70. Assistant

Qin Baike stared at Xu Mingtang in shock. “No! He cannot represent Qin’s Noodle Shop.”

“Baike…”

Qin Baike cut him off. “Don’t say anything, Uncle Xu. From the day he left Qin’s, he ceased to be one of us. I will not agree.” With that, Qin Baike turned and walked straight back to the noodle shop.

Xu Mingtang let out a heavy sigh behind him.

Back at the clinic, Xu Mingtang called Tang Yiyi over and handed her a paper box, roughly the size of a shoebox. Tang Yiyi opened it and found a stack of neatly arranged letters inside, their envelopes already tinged with yellow.

“These are the letters exchanged between Xiang Shengli and me over the years,” Xu Mingtang said. “Half were written by him, half by me. Yesterday, I asked him to find them for me. I’ve put them in chronological order. Tonight, take them to Baike and let him read them.”

After dinner, Tang Yiyi carried the box to Qin’s. Qin Baike saw her arrive so early and said coldly, “Don’t think you can be Xu Mingtang’s spokesperson.”

Tang Yiyi placed the box in his arms. “Fine, I won’t say anything. I don’t know what grievances are between you two. My master asked me to give this to you. It’s up to you.”

“What is it?”

“A box of letters.”

“Letters?”

“My master wanted you to have them. I haven’t read them.”

Qin Baike opened the box. Seeing the handwriting on the top envelope, he immediately understood. He closed the lid and handed it back to Tang Yiyi. “Take it away.”

“Hey, you…” Tang Yiyi hugged the box and stomped her foot in frustration.

Ertong, seeing Qin Baike storm out, came over and asked Tang Yiyi, “What’s going on? Even Uncle Xu can’t do anything?”

Tang Yiyi showed Ertong the letters. Ertong picked up the first letter and pulled out the paper to read.

“Isn’t this a bit inappropriate?” Tang Yiyi said. “It’s for Baike.”

“Has Baike read it? If he won’t, we’ll read it for him. Let’s see what it says.” Ertong ignored Tang Yiyi’s concerns and started reading. The letter was only two pages, and Ertong finished quickly, his expression unusually solemn. He sighed deeply. “Baike must see these letters.”

Tang Yiyi said anxiously, “He won’t look at them.”

Ertong thought for a moment. “Tonight, don’t study. Read each letter and pick out the key sentences, then text them to Baike. Whatever it takes, make him see.”

“Really? If I force him to read, will he get angry and beat me up?”

“If I do it, maybe I’d get beaten. Lucky for you, he doesn’t hit women.”

“If he blames me, I’ll say you taught me.”

“Hey, girl, don’t be so disloyal.”

Tang Yiyi took the box back to the clinic, sat in her room, and opened the box to take out the first letter.

It was Xiang Shengli’s first letter to Xu Mingtang. His handwriting was ugly, his sentences awkward, with many mistakes, but reading through, the meaning was clear.

Xu Brother: How are you?

Forgive me for writing this letter; you’re the only one in Magnolia Lane I can ask for help.

Leaving Qin’s, leaving Baike was extremely painful, but if I stayed, my life would have no way out.

People outside only know Baike’s mother for her temper and sharp tongue. But you know she doesn’t just scold at home. Over the years, you’ve seen the wounds on me that bled, and those that didn’t, I never showed you.

You know how cruel she can be behind closed doors. You couldn’t help but tell Baike’s grandfather about the beatings. She restrained herself for a while, but soon she began to pinch in more hidden places.

I’ve wanted to leave for a long time, but Baike was still young then. Boys are mischievous and bound to make mistakes. She always beat him mercilessly. If I left, who would protect him?

And I could not betray the great kindness of Baike’s grandfather. The reason I left so resolutely now is because, before he died, he held my hand and said:

Shengli, I’ve wronged you. Baike is grown now and can protect himself. You must go, seek your own happiness. Keep an eye on Qin’s, and if it doesn’t do well, pick it up again. I have never hidden anything from you. Though Baike bears the Qin name, in truth, he is your son.

Xu Brother, I have returned to my hometown and opened a noodle shop. Life is quiet, but only my longing for Baike keeps me restless. Please, tell me how Baike is doing now, will you?

Yours respectfully,

Xiang Shengli

December 2, 2000

Tang Yiyi was stunned after finishing the letter. The Qin mother now was vacant, almost senile—who could have imagined she was once an abuser?

Once, while doing acupuncture, Sister Wu had remarked, “This Qin lady doesn’t seem kind at all. Good thing young Qin doesn’t look like her.” Sister Wu had judged her right once again.

Tang Yiyi wondered how to get Baike to read the letter. A text message needed a hook to draw him in.

She spotted a phrase: “Over the years, you’ve seen the wounds on me that bled.” Her master had treated Uncle Xiang’s injuries. She wondered if her master had ever recorded such injuries.

She mentally calculated the timeline. Qin Baike was born in 1985; start from then. Tang Yiyi climbed onto a stool and found the 1985 notebook, flipping through quickly.

Fortunately, Xu Mingtang’s neat hand made pleasant reading, each entry clear.

Midway, Ertong messaged: “What’s going on? Sent yet?”

Tang Yiyi had no time to reply. She had reached the end of 1986 without finding anything and thought perhaps there was no record. But as soon as she opened the 1987 notebook, Xiang Shengli’s name appeared:

Xiang Shengli, male, 29 years old. Laceration on left chest from glass, wound cleaned, sutured. Multiple soft tissue contusions elsewhere.

The usually strict notebook had an extra line: “When a man encounters a fierce wife, he mustn’t be too weak.”

Tang Yiyi took a photo and sent it to Qin Baike.

She continued searching. October 1987, another injury, this time on the back.

June 1988, injury to inner thigh.

November 1989…

A few photos sent, Tang Yiyi didn’t want to search anymore. The extra line from Xu Mingtang later changed to: “When a man encounters a fierce wife, if he won’t resist, he should leave at once.”

Tang Yiyi quietly closed the notebook, just as she heard Qin Baike’s footsteps rushing upstairs. She laid out the first letter on the bed. Qin Baike pushed the door open. “What is it, really?” he demanded.

Tang Yiyi pointed to the letter spread on the bed. “Read it yourself.” She walked out.

Outside, she found a treatment bed and lay down, exhausted. She thought, finding a partner in life is like playing the lottery.

If lucky, you meet the right person—mutual affection, sweetness, small quarrels, growing old together.

If unlucky, you never meet the right one—circle around, maybe live alone, or marry hastily thinking it’s right, only to discover later you’d have been better off alone.

Worst of all is meeting someone with violent tendencies—then it’s truly a nightmare.

She didn’t know how long she lay there. Her phone chimed—a message from Ertong: “Is he moved?”

She got up and pushed open the door. Qin Baike was sitting by the bed, head buried in his knees.

Yellowed letters lay strewn across the floor. Tang Yiyi crouched down and gathered them up.

Qin Baike’s muffled voice came: “Yiyi, my head hurts.”

She pulled him up. “Lie on the bed, I’ll massage you.”

He lay down, curling up, hugging his head, refusing to let go.

Tang Yiyi went to the kitchen, boiled a pot of water, poured a steaming basin, wrung a hot towel and placed it on his forehead, then began massaging his shoulders and neck.

Gradually, he relaxed. Tang Yiyi straightened his body and continued applying hot towels.

He opened his eyes and said, “The scar on my arm was from my mother beating me with a stick. I bled a lot. It scared him terribly. In those years, when I idolized the triads, I fought back against my mother. After that, the way she looked at me was equal parts hate and fear.”

He paused and suddenly gave a bitter smile. “Only now do I realize, those birthday gifts from Uncle Xu in those years were actually bought by him.”

He rolled onto his side and hugged his head again. “Yiyi, when I was fifteen, the sky fell. The grandfather I loved most died, and the father I loved most suddenly left, leaving me alone with my perpetually angry mother. Tell me, how could I not hate him?”

“If he’d taken you away then, what about your mother?”

“So, he left me behind because I could protect myself. Yiyi, my head hurts. Whatever you did yesterday, do it again and let me sleep.”

“All right, relax.” Tang Yiyi turned off the overhead light, switched on the bedside lamp, dimmed it, and began massaging the sleep-inducing acupoints.

Soon, his breathing grew deep and slow. Tang Yiyi covered him with a light blanket, turned off the lamp, and left the room.

She went to the noodle shop and said to Ertong, “Let’s close early tonight. Tomorrow morning is the competition—we’ll all go cheer him on.”

“Okay.”

“Are the competition supplies ready?” she asked.

“Uncle Xiang prepared everything. Has Baike really come around?”

Tang Yiyi shook her head. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Where is he?”

“Asleep in the clinic.”

Ertong gave her a thumbs-up. “Little Yiyi, you’re his lucky star. He’s always had severe sleep issues, poor sleep quality. Since meeting you, he can sleep anywhere—doesn’t need that ‘Spirit in Art’ book to hypnotize himself anymore.”

“That book? ...He used it for hypnosis?” Tang Yiyi was startled.

“What else? You think he can understand it?”

Tang Yiyi couldn’t help but laugh, feeling relieved.

On August 3rd, the Noodle King Competition was about to begin. Of the ten participating teams, nine were already in place. Qin’s, ranked fifth in online voting, had an empty table.

People whispered, and the organizing committee kept trying to call but couldn’t get through.

Five minutes before eight-thirty, the committee told the host, “Announce that Qin’s has forfeited.”

Just then, the young women in the audience gasped, “Wow, so handsome, so handsome!”

At the entrance, Qin Baike strode in wearing the Qin’s uniform, tall and straight, legs long and purposeful. Two people followed, a man and a woman, both in Qin’s uniform—Xiao Xie and Xiang Shengli.

The three walked briskly to table five and stood ready. The host looked at the committee; the committee glanced at the audience, who were wildly cheering, and nodded to the host. “Start the competition.”

In the audience, Tang Yiyi and Ertong shook a pair of plastic clappers, making a loud racket. Liu Xin and Wu Xueqian had somehow squeezed in beside them. The instant Ertong saw Wu Xueqian, the two of them seemed electrified, bouncing and shouting at the top of their lungs.

Qin Baike looked crisp and clean as usual—just himself on stage.

Xiang Shengli had gotten a haircut, dyed his graying hair black, and straightened his back as he followed Qin Baike, looking more like him, exuding a mature man’s charm.

Xiao Xie wore makeup today. Her skin still wasn’t fair, but now appeared delicate and radiant, her lips rosy. Her plump figure was already popular; many of the men were cheering for her.

As the competition began, the Xiang and Qin father and son, though never having worked together, showed uncanny harmony. They exchanged only a few glances, then moved into action, each preparing their ingredients.

Xiao Xie assisted them, quick and efficient as always.

Tang Yiyi watched the father and son, so alike in appearance, and felt deeply moved. Hatred and resentment—letting go and picking up—are but a thought apart.