans with long, slender legs. She carried bowls, cleared tables, handled payments now and then. Though her eyes betrayed impatience and reluctance, she remained courteous and proper with customers, never letting it show.

Tang Yiyi recalled how at thirteen, she would sleep until she woke naturally during holidays, then spend all day watching TV or playing games, earning nothing but her parents’ scorn, unwilling to lift a finger when asked to help.

Xiang Qiaoting was certainly a sensible child. She came over and asked, “Are you having noodles today, sister?”

“Yes, a small bowl.”

“Alright, just a moment.”

She called the order to the kitchen and moved on. Tang Yiyi’s gaze followed her—she really was a lot like Qin Baike, even sharing that air of indifference.

A moment later, Xiang Qiaoting brought the noodles over and said, “Sister, could you vote for our King Noodle House?”

“But I already voted for Qin’s Noodles.”

“You get five votes a day—just spare us two.”

“Is that so? Sure, I’ll check next time I vote.”

Tang Yiyi took a bite of the noodles and immediately noticed something was off. The smoky chili oil aroma was missing—gone was the distinctive flavor of Qin’s Noodles. She kept her face unreadable, finished her bowl, and left. As she walked out, she overheard a girl telling her friend, “What’s so great about these noodles? They’re just average.”

Tang Yiyi wondered: Had they run out of the special recipe and not restocked from Qin Baike? Or had Qin Baike stopped selling it to them? Maybe he was holding back because of the King of Noodles competition. Tsk, tsk. Who would have thought—Qin Baike, you’re quite the schemer.

She pulled out her phone, opened the voting website, and checked the current noodle shop rankings. The century-old noodle house on Liberation Road was in first place. King Noodle House was ninth. Qin’s Noodles was still fifteenth. She voted—three for Qin’s, two for King Noodle House. After all, she had promised Xiang Qiaoting.

Back at the clinic, she resumed helping at the pharmacy counter. Under Zuo Chengjiang’s guidance these past weeks, Tang Yiyi had gained a solid understanding of the quality of many medicinal herbs. The depth of knowledge in Chinese medicine far exceeded anything she’d encountered before.

All the teachers at Shengshi Hall were like living books—one had to study them with care and patience.

Xu Bin had started learning shoulder and neck massage from Wu Siping. After two months of practice, he’d developed a real feel for it, and now, looking at anatomical diagrams, he could identify everything without memorizing.

Wu Siping said, “You’ve passed this part of the assessment. Shoulder and neck problems are the bane of modern people. In the past, issues were mostly with the waist and legs. Now everyone sits all day, playing on computers and phones. It’s a wonder more people aren’t sick. Hardly anyone does manual labor anymore. Every day, the patients who come in—start with the shoulder and neck complaints. Once you’re done, watch my techniques closely.”

He also quizzed Tang Yiyi on acupuncture and asked about Qin’s mother’s condition. Tang Yiyi told him she’d performed fifteen sessions so far and was now taking a break. After acupuncture, the mobility of the paralyzed side had improved, the stiffness reduced, and the crooked mouth and drooping eye were slowly recovering.

Wu Siping nodded. “Sometimes acupuncture works wonders in a single session. Other times, it’s a slow, meticulous process that takes months of adjustment. The more patients you treat, the more you’ll appreciate its marvels.”

As noon approached, Qin Baike’s car returned. He helped Er Tong out, then went ahead to open the noodle shop while Er Tong trailed listlessly behind. Mrs. Xu had just come back and, seeing him, exclaimed, “Oh! Isn’t this Er Tong? Haven’t seen you in ages. What’s wrong, are you ill?”

“Auntie,” Er Tong greeted her properly. “I caught a cold and an upset stomach. Just got back from an IV drip at the hospital.”

Xu Bin bounded out. “You haven’t been back in ages!”

“Yeah, I’ve been living in the new district. No one to look after me when I’m sick. Baike told me to come stay here for a while.”

Mrs. Xu asked, “You’re not young anymore. Don’t you have a girlfriend?”

“Don’t mention girlfriends—I just broke up.”

“Well, take care of yourself. Let your Uncle Xu prescribe you some medicine.”

“Auntie, I really can’t handle Chinese medicine—it’s too bitter. I’ll be fine in a few days, no worries.”

Xu Bin slung an arm over his shoulder. “Help me film a video in a few days, okay?”

Qin Baike quietly removed Xu Bin’s arm. “Let him rest and recover first. When he’s better, he can film as many as you want. For now, send him back to lie down.”

Qin Baike led Er Tong back to the noodle shop. Xu Bin stood at the entrance of the clinic, hands on his hips, staring thoughtfully at the shop. Tang Yiyi came over. “What are you looking at?”

Xu Bin leaned in and lowered his voice. “Baike called me at four this morning. Guess what he wanted?”

“…What?”

“He borrowed the clinic’s surgical kit.”

“…”

“Er Tong reeked of antiseptic just now, and he had a dressing on his left shoulder. Baike’s getting gutsier—he even stitched up the wound himself.”

“…Yeah, impressive.”

“Do you think I should start seeing him differently?”

“Heh, hey, I heard you asking Er Tong to help you film a video. Why him?”

“He’s a photographer, of course. I want to record a video of us singing ‘Xiaoxiao’ so I can keep it. Don’t let his looks fool you—he’s got some artistic talent.”

“A photographer? No wonder his hair’s so long. But aren’t you the least bit curious about how a photographer got hurt?”

“What’s there to be curious about? He’s always out causing trouble, thinks a tattoo makes him a big shot, bad temper, sharp tongue—getting beaten up was just a matter of time. Only Baike bothers with him, for his sister’s sake.” With that, Xu Bin turned and went back into the clinic.

Tang Yiyi smacked her lips where she stood. “Bad temper, sharp tongue—couldn’t have said it better myself.” Remembering how she hadn’t given him any anesthetic, she felt instantly at ease. He truly had it coming.