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The shop remained lively late into the night, and this night promised more stories to come. Yu Zhimei smiled as she looked at the people around the table, thinking of the empty apartment 302. No matter how lively things got, Jian Zhaowen was truly gone from this building.
It had been a week since Jian moved out when the BMW drift experience center called Yu Zhimei, asking her to fill in for a shift over the weekend. Checking the time, she found it suitable and couldn’t help but ask why they had previously refused to hire her as a full-time instructor, claiming she wasn’t professional enough, yet kept calling her for part-time work. The voice on the other end lowered its tone but remained polite: “Oh, Jemmy, you worked in banking, then switched to media—your career path doesn’t show consistent racing experience. Even if you’re highly capable, our coaching resumes would look awkward. Part-time pay isn’t bad either. Isn’t it nice for a girl to sit in an office and occasionally earn extra money by guiding customers? With such high hourly rates for shifts, aren’t you happy?”
She had no rebuttal.
Most drift experiences began with a lecture on BMW history and car models in the showroom. After being notified, participants waited in the café for over forty minutes, with only five people allowed in at a time. Yu Zhimei’s job was to greet wave after wave of participants, taking them on power drifts in the spacious venue. The figure-eight drift in the middle of the track gave riders a greater sense of loss of control than cornering, making it far more thrilling. Including her, there were five instructors; three were veterans of the center. In the waiting area, three modified BMW M-series cars rested. If they started practicing, customers weren’t allowed in—the VIPs came first.
The last person she took into the car was a boy in a black tracksuit, about her age, with dark skin and muscular arms. Yu Zhimei thought, This guy must be an athlete. Unlike Jian Zhaowen, who’s lazy yet blessed with broad shoulders and long legs—truly a gift from the gods.
“Ready?”
“Yeah.”
The M2 Competition had a seemingly bottomless driving limit. Just pressing the gas pedal excited Yu Zhimei. She revved the engine, dropped to third gear, sharply turned the wheel, accelerated into the curve, adjusted her position, counter-steered, and executed a perfect figure-eight drift. Three laps in under a minute left her satisfied. Part-time or not, being able to drive such a fun car in an open space is far better than renting beat-up cars for videos and never daring to speed. The tracksuit beside her was drenched in sweat, trembling as he opened his eyes and muttered an apology. Yu Zhimei wanted to laugh. If Jian Zhaowen were sitting there, his reaction wouldn’t have been much different.
When Yu Zhimei finished packing up and exited through the café, the tracksuit boy was still resting inside. Seeing her emerge from the track, he raised his hand in greeting. Yu Zhimei thought, Next time, I should give the participants some buffer time instead of rushing straight into it and scaring the passenger half to death. If they fill out surveys with bad reviews, how will I keep this part-time gig?
The tracksuit stood up and said: “I just came to take photos for my social media feed…”
This was perhaps the most absurd opening line Yu Zhimei had ever heard.
“Today’s car is a powerful rear-wheel-drive beast—high torque, 3.0T, 410 horsepower, with a driving limit that’s unfathomable. It’s widely regarded as a dream toy in car enthusiast circles. Once you’ve driven it, you’ll understand why it’s so seductive. You might not grasp it fully, but if you haven’t learned to drive, you shouldn’t jump straight into drifting. Many beginners leave here vowing never to drive again.”
“I just won this experience and thought I’d show off on social media without spending a dime.”
“How do you feel now?”
“Next time I want to get something for free, I’ll stay away from cars.”
In just three sentences, his personality was clear—while Jian Zhaowen was naturally critical, this guy was naturally opportunistic. The man hurriedly explained: “I’m not usually this timid. It’s just hard to stay calm in an out-of-control car. Normally, I’m very cool—I write proposals and dance hip-hop. Do you know hip-hop? I’m really good at it. Last year, I made it to the top four in the Shanghai regional competition. Oh, by the way, my name’s Dou Yu. And you?”
Yu Zhimei found the scene somewhat surreal. The person before her exuded confidence and shyness in equal measure, both unapologetically direct. When his gaze met hers, it overflowed with admiration. She couldn’t tell if he was naturally enthusiastic or simply expressing affection.
“I work as an SAE at an advertising agency. I’ve handled all kinds of clients—real estate, cars, lingerie, even tampons. But working on lingerie was my career Waterloo.”
“What happened…?”
“The client insisted on printing classical poetry on the lingerie and demanded a gimmick. They chose the line ‘Parking to admire the maple forest at dusk’—it was insane. We offered plenty of alternatives, like ‘Graceful as a startled swan, elegant as a dragon,’ or ‘Autumn water as spirit, jade as bone; lotus-like face, willow-like brows.’ They rejected them all, and the client got dragged online and criticized for half a month. It ended up on the list of the year’s top ten PR disasters.”
“Your knowledge of classical poetry… isn’t bad.”
“The copywriters wrote it. How would I know? I memorized it backward after being tortured by the client too many times. Are you in self-media now?”
“Yes, I publish content on various video platforms. Our company was one of the first automotive video companies. Our boss is pretty well-known in car circles.”
“That’s why you can become a KOL yourself, the ads pay well. Our company connects with many, and just to buy an ad on Toutiao is almost 200,000.”
“I simply love cars, I like driving, and I don’t have such great ambitions.”
“So why did you quit your job at the bank?”
“I was at the bank for three years. The first year was all training; everyone came from different majors, and A-level newcomers were sent overseas for training. Don’t look at me now like some thug—I was once an A-level performer in the bank. After becoming official, I always felt that climbing up each level and managing increasingly familiar operations was too stifling. Though the salary gap wasn’t huge between levels, everyone inside the fortress wanted to escape. It was just a matter of who had the ability to get out. Then, I escaped. The final straw was when my hair got stuck in the subway door. At that moment, I thought, ‘Fuck it.’”
“You’re so straightforward. But experience speaks for itself, and what job you do doesn’t really matter much. Quitting is just the last straw. Every month, I spend thirty days cursing at clients, but when I think about the hourly wage as a dance teacher, I grit my teeth and endure it.”
“Yes, after quitting, I thought, might as well do something car-related. If there comes a day when I have no work, I can always teach at a driving school.”
“I learned dancing to earn some extra money. Unexpectedly, now dancing is more popular than my work. Just — I’m very good at handling clients, but it’s expensive. Are you going to teach at the drift center?”
Yu Zhimei laughed: “I won’t. I’m not at the professional racing level.”
“That’s a pity. I think my hands are so nimble; if I learn to drive, I probably wouldn’t be bad either.”
Dou Yu turned out to be more interesting than expected. After finishing their meal and paying the bill happily, they passed by a clothing store where the background music caught Dou Yu’s attention. His hand improvised a few beats—bent down and performed a back roll, scaring Yu Zhimei back three steps. Dou Yu stood steady but looked flustered: “It’s a popping song, sorry.”
Yu Zhimei, who hadn’t seen anyone street dance before, witnessed her first live performance and concluded that street dance either moves in the air or slides on the ground. As they parted ways, Dou Yu said, “You still don’t know me. I can’t even learn drifting. If we don’t exchange contacts, this might be the last time we meet in our lives.”
Jian Zhaowen also didn’t have his contact information—this thought flashed through Yu Zhimei’s mind for a second, causing her heart to flutter. When Dou Yu took out his phone, he suddenly laughed self-deprecatingly: “I think I might be experiencing the suspension bridge effect… Every time I drift, I feel both excited and scared, and with you by my side, I think I might… be falling for you.”
“Are you... so sure?” She hadn’t said anything tonight.
“I’m sure. I believe in fate, Teacher Yu Zhimei. Don’t be nervous, and don’t rush to reply. We’ll have plenty of chances to meet again. But next time, let’s not choose such a thrilling setting. You might find me quite charming.”
Yu Zhimei’s heart ached a little. Besides her first love, this was the first time she’d heard such a definitive confession.
________________________________________
The next week, Yu Zhimei went downstairs and heard moving sounds. Curious about who would move in next door, the door suddenly opened—Little Ma Ge appeared wearing a hat made of newspaper, dusting off and coughing. Yu Zhimei widened her eyes: “How come it’s you?”
“Am I not allowed to move in?”
“Why?”
“I thought carefully about what you said at the dessert shop—if I don’t want to go matchmaking, expanding choices and increasing options makes sense. So I figured I shouldn’t just stay in my old social circle. Moving out changes the environment.”
She only teased him, but he actually took it seriously. Little Ma Ge continued earnestly: “Since we’re neighbors now, feel free to ask for help anytime, especially when drinking at Miaolin Dessert Shop—the boss is my type.”
Single Little Ma Ge genuinely settled into Miaolin Dessert Shop. Whenever he had free time, he’d go drink, bringing fruits and gift cards from his company to share. If you saw piles of cakes and cooked food on the innermost table downstairs, you’d know Little Ma Ge had already checked in. Compared to the timid Shi Rui, Little Ma Ge fit right in. On their first meeting, they got along like old friends. He spoke lightly to strangers but told harsh truths to those close to him. In Jian Zhaowen’s absence, Little Ma Ge filled a small void. At least on lonely nights, drinking at Miaolin, she could still feel the buzz.
On weekday nights, Little Ma Ge directed his sharpness towards He Jie: “You’ve been with your husband for so long, why haven’t you had kids yet?” He Jie visibly froze, her expression wavering in the light: “Still young, why rush? Kids take up a lot of time.”
“But whenever you see kids, your eyes stick to them. And Shi Rui, what’s wrong with you? Last time, in my house, you seemed mentally unstable, begging your mom over the phone to leave you alone. Your family unhappy?”
Yu Zhimei quickly interrupted Little Ma Ge: “What special drinks do you have tonight?”
He Jie slammed a bottle of Ballantine’s and Coke on the table: “Special? What’s the point of cocktails? Drink pure. Shi Rui, you can mix it with Coke. Tonight, none of us will let Little Ma Ge off easy. If he gets drunk, he’s paying for the drinks.”
“Boss, don’t play tricks. You sell Ballantine’s for 450 yuan a bottle, while on Taobao it’s only 75 yuan with free shipping. Do you think I’m stupid?”
“After collecting so much rent, treating us to drinks isn’t a big deal. Cheap.” He Jie skillfully poured drinks: “Besides, can’t we trust each other?”
“I just don’t like drinking.” Little Ma Ge looked up, met by three pairs of waiting eyes.
After being forced to drink a few cups, Little Ma Ge cried, sniffling and denouncing his ex-girlfriend for pretending to be gentle but ultimately deeming him unsuitable for marriage. Shi Rui sipped the alcohol bit by bit, slowly revealing her story—she hadn’t found a partner in Shanghai by age 26 and had to return to her hometown. He Jie rarely spoke of her secrets but kept glancing towards the kindergarten. Outside the wall, the third floor of the kindergarten was the children’s activity room, often echoing with songs. Yu Zhimei mentioned a confession she received during a part-time job but only smiled absentmindedly, not seeing it as the start of a new relationship. The four sat silently for a few seconds, then drank in unison—emotions buried deep within, dependent on alcohol to release them.
“But we must believe in love, never doubt it. People may be wrong, but love isn’t.” The courtyard light was on, and He Jie, unusually, sat under its glow, her words sounding more like a reminder to herself.
“Boss, those who are full don’t understand the hungry. We’re truly suffering!”
“But I’ve never felt fulfilled by love.” Under the shifting light, He Jie’s gaze wavered, her beauty intact, but Yu Zhimei quietly caught that fleeting moment of brokenness.
“If I keep drinking, I won’t be able to go home tonight.” Shi Rui laughed with tears: “But I can’t bear to leave. This is the happiest I’ve ever been in Shanghai. I don’t have many friends and am not particularly likable. Thank you all.”
“Just sleep here. I have a bed in the back.”
“Can I stay here too?” It was Little Ma Ge speaking.
“Absolutely not.”
Little Ma Ge turned around to take a selfie. He Jie stood up and moved far away, refusing to be in the frame. Little Ma Ge only captured three people and enthusiastically prepared to send it to Jian Zhaowen. Yu Zhimei teased Little Ma Ge: “You play LoveDate, do you know Jian Zhaowen is the founder?”
“Really? Damn, my tenant is the boss of the app I use?”
“A co-founder—he was ‘forced’ to resign.”
“He didn’t even tell me, just casually brushed me off saying he’d do some small business. So, Yu Zhimei, returning to Beijing means the end, huh? Have you lost your mind? One day, all these thoughts will flow out of your eyes.”
Even late at night, the shop remained lively. After this night, there would still be many stories ahead with them. Yu Zhimei smiled as she watched the people at the table, thinking of the empty apartment 302. No matter how bustling it became, Jian Zhaowen was truly gone from this building.
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