Breakup Kitchen - Chapter 7

Zhang Zhang took off her uniform, hung it in the locker, and grabbed a can of Red Bull. She glanced at the clock in the break room—5:10 AM. She chugged the Red Bull, then walked over to the time clock to punch out. Leaving the air-conditioned store behind, she hopped on her motorcycle.

The sky seemed to have been lightened, transitioning from black to deep purple, then to bluish-purple. The dawn breaking through the clouds began to wake the city. She could hear the cooing of pigeons and immersed herself in the unique chill of the early morning—a time that belonged solely to her.

She lived in the southern part of District 2 in D City, an area commonly known as the old town. Most of the buildings here were standalone houses, with a few newly constructed high-rises scattered about. Once quite desolate, the area had developed in recent years due to population growth, with supermarkets, night markets, and various shops springing up. It took her about fifteen minutes to ride home from work. She parked her motorcycle in the garage and walked inside.

Zhang Zhang opened the door and went upstairs to the second floor, where the kitchen and living room were located. Someone was already busy in the kitchen—her mother-in-law, her husband's mother.

"Xinyu, you're back?" her mother-in-law said, putting the washed rice into the rice cooker and placing vegetables in the sink. "The rice will be ready in half an hour. Go take a shower first, then have breakfast with the kids."

Zhang Xinyu nodded and went to the third-floor bathroom to wash away her fatigue.

When she returned to the dining table at 6:20 AM, her husband, son, and daughter were already seated, still groggy with sleep.

"Good morning, Mom," the two elementary school kids said, their eyes closed and heads nodding, almost hitting the table.

"Good morning," Zhang Xinyu replied with a smile, pulling out a chair and greeting her mother-in-law and husband as well.

Her husband was holding a business magazine, and she knew he was pondering what kind of business to start. She scooped some porridge, gluten, and peanuts into her mouth. After swallowing, she said, "Let's eat breakfast first. We can talk about work after we're done."

Her husband nodded, putting the magazine and the newspaper with job listings aside, and began eating.

Zhang Xinyu wiped the corners of her children's mouths. After they washed their hands, put on their backpacks, and grabbed the lunches their grandmother had prepared, they headed toward their father, who was standing by the stairs with car keys in hand.

Zhang Xinyu smiled as she watched them leave. Hearing the engine start downstairs, she got up and helped her mother-in-law wash the dishes before heading back to her room to rest.

§

When Zhang Xinyu woke up, it was nearly noon. She noticed her arm was covered in medicinal patches and took a moment to process it.

Her husband was sitting at the computer, watching the stock market. She looked at his back and smiled softly.

No wonder she felt someone moving her hand while she slept, as if it had been warmed. It was him.

§

When the first episode of *The Breakup Kitchen* officially aired, Gao Huimei was in the middle of her shift. She hadn't forgotten the airing time—not because she had a good memory, but because Brother Qian had texted her the platform and time the day before.

After finishing her third client, she stretched her shoulders and opened the break room door. She glanced at the clock—two more hours until her shift ended. Before work, a message had left her feeling unsettled, and now, with some free time, she was still pondering how to respond.

Business was slow that day, and the place was unusually quiet. Liu Hao and Zhang Zhang were in the break room, while Aiai and Wang Hao were on leave. When she came upstairs earlier, she checked the schedule at the front desk—only two or three massage therapists were busy.

Rain always affected business. D City had been experiencing heavy downpours late at night recently, as if the heavens were dumping buckets of dirty water onto the long-uncleaned ground. The rain under the pitch-black sky was dark too.

Liu Hao was watching a video with headphones on. Gao Huimei noticed an empty seat next to Zhang Zhang and sat down. Zhang Zhang was browsing a children's clothing website on her tablet, looking at raincoats and rain boots. Gao Huimei asked, "Are you buying those for your kids?"

Zhang Zhang didn't look up. "Yeah, my husband sent me the link. He wants to take them to try them on during his day off. The prices seem reasonable, and my older son's graduation ceremony is coming up. He wants them to dress formally." She scrolled through the page. "Hmm, I think I'll get them raincoats and boots."

Gao Huimei stared at Zhang Zhang's hands—neatly trimmed nails, slightly curved fingers, and slightly thick knuckles. The skin was a bit dry from constantly washing off baby oil and essential oils with soap. These were the hands of someone who had worked in a labor-intensive job for nearly twenty years.

Zhang Zhang had been with the company for over a decade, practically a veteran massage therapist. Her name always appeared on the monthly performance rankings, and she was fiercely competitive about the rewards for the top five performers.

Gao Huimei had joined Mosè during the company's anniversary celebration. She watched Zhang Zhang stand in front of a projection screen that read "Crystal Senior Employee," flanked by two other massage therapists. A colleague at the table had said, "Zhang Zhang has had it tough. For over a decade, she's been the sole breadwinner for her family."

Aiai, who had joined around the same time, asked, "Just her? What about her husband?"

The colleague shrugged and spread her hands. "Well, you know how it is. Her husband's job situation isn't stable. He changes jobs often. I heard he recently failed at starting a business and lost a lot of money. Now he's looking for a stable job..."

Gao Huimei remained silent, picking up a piece of sweet and sour pork ribs and putting it in her mouth. The sweet and tangy flavor spread across her tongue. She listened as the manager praised Zhang Zhang for her fifteen years of service to the company and her role as a trainer for new massage therapists.

Then, a surprised voice came from her left—Aiai. "Zhang Zhang and her husband seem to have a good relationship."

The colleague said, "Well, life is like that. Especially when you have two kids, things are naturally different."

Different? How so? Gao Huimei knew that children could make couples hesitate about divorce, but whether it was four years ago or now, she was certain that even if she and Li Shanbai had had a child, separation would have been the best outcome for them.

Four years ago, Gao Huimei had arrived at Mosè with nothing but debt. Zhang Zhang was the one who helped her adapt to this entirely different world. Thinking of the unanswered message on her phone, she spoke up. "Zhang Zhang."

Zhang Zhang: "Hmm? What's up?"

Gao Huimei licked her lips and asked, "Have you ever been to a class reunion?"

Zhang Zhang paused, then looked up at her. "Middle school or vocational school reunions? Did you get an invitation?"

"I'm still thinking about whether to go..."

Zhang Zhang smiled knowingly. "I've been to a few. My relationship with everyone is pretty good. It's fun to reminisce about our school days."

Liu Hao, who was passing by on her way to the bathroom, overheard their conversation and chimed in curiously, "What? A class reunion? I want to join the conversation too!"

Gao Huimei listened as the two shared stories about their reunions, but the question she had been turning over in her mind remained unasked. The three of them chatted happily, and no clients came in during that time. They ended up leaving on time.

§

Since being caught by Cheng Muze, Jiang Taihao had been spending more time with him, often being dragged along as a dance partner for his ballroom dance students before heading to a bar.

They usually met at the dance studio where Cheng Muze worked part-time. Jiang Taihao would take turns dancing with the students, ostensibly to adapt to different partners' techniques, but he knew Cheng Muze was trying to get him back into dancing.

During practice, they would switch partners and dance styles after each song, with the inner circle rotating clockwise.

When it was Cheng Muze's turn to be his partner, Jiang Taihao made a face. "Do I really have to dance with you? I don't want to do the female part." Despite his words, he extended his left hand to hold Cheng Muze's right.

Cheng Muze grinned. "Then I'll do the female part." With that, he leaned back slightly as Jiang Taihao's right hand rested on his shoulder blade.

The dance instructor by the speakers announced the next dance style.

"Waltz."

As the music started, the two began to move.

"Not bad to dance like this once in a while, right?" After a turning lock step, Cheng Muze straightened up, his face level with Jiang Taihao's. "It's been years since you stopped competing after college..."

Jiang Taihao glanced at him, gritting his teeth. "Are you meddling too much?" He kept his smile as he looked to the front left.

Cheng Muze, hearing the edge in his voice, matched his tone but maintained his smile. "I'm just concerned as a friend. Can you stop being so prickly?"

"Not being a competitor doesn't mean you have to give up dancing, right?" He followed Jiang Taihao's lead into a盘旋截步 (hovering intercept step). "Didn't you start your business because you wanted to keep dancing?"

"..." Jiang Taihao lowered his eyes and didn't respond.

Cheng Muze had hit the nail on the head. After all, he had been there through Jiang Taihao's journey.

§

Jiang Taihao came from a middle-class family. His parents' business often involved interacting with all sorts of people, so they enrolled him and his sister in ballroom dance classes from a young age to cultivate their poise. There was no particular reason—it was just one of many extracurricular activities.

"Taihao, you're really suited for ballroom dance."

"Taihao, you're a great dancer."

"Taihao, you look so cool when you dance!"

"Taihao..."

The siblings started competing in various events from elementary school. When his sister reached ninth grade, she developed an interest in another hobby and left ballroom dance behind, forcing Jiang Taihao to find new partners.

If you asked why he kept going, it might have been because he kept achieving results, or because many people said he had talent, or maybe just—he enjoyed the moment of gliding across the dance floor.

Back then, Cheng Muze, who was in the same dance class, told him, "Tai, you're so shy in private, but when you step onto the dance floor, it's like you become a different person."

Now, during a break, Jiang Taihao reverted to his somewhat bashful self.

"A different person?" Fifteen-year-old Jiang Taihao looked at him in confusion, taking a sip from his water bottle. He was still the same, wasn't he?

Cheng Muze pondered. "Hmm, you always manage to convey the emotions of the dance. When you do Latin, you're passionate and sexy, but when you do modern, you're elegant and poised—like a warrior, but also like a gentleman."

Seeing Jiang Taihao still looking puzzled, Cheng Muze sighed and waved his hand. "Ah, forget it."

Their dance teacher, who had been listening, chuckled. "Muze is saying that Taihao has great 'acting skills,' right?"

The two boys turned in unison. "Acting skills?"

"Yes, dancing requires acting. It's not just about technique. How a competitive dancer conveys emotions can set them apart." The teacher gently patted Jiang Taihao's back and pushed him toward the mirror. "Taihao, you have this rare talent. Cherish it and feel it."

When pure passion mixes with competition, many things change. Competition is like a drug—it can make you obsessed, but it can also lead to despair.

Especially when you take that first step and realize how small you are.

From youth competitions to college-level events and amateur open competitions... Jiang Taihao poured all his earnings from part-time jobs and tutoring into dance competitions, only to see little return.

If dancing is about immersing yourself in the atmosphere with each step, then every step Jiang Taihao took carried him into countless competitions. Yet, with each step, he became more aware of the gap in skill.

He still loved dancing, but he had reached his limit in this field. That ceiling was agonizing. It wasn't until he was about to graduate from college and had to decide his future, on the verge of losing his student status and his parents' support, that he finally faced reality and realized he had to let go of something he loved.

If you asked him now what his identity was, he would say he was an entrepreneur, a cooking class teacher, a chef, a ballroom dance enthusiast...

—But not a dancer, not a competitive dance athlete.

§

"Huimei, do you want some of this?" A voice pulled Gao Huimei out of her thoughts. She turned to the woman on her left, who was pointing at the plate of karaage chicken in front of them.

For a moment, the surrounding noise faded away. Gao Huimei blinked, then nodded. "Ah, sure." She picked up a piece of fried chicken, and the juices burst in her mouth as she took small bites.

She glanced around. The venue was packed with about a hundred people, a sea of dark heads. A long red carpet divided the space into two sides, with ten people per table on each side. The red carpet led from the entrance to the stage, where a woman stood. She pressed a button, and a video began playing on the large screen behind her.

Gao Huimei had received a message from a college classmate the previous week. When she saw the class monitor's call on Line, she hesitated about answering. Sensing her hesitation, the monitor quickly switched to calling her directly.

Out of respect for their past friendship, despite her reluctance, she answered the call—and that was the beginning of today's nightmare.

"Huimei, long time no see! How have you been? I heard from Ziyin that she sent you an invitation. Are you coming? A lot of classmates will be there, and Ziyin wants to use this gathering to reconnect with everyone..." The monitor rambled on, explaining the purpose of the call.

Xu Ziyin was the top student in their class and the life of the party, well-liked in all the cliques. During college, Gao Huimei had gotten along well with her. They had worked together on group projects, held study sessions before midterms and finals, and even gone out for karaoke or barbecues with other classmates. However, Gao Huimei was also the person she was most afraid to face, because it was Gao Huimei herself who had pushed their relationship into the abyss, leaving cracks that couldn't be repaired.

She hadn't been in touch with her college classmates for four or five years, and for good reason—they were all afraid of her, and she was afraid of their scrutinizing, disdainful gazes.

Listening to the monitor's chatter, Gao Huimei was transported back five years. The same voice, the same sharp tone, but the content was entirely different.

"Gao Huimei, it's the monitor. When are you going to pay back the 100,000 you borrowed from me? You keep asking for more time, but I need the money too, you know? Can you hurry up and pay me back? You..." Back then, Gao Huimei had held the phone in silence, letting the monitor berate her. She was in the wrong, and she owed apologies to all her friends and family.

Before her divorce, she had borrowed money from banks, her parents, classmates, and friends to pay off the debts Li Shanbai had racked up. She had even lost her job because of it. After the divorce, the debts still fell on her, and she was forced to flee her hometown and move to D City, where she entered the massage industry.

While juggling debt, work, and her hospitalized parents, she had been pushed to the brink by her financial struggles. Yet, when no one would answer her calls and everyone was cursing her, Xu Ziyin had still said to her, "It's okay, Meimei. You can pay me back once you find a job. If you can't pay it back, just delay it for two years. No interest." She hadn't asked for a new IOU or mentioned interest, simply telling Gao Huimei to handle her affairs.

At that moment, Gao Huimei realized she had been squandering others' goodwill to sustain her marriage, which had prompted her to bring up divorce with Li Shanbai. Afterward, she sold her gold and silver jewelry to repay her classmates and friends, including Xu Ziyin, on time. The interest payments came later, after she had settled into her job at Mosè and built up a steady clientele.

She still remembered the call from Xu Ziyin three years ago. After the fifth ring, she had picked up, and Xu Ziyin said, "Huimei, how have you been? Are you still in T City? I'm in D City now. Where are you?"

Gao Huimei remained silent, too ashamed to respond.

Xu Ziyin continued, "I called because a while ago, a sum of money appeared in my account. There was no name, just a note saying 'interest.' Was that from you?"

Gao Huimei bit her lip and whispered, "Yes, it was from me." She lowered her eyes, staring at the floor, counting the black dots on the white tiles. The countless dots seemed to spread in her heart. She took a deep breath and said, "Ziyin, thank you so much, and I'm sorry."

Xu Ziyin chuckled. "So that's why you sent me so much money? The interest wasn't that high."

Gao Huimei couldn't remember how she had responded, but Xu Ziyin was the only one who would argue with her over too much interest. She had been too afraid to meet Xu Ziyin, always declining her invitations, but under Xu Ziyin's persistence, they had exchanged addresses and Line IDs. Occasionally, Gao Huimei would send her things she thought Xu Ziyin might like, and Xu Ziyin would do the same. They maintained a pen-pal-like relationship until now.

Last month, Gao Huimei received a package from Xu Ziyin. Unlike before, this time it contained a red invitation card, along with a small white note: "Isn't it time we met?"

That note made her eyes feel as as if they were soaked in seawater—salty and bitter, her mouth as bitter as if she had swallowed a mouthful of medicine. 

At that moment, overwhelmed with mixed emotions, Gao Huimei spoke up after listening to the class monitor's small talk: "Monitor." 

"So, as I was saying, it's been four or five years since we last saw our old classmates—huh? What?" 

"I'll go. I'll attend Xu Ziyin's wedding," Gao Huimei replied, staring at the red invitation on the table. 

—It was time to meet those old friends. 

§

Xu Ziyin's wedding, which also doubled as a college reunion, was held at a hotel. The ceremony started at 6:30 PM. Gao Huimei greeted the people at her table and sat down, choosing a seat near the red carpet aisle. Many of her classmates had heard about her situation four years ago, and their expressions varied as they looked at her. Gao Huimei clenched her hands tightly under the table, took a deep breath, and met their probing gazes. 

Back in the day, she had been one of the top students in her department, often winning scholarships and being very active in clubs. Who could have imagined she would end up in such a predicament? 

Someone pulled out a chair to her left and sat down. She turned and saw it was the class monitor. "Monitor." 

"Oh, is that Huimei? I can't believe it's been so long since we last saw you, and you're still so beautiful!" The monitor smiled, wearing a dark blue cocktail dress and carrying a small dark blue handbag. 

"Ah, it really has been a long time," Gao Huimei replied. 

After the monitor exchanged pleasantries with the other classmates, they watched the video of the newlyweds. The emcee on stage announced the entrance of the bride and groom. When Xu Ziyin walked in, Gao Huimei held her breath, her face bringing back memories of their college days. As Xu Ziyin passed Gao Huimei's table, she patted Gao Huimei's back with her left hand, which wasn't holding the bouquet. Gao Huimei was startled, and Xu Ziyin gave her a sly smile. 

"Huimei, how have you been lately? I remember you weren't doing too well before. You must be doing better now, right?" When the Buddha Jumps Over the Wall dish was served, the monitor suddenly asked. 

Gao Huimei wiped her mouth with a napkin, folded it, and replied, "Yes, I'm doing much better now." 

"Where are you working now? Is everything going well at work?" 

Hearing this, Gao Huimei felt a sense of alarm. She turned to look at the monitor, but the monitor's face remained smiling. Gao Huimei said, "My current job is quite good. It pays the bills." 

"I thought so. I saw you on some online show... Oh, it's called *The Breakup Kitchen*, right?" The monitor said with a smile, completely unfazed by Gao Huimei's reaction. "How did you end up on that show?" 

Gao Huimei: "A friend introduced me." 

"Ah, I see..." 

Someone at the table chimed in, "Monitor, don't put Huimei on the spot. There might be confidentiality agreements, so she can't say too much." 

The comment sounded loaded. Gao Huimei pursed her lips and excused herself to go to the restroom. 

In the restroom, Gao Huimei took out oil-absorbing sheets and wiped her nose and forehead. She stared at her reflection in the mirror—her eyes were slightly bloodshot, and there were faint crow's feet at the corners when she smiled. She sighed, took out her compact, and touched up her makeup. 

When she returned to her seat, she wasn't surprised to hear their whispers. 

"I heard Gao Huimei is a massage therapist now?" 

"Really? Oh, it's true. It's written on the show." 

"Huh, a massage therapist... Why would she want to do that?" 

Because I was forced by money, chased by debt, Gao Huimei retorted in her mind. 

These criticisms didn't surprise her. What truly crushed her was— 

"Being able to get on that show—could there be something going on?" 

"Who knows? Don't massage therapists usually... you know..." 

She stopped in her tracks, took a few steps back, and found a quiet corner to catch her breath. She opened Line and saw a message from Jiang Taihao. 

§

Since filming the second episode of *The Breakup Kitchen*, Jiang Taihao and Gao Huimei had been in contact more frequently, even having meals together a few times. After finishing his dance practice, Jiang Taihao was at a bar with Cheng Muze. While Cheng Muze was in the restroom, he sent Gao Huimei a message. 

Jiang Taihao: "Have you had dinner? My friends and I are going singing later. Do you want to join?" 

He stared at the chat window with Gao Huimei. About a minute after sending the message, Gao Huimei read it and replied: "Eating now." 

Jiang Taihao couldn't help but chuckle. Just as he was about to put his phone down, another message came through: "Help me out. Call me in three minutes." 

He raised an eyebrow. This was getting interesting. 

Cheng Muze, who had just returned from the restroom, saw Jiang Taihao's strange expression as he held his phone. "What's with that face? Do you need to go too?" 

Jiang Taihao rolled his eyes but didn't put his phone away. "I need to make a call later." 

Cheng Muze: "Then go make the call first. We can keep drinking after." 

Jiang Taihao: "I'll call in three minutes." 

Cheng Muze was baffled. He looked around, but the bar was the same as before. It wasn't as if he had traveled to another dimension during his trip to the restroom. He eyed Jiang Taihao suspiciously. "Are you playing some kind of game? Spy roleplay? Is the call going to set off a bomb?" 

"..." Jiang Taihao gave him a deadpan look, not wanting to answer. Seeing that the time was almost up, he stood up, straightened his shirt, and said, "I'm going to make that call." 

Jiang Taihao's figure grew smaller as he walked away, eventually disappearing around a corner. Cheng Muze muttered, "What kind of call requires this much ceremony..." 

§

It was like grabbing onto a lifebuoy. Now, she needed someone to help her escape this place. 

When Jiang Taihao replied "Okay" to Gao Huimei, the heaviness and nausea in her heart seemed to ease, and the heat welling up in her eyes subsided. 

When she returned to her table, her classmates had already composed themselves, as if the earlier criticisms had been her imagination. But the gazes directed at her were filled with curiosity, mockery, disdain, scorn, or ridicule—though invisible, they pricked her face like needles, making her want to storm out right then. But this was Xu Ziyin's wedding. Letting her emotions take over would only make them look down on her and give them more to gossip about. 

Gao Huimei picked up the red wine on the table and poured herself a glass. 

Seeing her drink, her classmates followed suit, raising their glasses to her. "Huimei, we just found out you've been on an online show. You're a celebrity now! Congratulations!" 

"Wishing you smooth sailing with the show!" 

Gao Huimei forced a smile, clinked glasses with them, and downed her drink. She poured herself two or three more glasses. When the fruit platter arrived, she felt her phone vibrate in her pocket. She took it out and said apologetically to the group, "I need to take this call." Finally, Jiang Taihao had called. 

She answered the call: "Hello." 

Jiang Taihao said, "I called like you asked. Do you want to grab a drink later?" 

Gao Huimei said, "You said my dog is sick? Vomiting and diarrhea?" 

"..." Jiang Taihao looked at his phone, confirming that the contact name was indeed Gao Huimei. "What are you talking about? Do you even have a dog?" 

Gao Huimei asked, "Ah, you said if I don't hurry, I might not see him alive again?" 

"Have you been drinking?" Jiang Taihao noticed that Gao Huimei's voice sounded different—hoarser and lower than usual. "Where are you? I'll come pick you up." 

Gao Huimei feigned surprise and exclaimed, "Ah, you're coming to get me? That's great! I'm at the Jingyu Hotel. Call me when you arrive, and I'll say goodbye to my classmates now." 

Her classmates: "..." 

After hanging up, Gao Huimei pretended to be on the verge of tears. She took a tissue from her bag and dabbed at the corners of her eyes. "Everyone, I'm so sorry. It seems my dog is in emergency care at the vet. I need to hurry over and take care of things." 

"It looks like the reception is almost over. I'll say goodbye to Ziyin now." Gao Huimei stood up, pushed her chair back in, and said, "It was great seeing everyone today. Thank you, Monitor, for calling to invite me." 

"Then I'll take my leave." 

After exchanging a few words with Xu Ziyin at the reception, Gao Huimei walked to the hotel entrance, where Jiang Taihao was waiting by his car. 

"Wait, Huimei!" 

Gao Huimei turned around. Behind her were the monitor and a couple of classmates. 

She stopped, opened the passenger door, and got in. "Let's go." 

She rolled down the window, pretending not to notice the shock and confusion on the monitor's face. "Monitor, I'm sorry. Let's catch up properly next time. I have to go now." 

With that, the monitor and her classmates could only watch as the dark blue Rolls-Royce drove off, leaving them staring at its taillights. 

The people behind the monitor whispered, "Wow, did you see that? A Rolls-Royce!" 

"Yeah, and the guy driving Huimei is really handsome. Who knew she knew someone like that..." 

The monitor said, "Don't be jealous. He might just be a spoiled rich kid." 

"Haha, true. After all, she is a massage therapist..." 

§

As the scenery flew by outside the car, Gao Huimei looked up at the sky, her feelings a mix of emotions. 

At a red light, the car slowed to a stop. Jiang Taihao asked, "Do you want to listen to some music?" 

Gao Huimei nodded. Jiang Taihao turned on the stereo, and soft music filled the space. 

She closed her eyes. 

She knew that her marriage to Li Shanbai four years ago hadn't just destroyed their relationship—it had also shattered her social connections. Today's events made it clear that the past was truly behind her. 

If you asked about right or wrong, it wasn't so black and white. It was just a matter of differing values and perspectives. They had hurt her, so to her, they weren't entirely "good." And four years ago, when she had defaulted on her debts, perhaps to her creditors, she hadn't been entirely "good" either. 

That was all there was to it. 

§

That day, in the same break room, only two massage therapists were present—Gao Huimei and Zhang Zhang. Their clients weren't due for another thirty minutes. 

Zhang Zhang was watching a video on her tablet, while Gao Huimei sat on the other side of the room, watching TV. 

"Zhang Zhang, why did you become a massage therapist?" 

Zhang Zhang looked up from her tablet. "Why are you asking all of a sudden?" 

Gao Huimei smiled awkwardly, interlacing her fingers. "No reason. I just realized that after being here for so long, I've never thought about why everyone chose this line of work." 

"Since you've never thought about it, it means our reasons are similar to yours." Zhang Zhang said calmly, drawing a circle in the air with her finger. "We all work to survive, to avoid starving ourselves and our families." 

She paused, then lowered her hand. "But speaking broadly, I became a massage therapist out of necessity." 

Gao Huimei fell silent. She had heard about Zhang Zhang's family situation from colleagues—her entire family relied on her income. 

"I studied cosmetology in vocational school. Honestly, there aren't many career options in that field—makeup artist, hairstylist, nail technician... As you weigh your options against reality, the choices narrow. In the end, I came to Mosè." Zhang Zhang tapped on her tablet a few times, showing Gao Huimei the screen. "You've seen Mosè's job postings, right? You know how appealing it is to people who need money. If you're willing to work hard, put in the effort, and endure the hardships, you can earn eighty to ninety thousand a month. If you push yourself, you can even make over a hundred thousand. And that's not including performance bonuses and gold ingots." 

Gao Huimei had also come across Mosè's job posting on a job board, which was why she had decided to give it a try. 

Zhang Zhang gazed at the teacup and ashtray on the table, murmuring, "I came to Mosè when I was twenty. When you're desperate, you'll do anything." 

Gao Huimei hesitated, then asked, "Did... did anyone object when you first started this job?" 

Zhang Zhang smiled, picking up a bag of chips from the table. "Objections? Well, my husband and mother-in-law didn't have any issues with me being a massage therapist. After they learned about Mosè's management, they accepted it. Honestly, I never thought I'd stay at this company for almost twenty years." She crunched on a chip. "That's what you really wanted to ask, right?" 

Gao Huimei looked like she'd been caught red-handed. She admitted, "Yes," and then recounted her experience at the college reunion. 

"At first, I was hesitant to go to the reunion because most of our classmates are civil servants, bank clerks, financial advisors, or accountants." Gao Huimei lowered her head, playing with her fingers. "I really don't understand why this profession is so looked down upon. Our work is just as hard as anyone else's." 

Zhang Zhang continued munching on chips. "Well, it doesn't help that so many adult films feature massage therapists, and many massage parlors are just fronts for other businesses." 

"Zhang Zhang!" 

"Shen Xin," she said. "Many people in this line of work have no other choice." 

"I'm sure you've heard a lot of stories about the massage therapists here." She smiled wryly. "When you have no other options, you have fewer cards to play. It's hard to discuss this issue. Do you like your current job?" 

Like it? All she knew was that she came home every day exhausted. Gao Huimei was at a loss for words. 

"Don't rush to answer. When I was younger, I couldn't answer that question either," Zhang Zhang said, waving her hand. "But I'm satisfied with my job now. I don't love it, but I don't hate it either. In that case, all we can do is maintain a good attitude, ignore the gossip, and focus on what we're doing now." 

Gao Huimei stared at her blankly. 

Zhang Zhang continued, "Massage is a professional skill, and one-on-one conversations with clients in the room are also a form of ability. After four years here, don't you know the hardships and efforts involved? Learn to respect your profession and accept your identity." She handed Gao Huimei a tissue from the table, her voice gentle. "And be grateful for the days when your hands hurt so much you couldn't hold chopsticks. Be grateful for your perseverance and hard work." 

Gao Huimei blinked, and the tears she had been holding back streamed down her face. She accepted Zhang Zhang's comfort.