It was the darkest hour before dawn. Yan Xixi took a few steps down the main street, her steps unsteady. Empty taxis passed her by, drivers sticking their heads out. "Miss, need a ride?"
She wandered aimlessly for a long stretch before finally getting into a taxi. Sitting in the back seat, she leaned against the seatback and closed her eyes tightly.
Her phone finally rang. It was Xu Xiaoya’s rapid-fire voice, "Xixi, what on earth happened? Why did you suddenly leave? You’ve really landed me in hot water this time!"
"I’m sorry, Xiaoya..."
"Enough said! The shift manager gave me hell."
Yan Xixi was also too tired to say much. After a moment, she quietly hung up.
All the way, the cab driver kept prattling on. One moment, he talked about how his long work hours had led to prostatitis. The next, he complained about how stingy the taxi company was. They charged high management fees, demanding four to five hundred yuan from drivers daily. He said a slight mishap meant an entire day’s work would amount to nothing. Drivers would end up with a host of health issues, earning just enough for bare necessities. It was utterly depressing.
Yan Xixi suddenly asked, "Driver, if you were wronged and no one would stand up for you, what would you do? Would posting it online be useful?"
"What’s this, Miss? Did your house get demolished?"
Yan Xixi neither confirmed nor denied.
The driver laughed. "Miss, don’t be naive. Posting online? Are you crazy? Haven’t you seen all those ’An Yuanding’ posts online? There are even companies that make money by deleting posts; be careful, or they might lock you up in a mental hospital. Forget it, that stuff is useless. I think ordinary folks should just be content with their lot and hold their peace..."
A pang struck Yan Xixi’s heart. Why must we live so wretchedly, like dogs?
She opened her lips slightly, but no sound came out.
It was a very remote corner, surrounded by old buildings slated for demolition.
Rumor had it that a private company planned to build a commercial district and a five-star hotel here. The stubborn holdouts, vying for higher compensation, had exhausted every ounce of their folk wisdom in their resistance, which was the only reason these old houses were still temporarily standing.
For three years, Old Zhang and his wife had taken turns guarding their house full-time to prevent it from being secretly demolished. They kept watch 24 hours a day, each covering a 12-hour shift.
Beyond the third floor was a row of even more dilapidated attics; this was where Yan Xixi and her mother lived. Initially, a private company’s evaluation of their small, dilapidated attic had resulted in a compensation offer of only tens of thousands of yuan, which wasn’t even enough to cover her mother’s medical expenses. So, the mother and daughter gritted their teeth and refused to move.
By day, dressed in knockoff designer brands, she presented the image of a wealthy and beautiful socialite. But by night, no one knew she lived in such a rundown place.
In the distance, the light in their attic was still on. Yan Xixi paused, her gaze fixed on the silhouette reflected in the window, and a faint warmth spread through her heart. That was her mother, still waiting up for her. Perhaps there was even a bowl of warm sweet fermented rice dumplings simmering in the rice cooker.
She rubbed her ice-cold hands together and quickened her pace to a trot, when she suddenly became aware of a peculiar sound. At first, she thought it was just the wind picking up, but she soon realized something was amiss. It was a very strange sound, like the prelude to a covert battle.
Startled, she ducked behind a huge Magnolia tree, not daring to move an inch.
Directly ahead was her neighbor Old Zhang’s main house. In the dead of night, a dim light suddenly flickered on. At that moment, Yan Xixi witnessed a scene straight out of a movie: a team of black-clad men, burdened with heavy backpacks, seemingly descended from the sky. They rappelled into the walled courtyard, its main gate tightly shut.
(There have been a few small alterations to this Chapter, apologies...)