Chapter Nine: A Dispute Over Demolition Along the Road

Staring at the list of items on the table, Chen Xin raked her fingers through her hair. The notebook page was filled with lines of writing; the items marked in green were essentials she had to buy, mostly things needed for the moths, while those marked in yellow were useful but not urgent, things she was preparing for the road ahead. The few items crossed out in red were things she could borrow and didn’t really need, but there were still five or six she couldn’t bring herself to eliminate.

A DSLR was out of her price range, and she wouldn’t need one for the next ten years anyway. Even if she did, she could always rent one or partner with a photographer. Besides, she knew that within a few years, phone cameras would rival ordinary digital cameras, so she had little desire to pay for something destined to become obsolete. She decisively swapped the camera out for a mid-to-high-end domestic model, one that would at least stay relevant for five or six years.

What troubled her was the matter of the computer. Buying one now cost tens of thousands, enough to buy a house in the suburbs. Of course, she could choose not to buy one—she could use the copy shop or sneak into the school’s computer lab. But she didn’t want to lay her plans bare before others. Though students here were simpler than most, you could never predict who might harbor dark thoughts because of the difference in their circumstances.

Leaving a computer at home wasn’t a good idea either. The neighborhood around their current house was chaotic, and both she and Zhang Zhang were supposed to be orphans with no support. If they bought a computer after just half a year in school, it would surely attract unwanted attention.

After days of weighing her options, Chen Xin decided to forgo buying a computer. The current models were only 386s, and many of the features she needed hadn’t been developed yet. Other than editing photos and writing, it wouldn’t be much use.

It was, however, time to buy a shop. The breakfast stall alone was not going to sustain the two of them. Income was now stable, but Uncle Tie and his wife were stretched thin managing both ends. Still, she hadn’t figured out what new venture to start, and if she quit now, she was afraid the couple would blame themselves.

They were good, hardworking people with hard lives, and Chen Xin didn’t want to upset them over this. Besides, the breakfast stall was a convenient front to shield her from prying eyes. With a legitimate source of income, she could work on other things without drawing suspicion.

She spent her days attending classes and using the time to explore the surroundings. This city wasn’t quite as she remembered; many areas were still farmland, and the concrete jungle that would double the city’s size in two or three decades was nowhere in sight.

The riverside neighborhood was starting to clamor for redevelopment, but that was the oldest shantytown. The challenge wasn’t demolishing the houses, but resettling the residents. Every summer, the riverside area flooded, and petitions for redevelopment had been ongoing for years. Yet many of the elderly refused to leave. They’d been born and raised there, their families had lived there for generations, and they would rather die than move to make room for others.

As Chen Xin passed by the river, she heard a crowd gathered, talking about a fatal incident. Someone muttered that a family had turned on each other over a house.

“Sister, what happened here?” Chen Xin asked.

Seeing her small frame and simple clothing, the woman she addressed curled her lips and jerked her chin. “What else? It’s about money. The old man in that family passed away last year, and the great-grandmother’s in poor health. They say the riverside’s going to be redeveloped, but when she asked, she was told it wouldn’t start for another year, so she refused to move. She said she wanted to die and be buried with her husband. But her daughter-in-law threw a fit, calling her an old hag, saying she was only refusing to move because she wanted to leave the house to her youngest son and daughter. The younger daughter-in-law took it seriously, saying the eldest son didn’t support his parents, so he didn’t deserve a share, and the daughter was married and had no claim. Arguments broke out, the younger daughter-in-law shoved the elder, who hit her head and started bleeding. The eldest son then beat his younger brother bloody, and when the daughter tried to mediate, the eldest son’s child stabbed her with a fruit knife. It’s a mess, really.”

The crowd parted as the ambulance and police arrived, letting the officers and medical staff through. After a long commotion, the injured were taken to the hospital and the offenders were escorted away. The rest of the onlookers dispersed in small groups, still discussing the redevelopment.

Throughout, no one spared a thought for the elderly woman’s wellbeing.

Chen Xin didn’t know them and couldn’t involve herself, so she glanced around and prepared to leave. At the end of the street, she spotted a notice posted in the news kiosk—a public announcement about the redevelopment, including the scope of the riverside demolition.

She drew closer and studied it carefully, discovering that not all riverside houses would be torn down. Only the low-lying sections were slated for demolition; houses set farther back would likely see a scenic walkway built along the river in front of them.

She quietly memorized the name of the area, planning to visit that street later. Even if it wasn’t earmarked for demolition, the location was good, still a fair distance from what she remembered as the second ring road. Unfortunately, she had only passed through this city for a week and focused on the food and sights; she had no recollection of these old non-tourist streets.

But that didn’t matter. Even if it wasn’t the most famous stretch in the future, it was still a good spot—lively yet private. She didn’t intend to open a bar anyway; for a private kitchen or a café serving simple meals, it was perfect.

She wasn’t in a hurry to check it out, since her funds were limited. If she could buy a house in the yet-to-be-developed tourist area, future rental income alone would be enough for them.

Time slipped by, and soon it was New Year’s Day. Cheng Jie invited Chen Xin to bring Zhang Zhang over to celebrate and to introduce her to a friend.

This friend was a photographer specializing in landscapes—not so good with people, but far better than amateurs at shooting still lifes.

Cheng Jie and Chen Xin were now close friends, and Cheng Jie knew a bit about her plans. If this photographer was willing to collaborate, Chen Xin could easily start a food column at the magazine.

Mr. Song was not known for this sort of work; he had a degree in history and mainly wrote about folk customs, social commentary, and the occasional book review. His writing was sharp, his arguments incisive, and his articles in newspapers and magazines had already attracted a loyal readership, with a thick stack of letters arriving each day.

His recent serial on local customs, cuisine, and eating habits had stirred up quite a response after being published in the magazine. Many articles soon appeared, recommending local specialties elsewhere.

Mr. Song had made it clear that the dishes in his columns were made by a friend of his. At readers’ requests, he even published three recipes in the second installment.

But that wasn’t enough for the audience. The magazine was discussing the possibility of a dedicated food section, but they wanted more than recipes—they hoped to weave in the stories and customs behind each dish.

Mr. Song was more than capable with history and folklore, but digging into the stories behind every dish was a stretch even for him. So, seizing the opportunity of the New Year, he approached Chen Xin, asking if she would take over the column.

Chen Xin was more than willing—she had done this before, publishing online with matching landscape and ingredient photos to give readers a deeper understanding. Live broadcasts weren’t possible here, but well-shot photographs would suffice, making a skilled photographer’s collaboration essential.