Chapter 25: Hope
The next morning, Jiang Muhe picked Liang Youyun up from the hotel, saying he would take her to meet Yan’en’s parents for a proper “Yan Shi” meal.
At first, Youyun felt it was far too presumptuous. For one, she wasn’t accustomed to visiting strangers’ homes; for another, she feared being mistaken for his girlfriend; and furthermore, she hadn’t brought any gifts. Yet Jiang Muhe dismissed all her concerns outright.
He said that Yan’en’s parents are incredibly warm and hospitable, with kind hearts. They especially like cheerful and generous girls like you. They will prepare a full table of authentic Dai cuisine to treat you, complete with dishes and wine—the rice wine personally brewed by his mother. Their courtyard is also beautiful; you know Teacher Yang Liping’s Moon Palace by Erhai Lake in Dali? While not quite as extravagant, their home is no less exquisite in its arrangement. His mother loves flowers, so the courtyard is filled with blooms she has cultivated, alongside vegetables and fruit trees she tends. There is hardly any unused corner in the house; every space is adorned with handmade ornaments crafted by her.
Youyun was persuaded by his words. Deep down, she indeed wished to meet Yan’en’s parents, though, to some extent, it was also out of admiration for his mother and father.
She had always harbored prejudices against business families, believing that no merchant was without guile and that even the most sincere businessman ultimately pursued only financial gain.
Yet hearing him speak like this, she began to think perhaps everyone simply had different roles to play. Maybe the kindness and empathy of the Yan’en family belonged to his parents, while the cunning and deceit fell to Jiang Muhe. After all, their small sticky rice restaurant had nearly gone under before, and what he referred to as “throwing money around” and “leveraging connections” surely wasn’t purely standard business practice; just how much maneuvering lay behind those words remained unknown.
“Be honest with me,” she pressed. “Behind your father and mother’s earnest way of doing business, were all the dirty tasks in the trade left for you to handle?”
Muhe kept his eyes fixed on the road ahead as he drove. Behind his sunglasses, his gaze was remarkably clear and bright. He enjoyed Liang Youyun’s unrestrained “reproaches”; they made him feel close to her.
“Oh, so that’s how you see me in your heart.”
“Then you’re pretty cool. What do you call that? A shadow assassin? A behind-the-scenes mastermind?” Youyun crossed her arms and looked at him.
Muhe chuckled softly and said gently, “That’s called a high-end beast of burden.”
“And you claim you don’t go online, yet you toss around trending terms so effortlessly.”
“I’ve been spending a lot of time online lately; I’m afraid I won’t be able to keep up with your conversation.”
“You have strong learning abilities; you’re someone with great potential.”
“…Thank you.”
Yan En’s parents live in a detached villa in the suburbs. Just as Jiang Muhe had said, it was beautiful inside and out—not the kind of flashy, opulent beauty, but rather a charm that feels close to nature, filled with birdsong and the fragrance of flowers.
The nanny opened the door. Muhe parked the car and took Youyun to the kitchen.
Yan’en’s parents were preparing ingredients in the kitchen. They greeted Youyun with great warmth, especially his mother. Dressed in traditional Dai Le attire, she took Youyun by the hand, eager to show her around the courtyard, insisting she could pick any flowers or fruits she liked.
Two peacocks roamed the yard—one white, the other iridescent green—strolling leisurely along the path paved with colorful stones. Upon seeing Youyun, the white one flew up into the pomelo tree and sang a melodious song, while the green one fanned out its magnificent tail feathers.
His mother laughed heartily, saying, “They both like you very much. Peacocks are the most spiritual of creatures; they know best not only who is beautiful in appearance, but also who has a beautiful heart.”
Jiang Muhe spoke to Yan En’s parents in the Dai language. His demeanor was exceptionally steady and gentle, and his deep voice carried no hint of effeminacy; he looked like a well-behaved young boy. When Ama reached out to pat his head, he pressed his palms together in a gesture of prayer, bowing his head with profound sincerity and respect.
Muhe also showed Youyun around the various rooms inside the house.
One room displayed numerous handicrafts made by Ama, far more exquisite than those sold on the street. Particularly striking were the Dai brocades—some understated and elegant, others vibrant and bold—alongside solid-colored crocheted blankets and scarves. There were also wood carvings and stone sculptures crafted by Aba, as well as a collection of colorful stones arranged like museum exhibits. The sheer variety left Youyun dazzled.
The lunch was astonishing.
Youyun has been stationed in the village for two years, eating Dai cuisine almost every day and trying nearly every local dish. Yet only after tasting the pounded chicken feet, wild fruit sour fish soup, cured pork rib soup, and pineapple sticky rice prepared by Yan’en’s parents did she truly understand what “far superior” meant. With similar ingredients and comparable cooking methods, some secret recipe must have been added, making each bite unforgettable and leaving one craving more.
Seeing Youyun’s hearty appetite, Ama grew even happier. She began singing at the dinner table while sipping rice wine, gesturing for Jiang Muhe to join in. Youyun assumed he wouldn’t know the songs, but unexpectedly, he tapped along to the rhythm, harmonizing with Ama and Aba. Though he sang softly, his voice was remarkably pleasant. The Dai folk songs resembled Thai melodies, with their graceful tunes and lingering vocals that instantly soothed the spirit.
Youyun also tapped along to the rhythm, smiling warmly as she watched Jiang Muhe. His closeness with Ama and Aba felt just like that of a son; there was no formality between them, only a natural and open expression of parental love.
After the meal, Ama showed Youyun their photo album. She explained that most pictures inside were taken by Amu: family portraits during festivals, group photos with relatives, scenic views of the Dai village, and images documenting the rice restaurant’s growth from its humble beginnings to the present day…
Amah, delighted, stroked Youyun’s hair and spoke a few words in Dai.
Youyun couldn’t understand and glanced at Muhe for help.
Muhe lowered his head and smiled.
Youyun narrowed her eyes, guessing that her mother must be trying to matchmake them.
“She’s saying she wants to see our photos; she’ll put them in the album,” Muhe replied, deciding not to hide the truth from her.
Youyun was startled and quickly explained to her mother, “He and I are just friends, and we’ve only known each other for a short time. We’re not a couple.”
Ama laughed heartily, took her hand, and spoke in Mandarin: “Ah Mu never brings girls home. When he told us yesterday that he was bringing you, I knew he liked you.”
“Oh, this…” Youyun’s face instantly flushed crimson as she glanced awkwardly at Muhe, who looked equally embarrassed.
“Ama, we really are just ordinary friends. Of course, I mean Muhe is wonderful too, but I… I’m returning to Beijing soon. Hmm, he’s been very kind to me; we simply get along well.” She spoke incoherently, her cheeks burning red.
“You’ve already called her ‘Ama’,” Muhe couldn’t resist teasing her.
“Didn’t you tell me to call her that?” Youyun shot him a glare.
“I told you to call me that, so you actually did?”
“Otherwise, what should I call you? ‘Auntie’?”
Mu He loved seeing her flustered, watching her fair face flush pink in an instant.
Ama understood Youyun’s nervousness and let it go with a smile, saying, “Just call me Ama. What a wonderful daughter! Fate is precious; you must stay in touch with Amu, and do come back to visit me.”
“Absolutely, absolutely,” Youyun replied with a polite smile.
Aba Yan Shuai went to feed the peacocks and asked if Youyun wanted to watch. Her eyes lit up—this was something she loved! She hurried after him.
Ama pulled Muhe aside and whispered in his ear, “She likes you. It’s because she likes you that she’s so nervous.”
A flicker of joy flashed in Jiang Muhe’s eyes, only to vanish as quickly as a bird’s foot skimming across a calm lake, leaving no trace.
He took his mother’s hand and went with her to the courtyard to see the peacocks.
As they were about to leave, his mother retrieved an intricately carved wooden box from her jewelry cabinet and opened it before Youyun, revealing a set of crystal-clear jade bangles. She insisted on giving them to Youyun as a gift.
Youyun stepped back several paces in alarm, wishing she could put eight feet of distance between herself and such treasures. “I can’t accept this; it’s far too valuable. Besides, one shouldn’t receive rewards without merit—I truly feel unworthy!”
Her mother kept pressing the item into her hands, explaining that she had someone make it in Myanmar. Though not of the finest quality, she loved this piece of jade for its color and fine texture, deeming it worthy of collection. Insistent on giving it, she spoke excitedly in Dai.
Liang Youyun hurriedly shot Jiang Muhe a pleading glance, seeking help; she could no longer worry about translation issues.
Muhe smiled, accepted the gift, and said a few words to his mother. Only then did she relent. Turning back, she retrieved another small object from the cabinet—something resembling a lucky pouch. It was a Burmese yellow jade pendant, caramel-hued with openwork patterns. Upon closer inspection, characters carved in Dai script were visible at its center.
“You can’t escape today; my mother is determined to give you something,” Muhe said, frowning at her before his expression softened again.
“Did you arrange this?” Youyun asked, troubled. Her young heart, so tenderly nurtured by truth, kindness, and beauty, felt so overwhelmed with happiness that it made her dizzy.
“No,” Muhe denied.
“But… this looks very expensive too!”
“Not really. Yunnan is abundant in jade, so the unit price isn’t high.”
“The processing fee is steep; just look at this carving—so intricate, so beautiful!”
“It seems you like it.”
Muhe smiled, exchanged a few words in Dai with the elder woman, who then happily pressed the jade pendant, along with its lucky pouch, into Youyun’s hands.
With a heart full of gratitude, guilt, and a firm resolve to repay such kindness abundantly in the future, Youyun accepted the exquisite Burmese yellow jade pendant.
“What characters are these?” she asked Muhe softly, her fingertip resting on the engraved spot.
“Hmm…” He leaned down to take a closer look, then turned his face toward her. Gazing into her eyes, now just inches away, he told her, “Khwam wang. It means ‘hope’.”
Hope. Liang Youyun loved those two words.
Not only because Jinghong means “City of Dawn” in the Dai language, symbolizing hope and new beginnings.
Moreover, ever since she could remember, these two words had become an indispensable spiritual pillar in her life.
No matter how difficult or bitter life may be, once you endure that period, the future will surely be better.
Full of hope for the future and constantly encouraging herself, this belief in life has made her appear to be a fairly carefree optimist.
But as she grew older, those beautiful hopes were no longer the focus of her life; she gradually drifted away from them.
Sitting on the bus back to Mengla, her thoughts wandered freely. She kept reflecting on her decades of life experiences: going to school, graduating, working, and being stationed in the village. Sometimes she felt that more than thirty years had passed in the blink of an eye. She thought she was still young, only to realize she couldn’t keep up with the quick, leaping thoughts of truly young people. Yet, calling herself old seemed a bit far-fetched; at least she didn’t look her age, and her mindset remained relatively positive. It was just that, often, she deliberately discarded certain childish things that didn’t belong to adults—things she once called “hope.”
For instance, love at first sight.
For instance, believing in a pure love untainted by any ulterior motives or material interests.
She considered herself quite adept in this regard; therefore, even though she had developed feelings for Jiang Muhe, she knew when to stop.
It was around this time that she answered an enthusiastic phone call from her uncle, who insisted that upon her return to Beijing, she must meet the “fine young man” he had picked out for her.
To better demonstrate her resolve to cut ties with Jiang Muhe, she readily agreed to her uncle’s proposal for a blind date.
After all, as my uncle put it: “Two apartments on the West Third Ring Road, an only child, a father in business, a mother retired from a senior position at a state-owned enterprise, three years younger than you, working for a well-known foreign company, good-looking and polite. Marry into that family, and you’ll be a wealthy housewife; no one will care if you idle your days away!”
At her age, she’s already at a severe disadvantage in the bluntly transactional matchmaking market, falling into the baffling category of, “How is she still unmarried at this age?”
Nevertheless, Youyun found it amusing and couldn’t resist asking her uncle, “With such excellent credentials, why would he be interested in me? Does he believe in the saying that ‘a wife three years older brings a brick of gold’?”
Her uncle spoke frankly: “First, he’s doing it to save face for me; second, we’ve had your birth charts calculated, and you two are quite compatible. You must understand, his mother’s primary requirement is the compatibility of the birth charts. If they don’t align, she won’t even agree to a meeting!”
“It looks like I can fetch a good price!” Youyun joked in agreement.
Reality is the most potent weapon for extinguishing hope.
Jiang Muhe, too, would eventually become just one among the many men who had shared ambiguous moments with her.
Yet, for some reason, the mere thought of it filled Liang Youyun with an unprecedented, lingering ache in her heart.