53: Chapter 53 Chen Jie's "Meddling"

The afternoon in the Old neighborhood always carried a sleepy, sweltering heat. When Chen Jie helped move the last basin of braised duck wings into the iron cabinet of Wang Leis Braised Food Stall, he heard a commotion at the entrance of the alley, like a pot of boiling porridge.

"What right do you have to occupy our building's parking space?" Brother Li's loud voice, thick with the smell of sweat, drifted over. He was grabbing a man wearing a Flower Shirt. The front wheel of the latter's motorcycle was pressing into the parking space marked with white lines, and the sunglasses hanging on the handlebars flashed with a blinding light. "This was designated by the Neighborhood Committee for Grandma Zhang to use for her wheelchair. Are you blind?"

As Chen Jie walked over, he saw Zhao Kai standing to the side with his arms crossed, watching the spectacle. The toe of his canvas shoe kicked a small pebble, which rolled out a crooked line on the ground. "Jie-zi, don't get involved," he gestured to Chen Jie with his eyes. "This guy is from the auto repair shop across the street; he's gotten into fights with people before."

Flower Shirt suddenly broke free from Brother Li's grip. The motorcycle surged forward half a meter with a "vroom," spraying exhaust onto Brother Li's pant leg, leaving a gray-black stain. "So what if I parked here?" He took off his sunglasses, revealing a pair of slanted eyes. "If you have the ability, why don't you have the Neighborhood Committee put up a monument that says 'No Mortals Allowed'?"

Chen Jie had just placed his canvas backpack on the counter of the food stall when he heard a "clang"—Brother Li had picked up a wrench from the repair stall and smashed it against the motorcycle's fuel tank. The paint chipped off, revealing the silvery-white sheet metal underneath. "Try moving it, I dare you!" Flower Shirt's face instantly turned the color of pig liver, and his hand reached toward his lower back.

"Don't be impulsive." Chen Jie suddenly stood between the two. He was half a head shorter than Flower Shirt, yet he stood like a solid bridge pier. The thin calluses on the web of his hand gleamed pale white in the sunlight—the hard shell formed from years of gripping wrenches. "This parking space is indeed reserved for the elderly," he glanced toward Grandma Zhang's house; the bamboo chair on the third-floor balcony was empty. "She fell and hurt her leg this morning, and her wheelchair is still in the shed downstairs."

Flower Shirt sneered, spittle flying onto Chen Jie's cargo pants: "What the hell does that have to do with me? I'm in a hurry to fix cars; I'll be gone in half an hour."

"If you're in a hurry, you shouldn't be blocking the way." Chen Jie bent down to pick up the wrench Brother Li had dropped, rubbing his thumb over the rusty handle. "There's an open space behind Wang Leis Braised Food Stall with a water pipe where you can park. You'll just have to take a thirty-second detour—it's faster than arguing here."

Zhao Kai suddenly chimed in from the side: "Exactly. Jie-zi here knows better ways to find a path than you do, even when it comes to fixing things."

Flower Shirt's gaze lingered on Chen Jie's hand clutching the wrench. Those hands looked rough, but the knuckles were as steady as if they were welded to his bones. He suddenly cursed, slammed on the throttle, and the motorcycle tires scrubbed a black mark on the ground as it swerved and sped toward the end of the alley.

"You just love to meddle." Brother Li spat on the ground but shoved the wrench into Chen Jie's hand. "Thanks for earlier."

Chen Jie tossed the wrench into the toolbox, the clanging of metal startling the sparrows behind the stall. He touched his canvas backpack; the jade stone inside was cool, like a stone soaked in well water. "It doesn't count as meddling," he said, walking toward Grandma Zhang's house. "I'm going to see if the brakes on her wheelchair are working."

Zhao Kai followed behind, kicking pebbles on the road: "When are you going to fix this habit of yours? Last time you helped Su Rui fix a scanner, you almost missed your own lunch."

Chen Jie didn't look back. The sunlight passed through the locust tree leaves, weaving a swaying patch of light on his shoulders. "It's better than looking at something that doesn't feel right." He thought of the white line that Flower Shirt's motorcycle had just driven over, like an unstitched wound—some things look insignificant, but whether you mend them or not, life just isn't the same.

In the shed downstairs, the wheelchair's brake was indeed loose. When Chen Jie squatted down to adjust it, the spiritual power in his fingertips quietly seeped over, crawling along the metal rod and into the spring like machine oil dripped into a bearing. He suddenly remembered what Old Zhou said about "following the momentum." Fixing things is like this, and living life is probably the same—hard resistance isn't as good as clever turning. Just like the wheels of this wheelchair, you have to follow the path to be steady.

"Is little Jie-zi doing good deeds again?" Grandma Zhang's voice came from upstairs. She was leaning on the balcony railing, holding an enamel mug, the steam from her chrysanthemum tea rolling down along with her laughter.

When Chen Jie looked up, the sunlight fell right on his face, and the stubble on his chin was dusted with a bit of dirt, making him look a bit softer than usual. "Just a small thing." He pushed the repaired wheelchair to the entrance of the unit, the metal wheels rolling over the ground with a steady "rumble."

Zhao Kai leaned against the pillar of the shed, smoking. He looked at Chen Jie's back and suddenly laughed: "Look at you. Fixing chairs and fans is one thing, but you even care about wheelchair brakes? Aren't you tired?"

Chen Jie clapped his hands, and as he turned, he stirred up a gust of wind that made the cobwebs on the shed roof sway. "If I'm tired, I'll go to Wang Lei's and gnaw on a braised pig's trotter," he said, walking toward the alley entrance. "Anyway, he always says I'm meddling, so I have to make him compensate me with meat."

The afternoon sun stretched his shadow long. As he passed Wang Leis Braised Food Stall, the braised food in the iron cabinet was steaming, mixing with the faint scent of wild chrysanthemums, drifting into a solid, comforting smell in the breeze. Some meddling, as you keep doing it, just becomes a part of everyday life.