Chapter 40: Tides

The more people embellish themselves on social media, the lonelier their true hearts become. Not becoming a false tool of social interaction is the greatest form of environmental protection for this world.

Xiao Ma Ge was better at housework than expected. He carefully placed slices of beef into the pot, pre-soaked the tripe and duck intestines in ice water, and meticulously prepared the dipping sauce with precise ratios, scoffing at Jian Zhaowen’s casual eating habits. When the hotpot and holiday goodies finally formed a New Year’s Eve feast, Xiao Ma took a photo and posted it on his social media: “What’s the point of a home-cooked New Year’s dinner? Celebrating Spring Festival downtown with friends in the city center is what’s truly meaningful. Let me tag Xintiandi and Miaolin Dessert Shop. Historic villas in the city center!” He turned to Jian: “Why don’t you post on social media?”

“It’s meaningless.”

“Why?”

“What message do I want to convey? Happy New Year, everyone? People are already happy during the New Year—do they really need my blessings? Posting on social media is just about asserting one’s presence. You post, get likes, spark discussions behind your back, and anchor yourself with these points of recognition, while your real self hides deeper and deeper. What’s the point?”

“You’re such a buzzkill.”

“I’m just being rational. The more people embellish themselves on social media, the lonelier their true hearts become. Not becoming a false tool of social interaction is the greatest form of environmental protection for this world.”

“Damn, stop bullying me for being uneducated.” Xiao Ma focused intently on prying open the can of surströmming: “Here comes the main event tonight.”

He Sis (Ou Jinghe) was touched by Jian Zhaowen’s words: “Jian Zhaowen, what app are you working on now?”

“Day & Night—I’ve mentioned it to you before.”

“A hookup app?”

“Of course not. It’s a platform for serious dating and emotional release. I want to create a space that doesn’t chase trends or participate in current events but focuses solely on love. I hope that when people want to talk about love, they’ll think of my app first.”

“How’s it going so far?”

“About ten thousand daily active users. I bought servers before the New Year, so it should hold up for a while. There’s no video chat feature yet—otherwise, the servers wouldn’t be able to handle it.”

“Oh, right. Speaking of which, Brother Jian, your app’s tagline—’Time flows like this, ceaselessly day and night’—isn’t that too profound for a hookup app?”

“You’re truly uneducated—don’t you find that poetic? We live in such a fast-paced, fragmented world. If we could slow down and speak honestly, stop chasing entertainment trends or obsessing over our social standing, stop using polished versions of ourselves to attract attention, and instead connect authentically, what would that look like?”

“You make it sound like there’s no carnal exchange on your app, just pure-hearted conversations.” Finally opening the can of surströmming, Xiao Ma took a whiff and nearly had his soul leave his body: “Holy crap… what is this smell…?”

Jian wasn’t pleased: “I’ve already modified the algorithm and user profiles, filtering out some users with ulterior motives. They receive fewer matches than others, which may seem unfair, but to protect the majority of clean users, it’s necessary. I have my principles. By the way, try out the new flash-chat feature—it’s anonymous.”

Ou Jinghe, listening with a pounding heart, pretended nothing had happened and quietly downloaded Day & Night on her phone. She asked Jian: “How does receiving fewer matches work? Can users tell?”

“No. Only I know. Users who match too frequently will indeed receive fewer recommendations. If they’re sincere enough and post good content, they might gradually come off the blacklist.”

It sounded almost like a redemption ritual. Ou Jinghe feigned calmness, logged into the Night section anonymously, and posted a message on the plaza: “Perhaps I’ve misunderstood myself in the past, thinking physical pleasure could bring liberation. Maybe demanding too much from life requires repayment. Tonight, God, please forget my past. From now on, I only want love.”

The number in the top-right corner of the flash-chat interface changed from “1” to “10” rapidly. Ou Jinghe opened each one, glanced at Jian Zhaowen in the distance, and smiled. Jian, completely unaware of He Sis’ gaze, continued talking: “Even though it’s New Year’s Eve, I believe lonely people will log into Day & Night.”

Xiao Ma Ge was still tearing up from the smell: “Brother Jian, is this even edible? Thank goodness we didn’t open it at my place!”

________________________________________

The night before returning to Shanghai, Mom stuffed a bunch of local specialties into Yu Zhimei’s suitcase, including an entire jar of pickled mustard greens. Yu Zhimei knew that no matter what she said, her mom wouldn’t remove the jar. She planned to secretly puncture it and leave it at home before departure—she couldn’t imagine what to do with it in Shanghai. Her dad, who hadn’t spoken more than a hundred sentences to her during the holiday, gave her pepper spray just before she left. Yu Zhimei laughed and said she couldn’t bring it on the plane, feeling a pang of sadness. Her parents always seemed to sense what she was thinking.

“I’ll throw the spray into your bag after security. Grab it and run.”

Yu Zhimei chuckled: “That’s impossible.”

“Then I’ll mail it to you. No matter what, you have to take it.”

“Old Yu, all the neighbors know me. Just relax.” Thinking of Jian Zhaowen upstairs and Xiao Ma downstairs, she reassured him: “Our neighborhood is upscale—even the unit door has a keypad lock.”

Before bed, her mom suddenly crawled into Yu Zhimei’s bed. Yu Zhimei, as if accustomed to it, snuggled close: “Talking to Dad is so hard.”

“He’s just like that—his mind isn’t sharp, and he’s used to being a pushover. Even after retiring, he wants to find work teaching driving, chatting and making conversation, but no driving school will hire him except those greedy ones that churn out students in a month.”

“If Dad let students go without fully teaching them, he’d lose sleep every night.”

“Exactly.” Her mom smiled faintly in the dark, forgetting to close the curtains. Yu Zhimei hopped out of bed to pull them shut, hearing her mom say from behind: “Tell me about that boy you like. What type is he? Do you have any photos?”

Yu Zhimei thought of Jian Zhaowen’s stylish outfit photos and side profiles on Weibo. If her mom saw them, she’d probably wake Dad up to celebrate and stuff the suitcase with even more local specialties… Better not mention a word. In the dark, she rolled over, turning her back to her mom: “Nothing’s certain yet. I’m a career-focused woman.”

“If you really want a boyfriend, avoid someone like your dad—don’t pick someone spineless. Choose someone with ideas.”

“Got it.”

“They should also have good character. Men in big cities are probably cultured, unlike here where materialism reigns. After marriage, everything becomes a problem. For the sake of reputation, divorce isn’t even an option.”

Yu Zhimei snorted: “There are plenty of opportunists everywhere.”

“Don’t talk nonsense. How can you judge others like that?”

Yu Zhimei thought silently: Such innocent small-town women. She decided to provoke her: “Even during routine medical checkups, male doctors use ECGs as an excuse to peek at chests.”

Her mom was shocked, turning on the light and poking Yu Zhimei’s back to scold her: “How can you talk like that? Such unladylike behavior. ECGs don’t require exposing your chest.”

“Why would I lie? During an ECG, your chest will definitely be seen.”

“He’s a doctor—he definitely didn’t mean anything inappropriate. Doctors are respectable people.”

“That’s what he said. He told me to lie down, lift my shirt a little, then a little more. Once I exposed everything, he asked, ‘You’re not a virgin, are you?’ Then he pointed at my chest and lectured me about what a virgin’s chest should look like—’blossoming buds.’ The girl before me was from a private hospital, probably there for breast augmentation, so he assumed I was too. He probably thought, if girls dare to get implants, they’re not innocent, so why not flirt a little? Tell me—is that respectable?”

“What kind of checkup were you getting? Go confront him!”

“Just a routine physical exam.” Before Yu Zhimei could continue about the harassment during gynecological exams, her mom suddenly burst into tears, unable to stop. Yu Zhimei felt regretful. Some unpleasant things aren’t kept quiet out of fear of being humiliated again but to avoid hurting loved ones. After a moment, she softly said: “It was just an example. Nothing major.”

“How could they do that? Do these doctors have no morals?”

“They probably didn’t think it was malicious—just gossip.”

“How could they act like that? Don’t they have daughters? Taking advantage during ECGs—how shameful!”

Her mom cried for a while, then quietly wiped her tears: “Your dad must never know.”

“Would he really go to a Shanghai hospital to teach the doctor a lesson?”

“Of course not. But he’d feel useless and sulk, and I’d have to endure his mood swings for days.” Her mom took a deep breath, tucking her emotions away: “We can bear our own losses, but when our child suffers and we can’t immediately retaliate, swallowing that bitterness feels like gulping down bitter medicine whole.”

“It’s just a small thing. Don’t dwell on it—I’ve already forgotten.”

“If it were truly insignificant, you wouldn’t have told me. You remember it so clearly. When I was younger, I faced worse things—before meeting your dad, after having you. There were always people trying to take advantage verbally. I thought life in a big city would be better for you, but I underestimated how human nature is the same everywhere.”

“So… with society already so bad, why did you give birth to me?”

“I once asked my mom a similar question. When I was in my twenties, we argued, and she said it was to hear the sound of the tides. I thought she was crazy. Later, I gradually understood—a mother’s heart is something a child will never comprehend.”

“Is that so…” Her grandmother had passed away from Alzheimer’s. In the last six months, her mom often sighed on the phone: “How could there be such a disease? Dementia, struggling through life only to end up like that.”

“I’m not arguing with you. Family is something you’ll only understand when you have children. It’s like the tide rushing into the sea, then returning to the beach. I once eagerly merged into the ocean, blending with others and wanting to swim farther. After having you, I began to understand why my mom couldn’t bear letting me leave home. I often hear the sound of waves lapping against the shore in my dreams. But my beach is gone.”

Yu Zhimei leaned against her pillow. The curtains were still open, casting shadows of vines on the wall. Her dad’s snores drifted in from the next room. Yu Zhimei moved closer to her mom: “I’ve been in Shanghai for so long—I’m sorry for leaving you both.”

“What’s there to apologize for?”

“Not being an outstanding daughter.”

“We’re ordinary parents. If it weren’t for having you, there wouldn’t even be books in our house. That you’ve grown into who you are now is probably thanks to our ancestors. No matter who you become, you’ve already surpassed our understanding. Your dad, despite appearing clueless, often brags about how amazing you are.”

Yu Zhimei’s nose tingled: “Going to college isn’t that impressive.”

“It’s far better than us. Think about it—I didn’t have time to take care of you, so I let your dad take you to driving school. When you grew up, you taught others how to drive. To this day, I still feel guilty.” Her mom rubbed her face: “When you were born, you couldn’t do anything. From a crying, snotty baby to who you are now, excelling in Shanghai—we couldn’t be prouder. Life is full of struggles, but raising you and seeing you thrive in a big city makes us proud. We’re the ones who benefit from your success.”

Her mom yawned, and Yu Zhimei was still thinking about the concept of tides: “Mom, one last question before you sleep. Why have you and Dad never pressured me to get married?”

“We’re too tired. Saying this might hurt you, but raising you, though fun, was exhausting. When you were in middle school, I worked endlessly to earn money for your tuition and tutoring fees. Your dad, stubborn as he is, refused to earn dirty money, working two jobs and coming home to take care of him. Your clothes weren’t washed… Marriage is a nightmare.”

“You’ve had enough?”

“It’s not that I’ve had enough—I’ve had more than enough. Marriage is for those who want a safe landing. If you can still fly for a while and see the scenery, then keep flying. If you really want to get married, you can do so at any age—as long as you protect yourself.”

“This enlightened?”

“When have I ever not been enlightened? I’m sleepy. Goodnight.”

“Can I take the pickled mustard greens out now?”

“In your dreams. After eating so many meals at home, taking one jar to Shanghai won’t kill you. Let your neighbors try some.”

With that, her mom fell asleep, ending the night’s conversation. Yu Zhimei walked to the window, looking at the silent, empty neighborhood outside. The quiet of the north always carried a vast, windy sound. Though few households had their lights on, the view felt clear—thanks to the snow. Yu Zhimei thought of the expansive deserts and lush rainforests she’d seen. The more landscapes she experienced, the less she felt constrained by human relationships. Yet the warmth of home always made her want to soften. Her parents’ shelter was so comforting that if she indulged too much, she feared losing even the smallest bit of strength she clung to. Thankfully, this was the last night. Yu Zhimei thought, I’ve relaxed enough. It’s time to return to work—the spring campaign won’t wait.

“See you tomorrow afternoon?” Jian Zhaowen’s message arrived on time.

“Yes.”

However, reflecting on the earlier conversation, Yu Zhimei found it increasingly strange. This jar of pickled mustard greens felt like a gift, as if her mom knew her neighbor wasn’t just a neighbor. Thinking of Xiao Ma Ge’s surströmming, Yu Zhimei quietly cut open the jar and placed it in the fridge—Absolutely not bringing it. Absolutely not.