Each time Cheng Yi delivered food to the back alley, she felt a bit uneasy. Thankfully, the guy would always take the food and leave without saying a word, which allowed her to breathe a sigh of relief. According to the owner, the man was the grandson of an old Chinese immigrant. Once upon a time, he'd been quite the big shot—a young executive at a now-defunct investment bank on Wall Street. But these days, he was more like a rat, down and out.
Having worked at the restaurant for a while, Cheng Yi had seen all sorts of people come and go. Some of the high-flying Wall Street elites, who used to leave big tips, now thought twice before ordering even a simple meal. Having run the business for years, the owner knew better than to judge them too harshly; in this line of work, you never knew when someone would bounce back. Better to offend no one.
The man had a commanding presence. No one dared to underestimate him; even Cheng Yi instinctively lowered her gaze whenever she saw him.
As the crackdown on illegal labor became a hot topic during election season, Cheng Yi lived in constant fear. Worse still, she had no idea how she was going to pay next semester's tuition. Sleep was hard to come by, and anxiety gnawed at her every day.
One evening, after the New Year's holidays, the Filipino auntie suddenly burst into the kitchen, shouting that immigration officers were raiding nearby businesses. Everyone dropped whatever they were holding and bolted. Cheng Yi quickly put down her kitchen knife, and the chef pointed to the back alley by the employee door. She ran out in a panic.
Snow was falling heavily outside, and she'd been too panicked to grab her coat. Her heart pounded with fear, and though her clothes were soaked with sweat, it felt as if her heart might burst out of her chest. Which way should she go? What should she do?
She stood there clutching her chest, her mind a tangled mess, when a hand suddenly grabbed her wrist. She didn't even have time to scream before she was yanked toward the small door beside the fire escape. She ran up flight after flight of stairs until they burst through another door.
Outside in the alley, sirens blared, and voices echoed chaotically. Cheng Yi was gasping for air, her whole body trembling uncontrollably from shock. Her legs gave way, but before she could collapse, he pulled her tightly into his embrace, muffling her heavy breathing with his jacket. Then came a series of sharp knocks. He held her even tighter, his broad hand pressing her head against his chest, as if shielding her from the world.
Cheng Yi felt faint. After what seemed like an eternity, the footsteps outside finally faded. Only then did he loosen his grip. His deep voice rumbled above her head.
"It's over. "
All the tension drained from her body. She slid down to the floor, clutching his coat as sobs wracked her small frame.
All the tension drained from her body as she collapsed against him, her hands clutching desperately at the hem of his coat. Only when her heartbeat gradually steadied did she realize and hurriedly let go. Without his support, she slid down to the floor, hugging her knees tightly as sobs continued to wrack her small frame.
Arriving in New York over six months ago, it was the first time she had cried.
The jacket was placed gently over her head, and his indifferent voice drifted down.
"If you want to cry, do it where no one can see."
New York, a city that never believed in tears.
How long had she been asleep?
Cheng Yi opened her eyes groggily. The room was bathed in a soft, yellow glow, and the heater was on full blast. It was warm inside, and she felt a sense of comfort. As she sat up, the oversized jacket slipped off her shoulders.
The small living room was modestly sized, with two adjoining rooms, one of which appeared to be the kitchen. The room was decorated in an old-fashioned Chinese style, with dim yellow lights, an antique Eight Immortals table and chairs, and calligraphy and paintings covering the walls. By the stairs, there was an ancestral altar with several ancestral tablets and old photographs. It seemed the place hadn't been cleaned in a long time—there was a layer of dust on the incense burner and the altar, and the Eight Immortals table was cluttered with takeout boxes and empty beer cans. A faint sour smell lingered in the air.
Footsteps thudded down the stairs. The man, looking as disheveled as ever, scratched his head as he descended. Cheng Yi stood up to greet him, but he brushed past her and headed straight for the kitchen. He turned on the tap, drank straight from his cupped hands, then splashed some water on his face, wiping it with his clothes.
Does he just make do with whatever's available? she thought.
He slowly lifted his head and leaned against the cabinet. Cheng Yi was about to speak, but before she could thank him, he cut her off with a cold response.
"No need to thank me."
It was basic manners to thank someone who had helped you. Cheng Yi gathered her courage and looked into his deep eyes, insisting on expressing her gratitude.
"No, no, I really must thank you. You saved me—I'm very grateful."
"Got any food left?"
What? Food? Cheng Yi was caught off guard by the abrupt question and took a moment to process it.
"Um… our restaurant's probably closed by now. The boss usually shuts down the whole place during raids, and it's short-staffed."
He frowned, massaging his temples as if weighing something in his mind. His expression was hard to read.
"How are you going to thank me?"
What? Wasn't he the one who just said I didn't need to thank him? Cheng Yi's brain struggled to keep up.
"I… I don't know."
"Don't be so quick to say thank you. Gratitude requires action to back it up."
"Then…"
"You know how to cook, right?"
"Yes… I do."
"The kitchen's yours. "
He tossed the comment over his shoulder as he headed back upstairs.
Compared to the messy living room, the kitchen looked like it had been recently renovated and was fully equipped. Cheng Yi quickly wiped away dust on the stove and opened the refrigerator. Aside from some beer, a few strips of bacon, and some canned food, it was practically empty. She rummaged through the cupboards and finally found some staple food—just three packs of instant noodles.
Well, hopefully, he wouldn't mind her eating a little bit. After all that running, she was starving too.
After preparing the noodles, she glanced at the cluttered table and realized there was nowhere to set the food. She tidied up the room in a flurry and finally called him down to eat.
The moment she called, he dashed downstairs, grabbing his chopsticks and wolfing down the food, paying no mind to the scalding hot broth. Two bowls of noodles—his was in a large soup bowl, while hers was in a small bowl.
Has it been years since he's had a proper meal? Cheng Yi had only taken two bites when he finished his food and even let out a satisfied burp. It was a bit awkward. She kept her head down, focusing on her own bowl, unaware that his sharp gaze never left her.
In less than half an hour, the room had transformed from a chaotic mess into a neat and tidy space. He had been back for half a month, and had long since eaten through whatever food he'd brought with him. He never imagined she could whip up a meal out of practically nothing—two bowls of noodles and a few slices of fried bacon.
Glancing around the now-clean living room, he found himself missing another woman who used to keep this house filled with warmth and the scent of home-cooked meals. Back then, he hadn't understood what it meant. Now, he knew, it was the essence of a home.
"So, what's the plan now?"
"I was hoping to make some money over break, so I took a shot at working day shifts. Now… I'm not sure if I can go back."
"Aren't you worried about getting deported?"
"I'll just take it one step at a time."
"Not thinking about going back?"
Cheng Yi paused mid-bite, falling into a long, deep silence.
She had nowhere else to go.