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It was about two or three years ago when Nick and Liz met.
At that time, Nick was selling tarts in the East, running a small business. He had the luck to find a vacant single apartment, so life was going relatively well for him. He was self-sufficient, at least for the time being.
At twenty-one, he wasn't attending university or pursuing any further education. He seemed uninterested in striving for some unattainable goal that others might have. In reality, he possessed a great deal of knowledge and had earned various academic degrees in his earlier years. However, he chose not to apply or use them daily.
His knowledge and unique personality made him a leader at Eclipse, the pharmaceutical company where he had previously worked. But he probably didn't like that position. He found the demanding yet comfortable life not to be what he truly desired, at least not according to his own standards. So, he left a letter behind, took some money and necessities, and left Eclipse.
Perhaps it was because Nick had made significant contributions within Eclipse and there weren't too many responsibilities left for him. In any case, even when faced with Amiya's worried gaze, Charles remained unfazed and calmly reassured her. It was as if he casually pushed the matter aside. However, considering that Mr.Swip had nurtured him for many years, Amiya believed there were likely employees from Eclipse following him. So, she sighed and returned to her post.
Nick stepped off the train at the East station. It was March, the transitional period between cold and warm, making the weather unpredictable. One might find themselves taking off their winter coat one moment and then putting on a scarf the next. Nick gazed at the city's outskirts, where the snow was slowly melting on the red billboards, and even further out, the occasional dark plumes of smoke rising from the distant suburbs. It felt as though the city was welcoming him, inviting him to settle here. So, he pulled his suitcase and listened to the rhythmic clattering of the train heading to its next stop, leaving long, winding marks in the snow with the suitcase's wheels.
These marks continued into the summer, around the beginning of May. By then, he had transitioned from deciding to do something light to making that decision a reality. So, he started selling egg tarts.
As for why he chose to sell egg tarts, it was simply because Nick had a sweet tooth. His previous white-collar job demanded a great deal of mental and emotional energy, which, in turn, required a fair amount of physical energy. He believed that consuming sweet treats made his work more efficient. This habit became ingrained in him, to the point that he would indulge even during his leisure time, often pairing the sweets with coffee or tea. This was very much in the style of someone from the East or England, and perhaps it was due to his inherent ability to seamlessly integrate into any environment he found himself in. In just a little over three months in this particular area of the East, everyone already knew him, and they often came to buy the egg tarts he made.
This is a silent form of recognition that brings joy. Perhaps in time, with more money, he could hire some help and open a dessert shop, eliminating the need to sit by the street in such hot weather, playing on his phone and watching videos with Mobile data. Instead, he could enjoy the cool breeze in a bright and clean place, not having to do everything on his own. He occasionally had such thoughts after having a spicy hot pot for dinner. But honestly, Nick was the kind of person who would often exhibit his laziness in subtle ways, as he tended to think more than act. He had contemplated leaving his job for about half a year before he finally left the company and almost his own home. Considering this, achieving the things he aspired to might take even longer.
As for how he met Liz and the series of events that followed, we must go back to what happened on the second evening after he had paid his rent.
Nick was, on that day, pushing his cart near Central Square, selling his egg tarts. Business was going well, and occasionally, a breeze would blow, hinting at the impending summer, leaving him unsure if it was going to be hot or warm. It was around 6 o'clock, after he had been loitering around his stand for about half an hour when a young lady, Lizard, mustered up the courage to ask if she could try an egg tart before purchasing it.
Liz, who was 19, nervously clung to her denim shirt's hem, and her other hand fumbled around her pockets as though silently proclaiming her wealth, but she couldn't manage to gain any money. Her face grew increasingly red, and her voice lost its initial calm and composure. But perhaps it was because most girls with thin skin couldn't just walk away after inquiring about the price, Liz had to stand awkwardly at the stand, letting the sweat that had gathered on her silver hair glisten under the yellowish-white streetlights and the setting sun.
Nick raised an eyebrow, somewhat aware that she might not have much money. She could have been a wealthy girl who had run away from home, or perhaps a lost foreigner not knowing where she was. Nevertheless, he didn't say much and just grabbed the largest box to stuff the egg tarts inside. Originally, it could hold nine, but after he tried, it fit eleven. He placed the slightly warm box in a plastic bag without any logos and told her, "These don't look good, and I can't sell them anymore. If you're willing to help me dispose of them in a garbage bin a kilometer away, I'd be very grateful."
Liz hesitated, biting her lip. She instinctively wanted to say that he was lying and that these egg tarts were perfectly fine, and there was no need to throw them away. But she didn't say anything. She swallowed and, in the end, couldn't help but lower her head and say thank you.
And, with a glimmer of hope, she added, "I can help you clean up every day, and I won't ask for a salary."
Nick didn't have time to reply when he noticed a group of people gathering across from his stall. Dressed in black with some bearing scars on their faces, others clutching sticks and menacing-looking knives, they had the kind of menacing demeanor that wasn't to be trifled with. Some of them tipped up their woolen hat brims – although it was strange to still wear such hats on an almost summery evening, it didn't take away from the sinister glint in their eyes or the low-quality smell of cigarettes and alcohol in the air. Nick understood to a certain extent but not entirely. He knew that they were here to collect protection money, but it was only the beginning of the month, and the timing was off. Small-time gangs had their rules, and it didn't seem likely that he was the target.
Out of the group emerged a relatively clever one, speaking in the local Eastern dialect filled with obscenities. He then raised his stick and beckoned toward Nick and Liz. It was only at this point that Nick barely understood that they were demanding money from her, and if she didn't pay up, they would take her kidneys. Nick still didn't grasp why he was getting involved just to give away a few egg tarts.
Now the scene had turned into a suburban Eastern Street chase at 6:30 in the evening. Nick ran ahead, pushing his cart, while Liz followed, struggling to keep up due to her empty stomach, all the while suspecting that they were working together and deciding to apprehend all twenty members of the gang for selling. It was a straightforward pursuit, and if a Hong Kong action star had been here, they probably wouldn't have been afraid and might even have turned it into a comedy scene. However, Nick had no martial arts skills, and if he had been chased by this group on his own, he might have been able to come up with some ways to handle it. But there were people on the street, and Liz was behind him, making things complicated. So, he had no choice but to run toward the nearest police station.
Since several people at the police station had bought items from him in the past, Nick was able to get them to empty their magazines in the presence of the gang members, treating it as a favor for loyal customers. The cost was that Nick ran too fast and took a tumble, and his food cart got damaged. It was very Eastern, Nick thought. If only he could get a reimbursement for the damaged cart, it would be the only thing that made him sad tonight.
At that moment, someone tapped Nick on the shoulder, and he turned around with a furrowed brow to find Liz, who had also fallen and hurt herself due to running too fast. She had a bloody nose and tears streaming down her face, but she didn't wipe them away. She just stood there with a pale face and asked him, "Are you going to keep your word from earlier?"
Nick wanted to say, "Hell yeah, you owe me." However, her appearance was somewhat frightening, and upon closer inspection, he found the situation rather comical. He didn't want to burst into laughter at that moment, so he replied in the most matter-of-fact tone he could muster, "Hell yeah."
Liz finally felt relieved and collapsed at his feet, completely unconscious.
—The End
Not yet.
Liz was not seriously hurt, and Nick didn't say anything like celebrating her survival with champagne. He thought it wasn't right to leave her there just like that since he believed in doing good deeds through to the end, not halfheartedly. Besides, all the losses he incurred tonight were because of her, and she should take responsibility one way or another. So, Nick carried Liz back to his current home in the East, which was surprisingly not very "single." Perhaps it was because the landlord was extremely wealthy, so when Nick bought the place initially, he didn't consider a single aspect, which led to it being twice as large as he had originally estimated. There was plenty of space for two people, and even three people could manage without any problem.
Nick placed Liz on the bed as if he felt that she wouldn't sleep for very long, and ordered two servings of Subway. He then grabbed a fresh towel, wet it, and began wiping away the reddish-brown marks from her forehead to her chin, erasing all traces, and leaving only her fair face uncovered. Her appearance was undeniably beautiful, a rare sight among the women Nick had encountered. However, her habit of squinting her eyes while checking the prices made him initially think she was simple-minded and naive.
Liz woke up at an opportune moment, not when Nick was trying to see how many lines there were on her lips as he breathed on her face. It was exactly 32 seconds after the delivery had arrived, just as Nick had anticipated. Starvation was what caused her to faint, and hunger was what brought her back to consciousness. He shoved a slightly tangy sweet and sour-flavored sandwich into her mouth, not caring if she choked, and began to eat his own portion.
The girl ate and sniffled, initially making it seem like she might have a stuffy nose, the kind you'd get with a mild cold. But then her sniffles grew louder, and eventually, she couldn't tell if she was eating or crying. Nick silently watched her cry and eat, thinking that this girl was quite remarkable. How could she eat so heartily while shedding tears and blowing her nose? But that was just a joke. He had a hunch that Liz had probably been through a lot before this, even though he didn't know the specifics. For the things he didn't know, he had a way of finding out. He moved closer, took a tissue, and gently wiped away her tears and snot. Then he handed her the juice he had prepared and casually said, "Drink up before you cry again. It doesn't sound good when your throat is hoarse. I like pleasant-sounding things."
And so, as if she knew she shouldn't reveal herself in this unseemly manner before someone she was meeting for the first time, Liz's tears seemed to pause at Nick's words. Her sobbing ceased weakly, halted between his calm gaze and the ice-cold juice with added lemon and mango that he had brought. But Liz wasn't completely straightforward; she drank a sip and sneaked a look at the side of the man's face, discreetly watching. She observed his cleanly-shaven jaw, his slightly puffed cheeks as he ate the fast food, and his discerning glances directed at the TV news anchor. In the end, she lowered her head inexplicably and whispered a thank you.
Nick thought, "Oh, she's a polite one."
He went on to inquire about her situation, neither overly inquisitive nor overly cautious in his tone. It wasn't an ordinary interview, yet it wasn't a meticulous interrogation. This made Liz feel less uncomfortable and she answered his various "whys": no money because her wallet had been stolen, chased because she had unintentionally borrowed high-interest loans from the local gang, and not being able to pay back due to her youth and below-average education. It wasn't because she was lazy but because she was too young. In addition, her education was lower than usual, so she couldn't find a job and couldn't earn a living through basic labor. She felt useless, like a wanderer with nothing to show for herself.
As for why Nick was being chased by those debt collectors when all he had done was give her a few pastries, he considered the situation and figured he was likely mistaken for an accomplice, resulting in him also being pursued by these unscrupulous characters. Truly, it was an unjust predicament, causing him to lose the prospect of a normal and peaceful life. But the situation was what it was, and he couldn't resort to violence to get the money. Moreover, the person who had unintentionally caused him to damage his cart was currently feasting without a care in the world. Nick raised two fingers.
He gave Liz two options. One was to work as a waitress in his place. After all, in terms of her appearance had more than sufficient skills to be an excellent waitress. With a bit of training in his work and basic cashier duties, she would quickly be self-sufficient. Each month, after deducting the corresponding fees, he would pay her the earnings, and once the debt was repaid, she could leave as if they had never met, going on as strangers.
The other option was to work in a convenience store near his single apartment, choosing between day shifts and night shifts. The day shift went from 8 AM to 4 PM, and the night shift from 4 PM to midnight. Both were eight hours long, but it would be less relaxing compared to being a waitress. If she did well, she might even advance to become the store manager. The only advantage was that it was more exhausting than being a waitress.
Either way, she could choose based on her preference. If she wanted to get out of there more quickly, she could do both. Nick supported Liz in taking the fast route to escape from a city that could easily swallow people up and spit them out as ashes without a second thought. This place wasn't for kids who hadn't finished college and thought they could come here to start their own business. It wasn't the tale of passionate youth but the story of a chilling reality.
Nick tossed the fast-food packaging into the trash can and, after explaining the compensation options and how to earn money, he stood up, his eyes not having had a chance to move away from Liz's face.
To be clear, he wasn't asking her for a "flesh" repayment. He simply realized that she had nowhere to go after going through all of this. After all, she had come all the way from her hometown to this place, and if she did have money to rent a place, she probably wouldn't have been pursued by those people. However, he remembered her eyes, filled with confusion and anxiety after experiencing such a terrifying ordeal, and the uncertainty of whom to trust and what to believe. It was understandable, as she was still young, and she had only just grown up—or, more accurately, had been forced to grow up. Liz knew that she couldn't use a pleading gaze, but in the end, with a sense of guilt and a hint of embarrassment, she couldn't help but send him a longing and desperate look.
However, with his back turned, Nick didn't see her in this state.
He sighed, possibly due to a sense of resignation, or maybe he didn't know what to say to her given his somewhat introverted and irritable nature. Without even looking back, he tossed a blanket to her and said, "Housework is shared, rent is split, no stealing from the fridge, one shower a day, no excessive use of it. Sleep on the couch, or you can sleep on the streets."
Liz was left speechless. She hadn't expected that her inner prayer would lead to Nick giving her a place to stay. Although it came with three rules, there was no deceit involved. Unlike the people who seemed friendly but were out to exploit you, his attitude was peculiar, not exactly warm yet not exactly cold. However, one thing was clear: Nick was a genuinely decent person. This realization struck Liz strongly at that moment.
She was still trying to understand how Nick could do all this after just one encounter. She wanted to think about it, to ponder it a bit more. However, after finishing her meal, she felt incredibly tired. Her eyes wouldn't stay open. The couch suddenly felt like a warm embrace, trapping her within a dream prison, and she was sentenced to remain imprisoned until her term was served, drifting off into sleep before she could contemplate further.
Nick glanced at her, with no intention of listening to more thanks or unnecessary questions. He just turned off the lights and returned to his room without even saying goodnight.
He wasn't particularly tired, just a bit weary and perhaps with a slight headache. He had originally planned to unwind and relax by watching a late-night talk show. However, Liz's sudden appearance had thrown a wrench into all his plans, making them unpredictable and hard to dismantle. He lay on his bed with the air conditioning on, contemplating his actions and whether he had acted impulsively. He had initially confronted her to urge her to repay her debt, but now it seemed to have become more complicated. Perhaps it was because this was the first time, he had encountered such a situation, which left him bewildered.
He opened a note on his phone where he had jotted down the recipes and various notes from when he first started making desserts. He felt a bit unfamiliar with it, even though he had prepared those dishes countless times. The measurements and procedures were ingrained in him like habits, but turning that instinct into knowledge and teaching it to someone else was a new experience.
In the end, he decided to let her learn how to make the pastry with butter on her own. If she didn't put in the effort or tried to take shortcuts, she could fend for herself.
Nick scratched his head and remembered that there were a few small denominations of Eastern bills in the drawer across from the couch. He hadn't had the chance to lock them up today. He'd been living alone for so long that he hadn't bothered locking anything specifically. He didn't give it much thought and continued reading his adult novel until 2 a.m., taking a break to have a glass of milk and check whether Liz was asleep. To his surprise, Liz was sleeping soundly, albeit in a rather ungraceful position that made him think she was wrestling with some massive creature.