Derailment - Chapter 20

The post office had just opened, and only one staff member had arrived, lazily playing on her phone behind the service counter.

An elderly man approached trembling and asked: “Comrade [1], I want to make a remittance. What should I…”

The female clerk interrupted him without even looking up, “Fill out the form over there.”

The old man looked around in confusion and cautiously asked: “Fill out…which form? How do I fill it out?”

The female clerk’s high eyebrows almost flew out of her forehead, and she immediately said in an inverted eight-character [2]: “Isn’t there an example posted there? Can’t you read it yourself? Are you blind?”

As soon as she finished speaking, a long arm reached over, tapping the service counter beyond the old man’s shoulder, revealing a glimpse of a menacing beast tattoo on the wrist.

The clerk’s gaze lingered on the tattoo, startled, and when she looked up, she met a pair of cold eyes. The young man, removing his glasses and casually wiping them with his sleeve, let his gaze drift to the clerk’s name tag and said, “Can you speak like a normal person?”

The man was handsome and had regular features. He was eye-catching. Under normal circumstances, the clerk might have looked at him a few more times. However, at this time, he spoke in a slightly lower voice, as if he was restraining something. Coupled with that look – his double eyelids were straighter than others, like two blades, pressing heavily on his eyes, making his eyes without the cover of glasses look too sharp and a little scary, like the beast in human clothing on TV who would pull out a gun and kill people at any time.

The clerk didn’t dare to make a sound, quickly pulling out the remittance form and example sheet, handing them to the old man, “Please fill this out… And the gentleman behind you, are you also making a remittance? Is it for real-time transfer?”

The person behind was Qi Lian. He put his glasses back on, did not argue further, and handed over the form and cash, “No need.”

After separating from Jiang Xiaoyuan that day, Qi Lian pondered for a while and realized that the current poor girl wasn’t as easy to deal with as he had imagined. A young lady used to being pampered might find it hard to accept kindness easily.

For Qi Lian, it would be perfect if Jiang Xiaoyuan were willing to struggle through adversity and establish herself in this world—however, he still found it unlikely. Everyone has temporary ambition, but the question is how long can she persist after this ambition is over?

It’s obvious that if Jiang Xiaoyuan were resolute, the virus wouldn’t have chosen her.

With an overly strong sense of self-esteem and an inability to endure hardship, if she continued as she was, she would inevitably follow the path of her predecessors.

Qi Lian was worried for two or three days. He accidentally remembered that she had forgiven someone’s debt in the hospital. An idea flashed in his mind to take a different approach to help her.

Qi Lian’s prediction was accurate. Jiang Xiaoyuan’s ambition indeed disappeared after her illness.

Previously, being sick was an opportunity for Jiang Xiaoyuan to throw a tantrum. As long as her temperature exceeded thirty-eight degrees, it was as if she had achieved something remarkable at home. She had to do it a thousand times and a hundred times, so that others could not ignore her for a minute. She wanted a whole team to surround her and tend to her every need; otherwise, she would rack her brains to find reasons to cause trouble.

That morning, the stark contrast between her old world and her new reality became glaringly obvious after she lost her health. Jiang Xiaoyuan lay pitifully in bed, with no one to check on her, no one to comfort her, no one to bring her a bowl of overcooked porridge, no one to fetch her medicine, and even to get a drink of water, she had to get up and do it herself.

Next to her pillow was a featureless plastic mannequin head, and at her feet lay a mess of hairstyle instructions and pictures. The room was filled with stagnant dampness, and the alarm clock rang for the fourth time, screaming desperately to remind her to get up and seek salvation from Buddha.

Jiang Xiaoyuan slapped the alarm clock and, unable to bear it any longer, burst into tears, clutching her blanket.

Halfway through her crying, she forced herself to get up—not out of strength, but because her nose was so congested that if she didn’t find a tissue soon, she’d end up wiping it on her blanket.

She sobbed and staggered while blowing her nose, her head buzzing and heavy. Sitting amidst a pile of bizarre hairstyles, she zoned out for a few seconds and then developed an unprecedented hatred for the hairdressing profession.

She didn’t yet know what her life’s purpose was, but she knew one thing for sure—she definitely didn’t want to be a barber, and she was tired of washing, cutting and blowing.

Jiang Xiaoyuan had such a grievance and had nowhere to vent, so she tore up the sketches she had drawn one by one.

When she was completely exhausted from crying and tearing up, Jiang Xiaoyuan remembered to call Chen Fangzhou to ask for leave. To her surprise, when she opened her phone, she saw two unread messages.

One was from her phone carrier, reminding her that her balance was less than fifteen yuan, and the other was from Qi Lian.

Qi Lian: “I’ve sent five thousand yuan to you and your grandmother today. You should contact her. If you feel uncomfortable about the money, you can repay me later. I won’t charge interest within six months.”

The contact information of the original owner’s family was attached considerately.

Jiang Xiaoyuan: “…”

Did Qi Lian really want her to stay in this world? Was he a spy from Mingguang, eager to force her to die sooner?

Distracted by the inexplicable debt and the phone bill, Jiang Xiaoyuan lost the mood to continue crying. She silently dragged her fever-weakened body to clean herself up, drank a large bucket of water, walked around the room three times, and thought, “But that’s not my grandmother. What does it have to do with me?”

However, as she thought this, she found herself inexplicably reaching for her phone and dialing the number Qi Lian had given her.

Jiang Xiaoyuan had never met her biological grandmother. In her own timeline, her father lost his mother at a young age and was a child without a mother. He had not received much warmth from his family, which led him to spoil his own child excessively, resulting in a troublemaker.

If she in another time and space is exactly the same as herself, then… are the relatives in another time and space also the relatives she has already lost?

After dialing the number, Jiang Xiaoyuan initially regretted it. What should she say to others?

But before she could hang up, the other party answered. A loud-voiced woman shouted: “Hello, hello, who are you looking for?”

Jiang Xiaoyuan was stunned by the question: “I…”

To her surprise, after she only said these words, the other party immediately interrupted her with a booming voice, “Xiaoyuan! Oh my! You’ve been gone for so long, and you haven’t called back. Are you trying to make your grandmother worry herself to death?”

Jiang Xiaoyuan’s already ringing ears were further shocked by the loud voice. Not knowing the other party’s identity and too scared to speak out of turn, she could only reply with a heavy nasal tone: “I’ve encountered some issues…”

The woman asked with a clamor, “Are you looking for a job? It’s not easy, right? What did I say? I told you to wait for a while, wait for your third brother to come back after the New Year, and let him take you out, but you didn’t listen… Oh, I’ll go and call your grandma for you. Wait a moment.”

Jiang Xiaoyuan agreed, silently listening to the sound of the person on the other end walking away, calling for someone, and thinking, “Why doesn’t the top scholar have a phone at home?”

After an indeterminate amount of time, the phone line was filled with rustling sounds, noisy footsteps, and quiet voices. Finally, an elderly woman’s voice, that was out of breath, came through. The old lady seemed to have difficulty finding where to speak, and her voice wavered, timid and cautious.

Jiang Xiaoyuan involuntarily held her breath, thinking she wouldn’t be able to speak. Yet, before she could react, “Grandmother” had already slipped out.

The old lady, hearing this, immediately asked with sensitivity, “Are you cold? Your voice doesn’t sound right. If you can’t find a job, come back home. It’s okay, I’m still strong enough to help you!”

Jiang Xiaoyuan took a breath, almost resuming her crying.

She clenched her fists, gritting her teeth to hold back her tears. Her blood-related but unfamiliar grandmother had become the only person in this world who accepted all her grievances without any reservations.

Without any grudges.

After the call, Jiang Xiaoyuan received a bunch of trivial advice. She wiped away her tears and realized she had over five thousand yuan in debt and no way to back out.

With no way out, Jiang Xiaoyuan didn’t return to bed but instead went out, bought a box of cold medicine, and spent extra money on a hideous black down jacket from the supermarket, which she threw over her mismatched summer clothes, creating an unconventional winter outfit.

She gathered her untouched sketches and took the scissors and comb, donned her battle robe, carried the spear, and went to the store.

“I’ll never do this job again,” Jiang Xiaoyuan thought as she wiped her nose at the salon entrance, “The job I hate the most is being a hairdresser.”

The second most hated job is being a net cafe manager.

Due to the contagious nature of her cold, Chen Fangzhou ordered Jiang Xiaoyuan not to interact with customers and sent her to the back office to handle some registration and organization work. It was a workday, and there weren’t many customers during the day.

After sending off a customer, Chen Fangzhou remembered Jiang Xiaoyuan, feeling a bit sorry for her being a young girl far from home and sick. He made a batch of popcorn from the popcorn machine and brought it to her.

Entering the back office, Chen Fangzhou saw Jiang Xiaoyuan lying on the desk. Maybe she had a cold and her eyes were uncomfortable. Her face was a little too close to the table, as if she wanted to dive into it.

She was holding a tissue in one hand and drawing on the paper with the other. She didn’t even notice Chen Fangzhou approaching.

Boss Chen, who had a low sense of presence, held a box of popcorn with a low-quality milk smell and stretched his neck to watch for a while. He saw that she was drawing a series of comic strips behind a piece of discarded printing paper—she imagined a head out of thin air, added facial features, and then drew each step of the barber step by step, and finally arranged a brand new hairstyle for the person in the picture.

Chen Fangzhou felt a sense of familiarity. On closer inspection, he realized that the process was one he had done himself yesterday, and Jiang Xiaoyuan had actually wrote down every step!

He glanced thoughtfully at the deeply focused Jiang Xiaoyuan, quietly set down the popcorn, and walked away.

Jiang Xiaoyuan relied on a foreign debt of 5,000 yuan and a phone call from her grandmother to survive the sick years. After the frist few days, she started to get used to the routine, and waking up early and sleeping late became less difficult. However, she still hated the job of washing, cutting, and blow-drying hair.

While hating and resisting, she worked hard and memorized the “recipe” almost perfectly. She couldn’t help but cut the plastic mannequin’s hair in her room.

Then Jiang Xiaoyuan discovered a tragic fact—doing it for real was completely different from following a guidebook. Her brain couldn’t control her hands at all.

Jiang Xiaoyuan loved dolls when she was a child. She collected all kinds of popular Barbies, BJDs with detachable accessories, cartoon figures, puppet dolls, and even ceramic dolls as art collections. She would manage their hair and even sew two simple doll clothes. Previously, she had regarded hairdressing as just playing with dolls, but now she realized it was far from easy.

First, the human head is too large, and there’s too much hair.

Second, and most importantly—real people are too ugly.

Dolls with big, blinking eyes look good even with yin-yang haircuts, but real humans can look terrible if their bangs are slightly crooked or too short. One should know that the difference between “natural asymmetry” and “dog-chewed, inside-out” is just a subtle line.

As a novice, trembling hands and blurred vision, Jiang Xiaoyuan completed her creation and sat on the bed, staring at the plastic mannequin, feeling as if she heard its silent accusation—if the plastic mannequin had limbs and facial features, it would probably be slapping her by now.

“It’s over,” Jiang Xiaoyuan thought, “There are less than ten days left, and it’s impossible to learn it.”

[1] The term “同志” (tóngzhì) in Chinese can be translated into English as “comrade.” Historically, it has been used to denote a person who shares a common cause or ideology, particularly in political contexts. In contemporary usage, especially in mainland China, it can also have more informal meanings, such as “friend” or “companion.” Additionally, in some contexts, it is used in Chinese-speaking LGBTQ+ communities to refer to gay or lesbian individuals, similar to the way “同志” is used in some East Asian cultures.

[2] The number eight refers to the Chinese letter “八”