Chapter 45

Sorry, your gentle advances, I couldn’t catch them gracefully.

Gu Yi was experiencing the feeling of blood running cold from her head to her toes for the first time. She laughed: “What are you talking about? Ounce has been open for so many years, how could it just close like that...”

“It might be handed over to someone else, it could turn into a bar, with separate floors for rent. The stand-up comedy might be gone. Comedy is usually the first thing cut when it comes to money, and it’s normal—the first thing to be sacrificed is always the spiritual side of life.”

“Can you still joke about it now?”

“I’ve had ups and downs recently. I’ve confirmed it with the boss countless times. Haven’t you seen the monthly profit and loss statements? A place losing millions a year can still stay open for so long; I honestly think the boss must be out of his mind. The first floor is a bookstore, the second floor is a comedy bar. The monthly rent for the house is 120,000, the long-term rate from five years ago. Selling alcohol doesn’t earn much, and nostalgia can’t make up for such burning expenses.”

“How can it close?!”

“Why are you mad at me?” Yu Dule frowned. “It’s gone, it’s gone. Think about where to go next. What’s the use of being angry? The money was paid by someone else. You’re just an actor on stage. Do you still have the right to complain?”

There was a moment of silence. Gu Yi had always felt this way—that hobbies were more important than work. Because in the exhausting moments of life, a little hobby could support many painful moments: high rent, overtime, lack of promotion opportunities, indifferent relationships, blank emotions, the uncertainty of turning thirty... She hadn’t expected her hobby to be taken away. If Ounce closed, there wouldn’t be any venues left to continue performing stand-up. The small scale of solo comedy didn’t have enough of a following to provide a stable income from fixed performances. She should have realized this earlier. Her voice trembled slightly: “I treated Ounce like home. All the actors know me. Occasionally, when I got commercial gigs at Ounce, I felt like a celebrity in the entertainment industry. Can this really end?”

“Rabbit, do you know what the theme of life is at our age?” Yu Dule lit a cigarette. “Once you pass 25, what we’re really fighting against is boredom. Consumption, escape, new loves replacing old ones... Some people are just trying to survive, others are trying to stay young. We have the right to treat Ounce as a safe haven, but the boss also has the right to take back the capital and do other things. It’s time to look forward. Look, our jokes aren’t even that funny, are they?”

Yu Dule wasn’t wrong. She had been relying on her hobby to support the pressure of her job, so much so that she had forgotten it was a form of unstable joy. Without open mics, she could easily try the gigs that actually paid, or write jokes for variety shows, but she wouldn’t be happy. Why was it that whether it was work or hobbies, society always had to teach her a harsh lesson? She laughed while wiping away tears: “Then why ask me if you can use my jokes? The venue’s gone, after all...”

“It’s not like there are no other places to go.” Yu Dule kept smoking, one cigarette after another. “Always be prepared, Rabbit. Being niche doesn’t mean it’s dying. It’s about surviving strongly, then more opportunities will come.”

How ridiculous. She didn’t know why, but it just felt absurd. She pointed at the stairs: “Our lives might be just like these stairs. We stand up, slip and fall. If we’re lucky, we just stumble down a couple of steps. But if we’re unlucky, we’ll roll all the way down, bruised and battered. Why? Because what we do is ‘entertainment’? Is that why we’re pushed away everywhere? Because we’re not in high demand and have to pay, so we’re expendable?”

Yu Dule held Gu Yi’s head and stood up. “Don’t have this kind of reflection, or you’ll often doubt your life’s value. You should go home now. You have work tomorrow. I need to make a financial report for the boss.”

The word “liquidation” left Gu Yi feeling empty. She glanced at her phone: “It’s turned off. Can you help me call a cab?”

“How old is your phone? You should get a new one.”

“That would require money,” Gu Yi sighed. “My rent has already cut my salary in half.”

“Can’t you borrow a power bank?”

“How can I borrow one if it’s turned off? Ever heard of the chicken-and-egg dilemma?”

By the time she got home, it was already well past midnight. After taking a shower, Gu Yi came out to find her phone nearly fully charged. The battery of her old phone charged and drained so quickly, it was as carefree as any urban love affair. She lay in bed, feeling a little guilty about renting the one-bedroom apartment. With the rent price, she should be spending all her time at home to break even, yet she was still out and about every day.

There was a strange sound outside the door: “Gu Yi!”

Her heart nearly jumped out of her chest. She opened the door, and Liang Daiwen’s voice harshly came through the camera: “You’ve finished your shower, can you answer my call?”

The phone on the nightstand vibrated. Gu Yi picked it up: “Big brother, it’s 3 AM. Aren’t you afraid of the neighbors complaining?”

“Who told you not to answer your calls?”

“It’s too late. I turned it off automatically.” Gu Yi felt a bit relieved. “You actually called me.”

“Two girls, I just wanted to make sure you got home safe.”

“Yu Dule is at the bar with Jacqueline, he told me to come back first.”

“Are you in a bad mood?”

“Nothing, Ounce might be closing.” Gu Yi said, extending the phone as far as possible, not allowing herself to cry. Telling someone like Liang Daiwen, who had emotional barriers, would probably result in him sending her some weird gifts. She didn’t want to unload all her frustrations on someone close. She had cried in a man’s arms twice already, and she had to learn not to depend on others.

“Just find another place. Renting a place on Xiangyang North Road for open mics is a bit extravagant. Are you… okay?”

“I’m fine. I’m an adult now.” Gu Yi thought to herself, hold it in, don’t share all your sadness with the people closest to you.

“I might also have a sharing session about space and home design soon. After that, I’ll stop collaborating with Zhang Qingya. The question you asked me before, I’ll answer it then.”

The question was probably about what they were—what kind of relationship they had. Gu Yi blushed. This was the first time she’d encountered a man so serious about talking about a relationship, serious to the point of being a bit cute. But it wasn’t over yet. Liang Daiwen spoke again: “Do you like visiting exhibitions? A friend of mine is holding one on Xizang North Road, called ‘Black and White Unmistaken.’ Want to go together?”

The voice was calm, but Gu Yi could sense something off. She could always detect a hint of nervousness. Liang Daiwen wasn’t good at offering comfort; the exhibition was definitely part of his work, a somewhat forced way to cheer her up. His voice was low but gentle over the phone: “No need to come, my friends related to work are also pretty boring, but if you’re interested, I’ll be waiting for you at the Xizang North Road subway station next Thursday night.”

Jacqueline lay on an unfamiliar bed, clutching a plastic sign—a “Caution, Slippery” warning sign, to be exact. It was dirty, so dirty that it rubbed dust onto both her body and the blanket. Huang Wenda sat calmly beside her, flipping through a book. She caught a glimpse of the subtitle—”The Philosophy of the World of Public Opinion.” Hearing the breath of someone drunk, Huang Wenda asked, “You’re awake?”

“Why am I in your house?”

“You drank too much. I saved you.”

“Are you kidding me? How would you know I was drinking?” Jacqueline had a headache so severe it was splitting her skull. “Don’t tell me you followed me, hoping to fix things.”

“You’re crazy.” Huang Wenda pointed at the sign in her arms. “Look at yourself, drunk and acting out, picking up anything, truly living up to the image of a village girl.”

Jacqueline kicked the sign off the bed, and it landed with a thud against Huang Wenda’s calf. He frowned. “A woman’s heart is the deadliest. If it weren’t for me, you’d probably be on the front page of the news right now.”

Her last memory was of Gu Yi pinching her chin and demanding a salary increase, but now it was Huang Wenda? It was baffling. But these two—what kind of connection could they possibly have? It made no sense.

“I’ll pay for the dirty bed.”

“No need, just ask the cleaning lady to replace it.”

“Aren’t you rushing me to partner up?”

“After drinking this much, talking about work is a bit much. A person in a bad mood should be given the right to clear their mind.”

The air was unusually quiet. Huang Wenda, a man who often noisily urged her to partner up, was now quietly reading a book and sipping red tea. The sweet scent was calming, making her feel a bit dazed. He let her dirty his house without kicking her out, which showed that he was far gentler than he appeared, something she had long known. Moreover, his insights were sharp, and he was clear-cut in his work, ruthless toward those he disliked, never dragging things on. When she first arrived in Shanghai, she knew nothing. Though she was top of her class, she had never been exposed to the real world. It was Huang Wenda who taught her, step by step, urging her to observe clients and taking her around Shanghai to experience its different charms.

When she first worked on real estate TVCs, she was responsible for writing the scripts, which were completely disconnected from reality—she didn’t even consider the location or school districts. She had nearly written it like poetry. Huang Wenda didn’t shield her from the scolding but instead let her answer calls from clients, face the criticism, and work late into the night to gather information. Her second job in PR was when their “Dalin Love Story” went viral, and she gained some recognition. But she still couldn’t escape the clients’ drinking demands. Huang Wenda would attend those meetings himself. Even if he drank too much and threw up, he would go along, but when he returned drunk, he never complained. Instead, he would get angry over mistakes in the PR drafts and demand she maintain professionalism, not relax just because she was a woman. As she got promoted and her ambition grew, she gradually became equal in rank to Huang Wenda, unwilling to let him dictate her life anymore. She switched to a competing company, and the two of them would meet at night, competing for each other’s business resources, spreading rumors to the media, and discrediting one another in press releases. In short, they loved and hated each other.

The most painful break came around her twenty-eighth birthday when she discovered she was pregnant. Despair filled her, but Huang Wenda had been waiting for this moment for a long time. Before that, she had been severely ill, with the stress of working night shifts causing her to undergo surgery for polyps and tumors, and even remove a lump from her breast. Her stomach issues were worse—severe anorexia. The intensity of work had already turned her into a regular visitor at the hospital. She held the pregnancy test in her trembling hands, already feeling the pain of not having time to care for a child. But when she was about to discuss it with Huang Wenda, he was with a female subordinate, refusing to take her calls, and eventually turned off his phone.

Perhaps the most intense love stories always end up melodramatic.

At this moment, Jacqueline wanted to ask Huang Wenda what he had been doing when he was with the female subordinate back then. As for the life that didn’t survive, it wasn’t as heartless as he thought, but the room was filled with a sense of peace, a rare atmosphere between them, and she didn’t want to ruin it.

Huang Wenda seemed to notice that she had something to say. “What are you thinking? Don’t tell me you can’t let go of me. It’s not too late to agree now.”

“You’re crazy.” After saying this, she realized that their catchphrases were exactly the same.

“No need to answer right away, I’m very patient. By the way, I went back recently to see your aunt. She’s doing well, but your grandmother is in the hospital and unconscious.”

“No need to tell me. I’m too busy to care about them.”

“Cold-hearted.”

“Don’t think I don’t know why you went back. You just wanted to see if I secretly had a child and left them to take care of it. There wasn’t one. That matter is over, so forget it. I also don’t understand. It wasn’t even a developed embryo, it’s gone, and it never was a reason for us to get back together...”

“Don’t say anymore.” Huang Wenda slammed the book shut. “That was my child. You wanted to advance in your career, and I just wanted to keep him. My family’s been so broken, and the one thing I longed for was to have a family with the person I love, but you can just throw that away. You’re impressive.” Huang Wenda took a deep breath. “I wanted so much to know whether it was a boy or a girl, but your answer was ‘it.’ I still have that text. Every time I think about you, unable to sleep, I take it out to remind myself.”

Jacqueline sat up, grabbed her phone, and called a ride. “Aren’t you always wanting to talk to me? Well, now you have the result. What’s the point of getting back together? We could argue about this until we’re sixty. It’s fortunate that the baby didn’t survive.” She was really good at ruining relationships with her words, but she couldn’t stop herself from speaking her mind. “Go find a young girl if you want to have kids, don’t keep asking me to get back together.”

After closing the door, she realized her hurried footsteps were more like an escape.

Jacqueline arrived at the office around noon, looking meticulous, just as calm as when she had been seen before. She saw Gu Yi and wasn’t in the least bit awkward, almost as if she had forgotten everything. The newly appointed Jacqueline held a meeting in the Alaska Conference Room with a commanding presence. “In the next week, we’ll do seven topics. I’ll choose one person to work independently on the ‘Bypass’ public account.”

The intense pressure came quickly over the next seven days. The restored, iron-faced Medusa Jacqueline didn’t smile at anyone, and for the first time, she publicly reprimanded Pony. “You’re the content manager now, and you’re still doing interviews so humbly? Even if the stars want to be on ‘One Week,’ they need to have basic manners. When we went to Hengdian for an interview, the agent refused to let us use photos. Did you just give up? Learn from Lindsey, be an efficient person, okay?”

Was this... a disguised compliment?

Gu Yi worked hard for an entire week—writing articles during the day, practicing new routines at night, and contacting several small comedy club managers who could host stand-up shows. The feedback wasn’t much, but she comforted herself, thinking maybe fewer people watch comedy mid-week. She made it to Thursday, and that evening, she had a date with Liang Daiwen. She went downstairs to grab coffee to survive the last two hours, hoping to de-bloat and look her best for the date. It was 37°C, and it was rare for her to wear a dress.

The phone rang. A message from a comedy club manager in Changning popped up on WeChat: “One of our performers canceled tonight. Want to come try open mic?”

It had been a while since she performed at an open mic, so she replied, “Definitely coming,” feeling refreshed despite the sweat. She was about to text Liang Daiwen when, while switching hands to hold the coffee as she went down the outside stairs, her phone slipped and bounced a few times down the staircase to the first floor. Gu Yi rushed downstairs to check and found the screen shattered, the phone completely dead.

Trouble never comes alone.

It was rare to find a venue for stand-up comedy, and she really didn’t want to miss the opportunity. Back at the office, she logged out of WeChat on the computer, and without her phone, she had no way to contact Liang Daiwen. She borrowed an intern’s phone to add Liang Daiwen as a friend, but he didn’t respond—Liang Daiwen, always aloof, didn’t add strangers.

The most frustrating part was that she wanted to buy a new phone online, but she had forgotten her JD account’s username and password and needed her phone to scan the QR code to log in on the computer. To buy a phone in person, she would need to use Alipay or WeChat Pay; she was used to taking the subway with her phone, but luckily there was a bus card from the company’s annual meeting in her drawer. Since meeting Liang Daiwen, they hadn’t exchanged phone calls, and with her phone broken, she had no way to contact him—directly a stranger.

She was so angry and helpless. Liang Daiwen’s “barrier-free” design didn’t need to be specially catered to people with disabilities—without a phone, she was the 21st century’s new kind of disabled person.

She calculated the time; it was impossible to go all the way to Xizang North Road and then return to Changning. She’d better just do the open mic first, then apologize to Liang Daiwen afterward. Before apologizing, she had to go back to the office to get her computer, since she still needed to figure out how to recover her username and password, quickly buy a new phone, and do overtime... The subway took 35 minutes, and she went over her routine again and again in her mind, thinking, “Perform well, make sure to cherish every opportunity to be on stage.”

She arrived at 7 p.m. and finally met the organizer, a skinny guy wearing glasses named Ah Zhi. He had a mole on his upper lip, looked like a typical comedy person, and was a loyal fan of Luo Yonghao—an avid follower, listening to New Oriental classes to become a stand-up comedian. He seriously explained to Gu Yi that there might not be many people for Thursday’s show, but Friday would be better.

“Is there anything we can do?”

“Sit in the audience, just surround them. That way, the audience plus the performers will be fifteen people. It’s better than just five people watching. Today, we have new faces, so they probably won’t recognize us as ‘planted’ audience members.”

Gu Yi gave him a bittersweet high five. His jokes mostly revolved around workplace humor—men squeezed by the 996 system, without houses, cars, or time, each punchline packed with the bitter tears of life. The laughs were dense, as if someone had stepped on their heels.

“I’m an IT guy, I probably look like one, right? My closet is full of plaid shirts. But my plaid shirts are special, the colors aren’t just plain, there’s a strict standard. For example, this one I’m wearing now, blue and silver, with varying plaid sizes, it clearly has that ‘DIY’ tech vibe. Too bad I’m not handsome enough to endorse Alienware, I can only be an alien myself.”

“I often work 996 hours. In our industry, 996 is just the basic working hours; more often than not, I’m coding until midnight. There’s nothing we can do. The product manager tells us that the number of registered users is too high, the system crashed, and we need to urgently increase bandwidth and upgrade the system—didn’t expect entrepreneurship to go this smoothly, the user base exploded. I thought we’d have to struggle for at least two or three years, be exhausted by other startups, and then go beg capitalists for investment. If I had known, I would have asked for stock options during the interview—at least I could’ve gotten my girlfriend upgraded to a wife along with the ‘pie-in-the-sky’ offer. But I chose salary. Now my wife says I’m a new type of species—no house, no car, no looks, no money, no time, I have nothing, and even love is a joke. I can’t argue with her. Now I can only hope my idol, Teacher Luo Yonghao, will take Smartisan public soon. Sigh, at least I can say to my girlfriend that I can predict some things.”

“My girlfriend doesn’t understand why I like Luo Yonghao. To her, a man’s unconditional worship of a middle-aged, balding man is like the complete collapse of our taste in aesthetics—it makes her question if our compliments on their appearance are based on bad taste. But I love my girlfriend very much. The moment I loved her the most was when she worked at a publishing house, and her boss was a friend of Old Luo. Last year’s release event, her boss couldn’t attend, so she brought back two front-row tickets. At that moment, I really wanted to kneel down and propose, but I held back because I probably couldn’t afford a diamond ring. Sitting in the front row, I was almost in tears—Smartisan is amazing, Old Luo is amazing! But my girlfriend was bored to death. A man, sweating and operating a phone, constantly swearing, and the big screen kept freezing—he wasn’t funny. But at that moment, I thought, it’s a bit of a pity. If these tickets were sold to colleagues, they might be worth 1000 yuan. But we could still cry together in the front row for our ideals—though probably not, since his phone is a Xiaomi.”

This type is rare to see at ounce, just like there are few IT companies in the city center, ounce also rarely saw technical jokes. They carried a sense of perfectionism with a bit of negativity, Gu Yi thought sadly. Maybe ounce’s disappearance was to show her a broader comedy space.

When it was her turn on stage, she used the best-selected jokes to make sure she’d be funny enough. The microphone was heavier than ounce’s, and there was no long cable. The venue didn’t have the same flair as a bar—rows of empty chairs, with the audience and actors’ sense of humor varying. Many times, people zoned out in the middle of her set. But she still gave it her all, using body language and even speaking in Northeast dialect. She gave it everything, finished her set, and stepped down feeling relaxed, seeing the other actors applauding. Stand-up comedy was so joyful, and the sense of accomplishment was unmatched.

However, the five people in the audience sitting in the middle looked confused, glancing at each other. Ah Zhi stood up and asked, “Do you have any questions?”

“Well… we came to watch stand-up, but it feels like all the audience members went up to perform. Is it our turn next? But we don’t know how to perform…”

“No, we’re here to make up the number of the audience,” a few stand-up comedians laughed awkwardly, causing the fifteen people in the audience to burst into laughter. Gu Yi laughed harder, but the bitterness in her heart grew. She thought her jokes were the funniest, but life was teaching her a serious lesson.

After the show, she was exhausted and went back to the office to get her computer. When she stepped out of the subway station, it started raining. Without an umbrella, Gu Yi gritted her teeth and ran, prepared to get drenched, a mile and a half from home. She hadn’t eaten dinner yet. Halfway, she was called by a voice: “Gu Yi, want some late-night snacks?”

Xu Guanrui, holding an umbrella and working overtime, happened to catch her as she was running. After a few days without seeing each other, she seemed to have been tortured into looking a bit off. It seemed like everyone was busy in the summer. Her vision blurred by the rain, Gu Yi waved her hand, “You go ahead, I’m in a rush... Let me tell you, I’ve been incredibly unlucky lately...”

“Impossible, I’m unlucky too. But how can you not use an umbrella? You’ll catch a cold with the air conditioner on, you know.”

“It’s fine, I’ll just take a shower when I get home.”

“Come on, I’ll drive you there and get you some food afterward— I can’t stand seeing a girl get drenched in the rain.”

With 500 meters to go, Gu Yi took a tissue from Xu Guanrui’s pocket and wiped her face, her makeup smudged. She seriously told him about ounce closing down, how she had messed up her date with Liang Daiwen just to find a new stand-up venue, and how her phone had been shattered... Xu Guanrui listened seriously, then reached out and pulled her into the umbrella. “No need to keep your distance like that. I know you like Liang Daiwen, but we’re comrades.”

“I don’t, it’s just hot, it’s 37°C, and the rain is warm...”

Just as she finished speaking, Gu Yi froze, looking up. She had a faint feeling that God wasn’t playing a joke on her by making her trip—it was as if fate was intentionally making her feel the taste of falling down the stairs of life. Otherwise, what could explain this series of coincidences? If it wasn’t a trial of life, she wouldn’t believe it.

Standing in front of her, drenched in the rain, was Liang Daiwen, expressionless, watching her.