Luo Jingyu never thought of himself as humorous. Throughout his life, the word “humor” had never been associated with him. He had no idea that his simple two-character response late at night would make a stranger laugh for so long.
In fact, he was in a bad mood at that moment, once again opening his chat window with Fang Xu.
Big Fish: Why did I quote 4000, but you quoted the client 6000?
[Fang Xu]: Don’t get upset, let me explain. Who quotes the real price right away? We need to leave room for negotiation.
Big Fish: Did the client try to negotiate?
[Fang Xu]: No, they never responded after that. [Frustrated]
Luo Jingyu sat at his workbench, wearily supporting his forehead.
Big Fish: This isn’t the first time. 4000 includes your commission, I calculated it.
[Fang Xu]: I know! That’s the bottom price, don’t you understand? Fish, you’re not cut out for business. You don’t understand negotiation tactics at all. By the way, how did they find you? Where did they find you? Did you post videos on Q Station yourself?
On Q Station, where Fang Xu mainly operated, Luo Jingyu had indeed never posted any videos. Not only that, but he hadn’t posted videos on any popular short video or social media platforms – this was Fang Xu’s requirement.
Fang Xu had said Luo Jingyu had problems with written communication and feared he would ruin business deals, telling him to just focus on making products.
The P Station account that the client found was registered three years ago. If it weren’t for today’s sudden private message, Luo Jingyu would have almost forgotten about this APP.
Fang Xu continued to press the issue persistently.
[Fang Xu]: We agreed that you’d stay behind the scenes while I handle the front end. If you’re posting content on other platforms, that’s breaking our agreement, Brother Fish!
Big Fish: The P Station account has been dead for three years. I’ll delete it.
[Fang Xu]: Fine, if clients contact you again, just tell them you’ve switched platforms and direct them to me. It’s not right for our own people to compete for business.
Luo Jingyu didn’t respond. Fang Xu was still typing, and soon a long message appeared.
[Fang Xu]: Fish, I’ve seen plenty of clients like this. They might be checking prices elsewhere, or just asking casually. Sometimes they come back after a few days – serious buyers won’t run away. I leave room for negotiation, and when we close at 4000 or even 5000, they’ll be happy. I’ll throw in some accessories, and they’ll be grateful. That’s how business works. Besides, not many people can make pressed flowers that match the pictures at this level. You should have more confidence in yourself.
Big Fish: I understand.
Fang Xu stopped messaging, and Luo Jingyu didn’t continue the conversation either.
He had been partnering with Fang Xu in this business for over three years, creating niche handmade pieces. Fang Xu handled video editing, production, and promotion, while he took care of photographing, filming, and creating the products. They had agreed on a 70-30 split, with Luo Jingyu taking seventy percent.
Luo Jingyu knew Fang Xu quoted clients higher prices, and some suckers would pay up. The extra money naturally went into Fang Xu’s pocket, and Luo Jingyu didn’t mind.
What bothered him was that more people were scared away by the inflated prices. After all, even if someone really liked pressed flower decorations or other large pieces that cost several thousand yuan, they wouldn’t buy impulsively. The material costs weren’t actually high – what was really valuable was his time and effort.
He couldn’t win arguments with Fang Xu, whether in person or online.
In fact, he couldn’t win arguments with anyone. Many words got stuck in his head, and he couldn’t express them clearly even in writing. His sister Luo Xiaomei always urged him to practice reading and writing, to communicate more with ordinary people, saying that at his age he still wrote things backward, made spelling mistakes, and couldn’t distinguish between subjects and objects. But Luo Jingyu had always avoided dealing with this issue.
Remarkably, his conversation with Sugar Poached Egg was his first direct interaction with a client online in years. He wasn’t sure if there were any grammatical errors in what he wrote, but he belatedly felt a small thrill.
It seemed… communicating with clients wasn’t as difficult as he had imagined.
The tools and materials were still spread out on his workbench. Luo Jingyu leaned back in his chair, spacing out for a while. He rubbed his nose bridge, got up and went to the kitchen, took two eggs and several red dates from the refrigerator, preparing to make sugar-poached eggs.
He hadn’t eaten sugar-poached eggs in a long time. Seeing that client’s ID had made him crave them late at night.
After putting the red dates on to boil, Luo Jingyu went to the balcony and opened the glass window for some fresh air.
On this early winter night at 11 PM, the high-rise balcony wasn’t really the best place for fresh air. The cold wind hit his face like knives.
There were over ten flowerpots on the balcony, mostly cold-resistant flowers and plants. He had already moved the other potted plants that needed specific temperature conditions indoors.
He enjoyed growing flowers and plants, personally taking care of watering, fertilizing, pruning, and pest control. He loved scenes of blooming flowers and lush greenery, loved the fragrance that entered his breath after a gentle breeze.
Or rather, he loved all things beautiful and quiet.
He had lived in a silent world since childhood. Jingyu – meaning “quiet speech” – was the name his father gave him. Before they could fully experience the joy of a new life, his parents had already expressed their apology and helplessness through his name.
Luo Jingyu sat in the rattan chair, his black hair stirring in the night wind, the plants swaying beside him, as he gazed at the twinkling city nightscape, lost in thought for a long time.
—
Most families are busy in the morning, with people heading to work or school, and the Zhan family was no exception.
Zhan Kaiwei was dawdling over his bowl of wonton, Qin Fei was putting on makeup, Zhan Jie was in the bathroom, and Zhan Xi had already put on her down jacket and mask, ready to leave.
Two nights later, Zhan Jie and Qin Fei had reconciled. Such is married life – fight at the head of the bed, make up at the foot1. The house was finally free of its tense atmosphere.
“Brother, sister-in-law, I’m going to work!” Zhan Xi called out, hearing only her brother’s response from the bathroom. She closed the door and hurried down the stairs.
The morning rush hour subway was as crowded and busy as ever. After squeezing out of the train car, Zhan Xi ran to exit the station. Looking up at the nearby high-rise residential buildings, which were all on her list of potential rental places, she thought how nice it would be to live there – she could sleep an extra hour every day.
While waiting for the elevator at the bottom of the building, Zhan Xi ran into two male colleagues.
After greeting her, Xiao Wu kept making silly faces and grinning, as if he had some facial nerve disorder. But Zhan Xi understood what was going on and could only lower her head without saying anything.
Lin Yan stood beside her, carrying a laptop backpack, holding a bag of breakfast in his left hand and a cup of hot coffee in his right. He asked quietly, “Did you eat breakfast?”
“Yes,” Zhan Xi answered.
“Mm.” Lin Yan fell silent.
Xiao Wu looked back and forth between them and chimed in: “Xiao Zhan, our department planned to go out for hotpot at lunch, want to join?”
Zhan Xi replied almost without thinking: “No thanks, I’m quite busy these days, I need to work during lunch break.”
Xiao Wu glanced sideways at Lin Yan and said in a strange tone: “Your department can be busy?”
Zhan Xi didn’t like that comment. The HR department was all female, and in other departments’ eyes, they seemed like a useless group who only cared about dressing up, gossiping, checking attendance, and deducting bonuses.
Zhan Xi didn’t plan to respond, but Lin Yan spoke up: “It’s year-end performance reviews and the new year’s meeting is coming up after the holiday. How could HR not be busy?”
“That’s true,” Xiao Wu quickly realized. “Hey Xiao Zhan, give us a hint – what’s the grand prize at this year’s annual meeting?”
As they spoke, the elevator arrived. The three of them entered with the crowd, and the elevator quickly filled up. Xiao Wu got pushed somewhere else, which saved Zhan Xi from having to answer his question. But Lin Yan remained beside her, even reaching out to block when someone pushed against her.
Lin Yan was from the technical department, twenty-seven years old, with a master’s degree. He was quite tall, looked refined, and wore black-framed glasses – the very image of a tech expert.
Three months after Zhan Xi joined the company, she organized a team building event with her department and met Lin Yan during an outdoor training exercise. It was a high-altitude activity where two people had to walk face-to-face holding hands across two steel wires. Zhan Xi was afraid of heights and her legs turned to jelly – Lin Yan practically dragged her across while holding her hands.
After that, Lin Yan started treating her differently, often ordering afternoon tea delivery for the HR department. Everyone could see what was happening, and while drinking the milk tea Lin Yan bought, they would joke and giggle. Zhan Xi wasn’t stupid; she knew Lin Yan had feelings for her.
However, he hadn’t said anything directly, so naturally she couldn’t respond.
She had always been passive in these matters and didn’t have any particular feelings for Lin Yan. Mainly because he cultivated a cold persona and spoke even less than she did. During their few conversations, Zhan Xi felt it was purely awkward small talk that could die at any moment.
They reached their company’s floor. After clocking in, Zhan Xi and Lin Yan headed in opposite directions. Before parting, Lin Yan asked: “Are you sure you won’t join us for hotpot at lunch?”
“Yeah, I’m really busy today, and I have a cold. I don’t want to infect you all.” Zhan Xi spoke with a stuffy nose through her mask, telling the truth.
Lin Yan looked at her for a long while before finally managing to say: “Drink more hot water.”
Zhan Xi: -_-||
Zhan Xi was indeed very busy these days. The company would hold its annual meeting after the Lunar New Year, which HR was responsible for. Wen Qin needed to give a work report, and some of the PPT was assigned to Zhan Xi. She had never handled such an important task before and was afraid of making mistakes. Every day she studied previous years’ presentations while helping her colleagues with other work.
She kept thinking about that flower arrangement – time was tight, with the Japanese visitors arriving in just twenty days.
Zhan Xi downloaded several flower arrangement photos, some with simple designs, others more complex than that “Good Fortune” piece. She also found several pressed flower artists on Q Station and patiently sent inquiries with pictures to each one.
To her surprise, several artists explicitly told her it was too difficult and they couldn’t do it, or that they could try but it wouldn’t look as nice as fresh flowers, and they couldn’t offer refunds if she wasn’t satisfied with the result.
Zhan Xi didn’t understand – when she contacted “Little Fish Fish Pressed Flowers,” they hadn’t mentioned whether they could make it look similar. Though “Big Fish” had mentioned it was difficult, she thought all pressed flower artists could do it.
The few artists who could do it quoted wildly different prices. For a piece like “Good Fortune,” some quoted 5000, others 8000, and one female teacher even quoted 10000.
After asking around, Zhan Xi made an Excel spreadsheet, filling in the photos of several candidate pieces and quotes from different shops. Finally, she opened P Station to look for “Big Fish.”
What happened next surprised her even more – after just one night of chatting, all three videos on his homepage had been completely deleted, leaving only their few private messages.
Zhan Xi felt confused but didn’t give up, sending him private messages.
Sugar Poached Egg: Hi, are you there?
Sugar Poached Egg: Why did you delete all your videos? Should I find you on Q Station?
Sugar Poached Egg: Can I still get a discount today?
She waited until she got off work, but “Big Fish” never replied to her messages.
Zhan Xi had an indescribable feeling. After thinking for a while, she could only open Q Station to find “Little Fish Fish Handmade Pressed Flowers” and reluctantly send them a private message.
[Strawberry Cake]: Hi, are you Big Fish?
They replied quickly, as if always glued to their phone.
[Little Fish Fish Handmade Pressed Flowers]: Yes, dear~
Zhan Xi stared at the screen, thinking: No, you’re not.
—
Luo Jingyu sat in the subway car as messages from Luo Xiaomei kept coming in on WeChat.
[Luo Xiaomei]: When you left the day before yesterday, Mom got so upset she had a migraine. She means well – when you have time, go home and see her again, and be more patient.
[Luo Xiaomei]: You’re twenty-six now, it’s time to date. The girl your brother-in-law wants to introduce has really good qualities. Just be good and meet her, think of it as making a friend.
[Luo Xiaomei]: When you meet, be mindful of what you should and shouldn’t say.
Big Fish: I don’t want to find a girlfriend now, I don’t have time le.
[Luo Xiaomei]: Don’t randomly use “le” at the end of sentences – not every sentence needs to end with “le”! Also, pay attention to how you use modal particles like “ba,” “ah,” “ma,” “ne.”2 Little Fish, you really need to read more books, or chat more with ordinary people. Your social circle is too narrow – can you even read lips anymore?
Big Fish: I got it.
[Luo Xiaomei]: Remember to meet the girl!
Big Fish: I know la!
[Luo Xiaomei]: You used “la” correctly this time. [Thumbs up]
Luo Jingyu exited the chat window and saw that Fang Xu had sent three more flower arrangement pictures.
[Fang Xu]: Quote prices for that client from before, they say they need to report to their boss, want a few more options.
Luo Jingyu carefully examined the three pictures, observing the shape and number of flowers, petals, and stems in each piece, calculating silently in his head.
The client had chosen quite distinctive flower arrangements. One piece called “Lotus Pond Charm” had just one lotus flower, three seed pods, and a few lotus leaves. It was beautiful, but for pressed flowers, it was actually too simple.
He didn’t use a calculator, just roughly estimated and gave Fang Xu three quotes in sequence.
[Fang Xu]: I’ll still quote a bit higher, just letting you know.
[Fang Xu]: See? I told you they’d come back after asking around. They’re buying a gift, they don’t care about money, just quality.
Luo Jingyu didn’t reply. He truly wasn’t good at external communication, and during their partnership, he had no right to tell Fang Xu what to do.
Last night’s conversation with the client was purely accidental. After a day, he had calmed down.
Opening P Station, Luo Jingyu saw several private messages Sugar Poached Egg had sent during the day, each a few minutes apart. He scrolled up to see their conversation from the previous night, remembering the sweetness of that bowl of sugar-poached eggs.
Of course, he wouldn’t reply. After looking for a while, he returned to the home screen and directly uninstalled the P Station APP.
Putting away his phone, Luo Jingyu looked around at the people nearby. He still wore all black, with a mask and lowered cap brim. He had even removed the originally brown fur trim from the cap’s edge, leaving only his eyes visible.
He could feel the vibrations from the subway’s movement, but there wasn’t a single sound in his ears.
Luo Jingyu knew that what he experienced as his environment was what others called “quiet” or even “silence,” but for him, it was as natural as breathing. Regular people might understand his experience by wearing noise-canceling headphones, but he could never understand what a “world of sound” was like.
He couldn’t imagine what sound was actually like as a thing.
The late-night subway wasn’t crowded. A young couple sat diagonally across from him, the girl’s head resting on the boy’s shoulder, her lips moving slightly – probably whispering.
Luo Jingyu recalled his sister questioning his lip-reading skills. Feeling a bit defiant, he focused intently and unexpectedly “read” these lines:
“Last night… it hurt a bit, today… won’t let you… pervert.”
“Sorry baby, today… still need to… I’ll be gentler.”
The boy mischievously stroked his girlfriend’s face, and she shyly punched him. Luo Jingyu coughed awkwardly and quickly looked away, feeling quite embarrassed about witnessing their private moment.
- Chuáng tóu ch?o, chuáng w?i hé (???????): a directly translated idiom that means that fights, especially between couples, are short-lived and resolved quickly i.e., the natural ups and downs of relationships. ↩︎
- In Mandarin, people use particles at the end of sentences to add meaning or feeling. “Le” (?) shows something is finished or changed. Other ending words like “ba,” “ah,” “ma,” and “ne” are like adding different tones to your voice in English. “Ba” makes suggestions, “ma” creates questions, and “ah/ne” can show surprise. Think of these words like adding “right?” or “okay?” at the end of English sentences. Just like in English, you don’t need these endings in every sentence. These particles are also something that is learnt as part of natural language / not taught in school, explaining the interaction above. ↩︎
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