The Crack of Lu Qianqian

Jingzhou, Chunfeng Community.

The afternoon sunlight filtered through the old, fogged-up glass windows, casting mottled shadows across the bustling community canteen.

The air was thick with the humble, comforting aroma unique to communal meals, mingling with the crisp sound of chopping vegetables, the clatter of spatulas against iron pots, and the hearty laughter of the loud, cheerful aunties—a symphony brimming with the warmth of everyday life.

Lu Qianqian stood before a massive stainless steel sink, a fine sheen of sweat dampening her forehead.

The once brand-new Chanel suit she had worn was now tucked away deep in her wardrobe, replaced by a faded blue work apron, its color worn pale from countless washes.

Her delicate hands, which had never so much as touched water before, and had found even peeling a lychee troublesome, now fumbled awkwardly as they gripped a potato, peeling it slowly with a paring knife.

Her movements were far from skillful; uneven pressure caused the potato skins to come off in patches of varying thickness, and more than once she nearly nicked her fingers.

If someone had told her a month ago that she would be working in a place like this, doing tasks she had always thought only servants would do, she would have thought they were mad.

The first week had been sheer torment for Lu Qianqian.

Every day, she wanted to throw a tantrum, to smash everything in her hands, to run home crying and demand to know why her older brother was so cruel to her.

Every time she smelled the scent of cooking oil, she felt nauseous; every time she touched greasy dishes, she wanted to scream.

But Lu Chenyuan’s stance was as resolute and immovable as an iceberg.

He froze all her bank cards, took back her car keys, and even ignored the pleas of their mother, Lou Mengling.

She was completely isolated, left with no choice but to submit.

“Qianqian, be careful. Don’t get distracted and hurt your hand,” Aunt Wang, who was chopping cabbage swiftly nearby, noticed her zoning out and kindly warned.

Aunt Wang was a veteran of the canteen, a middle-aged woman with a loud voice and a kind heart.

At first, she and the others had shared the same confusion and slight resentment toward this pampered young lady, decked out in designer brands, who had come to “experience life” by working here.

But as they watched Lu Qianqian go from full-on resistance to gritted-teeth perseverance, and now to quietly getting the work done, that initial rejection gradually softened into a kind of unspoken affection.

“I know, Aunt Wang,” Lu Qianqian snapped back to attention and forced a tired smile.

This month of “re-education” hadn’t transformed her completely, but it had been like a file, slowly smoothing away the sharpest, most out-of-place edges of her arrogance and fragility.

She had learned to tell different kinds of vegetables apart, to scrub mountains of dishes using the most efficient methods, and even to weave through the crowded canteen with heavy trays during the busiest hours.

These skills were useless to her in any practical sense, yet after each exhausting day’s labor, they brought her an unprecedented sense of groundedness.

She was no longer the Lu family princess who could get everything she wanted just by acting cute. Now, she was an ordinary kitchen helper, earning her meals through hard work.

In the morning, she still had to attend school, though her mind had long since drifted away from those courses that felt far too simple for her.

In the afternoon, she would report on time at the community canteen.

And in the evening, waiting for her was a team of private tutors personally arranged by Lu Chenyuan, following a curriculum her eldest brother had named the “Young Leaders’ Independence Program.” The lessons covered fields she had never even heard of before—finance, law, sociology, public relations.

Her life was packed full, spinning like a high-speed top, leaving no room for rest or idle thoughts.

“All right, all right, the meals are almost ready,” Sister Li clapped her hands and called out loudly.

“Qianqian, today you’re coming with me to deliver meals to a few elderly residents living alone in the Xingfu Li neighborhood.”

“Okay, Sister Li,” Lu Qianqian replied, taking off her damp gloves and drying her hands.

She had been with Sister Li on meal deliveries to the less mobile elderly before.

Compared to working in the kitchen all day, she actually preferred this task. At least it gave her a brief chance to escape the greasy, smoky environment.

Together, she and Sister Li loaded the packed, insulated meal boxes onto an old electric tricycle and headed toward Xingfu Li.

Xingfu Li—a name that sounded warm and comforting—was in reality one of the oldest neighborhoods in Jingzhou.

Most of the buildings were constructed in the 1980s, their walls cracked and peeling, stairwells cluttered with junk. A damp, musty smell lingered in the air year-round. It was like a world apart from the Lu family estate, where the temperature was perfectly controlled all year, and a faint floral fragrance drifted through the air.

Carrying two heavy insulated meal boxes, Lu Qianqian followed Sister Li up the stairs to the fifth floor of a building with no elevator.

“Knock, knock, knock.”

“Who is it?” came a frail, aged voice from inside.

“Uncle Chen from the community canteen, here to deliver your meal,” Sister Li called out cheerfully.

The door creaked open just a crack, revealing a weathered face lined with wrinkles. When Uncle Chen saw Sister Li, a faint smile flickered in his cloudy eyes.

“It’s Little Li! Please come in, please come in.”

Lu Qianqian stepped inside, immediately hit by a strong scent of traditional Chinese medicine.

The room was small and sparsely furnished. The only appliance of note was an old, fourteen-inch television.

A middle-aged woman with a worried expression sat by the bed, holding a towel as she wiped the body of another elderly person lying there. When they entered, she simply gave a tired nod in greeting.

“Sister Zhao, here to see Old Zhang again?” Sister Li asked as she placed the meal boxes on the table, speaking with familiarity.

“Yes,” the woman called Sister Zhao sighed deeply, her eyes instantly reddening.

“He’s worried, and I’m worried too. What kind of thing is this? A perfectly fine man, and now he’s just like this.”

Lu Qianqian gently set down the other lunchbox, her curiosity piqued as she glanced at the frail-looking old man lying on the bed.

His eyes were tightly shut, and his chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, as if he were slipping into a deep sleep.

Uncle Chen took the lunchbox and sighed heavily.

"Those bastards at Shengtian Real Estate are despicable! They’ve ruined him like this and won’t even cover the medical bills. Is there no justice left in this world?"

"Shengtian Real Estate?"

Hearing the familiar name, Lu Qianqian’s heart suddenly skipped a beat. A few days ago, her older brother had mentioned this company to Lin Yuan’s assistant.

Her attention was instantly drawn in.

Sister Zhao seemed to have found an outlet for her pent-up frustration. Tears streamed down her face uncontrollably as she began to recount her story in a broken voice.

"My husband, Old Zhang, worked at a Shengtian Real Estate construction site for his entire life. He was a master bricklayer, known far and wide for his skill. But three months ago, because the scaffolding at the site wasn’t up to code, he fell from the third floor. Now, he’s bedridden for the rest of his life..."

"We went to confront Shengtian Real Estate. They said all the right things, promising to take responsibility. But the moment we turned our backs, they pulled out a contract, claiming Old Zhang wasn’t their official employee but was hired through some labor agency. The agency turned out to be a sham company that vanished without a trace after the accident!"

"We tried to sue them, but how can ordinary people like us hope to fight a giant publicly listed company? They hired the best legal team in Jingzhou, and they’ve dragged the case out so long it’s worn us down completely."

Sister Zhao’s voice was thick with despair and helplessness, each word piercing Lu Qianqian’s heart like a sharp needle.