CHAPTER 3
The Woman with No Surname
LUO FAN
When I opened my eyes, a shadow loomed over me. The scene felt eerily familiar.
"Li Yao?" I whispered faintly.
"My name is Jinjing," a soft female voice replied.
I froze.
A woman?
It was the first time I had ever been this close to a woman, and worse, I was in bed. The situation felt deeply inappropriate.
I tried to sit up, but my chest tightened painfully, forcing me back down.
"Lie down," she said gently. "Don't try to get up. You're still weak."
Reluctantly, I obeyed, settling back onto the bed. "Forgive me," I murmured. "It's… inappropriate of me to meet you like this."
"What do you mean?" she asked, her tone curious.
I hesitated, unsure how to explain. The elders in Frost Mountain had always stressed proper conduct: a gentleman must present himself well—dressed neatly, standing confidently—when meeting a woman for the first time. And here I was, bedridden and disheveled.
She didn't press the matter, instead asking, "How do you feel?"
"I'm fine," I lied. My stomach churned, and I still felt as if I might vomit. But admitting weakness felt even more improper. A man should be strong in the presence of a woman, not frail.
"Are you hungry?"
I hesitated. I was starving, but my nausea made the thought of food unbearable.
"You should try to eat something," she said, not waiting for my response. "Let's start with soup."
Her shadow disappeared briefly, then returned. She sat at the side of the bed, close enough for me to feel her presence.
I flushed, unsure how to address the impropriety of the situation. A man and a woman, alone in a room together—it didn't seem right. But how could I voice my discomfort without offending her?
"You've been unconscious for two days," she said, interrupting my thoughts.
Two days? I almost gasped. "It's been that long?"
"Yes. I found you collapsed on the street on my way home. You didn't have anything with you, so I assumed you'd been robbed."
Shame washed over me. I had lost the only money I had and now relied on the kindness of a stranger.
"Here," she said, and the aroma of corn soup drifted toward me. She brought a spoon close to my lips. "Open your mouth."
I hesitated, embarrassed. "I'll try to eat on my own."
"The physician advised you to stay flat for another day," she replied matter-of-factly. "You can't eat on your own like this. I'll feed you."
"It's not proper," I protested weakly.
"What do you mean?"
"It's not proper for a man to be fed by a woman who isn't his wife," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "It's… degrading to a man's pride. And I don't want to taint your good reputation."
She laughed, the sound light but tinged with something else—amusement or perhaps mockery. "Don't worry, I don't have a good reputation. I'm just a prostitute."
Her words struck me silent.
"Or," she continued, her tone teasing, "does that wound your pride even more?"
"No! That's not what I meant," I stammered quickly. "The pride I meant… was a man's pride against weakness."
"Alright, then," she said with a chuckle. "If you don't mind a prostitute feeding you, open your mouth."
Though I felt more awkward than ever, I obeyed. She gently slid the spoon into my mouth, the warm liquid flowing down my throat. I coughed violently, sputtering.
"Are you alright?" she asked anxiously.
"I'm fine," I managed between coughs.
She waited patiently until my coughing subsided, then continued to feed me, her movements careful and unhurried.
"There you go," she said after a few more spoonfuls.
"Thank you," I whispered. It wasn't much, but it was all my stomach could handle for now.
"You're welcome."
"You said your name is Jinjing," I began hesitantly. "What about your surname?"
"I don't have one," she replied simply. "My father disowned me when he learned about my… job. I dropped my surname to spare my family further shame."
Her words carried no bitterness, only quiet acceptance.
"Is that really your job?" I asked, unsure how else to respond. "Or… are you just humoring me?"
She laughed again, light and unguarded. "Why would I humor you? Why would I lie?"
"Because you've been so kind to me," I said earnestly. "You're the only person who bothered to help me, while everyone else just walked past as if I didn't exist. You're a good person."
She sighed. "Do you think prostitutes aren't good people?"
I hesitated, searching for the right words. "My apologies. Perhaps I lack understanding of life in the city. I was raised in a remote place where women are scarce. Please forgive my lack of sensibility."
"I see," she said thoughtfully. "So, you're one of those naïve young men who come to the city hoping for a better life."
That wasn't entirely true, but I couldn't tell her the truth. I had vowed to leave my past behind the moment I arrived here. "I should have known better," I said simply.
She sighed again, the sound heavy with something I couldn't name. "I understand. I felt the same way when I first came to the city. I thought life here would be easier than in the provinces. Instead, I ended up as a prostitute. I learned the hard way."
"You can always go back," I said quietly.
She gave a bitter laugh. "Even if I wanted to, my family wouldn't take me back."
"I'm sorry."
"I stopped being a prostitute three years ago," she continued. "But once you've been one, you can never escape it. No matter how many years pass, people will always see me as a prostitute."
"I don't see you that way," I said earnestly. "I see you as a noble woman."
She laughed, but the sound quickly turned to soft sobs. The shift confused me. If only I could see her eyes, I might have understood what she truly felt.
"You're a very kind man," she said, her voice trembling. "I don't regret taking you in." She paused, then asked, "What's your name, by the way?"
"You may call me Fan," I replied.
"Fan…" She repeated my name softly. "What about your surname?"
"Like you, I've dropped my surname," I said, evading the question.
Her laugh came again, this time lighter. "Alright. Since I didn't share mine, I won't insist on knowing yours. But it's rare to meet someone as decent as you. It's refreshing."
"I'm glad to have met a kind woman too," I said honestly. "You're the first woman I've ever had a conversation with… truthfully."
She gasped, then burst out laughing. "Young man, you have a lot to learn if you want to survive in this city. Don't worry. When you're better, I'll show you around."
"I couldn't possibly impose on you that long," I said, flustered.
"Don't worry about it. It's not like you have anywhere else to go, right?"
Her words struck me, leaving a hot flush creeping up my face.
She was right. Where could I go?
"You've probably spent a lot on me," I said softly. "I'll repay you when I've recovered."
"I'll hold you to that," she said with a teasing smile in her voice. "So, you'd better get well quickly, alright?"
I forced out a small smile, wishing desperately that I could see her face. "You must be very beautiful."
"Me? No, not at all," she said with a laugh. "I'm too plain to look at. You, on the other hand, are far more beautiful than I am."
"How could you call a man beautiful?"
"But you are," she insisted. "You have a very gentle face. Calling you 'handsome' wouldn't do you justice."
Before I could respond, a wave of nausea overwhelmed me. I turned to the side just in time to vomit, the contents of the soup she had so patiently fed me spilling onto the floor.
"I'm sorry," I whispered, weak and ashamed as I lay back down.
"That's alright," she said soothingly, wiping the corners of my mouth with a cloth. "Here, take this medicine."
She placed a small pill in my mouth, her finger brushing lightly against my lips.
The touch froze me for a moment, but I quickly pushed any thoughts of impropriety aside. She was doing everything she could to help a stranger, expecting nothing in return.
Her kindness warmed something deep within me.
Perhaps this city wasn't as bad as I had thought.
As long as people like Jinjing existed, there was still hope for humanity.