As for Yan Dong’s parent-teacher meeting, I wasn’t particularly concerned about his grades—after all, they had nothing to do with me.
What I really cared about was: what should I wear to it?
The most expensive clothes I owned were two identical sets of suit uniforms.
Yan Dong had ordered them back when I first started working for him, using his usual bullshit excuse: “Stop wearing your trashy rags into my house.”
Of course, this wasn’t some overbearing CEO moment of kindness, nor a sudden bout of conscience.
In truth, Yan Dong had gone behind my back and used my wages in advance to pay for them.
After calculating it, I’d have to work an extra month for free just to cover that.
Which meant my 20-year debt had now become 20 years and one extra month.
Starting from December 1st of last year, I still owed him 19 years and 11 months of service.
So I treated those suits like sacred relics—only wearing them when absolutely necessary.
They could only be dry cleaned, after all.
And besides, I had classes at university tomorrow afternoon.
Right after the parent-teacher meeting, I’d have to head straight over, so there was no point dressing up in that uniform…
While I hesitated, Yan Dong’s mocking voice came through the phone again: “Don’t forget to wear your uniform tomorrow when you clock in. If you show up in that pilling old hoodie of yours, I’ll tell my dad you’ve got a crush on me.”
My hand froze mid-reach toward a bra, and even my eyelid twitched hard.
“Young Master, if you’re starting to hallucinate from gaming too much, I suggest you schedule a psych appointment at United Family.”
On the other end, his laughter grew even more obnoxious, and I heard the victory jingle of his game in the background.
“Sure, but I’ll deduct the consultation fee from your paycheck. After all, we’ve still got 19 years and 11 months left as close companions, right, my dear little maid?”
The urge to reach through the phone and slap him surged in me, but even though I was grinding my molars to dust, my tone barely wavered.
“Young Master, can I ask you something?”
“Go ahead.”
“Wanna take a guess at what I’m thinking right now?”
I picked up the last light gray sports bra in the discount bin.
The tag stitched onto the rough shoulder strap read 34.9 yuan.
Exactly the same as a dry-cleaning bill for one of those suits.
Yan Dong let out a snort, then paused for a moment before offering his guess: “Thinking about how to chop me up and hide the pieces so no one finds out?”
“Wrong.”
After checking out at the self-service register and walking out of the supermarket, I pulled my scarf tighter around me and slowly exposed the truth behind his little stunt.
“I was thinking, after sticking his nose into my business, Young Master makes a call fishing for gratitude, only to not hear a single heartfelt ‘thank you.’ Must be feeling pretty sour right about now.”
As expected, the game sounds on his end abruptly cut off.
A truck roared past in the distance, and I stood at the crosswalk outside the supermarket, turning slightly to look at the faint reflection of a thin stranger in the shop window.
Hidden within my hair, the twin scarlet ribbons fluttered downward like trails of blood.
“Gloomy girl.”
Yan Dong’s voice suddenly dropped low.
“Should’ve waited until you cried before showing up.”
“Tough luck, Young Master. I’ll never cry in front of you again.”
“Careful saying that. Who knows—maybe someday you’ll cry because of me.”
“I’ll be looking forward to that day. Also…”
In the window’s reflection, that unfamiliar-faced girl suddenly tightened her grip on the plastic bag holding the bra.
I saw her crimson lips move softly, slowly voicing the thought that had been weighing on my heart.
“Even if what happened tonight happened all over again, I’d still step in to help.”
“Lin Yunxia, is something wrong with your brain?”
Yan Dong scoffed coldly over the phone, his voice dripping with disdain and mockery.
“Finally so poor you’ve decided to give up on yourself?”
The signal light had long since turned green, but I didn’t move an inch.
I only took a deep breath and hurried across the street once there were three seconds left on the timer.
The icy early spring wind tunneled into my scarf, triggering another wave of irritation in my throat.
The red ribbons of my jasmine hair tie fluttered wildly in the night air, trailing from my low ponytail.
I stopped when my foot hit the curb on the opposite side and stared at the dilapidated brick-red apartment building in front of me.
I inhaled deeply.
“It’s precisely because I can’t see a future… that I don’t want the people around me to end up like me.”
“Hypocrite,” Yan Dong sneered without missing a beat.
He let out a habitual snort, utterly unimpressed.
“But coming from your mouth, Lin Yunxia, it’s not surprising.”
I heard an empty soda can clatter and roll away in the background, along with the rustle of clothes—he’d probably just propped one leg over the other again.
“Bring some of that jasmine tea from your place the day after tomorrow. I like tasting the occasional flavor of the slums.”
“Young Master, I can bring the tea, but I’ll need you to cover the cost.”
“Money, money, money—Lin, is that all you ever think about?”
“Jasmine tea is 60 yuan a jin.”
I ignored his petty ranting, keeping my tone as calm and flat as if I were tallying a bill.
“Pay now or add it to your tab?”
“Ugh! Lin Yunxia, you’re obsessed with money! You’re hopelessly tacky. I’m gonna focus on my game. Don’t bug me. Hanging up.”
This penny-pinching bastard hung up right after that, like always.
And to think a single sweatshirt he tosses after wearing for a month or two could buy a whole sack of jasmine tea.
“Damn bourgeois parasite. One day you’re getting strung up by your wallet.”
By the time I got home, washed up, and was ready for bed, it was nearly 11.
Mom had already gone to sleep—her health wasn’t good.
The only sound from the other room was her occasional muffled cough.
Even though all I wanted to do was collapse, I forced myself to turn on the desk lamp and review my phone’s PPT slides with focus.
I couldn’t afford to fall behind in university.
I didn’t have any other skills—I could only study.
Only by scoring high and earning scholarships could I even slightly improve our lives.
I kept at it until just before 1 a.m., finally stretching my stiff shoulders and switching off the screen.
My hand paused in midair as I went to turn off the light—stalled by my own reflection in the glass.
A strange girl’s silhouette floated in the dark window.
The red hair ties dangled from ink-black hair like blood streaks trailing through snow.
I reached out to touch the glass.
The reflection lifted its porcelain-white wrist in sync.
The teardrop mole at the corner of the right eye gleamed like an ink spot under the moonlight.
The hem of my pilling cashmere sweater fluttered in the breeze, cheap fabric brushing against an unfamiliar slender waist.
Only then did I realize I had stood there, in the middle of winter, wearing just a thin layer.
My fingertip pressed hard along my collarbone, the skin beneath flushing pink.
This wasn’t the body I once knew.
Yet it carried a suffocating familiarity.
Just like this morning, when Yan Dong had tied that ribbon into my hair, and his cedarwood scent surrounded me, this body had instinctively held its breath.
Was the girl in the mirror still me?
Or was all this just an unbelievably vivid dream, one I might wake from tomorrow, finding everything back the way it used to be?
I stood there spacing out for a while, then finally climbed into bed.
My body hurt all over, and I really couldn’t keep going.
That was when Uncle Yan’s WeChat message arrived.
“Girl, are you asleep? I’ll need to trouble you with Dongdong’s parent-teacher meeting. I’ve got a flight to catch tomorrow and just can’t make it.”