Xiaochun | Caifeng and Xiaoshuang

Around 2015, anyone who frequented the late-night diner would surely know the Caifeng—he’s from Fujian, speaks little, often wears a baseball cap, and his slender figure would frequently move between the kitchen and the tables. We used to joke that the tailor was the third generation of the late-night diner. At the same time, there was a girl named Xiaoshuang, who was a regular and probably left an impression on other frequent customers. She was young, with short hair, always smiling, and had a silly yet endearing look, full of collagen. She was also a key member of the diner. Today’s story is about them.

Before Caifeng became the third generation, when people still referred to him as "Little Tailor," he started a “office romance” with Xiaoshuang. I don’t know exactly when they got together—maybe I forgot, or maybe I just never knew. But somehow, they ended up together.

This was when the late-night diner was just starting to become an internet sensation, and the small kitchen was often busy with five or six people at once. In the “office,” they didn’t really have time for flirtation or secret glances. They looked like just regular coworkers. It was more common for me to tease them in between my busy moments, making everyone laugh out loud. The tailor and Xiaoshuang would awkwardly laugh along, but their work never stopped. This kind of scene would frequently happen in the kitchen, and some customers would wonder what we were laughing about. Some would comment, "Your work atmosphere is so great."

How long they were together, I’ve forgotten, but I do remember that later in their relationship, Xiaoshuang became unhappy. Probably because the tailor was too self-centered, insensitive, and overly straight-laced, focusing only on his own feelings. In the end, Xiaoshuang left the diner.

The self-centered tailor, when faced with a breakup, didn’t handle it as calmly as people might expect. Sometimes he would sit by himself, smoking, sighing, and occasionally talking to me about their conflicts. I would analyze them and give him advice, pretending to be a wise older figure.

During that time, after closing every night, the tailor would change the diner’s music to play Wu Bai’s “The Ring” on repeat.

One day, after the diner closed, the tailor told me, "Xiaoshuang is leaving, going back to her hometown with some guy, maybe even to get married. Her train is at 7 a.m." I asked, "So what now?" The tailor replied, "I regret it. I’ve been thinking about it for days. I realized I was selfish in the relationship, and I still like Xiaoshuang." I asked again, "What will you do?" He said, "I’m going to the train station to wait for her. Even though it’s as hard as finding a needle in the ocean, and even though she’s with someone else, I still want to try and get her back, to tell her I realize my mistakes. If I can win her back, great. If not, at least I won’t have regrets."

After he told me, I was suddenly very moved by the tailor’s courage. I said, “Go ahead, don’t worry about the shop, just go and find Xiaoshuang.” At about six in the morning, still dark outside, the tailor set off for the train station, leaving me in the shop to make marinated meat, beef brisket, black jelly, and green onion oil. I worked until 11 a.m. That day, I sacrificed a lot of physical strength for the tailor’s love.

In the end, the tailor came back disappointed. Xiaoshuang had boarded the train on time and left. The details of their failed reconciliation were never shared by the tailor, and I didn’t ask. I could roughly imagine what happened.

Yesterday, Xiaoshuang returned to Dali. After a long time apart, she had gained some weight, but her personality hadn’t changed—still carefree and a little naive, though her speech revealed more maturity. She had also become a small businesswoman with a million-dollar fortune. I invited both the tailor and Xiaoshuang to Jason’s house to hang out, and He Chen, an old friend from back then, was also there. We ate, chatted, and reunited after many years.

Afterward, I drove the tailor and Xiaoshuang home. Suddenly, I felt an incredible sense of wonder at the scene. I said, “Xiaoshuang, let me play a song for you.” Xiaoshuang looked confused, not knowing what I meant. I turned to the tailor in the passenger seat and said, "Play it." Soon, Wu Bai’s “The Ring” began to play, with the lyrics scrolling on the screen. At first, Xiaoshuang seemed embarrassed, finding the lyrics too sentimental. I glanced at the tailor. Only the streetlights’ shadows moved across his face, making it hard to read his expression. When the song ended, the tailor didn’t say a word.

The trip back was short, only a few songs long. I never imagined that there would be such a day, where the people in the story would come together again, and we would casually talk about the past, as if it were someone else’s story, so light and carefree. What the tailor and Xiaoshuang were thinking, I couldn’t know. But I truly felt that those days were so good, and everyone back then was so good. Youth was truly wonderful.

When we reached the end of the road and said our goodbyes, I thought to myself, perhaps this story only truly came to an end yesterday.

So good.

Xiaochun, 2023.4.25