The Frank and Open-Hearted Landlady, Aunt Fang

Every city boasts prosperous residential areas, yet there are always the dirty, unremarkable slums.

Shen Ting stepped out of the car and walked down a rugged, pothole-filled path. In her memory, the infamous slum of Y City hadn't been demolished ten years ago. It offered the cheapest rental rooms in the entire city—though the conditions were poor, at least they were livable.

At the moment, she only had 800 yuan left, money her grandmother had saved for her high school tuition.

Eight hundred yuan was not a large sum by any means. She would have to be frugal with it. After all, high school was looming after the upcoming entrance exams, and tuition was still a pressing issue.

Sidestepping the puddles that littered the road, Shen Ting surveyed the narrow alleyway. The gray-white walls were plastered with small advertisements, and someone's broken-down bicycle was haphazardly parked ahead.

Above, clotheslines crisscrossed with garments of various colors, and if she wasn't careful, a stray droplet of water from the damp laundry would fall onto her face.

As she wiped her face, Shen Ting didn't realize she had already arrived at a rental house. A woman standing at the door, lazily swatting flies, brightened upon seeing her—business had come to her doorstep.

"You're such a pretty girl, here looking for a place to stay, right? Auntie's house is cheap and cozy, come inside and have a look!" The woman's voice was honeyed, and before Shen Ting could react, she was being led inside by the arm.

"Let me tell you, my house is one of the best around here—great environment and affordable rent. Come, I'll show you upstairs."

After a brief moment of panic, Shen Ting regained her composure and allowed the woman to guide her upstairs.

This woman was a typical businessperson, focused solely on money and indifferent to the person. Shen Ting actually liked people like her—at least she wasn't judged based on her appearance.

The house wasn't as good as the woman claimed, but it was decent enough. The room was modest, with a single bed covered by a bamboo mat, and on the mat lay a thin quilt and a pillow.

A step away from the bed stood a simple desk with a lamp. Other than that, the room contained only a small wardrobe. The floor wasn't wood, just rough concrete, but it was clean, clearly swept often.

This environment was better than Shen Ting had expected. She glanced at the woman with her bold red lipstick and calmly said, "This place isn't bad. The rent...?"

The woman smiled brightly, "What price do you have in mind, dear?"

Shen Ting gestured with her fingers: one and three, one hundred thirty per month.

The woman's expression didn't change, but she tapped her temple thoughtfully before saying, "How about just a bit more?"

Shen Ting shook her head. "No, this price is fair for the room." She wasn't haggling unfairly.

The woman thought for a moment, then smiled. "Alright, young but sharp! Shall we settle the payment now?"

"No rush. I have one more question—do you provide meals? I can pay extra." Food outside was expensive, and Shen Ting was at the age where she needed proper nourishment. She wondered if she could share meals with the landlady.

The woman seemed surprised by the request but hesitated only briefly before replying, "We cook at home, but the food isn't great. If you don't mind, you can join us."

Her daughter often complained about the food, and even she found it unappetizing. Whenever possible, they ate out.

"How about an extra fifty yuan per month?" The cost of living wasn't as high as it would be in ten years, so fifty yuan seemed reasonable.

"Deal," the woman agreed readily. After all, the food was already made each day, and fifty yuan for something that would otherwise go to waste was an easy profit.

Shen Ting pulled a crumpled plastic wrapper from her pocket, spread it open, and counted out 180 yuan. "Shall we sign something?"

Better safe than sorry. She didn't want to find herself kicked out within the month.

"My, you're cautious, aren't you?" The woman's smile faded slightly as she took the money. "I can't read, but if you don't trust me, we'll wait for my daughter to come back. She can write up a note, and we can both sign it."

Shen Ting nodded, placing her bag on the bed and beginning to unpack her things.

The woman, seemingly with nothing else to do, sat down and struck up a conversation.

"I've got a daughter about your age, studying at Number Three High. She's taking her entrance exams this year, but that girl... her grades are awful, and she's always getting into fights. I can't control her."

"I just hope she can get into high school, study for three years, then find a job. She's only fifteen—what kind of place would hire her at that age?"

The woman rambled on for a while, and seeing that Shen Ting wasn't paying her much attention, she awkwardly asked, "So, what's your name, dear? How old are you? Where do you go to school? And why are you renting a place alone? Where are your parents?"

Shen Ting hung up her clothes in the wardrobe, closed the door, then turned to her. "My name is Shen Ting. I'm fifteen. I go to Number One High. I'm an orphan."

The woman's mouth opened slightly. She stared at the girl's unusually calm face, momentarily at a loss for words. No wonder Shen Ting seemed more mature than her age, carrying an air of quiet wariness. Looking at her, it was easy to imagine she had endured more than her fair share of judgment.

"Shen Ting, that's such a lovely name. Your parents must have been cultured people," the woman complimented her with a smile. She put an arm around Shen Ting's shoulders and led her outside.

"My name's Fang Qin. Just call me Aunt Fang. Let me show you around the neighborhood so you won't get lost."

This was probably the first person Shen Ting had met who didn't recoil at her appearance. Aunt Fang was chatty, talking nonstop, mostly about the neighborhood gossip.

She clacked along the alley in her slippers, greeting everyone they passed with enthusiasm. Oddly, no one returned her greetings, and Shen Ting noticed the looks they received—familiar expressions of disdain, and even contempt.

"****." A malicious curse drifted into Shen Ting's ear. Instinctively, she looked toward the source of the voice, only to see an old man, his face deeply lined, staring at Fang Qin with undisguised disgust, as if she were something filthy.

Fang Qin's body stiffened for a moment, but she said nothing, simply ignoring the man and continuing forward with Shen Ting.

Not wanting to pry into others' private matters, Shen Ting kept silent. Fang Qin was quieter after that, and they walked in relative peace.

Not far from the alley was a vegetable market. Aunt Fang decided, in honor of Shen Ting's arrival, that she'd buy extra food and prepare a celebratory meal for dinner.