There is often a discrepancy between one's thoughts and what is actually written.

Zhang Pa said, "You can't blame others for this. If it were you two, and I had offended Guo Gang, and asked you to stand up for me, what would you do? It's really not fair to blame someone else in this situation."

"Come on, that's not the same at all," the round-faced girl replied. "Some bastards are all nice when they're sleeping with us, but as soon as something happens, they turn into cowards. That's not what you're talking about. At least neither of us ever slept with you."

Zhang Pa coughed, flustered, "Can we try to be a little more gentle when we speak?"

"We'll help you pack your things," the round-faced girl said after a moment, then suddenly laughed and pulled open the wardrobe curtain, taking out a small bag. "Our stockings and underwear—some men just love these things. The more perverted, the more they like them, especially those taken off our bodies. They pay top dollar, but now we're giving them to you cheap. Take them."

Zhang Pa was taken aback again. "You don't know how hard it is for me to pretend to be decent. Don't tempt me, please?"

The fat man said, "I'm not as fake as he is. Let me see them." He reached for the small bag.

The round-faced girl wouldn't let him and instead searched through her shoes, tossing two pairs of socks to the fat man. "Take these home to satisfy yourself."

The fat man was wounded. "Why do men get different treatment?"

"Because we feel like it," the round-faced girl replied, opening her suitcase. "I'll give you the sexiest set. When we're gone, you'll still remember us."

Zhang Pa hurriedly refused, "Stop! You're going to ruin my chance to be a decent person."

The long-haired girl joined in, "So many shoes! These can be thrown out, but keep these pairs—they're beautiful." The shoes she called beautiful were all high heels, clean and almost new; it would be a waste to throw them away.

Zhang Pa pretended not to hear, looking around the room at the various items: power banks, hangers, headphones. He said to the two girls, "Remember, it's not easy to earn money. Don't buy useless things."

"Alright, we'll listen to you," said the round-faced girl. "Give me your phone number. And don't change it. When we miss you, we'll call."

With Zhang Pa's temperament, he could never outtalk such uninhibited girls. He sighed and gave them his number, watched them jot it down, and asked, "When are you leaving?"

"Tomorrow night," the long-haired girl replied. "Let's start moving your things—begin with your room."

Zhang Pa agreed and asked which items belonged to the landlord.

"Just the bed and the table," the long-haired girl answered. "Everything else we bought. These two mattresses cost a fortune—so soft and comfortable. We must move them tomorrow, and these two quilts, big, soft, warm, almost like new."

Zhang Pa acknowledged, calling to the fat man, "Let's get to work."

The fat man asked, "Am I invited to dinner tonight?"

"If you help, you can join us," the round-faced girl said.

"I like that," the fat man replied, and began moving things.

Zhang Pa was selective about what he moved, leaving behind basins, towels, and feminine hygiene products, as well as dresses and shoes.

The fat man didn't care; determined to secure his dinner, he moved everything Zhang Pa left, since it was just a few steps away.

Within half an hour, only two beds, a table, two large suitcases, and a few odds and ends remained in the big room. Everything else was piled into Zhang Pa's room.

With no space left, many items were stuffed into two makeshift wardrobes, bulging with things stacked on top.

Zhang Pa was frustrated, cursing the fat man as he sorted through the items he didn't want, only to be scolded back: "Can we finish first? Pick through them tomorrow."

That was unacceptable. After clearing the neighboring room, Zhang Pa began removing women's clothes and shoes, even though many were almost new.

He looked at the pile, headache mounting. The girls' cosmetics and perfumes lingered in their belongings. Despite wanting to clear them all out, the girls came over and said, "Let's go eat."

Zhang Pa glanced at the time. "I haven't updated yet. You go ahead."

"We'll wait for you," the girls replied.

So Zhang Pa abandoned the idea of sorting, focused on writing, and after half an hour uploaded his work and went out to dinner.

The four of them ate Sichuan cuisine, found a small private room, and drank heavily.

The girls had endured too much. On the eve of leaving the city, they vented freely, recounting tales of who in the karaoke bar was rotten, who was truly evil, who even stole from the working girls, who they'd fought with, whom they wanted to fight...

Not a good word came from their mouths, but Zhang Pa didn't try to console them, just drank quietly as the women ranted. The fat man made an ideal sidekick, chiming in from time to time.

They drank from five till after eleven. Leaving the restaurant, the girls invited Zhang Pa to sing, saying that before, singing was work, but now they wanted to enjoy themselves.

Zhang Pa declined, instead escorting them home.

The girls were truly drunk, flirting with Zhang Pa as they walked. One asked if he wanted to have sex, another suggested letting off steam. One claimed she was the real deal, another boasted her skills.

Zhang Pa didn't respond, but the fat man, eyes glinting, said, "If Zhang Pa won't, I'm always ready to offer myself."

He didn't get his chance. The girls, drunk, rambled on, then vomited right there in the street.

True to their bond, they even vomited together.

No matter how beautiful, a woman is never attractive while vomiting—especially two working girls. The fat man instantly lost interest, squatting nearby to watch.

Zhang Pa patted one on the back, glanced at the other; the girls vomited three times each, until nothing was left. One found a clean spot, crouched against the wall, the other hugged a lamppost and cried.

The fat man said, "What a mess this is!"

Zhang Pa replied, "Watch them. I'll take one home first." He hoisted the long-haired girl, who was sobbing against the lamppost, carried her to her door, set her down, then returned for the round-faced girl.

The fat man muttered about Zhang Pa being such a hero—so earnest, even with working girls—then staggered home.

Zhang Pa found the keys in the round-faced girl's bag, unlocked the door, brought them both inside, tossed them onto their beds, and left.

In films and TV, such scenes always lead to something: a man takes a drunk woman home, they end up in the same bed; or helps her undress after vomiting, and stays in the room; or, more boldly, they have drunken sex.

Here, nothing happened. Zhang Pa dropped them onto their beds, removed their shoes, closed the door, and left.

Drunkenness sometimes brings insomnia. Sitting on a stool, surrounded by the girls' belongings, Zhang Pa was suddenly reminded of long-ago memories...

He lingered awhile, before finally going to bed.

The next morning, he checked on the girls next door. The long-haired girl was still asleep; the round-faced girl was tossing and turning, complaining of discomfort and headache—a normal hangover.

Zhang Pa closed their door, went downstairs to buy hangover medicine, brought it back for them, and soon they both fell asleep again. He returned to his room to work.

The girls woke at noon, washed up, and asked Zhang Pa to help move their mattresses and quilts.

He wanted to refuse.

The long-haired girl said, "Look at your bed—a thin blanket over bare boards. Isn't it hard?"

Zhang Pa smiled. He'd slept on that bed for over four years. "It's just what I'm used to," he replied.

"What habit? We're giving you things for free and they're almost new," the girls insisted. Together, the three moved the mattresses onto Zhang Pa's bed, laid out their quilts and sheets. The long-haired girl laughed, "Now you're sleeping under the same bedding as us."

Zhang Pa thanked them.

"It's us who should thank you," the long-haired girl said. "I don't know why, but only when we're leaving do I realize how good you are. You're sincere with us, never take advantage, never play games, and you're willing to stand up for us. Really, thank you."

"I already said it yesterday," Zhang Pa replied.

The long-haired girl smiled. "No harm in saying it again."

After this move, the girls' room was completely empty. They said a few words to Zhang Pa, then went downstairs to notify the landlord.

Elsewhere, renting requires a deposit; here, a word suffices. The landlord didn't care what happened to the upstairs room and didn't even come to look. "Got it," he said, and that was that.

The girls left their suitcases in Zhang Pa's room and suggested going out for a meal.

So they ate together; Zhang Pa didn't refuse, picking a small restaurant and ordering dishes.

It was a farewell meal. Though they might never meet again, it was right to treat them.

None of them were locals. Once separated, they would be worlds apart. Years later, recalling the past, they would realize they'd met many people, gotten along well, but lost touch.

Lunch was Zhang Pa's treat; the girls tried to pay twice but failed, then thanked him and asked for a group photo.

They took a few pictures at the restaurant and returned home. On the way, the round-faced girl said, "Why don't we just keep you?"

"What?" Zhang Pa wondered if he'd misheard.

The round-faced girl explained, "Take us with you, help us find karaoke gigs, we'll split the earnings with you."

Zhang Pa understood. "You want me to be your sugar daddy?"

The round-faced girl replied, "Not a sugar daddy—more like a madam. You could bring more girls along."

Zhang Pa shook his head gently and said nothing.

Soon they reached home. After a few idle words, the girls announced their departure. Unexpectedly, both shed tears as they went downstairs.

The round-faced girl cried first, then the long-haired girl caught the mood and cried too; at last, there was genuine sorrow in their parting.

Zhang Pa saw them down to the street, watched the taxi carry them away, then turned to look at the two-story building. From now on, he would be alone there.

He lingered for a moment, then went back to work. After uploading his article, he began to sort through the things the girls had left behind.

There were many dolls and toys, mostly new, some still in packaging—those he kept. Laundry powder and soap were useful. The washbasin he kept as well. TV and game console needed no discussion. Sorting through everything, he found it hard to throw anything away, even the old clothes and shoes, which weren’t very worn and could be donated.