梅皓

A

fter Mr. Lou moved in， the apartment was full.

The east-facing room， where a couple named Duan lived， was the largest. The wife was pregnant. Duan kept saying he was going to move out， that the environment his child would grow up in was so important， that we lived in shared housing， its so crowded， any child who grew up here was going to be a sissy.

But hed been talking about it for six months and still hadnt moved. The wife got laid off； she was full-time pregnant. With the little money Duan earned， once you subtract the rent， there was barely enough for milk powder； how would he get funds for another apartment？ There were two small south-facing rooms. I live in one， divorced， single. I was an early bird and still no worm—married at 22， a super-leftover lady at 30. Im even more leftover than leftovers， with no children but a record. Though its not quite a “disgraceful past，” I still cant compete with those normal women getting married for the first time.

I play the face game. Though Im just getting by as a dental hygienist—holding the vacuum wand to siphon away patients saliva， handing the dentist the pliers， or drill， or whatever—I tell people that I “do surgery.” In the medical field， surgeons have the most prestige， and I have to have some face. Its important in a big city， where people want to look at you and see a shiny surface. “Oh， Hu Mingzhu， shes doing alright： nice job， good looks， good character.” Those are my bargaining chips for re-marriage.

In the room next to me was a middle-aged woman of about 50， surname Men. I heard that she accompanied her daughter here during her school years. Now her daughters married a rich local， but “Aunt Men” hasnt moved in with the in-laws. Shed like to have all the generations under one roof， but their apartment is small and shes ashamed to ask. Shed like to be an involved grandmother， but its not that easy； oh no， it isnt that easy. The in-laws want to care for the baby， so where would Men fit in？ So now， the old woman thinks， maybe she could find a partner， someone simple， as long as he had an apartment and was healthy. She was afraid theyd look down on her， so shed been working hard at learning to do her makeup. Sometimes shed ask me this or that： How to do her eyeliner， the difference between foundation and face powder， whether or not she should use primer on top of BB cream， and the like. Although when it came to makeup I was merely a dabbler， I was flattered to be asked， despite the inconvenience.

At 8：30 at night， Aunt Men burst into my room without knocking. I was doing a moisturising mask， and my face was covered in green mud. “Ah， Mingzhu.” Now she was sitting on my bed， gripping my hand. “Whats that new guys background？ Who found him？”

As I always did in these situations， I closed my eyes and pursed my lips. I was afraid of wrinkles. “He said the guy here before， Zhang， found him， since he had to move in a hurry. So he hooked Lou up with us to fill his place. He pays 1，500 RMB a month， which is decent.” Aunt Men paused for a second. “What is his name？ Where is he from？ How old is he？ What does he do？ Have you asked him these things？”

With my eyes closed， I had no idea what expression she wore， but her eyebrows were probably raised and lips pursed with great effort， ready to confront class enemies. I wanted to say， old lady， why do you care？ As long as he pays rent on time， doesnt have any infectious diseases， doesnt break the law， why the hell do you care what he does？ Are you running a census？ I had， however， to maintain good relations between those I lived with， so all I could say was “I hear hes a decent guy， and doesnt seem like a criminal from the looks of him.”

Aunt Men saw me open my eyes， and scooted closer， offering her opinion： “One cant judge a man by his looks！ How can we know what lurks in his heart？”1 OK， OK. As a man cannot be known by his looks， so the sea cannot be measured by a bucket.2 Well， no matter what， Lou seemed to be a decent guy with his things in order. On his second day， he invited us out for dinner： Han Li Xuan Barbecue—not high-end， but a nice gesture. Aunt Men， Duan， and the wife had about 30 plates of streaky pork， bacon， beef， and chicken， grilling Lou the whole time. His full name was Lou Qingbo， 28 （though he looked younger， maybe 23 or 24， clean with a small face）. He held a masters degree （not sure from exactly where， but it was in Beijing）. He was from Zhejiang， and worked for some company （not clear if state-run， multinational， or private）. He made about 5，000 RMB a month， and was single.

During the entire meal， Luo more or less just answered questions， not having much else to say. He liked to keep his gaze low， and would occasionally smile shyly. Aunt Men and Duans wife were the opposite， maybe as the meat and alcohol had set them alight. Theyd suddenly burst out laughing. Thankfully the restaurant was noisy， or Duan would have died with embarrassment. Whenever things began reaching a critical point， Lou would raise his glass， and Duans shame would melt away.

Everyone had to admit Lous moving in eased our economic burden. Each of us had to pay at least 350 less per month in rent and， we all quickly discovered， he was quite generous. For instance， at Christmas， his company gave out a large box of Jiangxi oranges， which he put in the common area， telling everyone to take as many as they wanted. They actually did： Aunt Men took a few good kilos when she went to see her daughter， and Duans wife， at home all the day， would take one to her room whenever she felt like it. Of course it was “for the baby， who needed Vitamin C.” I didnt get to have a single one before they were all gone.

Lou didnt seem to mind. At New Years， he bought glutinous rice balls， which everyone was more than happy to accept. He rarely initiated conversation， making a beeline for his room when he got home. The only time he made an appearance was for dinner. He liked to watch entertainment shows on TV， standing casually in front of the set， bowl of noodles in hands， laughing as he ate. When hed finished， hed head straight back into his room. I didnt know what he was doing in there； only that the light seeping from the crack under his door was extinguished quite late at night.

Things were calm enough. The New Year came and went， and Duans wifes belly continued to swell. She lay around all day， never going out， fantasizing about how the child was going to do great things and make her proud. I was still single， and so was Aunt Men. She was worse off than me； the old bachelors scorned her lack of house or Beijing residence permit. I was looking in the mirror， drawing on my stupidly thin eyebrows， when she barged in， mumbling how sorry she was， but she just couldnt hold it anymore， removing her trousers as she ran. As soon as her rear touched the toilet seat， I heard a little waterfall. I furrowed my brow and stared into the mirror； I wasnt on good enough terms with this woman to have to listen to her pee.

I looked at her through the mirror. She was wearing makeup—red lipstick， eyebrows drawn on a bit crooked， and she even contoured her nose！ What decade was this look from？ Not a good way to make an impression with your date. “Mingzhu， Auntie is someone who has experience. Work shouldnt be your primary concern—you have to seize the opportunity， find a good person to marry. Dont end up like me， old and passed over. Just think of the choices I had back then！” Aunt Men was lost in her memories； she didnt know I was divorced. “OK， I get it！” I couldnt help but cut her off. “Of course， theres always an element of luck.”

“Sometimes you have to make your own luck，” Aunt Men doubled down. “Look at Fan Bingbing， and all thats shes done.” I didnt know what to make of all this nonsense. Aunt Men continued： “If you gotta seize opportunities. If there arent any opportunities， make one.” “An opportunity？” I asked. Men smirked. “I think you and Lou are a good match.” Me and Lou？ Never thought of it. We were hardly close； Id spoken less than 10 sentences to him. We both left in the morning， came home at night， did our own things， went our own ways. Still， from what my first marriage taught me， I thought Lou may be quite a reliable guy： straightforward， not overly talkative， a doer.

However， I hadnt harbored any desire for more contact with him. Id had a boyfriend， a Taiwanese guy， also formerly married. He was older， but I felt I had to be practical at my age. Based on my observations， Lous love life was also calm and uneventful.

At the Spring Festival， on the 29th day of the last lunar month， I opened the door and saw that Lou standing in the common area， a bowl of instant noodles in his hand. He wasnt smiling， and I made a few quick guesses. Aunt Men and the Duan couple had already returned to their hometowns， and even Mr. Taiwan had gone back to his little island. I took off my heels and put down my bag， putting on a nonchalant air： “Oh， so you didnt go home？” Lou turned his head towards me， a half a noodle still hanging from his mouth. “No.” I suddenly felt emboldened， and joked： “Well， thats great！ Im not going back either， so we can spend the festival together.” Lou spoke： “That...thats not necessary.” I felt Id said the wrong thing. “I didnt mean it that way.” I laughed and returned to my room without another word.

This guy was just pretending， even with me. Its the Spring Festival and hes not going back. We all know what thats about—you dont want to deal with your relatives， pushing you to get married， and your friends asking you how much you make in Beijing， if you have an apartment， a car， and a marriage license； the kids are like a swarm of locusts， everyone piling it on everyone. OK then， well do our own thing. I can have my own Spring Festival. The next day， Lou wasnt home. My ex-husband called， trying to provoke me. He knew I wasnt going home and I snapped， “Dont bother me and my boyfriend！” My ex was getting ready to say something， but I savagely smashed the “end call” button. I wanted to cry but couldnt， because I was also quite hungry. I had to go buy some dumplings， but the supermarket was closed. Then I remembered that， not far from my building， there was a 24-hour convenience store.

As I headed back with a bag of pork and cabbage dumplings， my mother called. She didnt know about the divorce， and asked how Spring Festival was at my in-laws. I held back tears， saying wed just finished eating and everyone was having a blast. “Hey， listen， theyre setting off firecrackers outside.” As I spoke， I started to cry. I wanted to go home， anywhere， even if it was just some random rented apartment. I started to prepare the dumplings—if I couldnt finish them all， well， then I couldnt. Enveloped in a cloud of white steam， I heard Lou come back. “Lets eat together！” I stayed upbeat.

This time， Lou humored me， and walked into the kitchen， helping me pour cold water into the wok. “Add cold water three times， and theyll be done.” “Well， the man of m—” I realized I said too much， and cut myself off and smiled， “I mean， my father， he always said you had to add water like this.” Lou didnt say anything. I saw that his eyes were a bit red， and hurriedly asked， “Is the steam getting in your eyes？ Stand farther away.” My friendly little lie helped ease the discomfort. Lou assured me that it was nothing， that he was just touched. Touched？ I started at him， but didnt know where to start. “At this time， at this place， who else can be there for me， huh？” My eyes felt a little wet too， and couldnt help but open up. “Actually， please dont tell anyone， but Ive been married and divorced.” Lou looked at me， almost smiling through tears， and said： “Who cares？ Isnt that in the past？” I asked him： “What about you？” He laughed bitterly. “Me？ My story is so bland， its not even worth telling.”

OK， if you dont want to talk about it， I wont ask. The world is boundless. Me， a super-leftover woman of 30， and a young man who couldnt return home for the lunar new year， a lonely non-couple， eating dumplings together as if nothing was amiss， and skipping CCTVs Spring Festival Gala， instead watching a super-lame film， The Amazing Spider-Man， together. Id seen it before but this time it didnt seem so bad， maybe because the previous time Id seen it alone. It turns out， what Im most afraid of is being alone.

In the blink of an eye， we were all back at work. Like crows on tree branches on the side of the road in winter， the Duans appeared right on time. Aunt Men came back two days later. I picked up the vacuum wand again， and stood by the dentist， siphoning patients saliva. Sometimes when I wasnt in a great mood， Id cling to the tiny bit of power I had， chastising our patients： From now on you cant speak， just nod your head. Be careful not to choke on your spit. Ah， that was just how life was. Most of the time， other people step on you， so sometimes you just have to do a tiny bit of stepping yourself.

Not long after， Lou suddenly bought a dog， a white Bichon Frise. Even though it looked obedient， playful， and cute， when Aunt Men came in， it started to bark. At night， when Lou just got back， Aunt Men pressed him into a chair. I sat by the dining table， while Aunt Men and the Duan couple watched from the sofa.

Lou asked Aunt Men what was up， and she， still similing， pointing at Duans wifes belly. “Now， Lou， we all live together； you cant be too selfish.” Lous face suddenly reddened as he sat under the fluorescent light， his neck illuminated as he lowered his head. He certainly didnt look like a boss. Duans wife spoke： “Lou， so sorry， its not that you cant have a dog， but look at my belly， look how large it is. I dont mind， but Im worried that once the babys born， something will go wrong with the dog. How would I face my husbands family？” Duan didnt say anything， but thumbed a cigarette out the packet which his wife then reached over and smacked away. I understood Lous position. He was lonely， and a dog would help him， and maybe he saw a bit of himself in the little Bichon， also alone in a big city with nobody to rely on—at least theyd have each other.

I cleared my throat： “Im not a huge fan of having a dog living here， but youre going to have the kid soon， so I dont think itll be a problem. People say dogs are unclean， but Ive watched it a few days and I think this Bichon is fine， it always does its business in that coal box； lets let Lou keep it a few more days and observe.” Lou spoke haltingly： “Its a good dog， it listens to me.”

Duan slammed his cigarettes on the table. “If anyones going to be observing， its you. Were not observing. If it barks at night， what can we do？ My wife wont be able to sleep； how can she have a good child this way？ Your room is right in the middle of the apartment， anything that happens there affects all of us.”

Just then the Bichon Frise ran out， shaking its fluffy tail， its watery eyes peering out of its fur. It looked pathetic. I felt sorry for it. “How about Lou and I switch rooms？ Im on the outside， and even if the dog makes some noise， it wont disturb your wife， or you. Aunt Men， Lou can give you 200 RMB a month as a cleaning fee， so that you dont have to worry.”

As soon as she heard there was money to be made， Aunt Men agreed. The majority opinion won. The Duan couple didnt have anything left to say. I said OK， its settled， bent down， and picked up the little dog， handing it to Lou. “What the things name？” Lou spoke stutteringly. “His name is…Ultraman.” Ultraman？ I laughed. “Ultraman can only fight with little monsters.” Lou shyly shook his head， like a small child. “Im a small monster， he always bullies me.” He laughed， and I saw that， when he did， two dimples appeared.

We switched rooms. My room had faced south， and was sunny. Part of me really didnt want to switch. But for this Ultraman and the little monster， even though I was usually selfish and stingy， I somehow performed this act of great compassion. Of course， I knew that this didnt mean that I was looking to take anything to the next level with Lou； this was it. We ran into each other in the morning and night， would nod and smile， passing each other by， and that was it.

I didnt come to this city for him and he didnt come here for me. We had an amicable relationship； there was no reason to mess with that. The little monster also did unexpected things—on International Womens Day， showing up with two tickets to Thunderstorm， which was playing at the Beijing Peoples Art Theater. I never go to the theater—I get sleepy as soon as the lights go out—but the little monster got all choked up watching the performance. As his arms jerked with emotion， I woke up. He watched the play， and I watched him watch it. After it was done， I asked him which character he liked best， to which he responded Fan Yi， but its a pity that he didnt have her courage.

“Why didnt you look for someone new？” Lou asked out of the blue on the subway. Find？ Who would I find？ I make less than 5，000 RMB a month， Im over 30， my looks are fading， Ive no house， no car， no Beijing hukou， who would I find？ I could only easily ask， “Why dont you？”

Lou laughed bitterly， canting his head to the side. I looked at the side of his face in the train window. He had prominent cheekbone， and flat cheeks， a decent manly countenance. “Well， who would I look for？” Lou had said what I also wanted to say.

Duans wife had the baby， a boy， and he held a celebration. The wife was ordered not to work for the next few years， and reserve all her energy for cultivating the Duan familys single seedling. When the time came， Duan had the traditional one-month party for the child， and got a large amount of cash as gifts. We all got together on the weekend. Duans wife held the baby； it waved its little hands； Ultraman slipped through the crack in the door， ran over to our feet， and licked the babys hand. Duans wife quickly snatched the baby away. Aunt Men spoke seriously： “Now， Lou， you cant have this dog here. What if it bites the child？” Lou spoke in a small voice： “Ultraman is shy， plus hes so small. Even smaller than the baby.” I joined in： “The mom is right here； theres nothing to be afraid of.”

Duan said nothing. It was an old argument， and not appropriate for the occasion. I made a point of clapping my hands and changing the topic. “Lets have him pick an object！ Lets see what he wants to do with his life！” Aunt Men was excited， saying yes， yes， lets have him pick； Ill put down this gold ring. Duans wife was also into it， saying， Duan， quickly， go get that official seal， some cash， a colored pen， a ping-pong paddle， chopsticks， a stethoscope， lipstick， a model car， a globe， and a mobile phone. Duan complied. Soon， everything was gathered and spread in a circle on the floor， and Duans wife placed the baby in center

Everyone was clapping， Duans wife the hardest—maybe shed had enough of poverty—yelling： “Grab the gold！ Grab the cash！ Quick， baby！ Listen， baby—” Aunt Men joined in， saying something about grabbing the seal and becoming an official and getting rich—she clearly hasnt watched the news in a few years.

I asked Lou which one he wanted the child to pick. “The colored pen，” he said quietly. “I always thought it was a pity I didnt become an artist.” The baby looked about， darting left and right， then went and solidly grasped the colored pen. Duans wife made a real show of disappointment. Aunt Men said it was fine； if he learns to draw， he can have prospects. Duans wife spoke acridly—what prospects？ Doing art， spending money， starving to death， whos going to feed him？ Someone knocked at the door. “Is Lou Rongbo here？”

A man stood at the door， holding a cardboard box. Short hair， medium height， with very small， narrow eyes， and puffy eyelids. He looked all right though， and had a nice nose. Of all features， a mans nose is the most important. His was full， and had a nice round tip. He looked educated. Yes， I said， leading him inside.

“Lou.” Only one word， but the room froze， everyone turning their heads curiously. Lou stood there， rigid， a crestfallen expression upon his face， like a pizza thatd just been ruined， sprinkled with sour， sweet， bitter， spicy and salty ingredients all over.

The stranger came in slowly， the box in his arms. Lou still hadnt moved and， with the box between them， it was as if they were separated by an ocean. The baby just sat on the floor， looking innocently on.

The man managed to force out a sentence： “Im giving it back； its all your stuff.” Lou didnt reach out， and the guest said something else. Lou suddenly started to cry， silently， just tears streaming down his face. His shoulders began to heave； it was an odd display， not pain， more pure sadness. The guest put down the box， hugging Lou tightly as he cried， so tightly their shoulders touched. I realized what was going on.

Duans wife yelled at her husband， exasperated： “Come on， take the kid inside！” The baby smiled， not understanding. He didnt need to understand. He was a soul that had just come into the world； his past was short and the future was long.

Aunt Men also retreated to her room， with an “Aiya！” I went to the balcony； I need to give them some space， some time of their own. I lit a cigarette， standing at the edge of the balcony； these old-fashioned protruding balconies are pretty rare， and I suddenly wanted to smoke. The air was smoggy； the lights of the building opposite was blurred， and the streetlights above were dim. It was dark everywhere. I found a pack in my bedside table， Zhongnanhai brand， from a girl in my office who was getting married. I found the lighter， snapped it on， and saw the words on the side of the pack， “Smoking is bad for your health.” I laughed. F*ck that. Isnt it bad for your health to live inside of smog？ I bit down on the cigarette butt， lit it， took a drag.

“He really needs to move out.” Aunt Men was sat on the toilet， flipping through an old magazine， face full of frustration. “Its really not suitable for him to live here.” I was brushing my teeth. Foam leaked out of my mouth as I spoke. “Whats not suitable？” Aunt Men spoke： “You didnt see， that day？ Come on， you understand.” “Understand？ Understand what？” I finished brushing， and spat. Aunt Men rolled up the magazine， and rapped it on the side of the toilet. “To use some new slang， hes a ji！”3 I couldnt help laughing. “Ji？ A chicken？ Are there ducks， too？” Aunt Men hurriedly explained： “No， ji the character ‘foundation， not ji the character ‘chicken egg. That ‘ji refers to a ‘miss，4 whereas this ‘ji means—” I looked at her， through the mirror， and wanted to laugh.

“It means what？ A ‘mister？” Aunt Men saw I wasnt on the same page， and suddenly got serious. “Miss Hu.” What， Miss Hu？ Shed always called me Mingzhu， and now I was Miss Hu. “Im notifying everyone on behalf of the landlord. Im not here to solicit opinions. There are elderly and children in this apartment， and a type like Mr. Lou living here really isnt appropriate.” I took a big sip of water and gargled， spitting it out. “The landlord？ When did the Duans become the landlord？” I turned my head.

They went through with it that night， holding a “serious discussion，” blocking Lou in the kitchen and giving a talk along the lines of， “The landlord is taking the place back， weve all got to move.” Lou didnt really push it， just saying that its hard to find a place， but that hed try to move as quickly as possible； as soon as he found a suitable place， hed be out.

But after a month had passed， Lou still hadnt found a place. When I had time， Id go with him to look， but no matter where we went， nothing was especially good. Finding a place these days is harder than finding a partner. Either its too far， or the rooms too small， or it didnt have this or that. I know that in a big city， you cant be too picky looking for a place to live， but usually you wont have to run away just because of othersunreasonable requirements， either. Lou sat beside me on the bus. It was a rare clear day in Beijing. I crossed legs and I mentioned how Aunt Men had given me a language lesson that day.

Lou was confused， asked me what kind of lesson. I laughed as I spoke： “She said that the ji in basic， isnt like the ji in chicken.” Lous face suddenly turned red. He spoke： “Well， you could say， ji， like basic， means that in a place like Beijing you have your basic freedom， or something…I didnt imagine that…” I didnt know what to say next. We got off the bus， and Lou said he was out of food for Ultraman， so we went and bought two bags. By the time we got home， it was dark. We heard a whimpering sound， and gargling： Someone was vomiting.

Aunt Mens door was closed， and the light was off. Maybe shed gone to dance in the plaza. The Duans door was also shut， and nobody was in the common area， or in my room， or Lous room， but we clearly heard vomiting. Lou stood there quietly for a few seconds. “Ultraman！” Where was the dog？ “Ultraman！...” Lou cried， frantically searching for the dog.

Finally， he pushed open the kitchen door. Ultraman there， mouth blue， its entire body convulsing as it vomited some substance. There were small blue-frosted pills that looked like cold medicine scattered around the floor， some with the frosting licked off， revealing the evil white inside. Where did the medicine come from？ Such a big package？ Where did Ultraman dig them out from？ I became a conspiracy theorist， as Lou picked up the dog and ran outside.

I didnt follow， but used my camera to document the scene， even though it was really no help. When Aunt Men and the Duan couple came back， they acted like they had no idea what happened， no idea where the pills came from， no idea why Ultraman would eat them， and no particular reason why they had all left the house at the same time. As far as I knew， these blue pills had been out of production for years， and were only manufactured in small factories in second- and third-tier cities. Id heard Duans wife used to work in a pharmaceutical factory. I dont want to conjecture； there was no proof. My only evidence was those blue pills， and what use was that？ Ultraman was only a dog， he couldnt talk， couldnt testify. In the end， he didnt die， but the vet said he may never bark again. It was an innocent sacrifice， unlucky to have an owner who was disliked.

“Im off.” A week later， Lou came to bid me farewell. His hands were in his pockets， shoulders hunched， a deliberately relaxed appearance that couldnt hide the melancholy. I made the phone shape with my fingers and put them to my ear. “Keep in touch.” Lou laughed. “Of course； the new Spider-Man is about to come out， we should watch it together.” The edges of my eyes felt hot， and I lowered my head. I didnt want him to see. “Of course， we gotta watch Spider-Man. I like Spider-Man.” I love Spider-Man. Hes a hero， but most of the time hes just a normal guy， hidden in the crowd. Now that Lous gone， I think I will move out soon.

Authors Note： This story is about Beipiao （北漂， “Beijing Drifters”） and roommates who live together but are not romantically involved—its a brand new relationship among many migrants in big cities. People in the story are rejected because they are different. Spider-Man stands for every common individual： they may be ordinary， but when facing adversity in life， everyday people are capable of showing their heroic side

YI BEI

伊北

Yi Bei hopes to bring a female point of view to his stories about relationships and urban life： the pressure for single women to find partners， for young wives to balance work and family， and for female migrants to find success in a materialistic and competitive society. Born in 1983 in Huainan， Anhui province， Yi got his masters degree in literature from Beijing Normal University， and has published 13 works， including novels， essay collections， and biographies of well-known female writers from the Republic of China era， such as Eileen Chang.