Famine 179: Gu Ying

Si Zhiyan and Bian Xu stepped into the corridor and saw the boss of the donkey meat sandwich shop next door standing squarely in the middle, brimming with righteous anger:

“You have to turn sideways just to squeeze through here—are you blind? Can’t you see? Those boxes are stacked too high. And what if they fall and hit someone? Who’s responsible then?”

The boss was big and tall, and standing there he blocked almost the entire hallway. The bustling traffic in the corridor halted to watch, some people slurping noodles as they stuck their heads out of their shops, covertly sizing up the scene.

In the center of the cluster stood a young woman, about college age. She seemed scholarly and quiet, her T-shirt washed so many times it had faded, jeans, an apron around her waist, black-rimmed glasses perched on her nose.

“…!”

The boss’s booming voice exploded beside her ear, and she shrank back, visibly startled, uncertain how to react, gazing up in a daze.

Si Zhiyan saw instantly that she was frozen, not knowing what to do.

Some people, when confronted with sudden conflict, simply blank out—their minds go empty, unable to respond; they appear wooden, their faces expressionless and unmoved, as if nothing could get to them… but in truth, they’ve been frightened stiff by the commotion.

“Are you deaf? Cat got your tongue?”

The boss on the other hand, clearly took her demeanor for indifference or insolence, and, growing more irate, gave her a light shove.

Thud!

The box in the girl’s hands slipped and crashed to the floor, bursting open. Carrots spilled everywhere—the box looked heavy, and the vegetables scattered across the tiles.

The girl flinched, standing there, voice so soft it was almost a mosquito’s whisper: “S-sorry, I’ll… I’ll put them back…”

But the words were too faint. Other than Si Zhiyan and Bian Xu, no one else heard them.

“Just looking at you makes me see red!” The boss grew even more outraged, rolling up his sleeves and advancing. “We’re all trying to make a living here—who are you trying to fool with that act?…”

Just as things looked about to turn ugly, Si Zhiyan frowned, barely twitching his fingers to signal Bian Xu. Bian Xu understood at once, pushing out through the crowd and, with his long arm, blocked the furious boss in one sweeping move.

The shop owner had no intention of backing down, but when he tried to shove forward, he found Bian Xu’s arm immovable as iron pincers—no matter how much he struggled, he couldn’t budge it.

He looked up in shock, almost panicking, only to find Bian Xu’s face not angry in the slightest, but lit with a cordial and radiant smile: “Hey, hey, it’s not worth it, brother, let it go, calm down…”

It’s said you can’t hit a smiling man.

As usual, when locals saw a quarrel brewing, they jumped in to talk things down. Several regulars stepped out, hands everywhere, gathering around:

“Boss, my order—one signature sandwich, one braised, you never made them!”
“We’re all neighbors here, why so much fuss?”

Together they dragged the boss back inside his shop. As he left, he stuck his head past Bian Xu’s shoulder to snarl at the girl, “If I ever see you stack crap in the hallway again, I’ll teach you a lesson!”

Everyone who’d gathered clicked their tongues at the commotion, then drifted by the girl, shaking their heads: “What’s with you? Cluttering the hallway like it’s nobody’s business. Still trying to sneak more out? Haven’t you had enough?”

“Can’t you see? Hurry up and move your things back in, girl!”

The girl turned red and murmured, “No, I’m not trying to hog space…”

“It’s not even my stuff, most of it was piled here by others… I just had nowhere left in my room, so I was thinking, maybe just one box here… Sorry, I know it’s wrong, I never meant for this…”

Of course, the explanation went unheard—her voice was too small, and by now the critical crowd had already dispersed.

She stood there for a moment, dazed, then ducked her head, dusted herself off, crouched down, and began silently gathering up the scattered carrots.

Her fingers brushed a long, clean hand.

She looked up, startled, to see a pale, slender, clear-eyed young man in a white shirt—Si Zhiyan—half-kneeling in the light before her.

Si Zhiyan smiled gently: “Let me give you a hand.”

Tears sprang to her eyes, and she whispered a string of thanks again and again.

The two of them gathered the carrots and returned them to the box. The box of carrots was heavy; Si Zhiyan hefted it easily. “Where should I put this?”

The girl shyly hurried to help him, mumbling, “There—that’s the place.”

Si Zhiyan followed her gaze to the very end of the hallway, second-to-last door.

The perfect excuse to step inside, learn a bit about this urban legend instance.

Arms full, Si Zhiyan crossed the threshold and stopped cold at the sight before him.

—Boxes.

Everywhere: boxes of all sizes, shelves upon shelves crammed with every imaginable object, making the space so cramped it felt like a maze of narrow alleys.

Despite the clutter, everything was clean; the walls lined with organizational hooks and racks. It was clear the owner tried to keep things tidy, but there was just too much stuff to control.

People had no choice but to squeeze through the gaps, inching their way from place to place.

It was less like a human dwelling, more like the den of some burrowing animal.

By the entry, a table passed for a workspace—

The table had a heated iron plate, rows of round molds, a plastic cup sealer, and shelf after shelf of brightly colored powder-filled plastic boxes—new, spotless, just barely showing signs of recent business. Even the space beneath was packed with flour, frozen goods, and other supplies.

“I’m so, so sorry… Thank you so much… Please, give me a moment.”

The girl colored further, stammering thanks as she darted about, frantically trying to clear a spot at the counter for the box.

“No need, take your time. I’m not in a rush.” Si Zhiyan smiled. “I’m Si Zhiyan—I just moved in next door. May I ask your name?”

“I’m Gu Ying.” She gathered her courage, voice soft. “Really… thank you so much, and the young man with you too…”

Still, her words were barely audible.

Si Zhiyan stood cradling the box, watching her. He couldn’t help thinking back to his own days starting out in business.
Ah, the pains of social anxiety, so vividly familiar.
He’d mostly overcome it, but he had all the patience in the world for those who still suffered.

Gu Ying worked furiously, but couldn’t clear a spot—there simply wasn’t space.

That said,
if there’d been room in her place, why would she need to pile anything out in the hall?

After all, he was a survivor of the apocalypse—if he could avoid it he’d never put anything out there. Why would someone like Gu Ying, clumsy, obviously anxious, anxious to please, ever choose to run her own business?

Was she really cut out for it?

…The answer was obvious.
In the heat of the day, every other shop nearby was bustling; the sandwich boss could duke it out outside for five minutes with someone still calling in orders. But here—dead quiet.

What exactly did she sell, anyway? Si Zhiyan looked at the sign overhead and was startled.

A long, awkward string of new but makeshift signage:

[Egg Pancakes / Chongqing Noodles / Takoyaki / Fried Chicken Rack]

Each food item had characters fresher than the last.

Off to the side was a smaller sign:

[Milk Tea 3 yuan, Juice 1.5 yuan]
[Strawberry, Orange, Blueberry, Hami Melon, Taro, Watermelon…]

Those plastic tubs of powder must be instant tea and juice mixes—the cheapest kind.
Clearly unprofitable.

Si Zhiyan understood immediately. From time to time, you met street vendors with a stall so mixed in offerings, nothing seemed to relate; because their original idea wasn’t profitable, they desperately kept adding new things, trying everything, only to fail at each, the menu growing longer and longer. In the end, it became this.

Usually, collapse wasn’t far away.

Standing patiently in the gap between stacks, Si Zhiyan took the chance to look around, surveying what passed for a citizen’s home here in the urban legend world.

All of a sudden, a faint, high-pitched voice mewed:
“Meow.”

Hm.

Si Zhiyan looked down and saw a small fluffball—a kitten.

A tiny brown tabby, only a few months off its mother, poked its head out between the boxes.
This world was harsh for humans, but a kitten’s paradise. She swayed her fluffy head, peered up, and chirped: “Meow!”

Bump. The little cat’s soft weight rubbed against Si Zhiyan’s leg.

“Is this your kitten? So cute.” Si Zhiyan smiled.

“Milk Tea, don’t scare Mr. Si…” Gu Ying called out as she tidied, then nodded and shook her head. “Um… not really. She’s a rescue. She got hit by a car and dragged her bad leg to the curb—when I found her, she wouldn’t have lasted the night. I just couldn’t leave her there, so…”

“…”

Si Zhiyan, sensing something, bent down for a closer look.

The kitten had only three legs.

No wonder he hadn’t noticed at first. Its right hind leg was missing half—but healed well, clearly cared for.

The little cat’s disability did nothing to mar her beauty or energy. She clearly loved people, circling Si Zhiyan’s feet and bumping her little head into him, her tail curled high, purring loudly.

…Barely able to keep herself afloat, yet she took in a kitten?

The thought had barely crossed Si Zhiyan’s mind when, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a transparent document folder.

Inside was a small, neatly stacked bundle of papers. At the very top was a resume.

The layout was crisp and attractive, and the photo was unquestionably Gu Ying—wearing a white shirt much like Si Zhiyan’s, glasses, gentle, poised, elegant.

For all her embarrassment among street vendors, here was a beautiful, painstakingly prepared CV.

Her education and experience were clearly listed—a series of three internships, project involvement, a page inked with contributions neatly recounted.

Below, pressed underneath, was another sheet.

[Master’s Degree Certificate]
[Suzhou City University, School of Architecture]

[Gu Ying]

In that moment, Si Zhiyan understood.

—She wasn’t a clumsy, hopeless bundle of social anxiety. In her own field, she was a bright, accomplished young person.

…She was just unemployed.