Chapter Thirty-Three: The Sailor’s Shirt

"One box of rice, two meat dishes, two vegetables."
"You're eating so much—be careful, you'll get fat."
"Are you looking to die?"
Yang Liu couldn't be bothered to argue with Cui Yue any longer; she swung the lunchbox at his face and walked away without looking back.

Are all girls this fierce these days? Cui Yue rubbed his sore face and muttered to himself.

The end-of-shift broadcast had just begun when Cui Yue emerged from the cafeteria, his lunchbox piled high. As he walked, he grumbled, "Women eat so much these days, even more than I do."

Cui Yue finally completed his task and rushed back to the security office, panting. As he opened the door, Zhang Hao was hunched over his meal, not even looking up as he spoke.

"Back already, lover boy? How was your romantic lunch?"
"Not even eating can shut you up—don't talk nonsense. There was nothing romantic about it, just delivering food."
"Cui, you're impressive! Progressing at lightning speed. You'll have to teach me your ways someday," Da Zhuang said, his face full of envy.
"Teach you? Da Zhuang, you should ask Zhang Hao—he's the one with all the experience."
"Alright, alright, let's drop it. I admit defeat," Zhang Hao said, waving his chopsticks without swallowing his food.
"Don't be so modest. Where's your Sichuan girl?" Cui Yue asked, puzzled.
"That's a purely revolutionary friendship. We discuss our values and life philosophies together, brainstorming for the cause of socialism."
"Ugh, Zhang Hao, you're disgusting. You even turn flirting into a political virtue. Even I'm embarrassed for you," Cui Yue stuck out his tongue in mock disgust.
"Come on, Cui, tell us, how far have you gotten?" Zhang Hao asked conspiratorially, with Da Zhuang watching eagerly from the side.
"What do you mean, 'how far'? We're just ordinary coworkers. What do you think is going on?" Cui Yue replied sternly, putting on a serious face.
"Boring," Zhang Hao and Da Zhuang chorused, heading out with their lunchboxes.
Cui Yue wore a look that said, "You can be annoyed all you want, it's none of my concern."

Evening fell over the factory's bike shed.

A few young men squatted by the garden, each with a cigarette in one hand and playing cards in the other, thoroughly enjoying themselves. A short fellow kept glancing anxiously toward the direction of Workshop No. 2. The heat had drenched his undershirt in sweat, and he fanned himself impatiently. Suddenly, he spotted a white figure in the distance, his face lighting up with joy. He hurried over to the group and said to the tall youth in the striped sailor's shirt, "Brother Feng, quick! Yang Liu is done for the day—she's coming!"

The sailor-shirted youth immediately glanced back, pushing aside the white paper curtain before him. Sure enough, he spotted Yang Liu heading toward the bike shed.

"Feng, two eights—are we still playing or not?" someone asked.
The sailor-shirted youth tossed his cards on the ground, ripped the paper strip from his face, and cursed, "Screw this, pack it up! Can't you see she's coming?"

The rest scrambled to tidy up.

Yang Liu had just finished work and seemed to be in a good mood, humming a tune as she walked toward the bike shed. As she entered, she saw several young men straddling their bicycles, all looking rather roguish. When they saw her approach, they rang their bells vigorously and shouted, "Hello, sister-in-law!" before erupting into laughter.

The leader in the sailor shirt stood by her bike, grinning smugly.

Yang Liu had never encountered anything like this before. Her cheeks flushed; as the boys shouted and jeered, she grew flustered, her face paling with anger until she was nearly in tears.

Struggling to push past them and unlock her bike, she found the sailor-shirted youth still lingering nearby with a wicked smile.

"Hey, Yang girl, what's the rush? It's still early for dinner," he teased.
"Spare me—who are you calling your girl? Have you no shame?" Yang Liu snapped.
"Aw, come on, Yang girl. Uncle Yang called you that since you were a kid—aren't you my little sister?" the sailor-shirted youth replied, cheekily gripping her bike's handlebars.

"Let go!" she demanded.
"What's the hurry?"
"If you don't, I'll just leave it!" Yang Liu stamped her foot in anger, her eyes brimming with tears.

Seeing she was about to cry, the sailor-shirted youth finally released her bike, still grinning, "No need to get upset. Heading home? Perfect, I'll escort you."
"Move aside, I don't need you," Yang Liu retorted, pushing past him and wheeling her bike out, fuming.

She could neither walk nor ride comfortably, as the sailor-shirted youth stuck to her like a leech, circling her on his bike. The others followed suit, riding wider circles around them, jeering and joking.

Yang Liu pushed her bike, seething with anger, tears streaming down her face as she walked.

"Come on, sweetheart, why are you crying? Let your big brother take you to the movies," the sailor-shirted youth persisted shamelessly.
"I don't want to," Yang Liu sobbed.

The sailor-shirted youth watched her crying, thinking to himself, "Even her tears are beautiful..."

At the factory gate, Cui Yue was exchanging greetings with colleagues clocking out, but his eyes kept scanning the crowd. Where was Yang Liu? Was she working late again tonight?

Just as he was beginning to worry, he caught sight of her familiar white silhouette at the edge of his vision—surrounded by a group of young men on bicycles, while she walked and cried, looking utterly wronged.

Anger surged through Cui Yue. In a flash, he darted forward, blocking her bike and asking quietly, "What happened?"

"Cui Yue... they..." Yang Liu, seeing him, clung to him like a lifeline. She hid behind him, glancing at the sailor-shirted youth—too angry and upset to say more.

Cui Yue didn’t press her. He could guess what had happened.

The sailor-shirted youth had been basking in his own bravado when he suddenly found Cui Yue standing between him and Yang Liu. Without so much as a lift of his eyelid, he scowled, "Who the hell are you? Move aside!"

"Cui Yue, security department. Don't you all feel any shame, ganging up on a girl like this?" Cui Yue's voice was low and heavy with anger from who knows where.

"Security, huh? Must be new. You don't know who I am? Then stay out of this," the sailor-shirted youth retorted.

"I really don't know who you are, and yes, I'm new. So what?" Cui Yue replied with a cold laugh.

"Hey, guys, you hear this? He doesn't even know who I am. Is he looking for trouble with us?" The sailor-shirted youth was so riled up by Cui Yue's tone that he laughed in disbelief, jabbing a finger at him as if being unrecognized was the greatest insult.

The others looked at Cui Yue, this unknown upstart, with utter disdain. Not one of them took him seriously.