Rui Xiaodan lived in Villa 12, Area A, Rose Garden Community. The house belonged to her mother, purchased in 1987 as part of a compensated urban redevelopment relocation. On top of the compensation, her mother had added 510,000 yuan to buy the villa, intending it to be a comfortable place for her old age. The house was a detached two-story building, covering 266 square meters, with a balcony surrounded by railings on the roof, an independent garage, and a small yard of over 20 square meters in front. All the buildings in the community had a creamy white base color and were designed in a European style. Each building was surrounded by spacious open areas, with stone-paved paths connecting lush flower beds, reflecting a modern, middle-class lifestyle.
The villa was beautifully decorated but sparsely furnished. The living room had a fabric sofa set, a large square coffee table, and a TV. The bedroom contained a large bed, and the study had a computer and a few books. Several rooms were empty, with only the floral-patterned floor-to-ceiling curtains and cosmetics in the bathroom hinting at a feminine presence.
Rui Xiaodan took two slices of bread from the refrigerator, spread some jam on them, poured a glass of water, and went into the study to start her daily ritual—writing a 500-word diary in both Chinese and German. This was a strict rule she had set for herself to improve her writing skills in preparation for a future career change to law and to solidify her German for her planned legal studies in Germany. She maintained this habit even during the intense study period for her bar exam, and she always wrote or spoke to her mother in German. The only exception was when she was on field assignments for investigations and arrests.
She first wrote her diary in Chinese, then translated it into German, storing both versions in dedicated computer files. This took her over an hour.
After finishing her diary, she took out the CD "Daughter of Heaven" and played it on her computer. However, the sound from the computer speakers was vastly inferior to the sound system at Ding Yuanying's place. It was almost unbearable, a far cry from the heavenly experience she remembered.
She turned off the computer and sat on the sofa in the living room. The detached house was exceptionally quiet, free from the noise of neighbors. She lit a cigarette, smoking quietly while staring at the spot where the TV was, lost in thought. In her mind, she could still hear that pure, enchanting voice. She imagined herself sitting alone on the sofa in the still of the night, the room completely dark, nothing visible except the tiny, beautiful lights of a sound system, like fireflies in the vast night sea, filling her with hope and endless imagination. The music would flow down from the heavens, wondrous, ethereal, and pure, like a distant celestial paradise...
She sighed again, thinking: People can actually live like this!
She suddenly felt the urge to buy a sound system, but this thought was quickly countered by another. She knew that deciding to buy a sound system was a significant step, symbolizing not just financial capability but also a certain lifestyle choice. After all, it was cultural consumption, not a necessity for survival.
She asked herself: Am I ready for this kind of consumption?