Chapter 38: Lunar New Year

“Don’t play dumb with me. I’m following your Weibo, and I even created a new WeChat account to add you. You think I can’t see because you blocked me from your Moments?”

“…Mom, please, stop creating fake accounts. That’s the fifth one already.”

At twenty-three, Yu Zhimei had once rented an SUV and embarked on a road trip across China after her first breakup. Only after hitting the road did she realize that traveling wasn’t some magical cure for heartbreak. The repetitive motion of driving and the constant bumps left her arms numb, while navigating treacherous mountain roads required all her focus just to avoid plunging into the abyss. Her emotional knots were slowly untangled over time, but the physical exhaustion brought her a few nights of restful sleep. Witnessing unimaginable landscapes filled her with a sense of vast emptiness, like experiencing a profound growth in life. When she returned to Shanghai, she truly began to cherish the safety and stability of big-city living. She rarely troubled herself over emotions anymore and no longer expected romance to save her. The urban landscape, where horizons were almost entirely framed by buildings, occasionally made her yearn for freedom beyond the delicate willows of Jiangnan. Then she’d remember the fierce winds and torrential rains, the vibrant Danxia landforms of the northwest, and the sparks of stones ricocheting off cliffs.

These were thoughts she wouldn’t easily share with others.

There were only two flights per week to Yu Zhimei’s hometown. Alternatively, she could fly to Harbin and then take an eight-hour train ride through icy wilderness, enjoying a natural performance of Frozen , before arriving home. But trains meant her parents would worry about her from the moment she departed, and the long journey of reporting safe arrivals wore thin. Jian Zhaowen had taken Yu Zhimei’s keys and assumed the responsibility of caring for her cat. He wanted to buy a ticket and experience the extreme northern climate with her, but Yu Zhimei only smiled and reminded him about his upcoming funding round. With a sigh, Jian saw her off at the airport and returned to his endless cycle of overtime work.

Everywhere he looked was white. The frozen season that couldn’t be casually mentioned in Shanghai was common in the northern autumn. Yu Zhimei sat in her father’s old sedan, bumping along until they reached home. It had been a long time since she’d ridden in such a rudimentary car—its interior worn, its chassis loose, yet offering such raw communication with the road. On uphill climbs, it struggled for power. Silently, Yu Zhimei thought that perhaps this car wouldn’t start at all in the harsh winter. Her father, who knew every part of a car inside out, was still driving something like this.

Yu Zhimei hadn’t visited her parents’ current home yet. They had moved to a small community on a hillside, with a small yard attached to the first floor. Her father had covered the yard thickly with plastic sheets and straw, turning it into something resembling a greenhouse—a fate shared by many residential complexes in Northeast China despite their grandeur. Yu Zhimei felt a bit unfamiliar. The room where she had lived until her college entrance exam on the seventh floor was gone—the walls plastered with test papers and the humming fluorescent lights replaced by a house now filled with bedrooms and studies stocked with brushes, ink, paper, and inkstones—but no space for her. After walking around, she grew a little upset: “What? My room is gone?”

“You live in Shanghai now—there’s no place for us there either,” her mother said, holding the pastries Yu Zhimei had brought back. “The boxes are so pretty; they’d make great gifts. I don’t have the heart to eat them myself.”

“Don’t pull that nonsense.” Yu Zhimei was serious: “I bought them for you. Don’t go giving them away to someone else when you need a favor—I’ll get mad.”

Her father was dismantling the stove in the yard, rebuilding it brick by brick, sealing the walls with clay, and lighting the fire with kindling. Yu Zhimei watched curiously for a while. Then it dawned on her—perhaps during their phone call before she returned, she had casually mentioned wanting to eat grilled meat. Sure enough, in her father’s pot lay cleaned pig trotters, bones as large as kneecaps. He seemed incredibly excited—it had been a long time since they had gathered together as a family of three in the courtyard. She had been born in such a yard, and this strange cycle stirred a touch of melancholy in her.

“Do you still drive?”

“Dad, what do you think? I deal with cars every day.”

“Oh. Is your phone bill enough?”

Yu Zhimei felt a bit annoyed. During their conversation, it seemed like her father existed in a completely different dimension.

“Lao Yu, are you stupid? You check your daughter’s video channel on Toutiao every single day and still ask if she knows how to drive.”

“She’s not in the videos—how would I know? Those two burly young men speak in ways I don’t understand. Oh, Meimei, remember that car from your previous show, the Haval? That’s my dream car.”

Yu Zhimei certainly remembered—it was the car they promoted: “Isn’t having lofty aspirations good enough?”

“Not bad, right? Zotye isn’t bad either. It looks like a Porsche, performs well, and has voice-activated sunroof functions. I’ve checked it out multiple times. Your mom and I need to save for retirement—we can’t afford anything too expensive. Back then, you needed money for school, and now you’re preparing to marry. Our savings haven’t grown much.”

“Are you saving up for my dowry?”

“A token gesture is necessary.”

“Uncle Yu, I sincerely thank you, but it’s really not necessary. Besides, I don’t have a boyfriend. The person I like might not offer a bride price, and I certainly don’t need a dowry. Exchanging these things feels too feudal—it’s the 21st century.”

“You have someone you like?” Her mother’s eyes lit up: “Do you have any photos?”

“Not even close.”

Old Yu clearly remained fixated on marriage customs: “That won’t do. A dowry represents our family’s face, and a bride price shows the groom’s sincerity. If there’s none, it means they look down on my daughter—I won’t give her away.”

“Uncle Yu, I’m grown up now. If you really want to change cars, I’ll give you a ‘dream fund.’” Recalling how Yu Haicheng always coveted a Toyota Camry: “Your daughter hasn’t done too poorly in the big city—I got a bonus at the end of the year.”

Her father chuckled heartily: “It’s a pity I don’t fancy Toyotas anymore. They’re fuel-efficient—Japanese cars always offer the best value—but I want a domestic SUV. It’s spacious and can carry goods.”

“Oh… why not get a bigger tricycle?”

Her father pointed the bone at her: “Don’t think I can’t tell when you’re mocking me.”

The bone in front of her was tough, the flavor hadn’t fully penetrated, and the meat fibers were still red when pulled apart by her teeth. Yu Zhimei closed her eyes tightly and swallowed it whole, listening to her father talk about the cars at the driving school—Xiali, Jetta, Great Wall pickup trucks—changing generation after generation. Her father’s beloved Toyota never appeared at the driving school. He wasn’t someone who embraced new things easily—he hadn’t touched a computer in the millennium, viewed internet cafes as dangerous, but occasionally got excited seeing new cars at the venue. His attachment to the old was enviable—pencil cases treasured in cabinets, cassette tapes of Mao Ning and Yang Yuying given as gifts during his courtship, mementos of his first love. Every old object was like a personal museum exhibit. As he spoke passionately about cars, Old Yu noticed sauce on his daughter’s face, instinctively reaching out but then retracting his hand, signaling her mother to wipe it—his hands were too cracked and rough, a self-aware gesture.

Jian Zhaowen’s timely call eased the awkwardness. Yu Zhimei stood up and retreated to her room, where the radiator didn’t feel as warm as the fire.

“What are you doing?”

“Grilling meat. My dad made bones bigger than my knees. Did you feed the cat?”

“Of course. By the way, Xiao Ma changed the downstairs door lock to a keypad and informed everyone of the code. From now on, we’ll have to pick up deliveries downstairs.”

“He’s quite considerate.”

“Yeah, he keeps saying, why is he so considerate and still single. How are you?”

“Great. Without a troublesome boyfriend, I came home with my year-end bonus, not thinking about work at all—feeling relaxed and carefree.”

“Then… do you miss me?”

“Guess.”

“…Yu Zhimei, show a little courtesy. Don’t forget, I’m the one feeding your cat.”

Shanghai’s New Year’s Eve seemed unusually quiet. Jian Zhaowen returned from the supermarket, opened the windows, and busied himself until dusk approached. Outside, there was almost no sound—Shanghai truly became an empty city during the holiday. He launched a new version of the app, adjusted the primary and secondary pages, and resolved some crash issues. Deciding to connect with operations later, he opened the neighboring door. Lulu circled his feet several times. Jian thawed beef, opened canned food, completely ignoring Yu Zhimei’s warning not to spoil the cat. He glanced at her kitchen, which still had only a flat-bottomed frying pan—the hotpot set he had brought last time. Half a year had passed, and it felt like everything had returned to square one. He felt a bit disoriented. The videos of Dou Yu, circulated online before the New Year, had been reposted by various news outlets. Many comments expressed satisfaction, though there were also netizens cursing Yu Zhimei as “the most venomous woman” or “unchaste.” Hearing her voice remain relatively calm reassured him somewhat.

After sending Yu Zhimei a video of Lulu eating canned food, he unsurprisingly received complaints: “Jian Zhaowen, if you keep spoiling the cat like this, I won’t be able to afford her when I return.”

“I’m here too. What’s there to worry about?”

Neither of them mentioned Dou Yu’s incident easily. After Yu Zhimei broke up with Dou Yu, the New Year approached quickly. With the new version launch, company year-end parties, and app management, his schedule turned out busier than expected. After outsourcing user operations and moderation to former colleagues who had also resigned, Jian finally enjoyed a few good nights of sleep. In the morning, he heard Yu Zhimei leave—probably heading to the hospital for a checkup at six o’clock. Reflecting on the ordeal she didn’t deserve, Jian felt partly at fault for not returning from Beijing sooner, not confessing to her earlier, and not helping her prevent the situation sooner…

In the end, human nature is complex. Dou Yu’s story wasn’t unusual on social apps. In many girls’ eyes, he was just another man who started relationships recklessly and abandoned them. But toward Yu Zhimei, he genuinely felt remorse.

Using Yu Zhimei’s projector to watch the Spring Festival Gala, he cooked a pot of hotpot and spent New Year’s Eve in her room with Lulu. Before courier services stopped for the holiday, he not only bought cat food but also purchased canned food, teaser sticks, scratching posts, and a laser pointer… Lulu, who had never seen a laser pointer, was ecstatic, darting upstairs and downstairs, knocking over the projector with a sofa kick, and accidentally smashing Yu Zhimei’s vase while jumping. While confining Lulu in the bedroom to clean up, his mother called—her voice making the evening feel more like Lunar New Year than the gala.

“How does spending New Year in Shanghai feel?”

“Quiet.”

“Seems like the north is better—it’s at least lively during the holidays.”

“When you’re busy working yourself to death, you just want peace and quiet. Besides—I cook much better meals myself.”

“What can you cook? Boil water?”

“Why do you talk to me like my neighbor?” Jian Zhaowen fished a spoon out of the pot with his bare hands, wincing from the heat: “I’m not just boiling water—I find cooking troublesome.”

“The only reason you survive is because of my genes.”

“Are you saying I can’t cook, or that I’m picky?”

“I’m saying you’re good-looking and smart.”

Not wanting to hear more of his mother’s teasing, Jian changed the subject: “How’s Ji Ming?”

Ji Ming was his aunt’s child, nearing the college entrance exam. His mother, who raised such an outstanding boy, often let Ji Ming stay over during his senior year. His mother continued earnestly: “I hope he gets into a university in Beijing. His grades aren’t as stellar as yours—I’d rather he stays nearby. Too much studying isn’t useful either; once they spread their wings, you hardly see them.”

“Miss me?”

“No, you come back and annoy me.” Judging from her mother’s strong voice, she didn’t mind whether he returned or not. Finally, she added on the phone: “Ji Ming wants to become a sports journalist. I originally thought you’d all be lawyers, accountants, or teachers—all named by me. Now none of you have grown up according to my plans. Did I name you wrong?”

“Even if you named us differently, we wouldn’t grow up according to your plans. Save it.”

“When are you bringing your girlfriend to meet me?”

“I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Don’t play dumb. I follow your Weibo and even created a new WeChat account to add you. You think blocking me from your Moments hides anything?”

“…Mom, please, stop creating fake accounts. That’s the fifth one already.”

“No, I need a chance to know what you’re up to. Running an app that teaches people to date, yet you don’t date yourself. If your dad knew, he’d probably die of frustration.”

“Alright, Mom, my pot’s about to burn. Hear that noise?” Jian kicked the litter box a few times: “Enough. Happy New Year to you and Dad. Bye!”

After hanging up, he saw Xiao Ma Ge in the group chat: “So bored! What are you all doing?”

Jian sent a photo of the cat. Xiao Ma Ge exclaimed: “So fast you’ve moved in? How did you steal Yu Zhimei’s territory?”

“I’m taking care of her cat. She went home.”

Yu Zhimei soon saw the photo: “What’s that package in the bottom right corner?”

“Herring in a can.”

“Jian Zhaowen, control yourself. Once that thing is opened, the neighborhood property value will drop by half.”

“What’s there to fear? It’s Xiao Ma’s house.”

“Shit!” Xiao Ma Ge cursed loudly: “Jian Zhaowen, do you have any humanity, eating herring in my house? What if my house gets pickled? Watch out—I’ll raise your rent. Damn it, you really dare to eat it—wait, I’m coming upstairs. I haven’t tried it yet.”