That evening, Chen Shen resolutely went to an old temple on Jupolais Road called “General’s Hall” to see Li Dongshui. The place housed dozens of orphans; it was a small orphanage that had relocated from Longhua due to the war. The orphanage was struggling, and at times they couldn’t even provide food. Li Dongshui’s nickname was Pipi, a child Chen Shen always visited. Chen Shen had even reached an understanding with the orphanage, almost like an adoption agreement. Pipi had once been cared for by his mother, but she disappeared the day the Japanese invaded Shanghai. Chen Shen assumed she must have died from a bullet fired by a Type 38 rifle or been killed by shrapnel from a bomb. Pipi’s leg had been injured by a bullet, leaving a scar on his calf, resembling a small navel—like an eye that couldn’t quite open. The summer when the Japanese stormed into Shanghai must have left a deep impression on Pipi, as he rarely spoke. He was already nine years old but wore a long, thick braid down his back. In fact, he had large eyes and delicate skin, which made some people mistake him for a girl. However, he wore a checkered suit, the very image of a proper Shanghai boy. Chen Shen often made him run, but Pipi didn’t want to. His leg injury had damaged his tendons, and running caused him so much pain that he would break out in a cold sweat.
But Chen Shen still made him run. Through gritted teeth, Chen Shen would say, “Run! If you don’t, one day you’ll be crippled.”
That day, in the overgrown courtyard of General’s Hall, Chen Shen sat quietly with Pipi on a large rock, smoking his Cherry cigarettes. He reached out and playfully tugged on Pipi’s long braid, smiling. When he left, Chen Shen slipped a banknote into Pipi’s hand and watched as the boy limped back into the hall. Only then did Chen Shen realize that he hadn’t exchanged a single word with Pipi.
As he left General’s Hall, Chen Shen hailed a rickshaw to take him home. His house was in a residential area near the Suzhou River called Renjuli. When he got off the rickshaw, he saw Li Xiaonan standing under the streetlamp with an old suitcase in her hand. Her face was bruised and swollen, with dark circles around her eyes, making her look like a panda. When she saw Chen Shen, she smiled. Chen Shen didn’t say a word, just looked at her. Finally, Li Xiaonan sniffled and, looking deeply hurt, let her tears flow.
That night, Li Xiaonan followed Chen Shen home. He gave her his bed, and she quickly kicked off her shoes and slipped on his oversized slippers, acting like she was the mistress of the house. She carelessly pulled her clothes out of the old suitcase and hung them in the wardrobe. Chen Shen watched all of this in silence until he couldn’t hold back anymore and said, “This is my house.”
“Of course it is,” Li Xiaonan replied matter-of-factly while hanging her clothes. “Don’t worry, I’m just staying for a while. A man should be more generous.”
“What happened to your face?” Chen Shen asked.
Li Xiaonan turned, her expression darkening. She told him that she had gotten into a fight at the film set with a thug named Third Brother Pudong over a rickshaw, and because she called him a “bum,” he had beaten her up. “That scoundrel! He’s nothing but a lowlife,” she huffed, fuming with anger.
“You deserved it,” Chen Shen snapped, biting his teeth. “What makes you think you can insult a thug?”
Li Xiaonan’s face fell, and she stared at Chen Shen before shaking her head in disappointment. “I must have been wrong about you. You’re not loyal at all. I even dreamed of becoming your concubine, but I’ve clearly misjudged you,” she said with exaggerated drama.
And so, Li Xiaonan stayed at Chen Shen’s house. She claimed she had no money to pay rent, and the film company still hadn’t paid her for the movie she acted in. But Chen Shen suspected her story was only half true. He didn’t believe for a second that she was a real actress—not even a third-rate one. With acting that bad, what role could she possibly play? She wasn’t refined enough to play a lady, and she wasn’t convincing as a dancer either. Still, no matter what, Chen Shen treated her like a sister. He gave her his bed while he slept on the sofa.
The next morning, when Chen Shen woke up from the sofa, he saw Li Xiaonan still lying under the covers, only a tangle of black hair visible, like seaweed floating in water. Chen Shen thought to himself, “With her laziness, how will she ever find someone to marry?”
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