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The days continued to revolve like the hands of a clock, silent and steady as summer tentatively made its way to the eastern region. The oppressive heat and the dry, dusty winds that came with it seemed to have a knack for haunting this small suburban area. Unfortunately, right before all this happened, Nick's car was finally fixed after a month of repair. Liz, on the other hand, transitioned from an easy schedule of daytime convenience store shifts to working late evenings.
She often felt exhausted to the point that once her head hit the pillow, she'd fall asleep instantly without any trouble. She'd also have days when she couldn't get out of bed, alternating between the little white lies of hitting the snooze button and the stark reality of almost running late due to oversleeping. Work had become a haze, whether starting the shift in a daze or ending it in exhaustion. The manager called Nick several times, questioning him about possibly exploiting Liz. However, Nick could only respond that this was entirely Liz's choice. On one hand, she wanted to repay her debts quickly, and on the other, she seemed to be accumulating something for an idea or a plan. Though it appeared rather futile. Nick had always refrained from interfering with other people's desires, which he'd mentioned several times before, so he told the manager it was up to her to decide.
The manager was infuriated, called him irresponsible, and was furious with him for being so heartless even with the girl he liked. She might end up alone.
Nick chuckled, saying, "I don't want to get stuck in the kind of quagmire where you have to provide for a family." Then he decisively hung up the phone.
He let out an uneasy sigh, as he realized that Liz was struggling with the key outside, trying to unlock the door. It took her a solid three minutes, and she was still unable to open it. Nick thought that the key might have snapped inside, and that would be a real disaster. He could only knock on the door, asking her to take the key out so he could open it from the inside.
Liz entered in embarrassment, holding a bag in one hand and the ingredients for tonight's meal in the other. Nick took them from her, placing them all on the kitchen counter. He then told her to wash her hands and that they would prepare lunch shortly.
This situation had come about quite smoothly due to two factors. First, Liz didn't know how to cook, and she rarely had the time to learn, even if she wanted to. Second, Nick had already become used to cooking and had developed quite a taste for it over time. He enjoyed making good food, which was in stark contrast to his outwardly emotionless and detached demeanor. This contradiction was somewhat intriguing—Liz initially thought he could only prepare simple dishes and didn't expect him to care so much about cooking. However, upon reflection, it wasn't strange at all, considering he made egg tarts that were good enough to sell. If he didn't cook well, it would be perplexing.
Liz washed her hands, creating soapy suds that slipped through her fingers, and she rubbed her hands back and forth. She rarely spent so long washing her hands, but perhaps she was feeling a bit absentminded today, staring at her clean reflection in the mirror for an unusually long time. She massaged the foam until it reached the texture of a facial cream, then rinsed it all off with a satisfying splash of water. Afterward, she washed her face with cold water, feeling her skin contracting between the cold and hot sensations. When she wiped her face with a towel, she felt a dry, awakened tingle on her skin.
For Liz, this wasn't exactly comfortable. Whenever she held a knife, fork, or spoon, there was an overwhelming feeling that she might drop them onto her plate or the floor. The only time she managed to concentrate on something different was when she put the forkful of spaghetti with tomato sauce into her mouth, her focus temporarily shifting to the unique taste. Liz and Nick sat across from each other, and today she was eating rather slowly. It took her the time it would usually take Nick to finish two plates to eat three-quarters of her plate. Nick looked at her but didn't say anything. He got up, removed the remaining quarter of her meal, and set it aside.
He was mostly silent and didn't talk much to Liz. He figured she probably wouldn't listen anyway. Nick had considered this and chose to keep his words to a minimum, saving his capacity to communicate in other situations.
Liz noticed he was looking at her in a somewhat inquisitive way. It was as if she had just woken up from a dream when she reassured him that it wasn't bad and that she hadn't eaten anything unusual that day. She complimented his cooking and said she liked it. Perhaps she was just feeling a bit tired, and he thought that when you're tired, you don't have much of an appetite.
Nick nodded, but it wasn't clear whether he was convinced or just making it seem that way to encourage her to continue talking. He checked his watch; it was around 11 AM, which should have been the start of their working hours. However, due to the unfortunate coincidence, the air conditioning in the shop was old and couldn't be used anymore. The manager decided to take the opportunity to do some renovations to the interior, given her dissatisfaction with the current style. As a result, Liz had some free time before coming back the day after the renovation. She wasn't officially on a break, nor was she working. The manager had given her no further instructions and just told her to come back the next day after the renovation. Until then, she had her time to herself—her first time ever spending a summer morning without working. So, Liz felt a bit lost in this moment of disorientation.
She massaged her forehead and took out something envelope-like from one of her pockets. It wasn't particularly thick or thin, and it seemed to contain a bundle of standard Eastern currency. Nick found it a bit strange and looked at her curiously. Liz started counting the money aloud, explaining that the manager thought she was doing a good job and heard that she was in financial difficulty. So, the manager decided to prepay her salary for the next month. She said there wasn't anything specific she wanted to buy, and her clothes and daily necessities were still good. So, she thought she would try to repay her debt to Nick first.
"Sounds good," he said, reaching over to take about a third of the money from her stack. This amount included water, electricity, groceries, rent, and food cart repair costs, but it probably only covered about 30% of the debt. Liz had embarked on a long and arduous journey of repaying her debt, and this was just the first step. Nevertheless, it was a significant success. Nick stayed silent for a moment, preparing to say something to her, but she beat him to it and asked, "Are we going to work at the food cart tonight?"
Nick's silence stretched longer than expected, leaving him deep in thought for several minutes.
He reached up to his lips, sliding his hand along his nose, eyes, and eyebrows, ending at his forehead. It was his way of collecting his thoughts, relieving stress, and refreshing his mind. It had become a habit he couldn't help but display, and Liz had noticed it over time. She looked at him with concern, and he finally replied.
"Today, we won't be going out," Nick said, emitting a sigh that sounded like a release. "We won't work at the food cart tonight. Let's do something else."
Liz wasn't convinced. She mentioned that the egg tarts were selling well lately, and she felt they might not meet the demand.
"We can call it a marketing tactic or a teaser," he said, using a different explanation to deny her. "I do business purely for enjoyment, just like how you were eating your meal. If I don't have an appetite, I don't eat much, but when I do, I eat a lot."
"I'm sorry," Liz blurted out anxiously. "You put so much effort into making them, and I turned them down for such a reason—"
"I'm not asking you to apologize for this boring matter," he cut in, stopping her from continuing with her overly accommodating speech. "I'm just stating the facts, and there's no hidden meaning or sarcasm in my words. Don't worry; it's just that I'm tired lately, and I need a break, so we won't be working today."
His expression didn't appear fake, and his habits were ones that didn't involve lies. Liz suddenly remembered these things, and she felt an unexplained sense of comfort and clarity well up in her from her fingertips and chest. It was strange because she rarely paid excessive attention or overthought the actions of others. But in the presence of this man, who was rarely expressive and somewhat mysterious, emotions like "not wanting to see him upset" and "not wanting to disappoint him" repeated time and again, and they compelled her to think about them wholeheartedly.
"Ah... Is there something I can do for you?" she asked.
"Is Liz the kind of person who can't sit still without doing something for others?" he countered with a light-hearted question.
This question caught her off guard, and she blushed suddenly. She smacked her thigh disapprovingly and, trying to form words to counter, found herself quickly overwhelmed by a rush of thoughts. Her feelings, accumulated over time, flowed in like a torrential downpour but faded just as quickly. It appeared that she really was the type who considered others' feelings and intentions more than herself, just as Nick had said. Liz somewhat understood this, but what Nick couldn't understand was that her considerations were limited, and she had specific objects of her attention that rarely changed. She was a true and straightforward girl.
"That's just unfair," she murmured, her beautifully shaped eyebrows drooping slightly. "Do you enjoy seeing me flustered?"
"Actually, it's beyond my control," he said with a casual air as if he was watching her thoughts unfold. "But just now, I thought making a joke would help you relax, so you wouldn't be so nervous."
Liz did feel more at ease, and with a newfound courage to try, she couldn't help but feel a little dissatisfied with the topic now.
"But that's a very commendable quality," he continued with a hint of admiration in his words. "Willingness to put others before yourself and even place yourself in a less prominent role is selflessness. I think it's impressive, and I believe it has the potential to lead to personal growth, even though I don't see myself achieving it. So, it's fair to say that."
Nick paused, and the expression that seemed like an acknowledgment or an explanation had softened during this brief pause. Then, as if he couldn't be bothered to continue piling up thoughts on this subject, he moved on.
"Recently, the manager told me about your situation..."
"Is it... the part where I doze off at work?" Liz asked.
He shook his head. "Not exactly, although that was mentioned as well. But I was the one being scolded, and she actually thinks you're quite cute."
Liz couldn't help but giggle.
"But it's not just her. I've noticed it too," Nick continued. "Even though I haven't pushed you about the debt, the woman is gentle and kind. So, I must ask, was it a bit of a stretch?"
"It's actually not that bad," Liz said. She crossed her fingers, rubbing her hands together for a few seconds before bringing her palms together like a cloth pocket. "I've never had it particularly easy back in my hometown, so this level of work hasn't thrown me into chaos."
She continued, then felt compelled to add anxiously, "Has my recent state been affecting your business with the manager?"
"No, not at all," Nick replied. "I've yet to meet such a diligent young lady. You're beyond my expectations, to be honest. But I'm curious about another reason why Liz is working so hard to make money."
Nick's question hung in the air, waiting for a response.
"The reason is...?" She bit her fingertip in puzzlement.
"You look like you're preparing for something," he said with an assured tone rather than probing. "You don't seem like the kind of girl who leaves home without a reason. So, what is it?"
"Well, I guess I haven't told you this before," Liz began. "But it's not something I feel uncomfortable sharing. I came to the East to start a company."
Nick choked a little, and he lost the earlier confidence in his tone. He cautiously asked if she might consider setting a different goal. But Liz flashed a wry smile, and she started to speak as if clarifying or bringing something that had been previously unspoken into the light.
That was something that happened before Liz arrived in the East, while she still lived in an obscure town that nobody had ever heard of. At that time, the town wasn't particularly peaceful, but compared to the disorderly settlements elsewhere, it could be considered relatively affluent. Liz was born and raised there, spending her days playing with children of similar age among the huts and shacks that occasionally had gusts of wind blowing between them. Occasionally, she would hear sounds resembling the explosion of compressed air not far away, and many years later, she realized that those were gunshots.
Local law and order were not reliable, and in a sense, it was no different from the East where Nick currently resided. In a state of anarchy, community self-governance was established. In her little world, which she called home, there were often mercenaries who walked the streets, spoke with foreign accents and joined the others in handling firearms. Looking back, it was hard to describe that scene as beautiful. It could only be deemed terrible. Liz had seen guns and heard bullets before she reached an age where she should have lived carefree in a safe and orderly environment. She became accustomed to the sound of distant explosions from bombs, which allowed her to gradually fall asleep in peace. Given her circumstances, beyond common knowledge and what was known to people living in peaceful areas —
Liz somehow found these mercenaries who would walk the streets, smoke, drink from bottles, and dance around bonfires while they worked for security very reliable, handsome, and inspiring. She felt admiration and longing for them. The idea of becoming someone like them had taken root at some point, though it was hard to determine exactly when. When her parents, who turned pale at her glowing descriptions, and friends who were wary and thought her plans were too dangerous, opposed her, she eventually buried this hope and love deep in her heart due to societal resistance. She didn't leave secretly, following the mercenaries' team with a backpack, and she didn't return crying and in a disheveled state after realizing the world's deeper cruelty. She received a regular education and molded typical yet not-so-typical values. She progressed steadily from elementary to middle school and then to high school, unsure of where to go and faced with her parents' grim faces informing her of their financial difficulties.
It may sound a bit strange, but logically, confusion and determination should be completely contradictory, like a paradox. However, to tell the truth, at that time, Liz was just like that. Learning in an environment that combined private education with being detached from the outside world was already the limit, and even though she heard that there were still universities to attend after high school, she probably couldn't move further than that. Going to a place that was farther, higher, better, and stronger than this small world that was extremely desolate and barren, which she could overlook in a single glance, was beyond her imagination. If her story were to end with Liz's submission and surrender, with her life stuck in one place from the age of nineteen until her last day, that would probably be just a run-of-the-mill and clichéd outcome. It was, in some sense, what she had already anticipated in her heart: Liz did not want that.
But the phrase "not wanting" seemed quite vague. What exactly didn't she want? Did she not want a life that was ordinary and mundane? Did she not want her dreams to be crushed in their infancy? Or was it just that, as someone with a naturally gentle and habitually compliant personality, she was beginning to feel tired of that aspect of herself and acted out of frustration, recklessness, and stubbornness due to the unknown?
The answers to the questions were already clear to her. Perhaps it was a combination of all three, and none of them could be singled out as purely driving her. So, for various reasons, for the practice of her "not wanting" described above, Liz finally managed to shape her ideal.
— Start an affordable, fully-featured security company.
Defining an ideal is simple yet not so simple, and what's more challenging is how to make it a reality. Coincidentally, compared to modest desires like having money, eating delicious food, or finding a handsome man, Liz's dream was excessively specific. So, the difficulties became just as specific. Just like an insect that had barely detected the scent of honey before being swallowed by a Venus flytrap, Liz was beaten up by one difficulty after another. First, she had a big fight with her parents, who advocated that she should get married and find an easy job. With her meager savings, she left her familiar town, transferred, and was transported multiple times from one curved corner to another in unfamiliar areas. Later, after a hard journey, she was robbed of her wallet upon disembarking in the prosperous East. This left her completely penniless, making her neither a beggar nor better than a beggar. In her state of complete financial uncertainty, she was forced to sign dubious and illegal loan agreements without understanding the details. Finally, she succeeded in forming a loop that included all the events that had occurred from the time they began until now.
The eastern region should have had some success in this regard. However, considering the lofty aspirations and ideals of a penniless girl from a remote rural area without recommendations from a famous university, it was equivalent to a fantasy. Liz didn't know what mercenaries were, and she was equally unfamiliar with security companies. She just carried hope and maintained a directionless mindset, surviving without contemplating what the future held, how long it would take to achieve, and what to do if she failed — or, from the start, she hadn't considered the possibility of failure.
It's genuinely a bit bewildering, but following this line of thought, this is probably the confusion that Liz had never noticed, or deliberately overlooked. She was like a headless fly, a traveler wandering aimlessly in an endless desert, or a gambler putting their last coin on a roulette wheel. There was no concept of what came next, or to put it nicely, in Nick's eyes, it was simply taking one step at a time.
He looked at the girl who, after finishing her story, quietly picked up her teacup and took a sip of water. His gaze shifted, and the desk tapping, which had started in the middle of their conversation, came to a stop as if muted.
Nick contemplated repeatedly, and if he were his former self, he might not have been able to resist the urge to say something to Liz, to explain something, eventually becoming an irritating and verbose chatterbox. He enjoyed seeing the moment when the other person's inner thoughts were exposed and struck in the heart by his reasoning and a continuous stream of words, eventually dropping their guard in front of him. For him, this would make him feel like he had finally gained a different kind of value. His desire for performance would be satisfied, and he would earn further trust and respect.
But, like he had done before while Liz narrated her story, he maintained a cold and indifferent silence, an attitude of equality, treating everything the same. Nothing slipped out of his mouth before she finished speaking. It was only in that interim, much like half-time in a match, that he felt he had become somewhat meddlesome and allowed his throat to tremble as if he were suddenly aware that he would surely regret being so talkative in the future.
"I say, have you thought about where you want to go in the future?"
— This was the only sentence he found in his looping thoughts.