Chapter 8: Which Part Offended You?
When Gu Lan knocked on the door, she got a fright.
The one who opened it was a young girl, pretty as a figure from a newspaper illustration—fair and clean—except her eyes were red and swollen, puffy from what was clearly a hard, recent cry.
"Oh my, what's the matter?" Gu Lan had an enamel basin tucked under one arm, and with her other hand she familiarly took Wen Jianing by the hand and walked right in, as if she were entering her own home.
Wen Jianing let herself be led to the sofa and sat down, and heard this woman speak in slightly locally-accented Mandarin, her voice full of worry: "You're Little Wen, right? Just call me Auntie Gu—I live right next door. From now on, we're neighbors."
The woman looked about forty, with a short bob cut to her ears, pinned back with two black hairpins, revealing a broad forehead.
She was a little plump, and smiled a third of the time she spoke, looking very kind.
"You poor thing," Auntie Gu sat down beside her and patted her knee. "Come, tell Auntie Gu—what happened, crying like this? Did that boy Tingyue bully you?"
The girl's skin was especially fair, and after crying it showed even more—even the tip of her nose was red, making her look utterly pitiful.
In an era when everyone competed to have sons, Gu Lan had always wanted a daughter.
But the more you hope for something, the less you get it. She'd given birth to two boys in a row—she just didn't have that fate.
Now, seeing Wen Jianing like this, her heart was melting.
Gu Lan immediately put on a stern face, her two eyebrows knitting into a V, looking for all the world like she was about to stand up for her.
"Don't be a stranger—just tell me. Auntie Gu will set things right for you!"
"No, no." Wen Jianing had just been crying, and her voice carried a thick nasal tone, like cotton was stuffed in her throat. She quickly found an excuse to deflect: "He didn't bully me. I just miss home."
Gu Lan had already heard the whole story about her situation from Song Tingyue.
He'd come looking for her earlier, specifically, and repeatedly asked her to take good care of his wife.
Gu Lan's husband was the division political commissar, named Li Shungang.
Li Shungang and Song Tingyue's father, Song Zhen, were both comrades-in-arms and close friends. Ever since the young man had been brought back six years ago, Gu Lan and her husband had doted on him especially.
Song Tingyue had lost his mother early. Thanks to Buddha's blessing, he'd been taken in and raised by a kind family in Shanghai.
The girl before her was that family's daughter.
Gu Lan knew Wen Jianing's family background, but she had not the slightest intention of avoiding her for it.
So what if they were capitalists?
To take in a child and raise him this long—that surely meant good hearts! Upright character!
"As long as Tingyue didn't bully you, that's fine. That boy—he's famous in the division for being a hardhead. He trains those soldiers under him till they're howling every day. If you think he talks blunt, don't take it to heart. That's just how he is."
Gu Lan shifted a little closer. "But then again, first time away from home this far—of course you'd miss it. This Gobi Desert is nothing like your Shanghai. The air's dry, the wind and sand are fierce. You just got here—you must feel out of place everywhere. No rush. Take it slow. From now on, if anything's bothering you, just come find Auntie Gu."
She stood as she spoke, bending to pick up the enamel basin on the coffee table. "Come on, the bathhouse is open now—let's go take a bath. Don't think about anything. Have a nice comfortable sleep. Deal with what's in front of you first; leave the rest for later."
Warmth spread through Wen Jianing's heart, and she nodded.
Water was precious here, and the bathhouse's opening hours were strictly fixed—just one slot a day. Miss it, and you had to wait till tomorrow.
When the time came, the women of the family quarters swarmed in like they'd all agreed on it beforehand—basins in hand, changes of clothes tucked under their arms, hurrying along, afraid the water wouldn't be hot if they were late, and afraid they'd be too far back in line for their turn.
Gu Lan walked ahead, quick in her steps and never idle in her mouth: "We go early, not late—there aren't too many people yet. Once the crowd comes, that's when it gets really packed—you won't even find a place to put your foot down."
Wen Jianing hugged her things and followed behind her, through the corridor, toward the bathhouse.
It was her first time seeing that bathing was such an operation—it was practically a battle.
When they reached the bathhouse entrance, Wen Jianing was completely dumbstruck.
A bathhouse, so called, was really just a row of low brick buildings with a faded blue cloth curtain hanging at the door. Lift the curtain and go in, and it was steamy and white as fog—you couldn't see a thing. The sound of water, voices, and basins clanking all mixed together, as noisy as a vegetable market.
The floor was soaking wet, all water—your soles slipped with every step.
Wen Jianing stood at the entrance, and for a moment actually didn't know which way to go.
Seeing her frozen, Gu Lan didn't waste words—she pulled her inside. "Little Wen, come, put your basin here."
Gu Lan set the enamel basin on the long bench in the changing area and immediately started unbuttoning.
"Just... just take it off like this?" Wen Jianing was so shocked her eyeballs nearly popped out, and she couldn't even speak straight.
"Of course. Undress and leave your clothes here—we need to hurry in and grab a spot. Come late and you can't even get a showerhead—you have to wait for someone to finish before you can take over." Gu Lan's hands didn't stop moving, and her mouth kept urging her on.
Gu Lan stripped down in no time—off went the outer garment, and she was down to a pair of patterned underpants.
They'd only just met for the first time, known each other less than an hour, and already being this bare-faced honest with each other?
Wen Jianing instinctively clutched the collar of her shirt tighter, as if afraid someone might yank it open.
Looking around at the circle of strangers, everyone was undressing, and fast. Young wives, older aunties—not one of them batted an eye, as if in this room clothes were simply superfluous.
Everyone rolled their discarded clothes into a pile on the long bench, kicked off their shoes, went barefoot, and carried their basins into the bathhouse.
Wen Jianing looked past the corner into the interior—rows of rusted cast-iron showerheads, and beneath them stood naked women, some squeezed together washing in twos and threes, chatting and laughing, lively as could be.
She stood rooted to the spot, hesitating, in the middle of a fierce internal struggle.
Never mind washing with strangers—even with her own family, she'd never been bare-faced like this.
The people who'd seen her body could be counted on one hand: Mom, Dad, and... Song Tingyue.
But that was all when she was little.
As an adult, her body hadn't been seen by anyone.
Gu Lan saw her not moving and knew she definitely couldn't accept this kind of bathing scene right away. She'd heard people say those Western-style houses all had bathtubs—maybe one bathroom was bigger than this whole bathhouse.
Seeing Wen Jianing not moving, Gu Lan knew she definitely couldn't accept this kind of bathing scene for the moment. She'd heard those Western-style houses all had bathtubs—maybe one bathroom was bigger than this whole bathhouse. A pampered young lady—how would she have ever seen such a scene?
Gu Lan coaxed her like a child: "Feeling a bit embarrassed? It's fine, child—once you've done it once, the second time's easy. Just thicken your skin a little. Our bathhouse is just like this—everyone's used to it, nothing to be shy about. Washing together is even convenient—you can scrub each other's backs, isn't that nice!"
"You've been traveling so long, you must have dirt all over you. Wash up good and proper, and you'll sleep comfortably tonight! Come on, listen to Auntie Gu—don't just stand there. The water won't wait—if the boiler room can't keep up the heat, the water'll go cold."