Volume 1 / Chapter 72: The Little Room in the Fruit Shop

Morning sunlight streamed through the gaps in the clouds, casting a soft glow on the faces of passersby. Mò Xuěyáo's father pedaled the tricycle steadily along the road.

“Dad, is it too heavy for you?” Mò Xuěyáo asked, a little concerned.

“Oh, come on! It’s just the two of you and a bit of luggage. Not even half as heavy as the deliveries I pull in the morning,” her father laughed heartily. “Don’t you worry about that!”

Lǐ Wǎnyán smiled gently. She seemed a lot more at ease than when they had first met.

Taking advantage of a turn in the road, she leaned forward slightly and whispered, “You and your dad seem really close.”

“We’ve always been like this—just say whatever’s on your mind,” Mò Xuěyáo replied matter-of-factly. “Even if he’s my dad, he can’t just order people around. It’s not like he’s some emperor from ancient times or something...”

“That’s nice,” Lǐ Wǎnyán said softly, not commenting further, but clearly envious.

The tricycle rolled past one traffic light after another, then through a few streets so deserted they didn’t even have storefronts.

Just as Mò Xuěyáo began to feel the area around them growing a bit too quiet, the surroundings started to buzz with life again.

They had arrived at the last relatively busy street on the edge of the city. Its liveliness owed itself to a well-known hospital located there. Thanks to that hospital, this street retained a tiny sliver of Hangzhou’s modest urban charm—though, truthfully, Hangzhou wasn’t exactly booming in this era to begin with.

Her godfather’s place was nearby—maybe a ten-minute ride from here.

Her father’s fruit shop was located just below the long sloping road in front of the Zhejiang Cancer Hospital, right at a small three-way intersection.

Instead of opening up right away, her father first parked the tricycle beside the shop, then led the girls down the slope to a small grocery store.

“You’re here,” greeted Auntie Jīn, who was watching a small black-and-white television. She waved her hand like they were old friends and gestured for Xuěyáo’s father to come over. “Little Mò, come help me check this out. My TV’s all blurry again—what’s going on?”

“Probably poor signal. Where’s your antenna?”

“I don’t know how to install that thing.”

“Where is it?”

“Go all the way to the back—there’s a little door. Once you go in, it should be on the top shelf to the left—if I remember right.”

“I’ll go get it,” her father said enthusiastically, heading into the back without a second thought—completely forgetting to introduce his daughter.

This left Mò Xuěyáo awkwardly standing there.

Just as she was hesitating about whether to speak up, Lǐ Wǎnyán beat her to it. “Hello, Grandma.”

“I was just about to ask your names!” Auntie Jīn chuckled warmly. “You’re Little Mò’s daughter, right?”

“No, I’m her classmate,” Lǐ Wǎnyán replied, pointing at Mò Xuěyáo. “My name’s Lǐ Wǎnyán.”

“Ohh, I see!”

“Hello, Grandma. I’m Mò Xuěyáo… his daughter,” Xuěyáo added, nodding toward her dad, who had disappeared into the storeroom.

“Very nice, very nice. Two sweet, polite, and pretty little girls,” Auntie Jīn said cheerfully. She waved her hand toward the snack shelf. “Go ahead and grab whatever snacks you like—they’re on the house!”

“Oh, we couldn’t possibly,” Lǐ Wǎnyán said quickly, shaking her head.

“Yeah,” Mò Xuěyáo echoed, equally flustered.

“No need to be shy—” Auntie Jīn insisted, then stood up and personally pulled down several snack packs from the shelf.

They were the pricier ones, too.

Things like Oreo cookies and those soft, rich Orion chocolate pies...

Even though the girls declined, she split the snacks evenly between them.

Lǐ Wǎnyán glanced at Mò Xuěyáo, as if seeking permission.

After a brief hesitation, Mò Xuěyáo decided it would be rude to refuse and opened one of the Orion pies.

Snacks like these weren’t easy to come by under normal circumstances.

High-calorie foods were still in high demand during this era.

“Thank you, Grandma,” Lǐ Wǎnyán said politely as she opened her snack.

“Ah—thank you!” Mò Xuěyáo added quickly, realizing she had forgotten to say it earlier.

“No problem at all, no need to be polite,” Auntie Jīn said with a warm smile. “You two eat very differently, you know.”

“Really?” Lǐ Wǎnyán picked up on the cue to keep the conversation going so it wouldn’t get awkward.

“Yep. You both eat slowly, but you’re more delicate,” she said to Wǎnyán, then turned to Xuěyáo. “She eats slowly too, but takes these giant bites, so she ends up with food all around her mouth.”

“Ahem!” Mò Xuěyáo quickly wiped her mouth.

“Yeah, I think Xuěyáo can be kind of boyish sometimes,” Lǐ Wǎnyán agreed with a nod.

This left Mò Xuěyáo a little embarrassed—but also secretly proud, like she’d just had her masculinity reaffirmed.

“Here it is! I’ll install it for you,” her father returned, holding the antenna.

“Alright, go ahead,” Auntie Jīn said as she stepped aside to let him fiddle with the TV.

“You’re too kind—feeding the kids snacks and everything,” he said, half embarrassed.

“It’s nothing. Just a few snacks. Not like they’ll bankrupt me.”

“Haha…” He chuckled sheepishly. “Ah, I forgot to introduce them.”

“No worries, they’ve already introduced themselves.”

“Great. Oh, by the way, this one’s their class monitor. Something came up at home, so she needs a place to stay. I thought maybe she could stay here at the fruit shop. There’s that little room in the back—it should be fine, right?”

“Sure, though maybe she’d feel safer bunking with your daughter? It might be a bit spooky sleeping here alone.”

“It’s alright. I’d prefer it, actually,” Lǐ Wǎnyán said with a small smile. “It’s closer to school, and I’d have a bit more freedom here.”

“As long as you’re okay with it, dear.”

“Plus, if there’s ever anything you need help with, just let me know.”

“Wonderful! If I do need help, I won’t hold back,” Auntie Jīn grinned.

“Please don’t. I’d be happy to help.”

Mò Xuěyáo looked at Lǐ Wǎnyán in surprise—she hadn’t expected her to be this smooth-talking and good with elders.

Standing next to her, Xuěyáo felt like just a little kid…

“All done!” Her father stood up. The picture on the black-and-white TV was noticeably clearer now.

“Thanks so much.”

“Ah, no need to thank me! I’ll go open the shop now.”

“Go ahead.”

“Let’s go, girls!” he said breezily, flicking his head as he led them back to the fruit shop entrance.

Then he pulled up the metal shutter doors.

There were three in total, each with a separate key—not because the shop was huge, but because the support columns split the facade.

Inside, display shelves had already been set up, with a few fruits that weren’t too perishable.

“Looks like there’s not much stock yet,” Mò Xuěyáo observed.

“Fresh stuff’ll be delivered tomorrow for the opening. For now, just some pomelos, mandarins, that kind of thing,” her father said, pushing open the small back room door.

Inside was a slightly worn steel-frame bed.

“Let’s clean it up a bit and move it against the wall. Then we’ll paste some newspaper on the wall—no need to worry about smudging yourself at night.”

“Okay.” Lǐ Wǎnyán looked around with what seemed to be satisfaction.

“Fruit shops don’t need much storage anyway. Unsold stuff goes bad in a few days. So feel free to set up the room however you like,” her father said casually. “Tonight, you can sleep with Xuěyáo. Tomorrow I’ll bring over a table or something—otherwise, you won’t even have a place to do homework.”

“There’s no need… I can just write anywhere.”

“Nope, we’re getting one. Don’t be polite—we don’t do that in this family,” he waved her off. “It doesn’t need to be fancy.”

“Okay… thank you.”

“You can leave your things here too,” he added. “No need to carry them back and forth.”

“Alright.”

“This room just needs a proper window,” Mò Xuěyáo said, rubbing her chin. “Feels a bit stuffy.”

“At least there’s a vent. Otherwise, then it’d be stuffy,” her father said, lighting a cigarette at the front. “Wasn’t meant to be a room, after all. It was built as a storeroom, so they didn’t put much thought into ventilation.”

“It’s okay. I don’t mind,” Lǐ Wǎnyán shook her head. “I’ve always wanted a room of my own.”

“Smaller spaces can actually feel cozier—maybe,” Mò Xuěyáo said, pressing on the wire bed. It let out a loud squeak squeak that made her uneasy. “Is this thing sturdy?”

“It should be. These beds are supposed to sound like that,” Lǐ Wǎnyán replied, sounding like she had experience. “Besides, I don’t weigh much.”

“I hope it holds up…” Mò Xuěyáo muttered. There were already too many things at home that needed money—asking for a new bed just wasn’t an option. “By the way, class monitor—since you’re not staying in the dorms anymore, shouldn’t you tell the teacher?”

“I will. I’ll let the homeroom teacher know on Monday.”

“Oh, I guess you’ll be the one opening the door now. This place is so much closer to school than my house.”

“Yep, no need to catch the first bus in the morning,” Lǐ Wǎnyán nodded. “It’s only about a ten-minute walk.”

“If I ever want to sleep in, maybe I’ll just crash here too,” Mò Xuěyáo mumbled. “Way closer to school…”

“Sure, sleep wherever you want,” her father said, arranging some fruit on the display. “I’ll pick up some apples this afternoon, just so we’re not scrambling tomorrow.”

“Then we’ll head back for now?” Mò Xuěyáo asked. She was getting antsy—no books, no snacks, and nothing to do.

“Sure. You two can take the bus. Catch the 312 from across the street,” he pointed toward the opposite side of the road.

So Mò Xuěyáo and Lǐ Wǎnyán once again set off for home.

While waiting at the bus stop, Lǐ Wǎnyán suddenly asked, “Mò Xuěyáo, can I call you Xuěyáo from now on?”

“Uh, sure.”

“Then just call me Wǎnyán, okay?”

“Uh… alright.”