Sweet Oxygen - Chapter 8

Chapter 8 – Smoked Plum

I don’t charge here

——

It might be because it’s summer, and the atmosphere inside the room was already quite warm. When Zhang Yuqing walked over to Qin Han, she could clearly feel his warm presence.

“Little girl, I don’t it for minors.”

Qin Han’s hand, which was resting on the table, reflexively curled up, and her whole body suddenly tensed. Her ears burned.

She knew that the word “do” referred to getting a tattoo.

She also knew that there was nothing special about the statement, but she was still stunned and couldn’t react for a long time.

Maybe because someone was waiting for a tattoo in the studio, Zhang Yuqing left right after saying that, taking his lingering warmth with him.

He returned to the tattoo room, leaving the door slightly ajar. Qin Han could hear him instructing the man getting tattooed on post-care precautions.

Even Taobao’s automated customer service bots knew to speak politely, using terms of endearment like “Dear, what do you need?” and “Sweetie, remember to give a five-star review,” but Zhang Yuqing didn’t.

——Taobao (淘宝) is one of China’s largest online shopping platforms. It primarily operates as a marketplace for individuals and businesses to sell products directly to consumers.

When the tattooed man asked him, “Qing-ge, can I go drinking tonight? A little alcohol should be fine, right?” Zhang Yuqing let out a cold chuckle.

It was probably time for her to leave.

Lurking around in someone’s shop wasn’t exactly appropriate.

Qin Han stuffed her phone into her bag. A girl’s handbag wasn’t that big to begin with, and since there were already other things inside, it was a struggle to fit the phone in, making it impossible to zip up.

She sighed and reached into her bag, feeling around until her fingers touched a smooth satin ribbon and a paper box.

It was the graduation gift she had bought for Hu Keyuan—a cherry blossom perfume she had bought in Japan.

She hadn’t had the chance to give it yet.

Qin Han let out a soft sigh.

Losing a good friend was never easy.

She remembered that day in a foreign country, surrounded by Japanese conversations. She had struggled to communicate with the store clerk in her not-so-fluent English.

She chose pink wrapping paper and even asked the clerk to tie a white ribbon into a bow.

Her mother had been standing outside the store, holding a traditional Japanese floral umbrella, urging her, “Xiao Han, if you don’t hurry, we’re going to miss the flight.”

A few Japanese people, hearing the Chinese, curiously turned their heads to look at Qin Han.

“I’m coming!” she had called back, clutching the box as she ran outside, happily thinking, Keyuan will definitely love it.

Back in high school, they had spent all day in the classroom studying. The girls often joked that sitting too much would make their hips bigger, so before evening self-study, Qin Han and Hu Keyuan would hold hands and take a stroll around the track, chatting about everything under the sun—even as trivial as what kind of bun they had for breakfast.

Turns out, graduation didn’t just mean saying goodbye to endless homework and exams.

Even high school friendships couldn’t be carried out of the school gates.

Sunlight streamed through the window, and outside, someone was calling out, selling iced sour plum juice. This street always seemed to have more older people around.

People always said that the capital city was a fast-paced metropolis, but this place felt like it was put on slow motion, stretching time out.

Feeling a little down, Qin Han tore off the wrapping from the perfume box, crumpled the note that said Happy Graduation, and threw it into the trash bin along with the packaging paper.

The light pink liquid inside the perfume bottle shimmered with golden flecks, swirling like a galaxy when she tilted it. Qin Han stared at it for a moment before putting the bottle back into her bag.

She dawdled, tidying things that didn’t really need tidying, stalling for time.

There were cans of beer stacked by the table. She had noticed them last time she was here, though it seemed like there were fewer now.

Without even knowing what she was thinking, Qin Han reached out and quietly picked up a can of beer—just as Zhang Yuqing and the tattooed man walked out of the studio.

The tattooed man wasn’t as tall as Zhang Yuqing. He saw Qin Han and froze for a second before turning to Zhang Yuqing, throwing an arm around his shoulders. “Qing-ge, is that your little sister?”

Zhang Yuqing shot him a glance. “Watch your words.”

“Ah, no, I wasn’t insulting you. I was just asking—your little sister is home today?”

Zhang Yuqing, not wearing a mask at the moment, looked a bit exasperated. “She’s not.”

Qin Han vaguely recalled that the tattooed woman from before had also asked if she was Zhang Yuqing’s sister.

Did Zhang Yuqing have a younger sister?

The customer left, and with no one else in the shop, Qin Han’s hand was still resting on the beer can.

Zhang Yuqing leaned against the doorframe and raised an eyebrow. “Impressive. Thinking about drinking now?”

Qin Han had never done anything that teachers or parents forbade. Drinking was strictly off-limits.

Even though she had already graduated, she still had that student mindset.

Hearing Zhang Yuqing’s remark, she immediately withdrew her hand, as if caught doing something wrong, and changed the subject in a small voice: “Do you want to try the cookies?”

Zhang Yuqing looked at her.

From the moment she walked in today, she had seemed a little off.

At first, he thought it was just the heat outside, but after seeing her reach for the beer, he realized—she had something on her mind.

He asked if she wanted to drink, and she didn’t answer.

That meant she did want to.

At this age, they all thought drinking could drown out their troubles.

The cookies Qin Han brought were placed on the wooden table. She had said she baked them herself.

The packaging was delicate—pink bags, with each cookie individually wrapped and labeled with English stickers.

Zhang Yuqing said nothing, took a bag, unwrapped a cookie, and popped it into his mouth.

He let out a laugh. “Did you make these cookies bitter melon flavored?”

Qin Han was startled, then grabbed one herself to taste. After just two bites, her face turned red.

Something had gone wrong in the baking process—the cookies were actually bitter.

Even the sugar dusted on top couldn’t cover up the taste.

If she had known, she should’ve just brought some that her mom made.

“I’m sorry. I thought they turned out well, so I brought them for you…”

Her voice always carried a cautiousness, like she was speaking timidly.

Zhang Yuqing leaned on the table, suddenly bending forward slightly so that he was at eye level with her. He said seriously, “Thanks.”

Qin Han was stunned.

“You packed your socks?” Zhang Yuqing was still leaning on the table, speaking in the tone of a parent reminding their child before they left the house.

That made her even more stiff. Her voice came out choppy: “Uh… my socks… did you wash them? Thank you, I—I…”

“Not me.”

Qin Han had been struggling to express her gratitude when he suddenly denied it, leaving her momentarily blank. “Huh?”

“The washing machine.”

So, not hand-washed. Thank goodness.

But even the washing machine was a little embarrassing. How awkward.

After chatting for a bit, Qin Han still showed no signs of leaving. Zhang Yuqing casually asked, “Still thinking about getting a tattoo?”

She had only mentioned getting a tattoo as an excuse for lingering here. She had already forgotten about it herself.

Hearing Zhang Yuqing bring it up, she was caught off guard, tilting her fair face up with a blank expression.

Seeing her reaction, Zhang Yuqing walked toward the tattoo room and said, “Stay as long as you want. I don’t charge here.”

Qin Han didn’t say anything as she watched him grab a plain-colored T-shirt from the tattoo room.

Another black one.

Honestly, it looked no different from the one he was already wearing.

As Qin Han pondered this, she suddenly saw Zhang Yuqing casually lift the hem of his shirt. Then, as if realizing something, he abruptly stopped, pulled his shirt back down, retreated into the tattoo room, and even closed the door.

He was probably about to change his clothes but felt it was inappropriate to do so in front of her.

In that brief moment, all Qin Han caught a glimpse of his slender waist.

She suddenly became self-conscious—see, by staying here, she was making him uncomfortable, even just changing clothes.

She should at least give him a reason for lingering here, right?

When Zhang Yuqing came back out, he was still wearing a black T-shirt and jeans, but it seemed like he had changed into a fresh set.

After a few moments of silence, Qin Han suddenly said, “Zhang Yuqing, I’m not happy.”

Zhang Yuqing had been on Yaonan Alley for many years. People around his age all called him Qing-ge. It had been a long time since someone had addressed him by his full name like this.

This girl always spoke slowly, her voice soft, but calling his name this way carried an inexplicable sense of trust and reliance.

After saying that, Qin Han fell into an even deeper silence.

Zhang Yuqing wasn’t her friend. She really shouldn’t be dumping her emotions on him and making it his problem.

He didn’t respond either. When she looked up again, she found that he had left.

Maybe he was annoyed by her.

The frustration that had been brewing inside Qin Han for days was close to overflowing. She hung her head in a daze for a while, then slung her bag over her shoulder, feeling like it was about time she left.

Footsteps sounded near the entrance—neither too heavy nor too light.

She looked up and heard Zhang Yuqing ask, “Can you drink something cold?”

Not really understanding why he was asking, Qin Han nodded. The next second, a transparent plastic cup was placed in front of her.

It was a really big cup, like the jumbo-sized ones that some bubble tea shops had started selling.

A thin layer of condensation had already formed on the outside, droplets of water trickling down the surface.

It was iced sour plum juice, with a sprinkling of osmanthus flowers on top, carrying a slightly sweet and tangy aroma.

Zhang Yuqing nudged the drink with his chin, his tone light and teasing: “Meng Po Soup—drink it, and all your worries will disappear.”

——孟婆汤 (Mèng Pó Tāng), or Meng Po Soup, is a mythical potion in Chinese folklore. According to legend, before souls are reincarnated, they must drink this soup, which erases all memories of their past lives. In modern usage, “Meng Po Soup” is sometimes used metaphorically to describe something that helps people forget sadness, such as a strong drink or comforting food.

Qin Han looked up, her gaze lingering on him. “I’m not a kid,” she muttered.

She didn’t need such a cliché, low-effort attempt to comfort her.

“Alright then, it’s just iced sour plum juice,” he replied.

Truthfully, Zhang Yuqing was a little worried—when Qin Han had looked up at him just now, her eyes had been unnervingly bright, like she was about to burst into tears at any moment.

And he really wasn’t good at handling crying girls.

But Qin Han didn’t reject his offer. She bent down and sipped through the straw.

She moved so slowly that Zhang Yuqing sighed inwardly. He figured that the next time she looked up, her tears would be streaming down her face.

But unexpectedly, when Qin Han raised her head again, her eyes were sparkling—

Her voice was no longer gloomy at all but filled with delighted surprise: “Zhang Yuqing, this iced sour plum juice is really good!”

Zhang Yuqing hadn’t anticipated this reaction. He blinked in surprise, then let out a laugh, coughing slightly. “Guess it really is Meng Po Soup, huh?”

——T/n: Regarding the chapter title, smoked plum (乌梅) is smoked and dried unripe plums. When refers to a drink 乌梅汁, it is called “sour plum juice” instead of “smoked plum juice” even though it was made from smoked plums.