On Christmas Eve, the streets of New York were filled with festive holiday cheer. Twinkling Christmas lights adorned every corner, yet to Cheng Yi, it all seemed so distant. Business was good, which meant more leftovers. She packed three large boxes to take home as her "Christmas treat" and volunteered to mop the floors, letting her colleagues leave early to spend the evening with family and friends.
Halfway through mopping, a loud, urgent knocking sound came from the partially closed metal shutter. She paused and looked towards the gap beneath the shutter, catching sight of someone's legs clad in worn-out trousers and a pair of snow-stained black boots.
Her first thought was fear—could it be a robbery? But then, do robbers work on Christmas Eve too? Forcing herself to stay calm, she held her breath.
A deep male voice called out from the other side, asking in broken Mandarin if they were still serving food.
It's not a robbery! Cheng Yi exhaled in relief but remained cautious. She didn't dare approach the door and replied, "We're closed."
Suddenly, the shutter was yanked up, and a tall man stepped inside. He looked Chinese, with unruly black curls covering part of his face, his sharp eyes boring into her. Anyone else would've left after being told the shop was closed, but this man had barged in regardless. Cheng Yi's nerves tightened again, her body tensing as the familiar dread crept in. Was this really a robbery, or was this man just incredibly rude?
"We… we're closed," she stammered.
"Just pack me something. Anything will do," he commanded, his tone leaving no room for refusal.
"The chef… he's already gone," she added hurriedly, watching him warily.
The man frowned, falling silent as his gaze swept across the empty restaurant and then lingered on the kitchen door, seemingly weighing up the truth of her words. His hawk-like stare made her uneasy, and she found herself shrinking back.
"It's true… he really is gone. Sorry…" she stuttered, her voice barely audible.
She'd experienced three types of muggers so far—the aggressive kind, the begging kind, and the more reasonable, bargaining kind, like the old Black man she'd recently encountered. They'd actually "negotiated," and in the end, she'd split her twenty-dollar bill with him. But this man… he was a new type altogether. The dangerous kind. Her legs felt like jelly, and she could barely stand, gripping the mop as if it were a lifeline.
The man scanned the dark kitchen one more time, as if he noticed something. Cheng Yi thought he had set his sights on the counter near the kitchen entrance, so she instinctively shouted.
"Boss took all the cash!"
The man froze, casting a puzzled look. He walked up to the counter, rummaged through the takeaway boxes, and pulled out one that seemed satisfactory, tucking it into his coat pocket. Then, he approached Cheng Yi, who was still trembling, and pulled out a crisp twenty-dollar bill, pressing it into her shaking hand.
Cheng Yi's face turned bright red with embarrassment. She stared at the bill in confusion before realisation dawned on her. Quickly, she ran after him.
"Wait… I need to give you change."
The man stopped, turned around, and his lips curled into a slight smirk, half-amused.
"Keep it, Merry Christmas!"
He pulled down the shutter again, Cheng Yi stood there for a while, slowly calming down. Then, she hurried to finish cleaning up and prepared to head home.
Still on edge, she deliberately avoided the dark alley and chose a well-lit route back home. Several minutes later, halfway home, she felt it—a distinct sense of being followed. She quickened her pace, only feeling relief wash over her when she reached her apartment building. Fumbling with her keys at the door, she jumped at the sudden tap on her shoulder, causing her to drop everything—keys, food boxes, all of it clattering to the ground.
A young, handsome Asian boy stood behind her, with sharp features, spiky hair, and hands stuffed in his pockets. He had a roguish air about him, glancing around restlessly.
"I... I wanna..."
He cast Cheng Yi an apologetic glance, then looked down at the spilled food boxes, struggling to find the right words.
Cheng Yi bent down to pick up the food, noticing his gaze fixed intently on the boxes. He even swallowed audibly.
Could it be…?
Could it be that the shelters had closed for Christmas? Why else would there be so many hungry people wandering the streets tonight?
Maybe he's starving, she thought. Wordlessly, she held out a box to him. Without a second thought, the boy snatched it, plopped himself down on the ground, and started devouring the food with his bare hands. Watching him eat so ravenously, Cheng Yi felt a pang in her chest. She handed him a pair of chopsticks. He hesitated for a moment before taking them and nodded his thanks.
But… He was using the chopsticks like skewers, awkwardly stabbing at the pieces of chicken.
This is really too much for him, she thought with a helpless smile.
The boy furrowed his brow and turned to Cheng Yi, eyes pleading. She quickly looked away, embarrassed, only to glance back and find him still staring at the other box in her hand. Sighing inwardly, she handed it to him too. He tore into it just as voraciously.
Cheng Yi quietly opened the door and hurried up the stairs, leaving this unforgettable Christmas Eve behind her.
In this city, you cross paths with all sorts of people.
Like the drunks on the street.
Some are merry, some are shouting.
Each drunk has a story.
Some stories are brewed in liquor, others dispersed by the cold wind.
And she, just a passing stranger, silently brushes past them all.
No stopping, no listening, no changing the endings.