Ginger Joy

The third time Mu Jia told Xiao Chuhe, "Someone's following me," she was still holding the fried noodles she'd brought him.

They were from Uncle Li's shop at the mouth of the alley. The plastic bag had softened in the steam and was so hot that her fingertips had turned red. She stood in the entryway, watching Xiao Chuhe's profile as he sank into the sofa and played a game. The light from the screen flickered, making him look as if he were submerged in water.

"Chuhe." She heard herself speak, her voice thinner than she'd expected. "I need to tell you something... Lately, I keep feeling like someone's following me."

Her fingers gripped the plastic handles, her knuckles turning white one by one. She'd rehearsed this all the way home. As she left the office and took a pointless three-kilometer detour, she'd gone over it a dozen times in her head: how to start, what to say next, and where to make her voice sound casual so she wouldn't seem paranoid.

The memory of the first two times still caught in her throat.

The first was last month. After she'd told him, Xiao Chuhe hadn't even looked up. "You've been working overtime too much lately. Now you think everyone looks like a bad guy." The second was two weeks ago. She said the person at the alley entrance had been standing there for days. Xiao Chuhe was shoveling food into his mouth and replied indistinctly, "In this lousy apartment complex, there are more delivery drivers than residents. You probably just mistook someone."

Both times, he'd said something like that. Nothing harsh, nothing pointed, like brushing a speck of dust off his sleeve.

So this time, Mu Jia revised the rest of what she wanted to say over and over. In the end, what came out was still the simplest thing: "I mean it."

"Oh, right." Xiao Chuhe murmured twice, his fingers tapping rapidly on the keyboard. "Then come home earlier after work from now on. Don't be out wandering around after dark."

Then, as if he'd suddenly remembered something, he finally looked away from the screen