Cheng Yi wanted to tell her colleagues what had happened that night, but everyone was so busy and exhausted, yawning through their work, no one had time to listen. A few days later, she had almost forgotten about it herself.
One day, as soon as she arrived at the restaurant, the boss pulled her aside and told her that immigration was cracking down on illegal workers. It would be safer for her to stay out of sight for a while. She was not working at the front of the house, she'd be reassigned to the kitchen, washing dishes. Dishwashing in America wasn't that complicated—clear off the leftover food, stack the dishes into the machine, and a few minutes later, everything would come out sparkling clean and dry. Compared to the grueling handwashing students used to endure, she figured she was pretty lucky.
Before business hours, when there weren't many dishes to wash, she'd help with food prep, assist the chef, take out the trash, or even deliver food orders. During Christmas, most New Yorkers too lazy to cook, delivery orders flooded in. With everyone else running around, the boss handed her a few takeout boxes and asked her to make a delivery. The address seemed peculiar:
"Wait by the fire escape in the alley for 5 minutes. If no one shows up, bring it back."
Clutching the food boxes tightly to her chest, Cheng Yi walked carefully through the snow, fearing she might slip and drop the big order. The alley was lined with several fire escapes, which one was it? The boss hadn't specified. She decided to stand in the middle of the alley.
Snowflakes fluttered down like feathers, Cheng Yi found herself raising a hand to catch a small pile of snow, catching the winter's natural gift. In her usual rush, she hardly ever had the chance to admire the large, fluffy snowflakes and cotton candy-like snowdrifts. Under the Christmas decorations, snow-covered New York looked like a fairy tale.
When Cheng Yi realized five minutes might have passed, a small pile of snow had gathered in her palm.
It's freezing.
She shivered and glanced back at the empty fire escape. It was probably time to head back.
"Five minutes already?"
"Yes..."
She responded reflexively in a small voice.
Wait, something's not right!
She spun around, and there he was—the tall man from before, standing at the corner, by the unassuming door beneath the fire escape. His tousled hair fell over his eyes, arms folded, looking down at her like a teacher reprimanding a disobedient student. He stepped forward, and Cheng Yi instinctively took a step back.
How long has he been standing there? Why didn't he say anything?
With a stern expression and piercing gaze, he extended his hand towards her.
What did he mean? He gestured at the takeout boxes in her arms. Embarrassed, she handed them over with both hands. Her face must've been as red as the Christmas ornaments on a tree. There was nowhere to hide in this snowy alley, and she turned to leave, dejected.
"Wait."
Is there more? Cheng Yi turned around and was confused.
The man stood there, arms still crossed, a faint smile playing on his lips. What's wrong? Cheng Yi glanced down at herself—everything seemed fine.
"Money!"
He placed a twenty-dollar bill in her hand and added pointedly:
"And the tip."
That same evening, she encountered another "character."
This was a young guy squatting on the stairs outside her building, chin resting on his hand, waiting for her to get off work. As soon as he spotted her from afar, his face lit up as if they were old friends. He stood up and trotted over, his eyes glued to the takeout box in her hand, like a puppy waiting for treats.
The landlady upstairs peered out of her window and teased her with a playful grin.
"Miss Cheng, your boyfriend's been waiting ages!"
Cheng Yi quickly dragged him to the bench outside the nearby convenience store, handed him the box, and told him to wait and then hurried into the store. When she came out with a spoon, he had already started eating. She sighed and sat down beside him.
"慢慢吃,别噎着."（"Take it easy, or you'll choke."）
"我...不明白,说…慢一点." （"I… don't get it. Speak… slower."）
"广东话和普通话能听得懂吗?" （"Can you understand Cantonese or Mandarin?"）
"都OK,只是…一点点." （"Both OK, just… a little."）
"你叫什么名字?" （"What's your name?"）
"这我明白,Allen." （"Got it—Allen."）
"姓呢?" （"Last name?"）
"明白,不知道." （"Got it, don't know."）
Thinking he didn't understand, Cheng Yi explained in another word.
"Your family name."
"明白,但没有family." （"Got it… but no family."）
His casual response stirred something in Cheng Yi's heart.
"你name?" （"Your name?" ）
"我叫程依,前程的程,依靠的依." ("I'm Cheng Yi—Cheng, as in journey, and Yi, as in rely.")
"What? 听不懂,什么意思?" （"What? I don't get it. What does that mean?"）
Trying to describe Chinese characters to a Chinese American with limited language ability was as challenging as speaking a foreign language. Normally, she'd ask about family next, but he didn't even know his own last name. He was probably an orphan, and his ravenous eating made her decide to ask others instead.
"你多大了?" （"How old are you?"）
"120 pounds, 5 feet 10 inches."
"不是,我的意思是… your age." （"No, I mean… your age."）
"Oh, 23."
So they were the same age. As she took in his delicate features, a thought struck her: with a face like that, it must be so easy to beg for food.
"住哪里?" （"Where do you live?"）
"住...什么?" （"Live… what?"）
After some back and forth, she finally understood—he lived in a shelter.
He'd just been released from jail before Christmas and had missed the dinner service at the shelter, leaving him wandering the streets in search of food.
"我吓你,sorry,all店.closed." （"I scared you, sorry… all stores closed,"）
"没事." （"It's fine."）
Glancing at the convenience store behind him, she thought for a moment, then went inside to buy two hot drinks and handed him one.
"Actually, what I meant to say is, we've had a lot of leftovers recently. If you don't mind, help me finish them?"
He stared at the cup of tea in his hand, silent.
Snowflakes danced in the air, and something inside Cheng Yi softened.
"I can't eat it all myself. It'd be a waste."
"Thanks."
That night, Cheng Yi couldn't sleep.
Her mind kept drifting back to the big Chinese characters on the convenience store:
"24小时营业,全年无休" （"24-Hour Service, Open Every Day.""）
Since then, he had waited for her by the stairwell every night.
She'd teach him a few Chinese words, and he'd crack jokes to make her laugh.
She didn't ask too much about him, and he didn't pry into her past either.
And so, Cheng Yi made her first friend in New York.
Every day, he looked forward to the takeout boxes she brought back, enjoying them with a childlike joy.
Sometimes, when the leftovers weren't enough, Cheng Yi would divide them into two boxes anyway, one fuller than the other.
If there was only enough for one, she'd hand it to him, pretending to carry an empty box for herself.
Her parents had taught her: when giving, never hurt the other person's dignity.
Four years later.
Christmas, at the same convenience store.
As he was paying, Ye Minglang noticed the large Chinese characters on the door and felt a sense of pride.
"I know what those words mean—'Open 24 Hours, Year-Round.'"
His Chinese had improved so much—he couldn't wait to show off to Yi.
Wait… those words…
Four years ago, Yi must've already known.
That first day, he'd planned to rob her just to fill his empty stomach.
This silly girl. She really never made things easy for him.