Lao Shen, seeing things had settled, went back to her seat to surf the internet. Long Ge was still smoking in the smoking room. I squatted on the ground picking up bottles. Xiao Hua helped nearby, pinching broken shards between two fingers, gathering them into a pile, then tossing the whole lot into the trash.
After finally clearing the floor, I mopped it over and over. Spilled iced tea had dried into a sticky film—every step made shoes squeak.
Xiao Hua stood timidly aside. She’d offered to mop, but since I had nothing better to do, I handed her the mop anyway. She gripped the handle slowly, scrubbing haphazardly here and there, shuffling forward with her body pressed against the mop. After watching a moment, I took it back. “Go rest.”
Long Ge stepped out of the smoking room soon after and leaned by the counter, watching me. Half the floor gleamed; half stayed grimy. I’d worked internet cafe shifts before—mopping was my thing. Clean four tiles. Move on.
The sticky patches? Sugar from cola and iced tea. Dried thick. Trampled constantly. I worked hard. Long Ge sipped iced coffee, surveyed the cafe leisurely, scuffed a foot on the clean tiles, and nodded. “Not bad. Pretty clean.”
Her tone felt off. I straightened, propped the mop aside. “Sis, can’t you do *any* work? Who’s the employee here?”
Long Ge kept gazing around the cafe, straw clenched between her teeth slowly darkening. The liquid in her cup dropped sharply.
“I helped.”
“What’d you do?”
She set the cup down, walked behind the counter. “Watched the place.”
Sounded less like cafe staff, more like nightclub muscle. I sighed and kept mopping.
Behind the counter, Long Ge slumped onto the sofa, eyes half-lidded. Her long white hair flowed softly over her shoulders.
One spot refused to budge. I scrubbed hard. From the counter, Long Ge murmured, “What time is it?”
Still cursing whoever’d spat gum on the floor, I glanced up. “Six thirty-five.”
She nodded. “Almost off shift.”
Her shift ran 7 a.m. to 7 p.m.—twelve hours. Cafe hired female students; shifts rotated humanely.
After rinsing the mop endlessly, I rubbed my fingers, sighed, and peeled the gum off by hand. “You’ve got it easy. Do nothing all day, yet so eager to clock out…”
Slumped on the sofa, Long Ge pouted, dodging the question. “Hungry?”
“Kinda. You treating?”
She nodded wearily, suddenly sat up, glanced around like she’d done something wrong. “Not much cash—just enough for you. Don’t tell Lao Shen.”
I kept mopping. “Bring her. I’ll cover her share. Her family’s loaded.”
Silence. I turned.
Long Ge rested her arms on the counter, eyes downcast, a faint displeasure in her gaze.
I slowed my strokes. “What now?”
She turned her head away, stubborn. “Nothing!”
I finished the floor after long effort—rinsed the mop countless times for dried syrup and gum. Hung it by the warehouse door. Hands on hips, I stared at the mirror-bright tiles.
…Just who’s the employee here?
Xiao Hua served coffee and snacks down the aisle. Lao Shen soon walked over, phone tucked away, offering a wry smile. “Skipping gaming. Mom bought clothes—wants me home to try them on…”
Long Ge, who’d been scrolling news with a sullen face, snapped her head up and stared at me.
I sighed. “Cross-dressing…?”
Lao Shen stiffened, lips pressed tight. Nodded. “Cross-dressing.”
I patted her shoulder. “Take care.”
She gave a helpless pout and left.
Long Ge’s shift nearly done, she gathered her things—a cigarette pack, a plastic lighter—briefed Xiao Hua, then vanished into the changing room.
I waited.
She emerged moments later, adjusting her skirt hem. Walked past me, tapped out a cigarette, lit it. White hair spilled over her shoulders. Scarred eye gazing thoughtfully ahead. Still in the black lace-trimmed bodycon dress I’d bought her; fair legs tracing elegant curves.
She’d worn it daily. Only other outfit was my too-small tracksuit. Thank goodness the cafe required uniforms—else this dress would’ve been riddled with burns.
*Might buy her another set later.*
“Where to?” I asked as she passed.
She didn’t turn. Took a drag. “Stroll. Eat.”
Dusk settled. Streetlights glowed. Pedestrian street buzzed—college students, elders enjoying the evening breeze.
Long Ge’s outfit drew glances, but my presence beside her made a few guys quickly look away. I followed slowly.
Under a lamppost, she stopped. Closed her eyes. Inhaled deeply. Turned with a radiant smile. “Alright! I’ve got cash! My treat—what’ll you have?”
Lamplight shimmered in her crimson eyes. Since becoming a woman, her face looked strikingly young. The old Long Ge had seemed youthful too—strangers saw coldness; friends saw childlike sincerity.
A motorcycle engine roared across the street.
Staring at her unexpectedly tender smile, I blurted, “How about lipstick?”
“Huh?” She laughed, tilting her head. White strands swayed. “You lost it?”
I searched her ruby eyes for my reflection amid the light fragments. She leaned closer, hands behind her back. “Zoning out? Seriously?”
The engine grew louder. Frowns spread. Distant shrieks multiplied. *Typical—buy a bike, show off like idiots.* I shook my head hard.
“Haven’t been right in the head before… Skewers? You *insisted* on treating.”
Long Ge bent slightly, grinning up at me—smug, mischievous.
“Let’s go! This lady’s treating you right! Be grateful—I pity you, eating instant noodles daily…”
But the roar sharpened. Screams rose. A cold dread coiled tight.
I whipped around.
The crowd parted like water.
A motorcycle shot straight at me.
Frozen. A hard shove from behind. I stumbled forward, crashed down. Wind whipped my neck. A dull *thud*.
I scrambled up, turned—
Long Ge’s petite body flew up before my eyes.
Like a torn sack, she slammed onto the tiles two meters away, rolled twice, landed facedown.
I braced on the ground, staring blankly. Couldn’t move.
A backpacked girl screamed. The crowd scattered. Whispers. Gasps. An empty circle formed around us.
Dim light. Her small white head slowly stained red.
Beneath her, a dark puddle spread across the tiles, crept onto her white thigh-high socks—then bloomed thick, sticky crimson.
