Volume 1 / Chapter 75: Cleaning the Room

The evening sun gradually sank beneath the horizon. After the family lunch, the friends and relatives who had come to celebrate began to leave.

Even her godfather’s family had to head out—they needed to take their daughter to an elementary school interview.

Seeing that her father could manage the shop on his own, her mother left again to do housekeeping work for another family.

That left only Mò Xuěyáo, Lǐ Wǎnyán , and her father in the store.

“Haaah—” Mò Xuěyáo yawned again and again, her eyes brimming with tears from sheer drowsiness. She looked absolutely exhausted.

“What’s wrong? Didn’t sleep well last night?” Lǐ Wǎnyán asked as she busily helped sort through the mess of fruit people had picked over. “Did I hog the blanket?”

“No, no, you sleep really peacefully, Class monitor …” Mò Xuěyáo shook her head and let out another big yawn.

The reason for her poor sleep was actually quite simple.

She’d gotten such a good rest on Friday that she’d felt totally refreshed. So when night came, it wasn’t easy to fall asleep again. And on top of that, there was a girl lying next to her—how could she possibly drift off that easily?

During military training, she’d been too tired to notice much of anything. But last night was different.

She could smell the faint fragrance of Lǐ Wǎnyán’s shampoo, and the soft strands of her hair tickled Xuěyáo’s cheek.

That adolescent soul of hers couldn’t help but stir. She found herself wanting to inch closer, maybe touch her thigh—or worse.

Even though she no longer had the “equipment” to act on any of those urges, it still took a monumental effort to restrain herself.

Only when sheer fatigue finally won out, sometime around dawn, did she manage to doze off.

She probably got three hours of sleep, max. No wonder she was feeling so groggy by late afternoon.

Maybe it was the hormones messing with her. Estrogen had this way of clouding her thoughts when it came to these things.

But theoretically, estrogen was supposed to make her like boys, wasn’t it? Why did sharing a bed with Lǐ Wǎnyán make her so restless?

As someone not trained in medicine, Mò Xuěyáo couldn’t answer her own question. She just found it vaguely troubling.

And since she couldn’t figure it out, she decided not to dwell on it.

Instead, she got up and went to help Class monitor tidy up the room.

The furniture had already been moved in, but no one had actually cleaned anything yet.

And the old furniture was coated in dust. It would need a good wipe before anyone could use it.

Mò Xuěyáo found a clean rag and wiped down every piece of furniture until it sparkled, then swept out the built-up dust and trash with a broom.

“Xuěyáo, I can clean up myself,” Lǐ Wǎnyán said, looking a little embarrassed.

“It’s fine. I’ve got nothing better to do anyway.” Xuěyáo waved it off casually, then shouted toward the storefront, “Dad! Got any old newspapers?”

“Newspapers? Go ask Granny Jīn, the shop owner from earlier!” her father called back while trimming flower stems. “And be polite!”

“Got it!” Xuěyáo dashed out and returned moments later with a huge stack of newspapers—plus a roll of clear tape and another of double-sided tape.

Sometimes, tidying up a room could actually be fun.

There was this deep sense of satisfaction that came from turning a mess into something clean and orderly.

She didn’t just layer newspaper three-thick on the wall beside the bed—she ended up covering every exposed patch of wall with it.

The room’s yellowed walls vanished beneath a patchwork of black-and-white print.

“Turning trash into treasure—how’s that for creativity?” she said proudly.

“Looks pretty good,” Lǐ Wǎnyán said with a small smile. She pulled out the chair at the desk and sat down with a contented sigh.

“The lighting’s a little dim over here. Maybe a desk lamp would help?” Xuěyáo stood beside her, testing the light. With the overhead bulb centered in the room, their bodies cast shadows over the desk.

“I’ve got one,” Wǎnyán said, pulling an old lamp from her backpack. She plugged it in and set it in the corner of the desk.

“Nice. That’s way better.” Xuěyáo rubbed her chin. “So, what do you think, Class monitor? Like the place?”

“It’s great,” Wǎnyán said with a soft smile. “Once I lay out the bedding tonight, I can move right in.”

“You can hang your clothes here—this wardrobe’s actually pretty roomy,” Xuěyáo said as she opened it. “I wiped it down too.”

“Mmh…”

“What are you two girls whispering about in there? Come eat!” her father’s voice rang out from the front.

By then, the sun had fully set. A simple folding table had been set up beside the counter, with a few takeout meals already placed on top.

This was still the pre-smartphone era—food delivery apps didn’t exist.

The only way to get takeout was to call the restaurant directly.

Before officially opening the store, her father had walked around the neighborhood and jotted down the numbers of all the nearby eateries. That list had come in handy today.

“Three meals, all different combos. You two pick first.” He was just about to grab a pair of chopsticks himself, but when a customer walked in, he set them back down. “What can I get you? Bananas are cheap today. Apples are 2.2 yuan per jin—those are the soft kind.”

Here, soft didn’t mean mushy or ripe—it meant “powdery,” referring to the grainy mouthfeel. Some people liked their apples crisp, others preferred the “powdery” ones. Depending on the season, either could be more expensive.

“Let’s just eat,” Xuěyáo said casually. Her family never had the custom of waiting for everyone to be seated before eating. As long as the food was ready, you just ate.

Unless it was a holiday or something formal, they didn’t wait for anyone.

“I’ll have this one,” said Lǐ Wǎnyán, choosing a box.

Each takeout meal came with a box of rice and a box of dishes—two meat and two veg.

The shop had even included a small flyer with a price chart.

—There were no elaborate dish names or decorative menus, just a simple breakdown:

One meat, one veg: 2.5 yuan

Two meat, one veg: 3.5 yuan

Two meat, two veg: 5 yuan

Clearly, her father had gone for the most expensive option.

“What do you usually eat at home, Class monitor?”

“Stir-fried greens, cabbage… usually no meat,” Wǎnyán replied softly, nibbling at a braised meatball.

Honestly, she barely took a bite—it looked like a mouse had nibbled it.

“Eat more! If it’s not enough, I’ll have Dad order more.” Xuěyáo plopped down, crossing her legs as she picked up her own box. “These styrofoam containers are so annoying. The sound when the chopsticks scrape them—it’s the worst.”

“Yeah, some places use paper instead.”

“Probably ‘cause paper’s more expensive.” Xuěyáo picked up a piece of popcorn chicken and popped it into her mouth. “Hey Wǎnyán, want some popcorn chicken? I’ve got plenty.”

“No need, you go ahead.”

“Don’t be shy! Help yourself if you want any. I can’t finish it all anyway,” Xuěyáo said with a carefree wave.

“…Okay.”

Her father wrapped up one sale just in time for the next customer.

But this time, the person wasn’t here for fruit—they wanted chewing gum.

Her dad had a simple policy: if it made money, he’d sell it.

So aside from fruit and flowers, his shop also stocked a random assortment of odds and ends.

There were chewing gums, sunflower seeds, peanuts—all displayed right on the counter.

Even though Granny Jīn’s shop downstairs was technically a general store, sometimes people bought snacks on a whim while picking out fruit.

And since his store was open-style, passersby could easily spot what was available.

In the business world, her dad really did have a knack for this sort of thing.

He’d worked in an office job for years, preferring stable income, which was why he’d never seriously considered opening a store.

But after getting laid off, he had no choice but to hustle.

For anyone who’s been laid off, the idea of reentering the workforce can be terrifying.

Who knows if the next boss will be any better? What if it happens again?

At least with your own business, the risk is yours—but so is the control. And that’s worth a lot.

As they were eating, more and more customers came in—most of them from the nearby hospital, grabbing dinner and picking up fruit on the way.

Not to give as gifts, but for their own family members.

So people tended to go for the cheaper fruits.

Even Sūtáng , the store cat, had been brought along today.

After all, she was originally adopted to catch mice in the shop.

Despite being in a new environment, she was totally unafraid, darting around nonstop—and had already been plucked off the fruit stand several times by her exasperated owner.

“This silly cat keeps jumping onto the fruit,” her dad said, half-laughing, half-scolding.

“Sūtáng! Get over here—no more running around!” Xuěyáo scolded, scooping her up. “Keep it up and I’ll make hot pot out of you. You hear me?”

Sūtáng seemed to get the message. Her ears twitched, head tilted—though it was questionable whether she understood a word.

“I’ll really do it if you keep this up!” Xuěyáo tugged gently at her ears in mock threat.

This time, Sūtáng seemed to sense her seriousness. She instantly went limp like a wilted cucumber, no longer daring to dash about.

“Does she actually understand you?” Lǐ Wǎnyán asked as she pinched the cat’s little cheeks.

“Probably not the words, but she can read expressions,” Xuěyáo said with a big stretch as she stood. “Alright, it’s getting late. Time to head home. Oh right—sports day is tomorrow, isn’t it?”

“Mm, Ms. Yè Wén already bought the cheerleader uniforms.”

“Ah—seriously?! We have to wear them?!”