Chapter Twenty-Four: Silence Is Golden

... Eleven days of holiday, and Dong Yanyan spent six of them working at home, her little face tanned, her body grown thinner. On the night before returning to school, her mother had already packed her autumn and winter clothes into the suitcase.

"Yanyan, if you run short on money, write home for more. Don’t starve yourself. Are you sure your classmate can get you the train ticket? Don’t lose track of him!" her mother fussed anxiously.

"Don’t worry, Mom! I arranged it with him before I came home. As soon as I get back, I’ll write to you!" Dong Yanyan burrowed under her quilt, smiling as she looked up at the warm light overhead, a sudden reluctance stirring within her. The next time she came home, winter would have arrived.

The following morning, her father accompanied her to the train station. Song Mingcheng had bought her ticket at the departure terminal. Her father carried her luggage from carriage to carriage, finally finding Song Mingcheng in the eighth coach.

"Yanyan’s in your care now. You two are from the same hometown, so look after her," her father said, patting Song Mingcheng’s shoulder in earnest.

Song Mingcheng offered his usual, unchanging smile and nodded, "Don’t worry, Uncle. I’ll take good care of her. The train’s leaving soon; let me see you off."

"No need, I’ll get off myself. Yanyan, I’m leaving now!" her father stepped down from the nearest door. Soon after, Yanyan saw him on the platform, waving at her.

How familiar the scene was! For four years, her father had sent her off like this, each time repeating the same words to Song Mingcheng, each time waiting until the train departed before waving and slowly walking away, leaving only his silhouette behind.

Dong Yanyan opened the window, waving back at him with a smile, but there was a sadness she could not suppress, tightening in her chest and stinging her nose.

The train slowly started moving, scenery drifting backwards outside. She turned her gaze from the window to Song Mingcheng at her side. He, too, was staring out the window, silent and expressionless, his demeanor as unyielding as carved stone.

"Is everything alright at home?" she asked softly. She knew he’d taken early leave last time because his mother was gravely ill. She wasn’t sure how things were now, but in her memory, it had never been good. Perhaps that was another reason for his constant silence.

Song Mingcheng nodded, forcing a smile.

Across from them sat two boys, also students heading to the provincial capital. As soon as they boarded, they began loudly discussing lofty topics, occasionally striking up conversation with Yanyan. Fifteen years ago, she would have eagerly joined in their banter, but for a woman whose mind was already in her thirties, discussing life, ideals, and society with boys whose worldviews had yet to mature was simply tiresome.

What did these kids know? Their chatter robbed her even of the mood to enjoy the scenery. At each station, more people crowded into the aisle—students returning to school—until their voices became a cacophony, making Yanyan’s ears ache.

Song Mingcheng reached over, resting his arm on her shoulder. She frowned and turned to him, seeing he’d already closed his eyes in exhaustion.

"Could you two keep your voices down? Let him sleep a bit," she said softly, smiling apologetically at the pair across from her.

The loud-mouthed boys looked uncomfortable and fell silent; the world became much quieter.

Sometimes, silence truly is golden, Yanyan mused as she gazed contentedly at the scenery outside. Passengers came and went; over five and a half hours, Song Mingcheng managed to sleep against the seat all the way to the end of the line.

When the station music sounded, Yanyan gathered up her snacks from the table and stuffed them in her backpack, nudging his shoulder, "Song Mingcheng, we’ve arrived! Help me get my bags down!"

Song Mingcheng woke groggily, took down her two bags from the luggage rack, slung them across his shoulders, grabbed his own, and led Yanyan off the train. The station was packed with people; they squeezed and ran through the crowd, emerging only as the sun dipped westward.

"I’m exhausted! Let’s take a taxi back to school!" Yanyan panted, dusty and out of breath. She was too weary to walk any further; a whole day sitting on the train was tiring enough, and she’d just run so far across the platform.

Walking ahead, Song Mingcheng turned and replied with just two words, "No need."

So Yanyan followed him, joining the swarm of people as they squeezed onto the number 61 bus. In 1997, most of the 61s were shabby little buses—reeking of gas, packed to the brim, barely room to stand. Yanyan was jostled so much she felt her bones would come apart before she finally reached the school gates.

Stumbling back to her dorm and collapsing onto her bed, she felt saved at last. Without even eating dinner, she fell asleep, only waking the next morning when the teacher came to inspect the dorm. She hurriedly tidied her things, skipped breakfast, and was dragged by Liu Ying to morning study in the classroom.

"I haven’t eaten for two meals—I’m going to starve!" she wailed, racing into the classroom. Song Mingcheng, sitting in the last row, stopped her and handed her bread and an apple from his desk.

In his eyes, she clearly saw the words: "Here, eat!"

After three seconds of consideration, she decided it was more important to fill her stomach, so she forced a smile and thanked him, then returned to her seat to devour the food. After all, he’d enjoyed plenty of her treats as well; she felt justified. It was only fair!

*

The autumn basketball tournament was approaching. Lin Feng, Leng Haoyang, and the ten or so boys and girls from the team practiced together whenever they had time, discussing tactics. Li Hui and Liu Ying, Yanyan’s roommates, were also on the team. Yanyan looked at her own height and petite frame—far below the standard. They wouldn’t even accept her if she signed up. This wasn’t a sport for enthusiasm alone; it required innate talent, leaving her a little frustrated. For the next half month, she’d have little chance to get close to Lin Feng.

After a brief spell of disappointment, she began considering another issue: she needed to find a part-time job. If she could earn a little income, her parents’ burden would ease.

What could she do? The first thing that came to mind was delivering newspapers. She’d done it for a while when she couldn’t find a job after leaving school—work requiring only diligence and the ability to endure hardship, no technical skills needed. It only took up mornings, so it wouldn’t interfere with her early classes. No need to take leave!

Acting on her idea, she bought a few papers at the newsstand and, using the addresses listed, found the evening paper’s distribution station nearest her school. The manager, a man in his thirties, shook his head regretfully after hearing her request. "Miss, this job is tough—the papers weigh dozens of pounds. You wouldn’t even be able to carry them, let alone deliver."