一个人住

Xiao Yue, I had a fever last week, thirty-nine degrees, and I lay at home alone for two days.

Thirty-nine degrees? Why didn't you tell me? I could have brought you some food.

I couldn't even be bothered to pick up my phone. The worst part was being thirsty in the middle of the night. I wanted a sip of hot water, but there was nobody else in the house.

So you had to crawl out of bed and boil the water yourself.

Right. Standing in the kitchen waiting for the water to boil, I suddenly missed my mum so much. That was the moment I understood that the hardest part of living alone isn't cooking.

It's when you get sick.

Leo, how long have you been living alone?

Since I came back to Hangzhou, so about half a year.

And before you came back, did you live alone in London?

No. In London I always shared a flat. At one point there were four of us in one place.

Four people? Wasn't that lively?

Lively, sure, but also a pain. The kitchen was always dirty and someone was always in the bathroom.

Haha, I get it.

In the UK, flat-sharing is really common for young people. Almost nobody who just started working rents a whole place alone. It's too expensive.

Young people in China share too, especially in big cities like Beijing and Shanghai.

What about you? How long have you lived alone?

Over three years. I live right above my dessert shop, thirty seconds on foot.

Thirty seconds? Then getting to work must be really easy.

Easy, yes, but there's one problem. I can never really leave work.

Haha, I hadn't thought about that.

But honestly, living alone is really comfortable.

Zi zai, comfortable and free. You used that word perfectly.

Back when I lived with flatmates, if I wanted to cook noodles at night I had to watch their mood first.

Afraid of bothering them?

Right. In that kitchen, the second you turned on the stove, the whole flat could smell it.

One night I made instant noodles, and the next day my flatmate sent me a message about it.

What did he say?

He said, Leo, I love you, but I don't love your instant noodles.

Hahaha, that is such a British thing to say.

Now I eat whatever I want at midnight and nobody tells me off.

Nobody tells you off. It sounds like such a small thing, but it feels amazing.

My first week after moving in, guess what made me happiest?

What?

I left my socks on the sofa for three days and nobody said a word.

Haha, that's a very tiny bit of freedom.

Tiny, sure, but it felt so good.

I understand. When I first moved out, the best part was having hotpot by myself, eating and watching TV until midnight.

Hotpot alone? In China, isn't eating hotpot alone a bit strange?

It used to be, but not at all now. Lots of restaurants have seats with one small pot per person.

That's a really interesting change.

Also, when you live alone, your time belongs completely to you.

Right. Sleep whenever you want, get up whenever you want.

But that freedom has a downside too.

What downside?

Nobody wakes you up, and nobody reminds you it's time to eat.

Speaking of eating, that's my biggest problem.

Cooking for one really is hard.

I can never get the shopping right. One bunch of greens takes me three days to finish.

Haha, I know. And the lady at the market won't sell you half a cabbage.

Exactly! I bought a watermelon once, cut it open, and just stared at the other half with no idea what to do.

That's why a lot of people living alone end up ordering delivery.

I did that at first. But eating delivery every day, my wallet couldn't take it and neither could my body.

So what do you do now?

I cook once on the weekend, make one big pot, split it into boxes, put them in the fridge, and eat it all week.

There's a word for that now, bei can, meal prep. Lots of young people do it.

Bei can? That's the first time I've heard that word.

It means preparing a week of meals in advance. Though honestly, by Thursday that food doesn't taste great.

So true. I often get to the last box shaking my head while I eat.

That's when we say, cou he chi ba, just make do with it.

Cou he?

Cou he means not great, but good enough, you stop being fussy about it.

Then my whole week is one big cou he.

Haha. Besides food, there's something even more annoying, fixing things.

I have so much to say about that. Last month my light broke, and I stood on a chair changing the bulb for forty minutes.

Forty minutes?

Because alone I couldn't hold the fitting steady, and I had to hold my phone up with one hand for light.

That's the hardest part of living alone. You need a second pair of hands and there isn't one.

Another time I went downstairs to take out the rubbish and the door shut behind me.

Keys inside?

Keys inside, phone inside, and me standing outside in slippers for two hours.

We call that bei suo zai men wai, locked out. Almost everyone living alone has been through it.

Let me ask you a more serious question. Do you ever feel lonely?

Yes. But not at the moments you'd expect.

What do you mean?

During the day at work, or having dinner with friends, I'm not lonely at all. The loneliness comes at one very specific moment.

Which moment?

The second I open the door. The room is dark and nobody says, hey, you're home.

I know that feeling too well.

In London, I'd push the door open and my mum would call my name from the kitchen. Not anymore.

Actually there are two Chinese expressions people mix up, gu dan, lonely, and yi ge ren dai zhe, being on your own.

Are they different?

They are. Gu dan is a feeling. You don't want to be alone, but you are.

And being on your own?

Being on your own is your own choice. You just want peace and quiet to do your own thing.

Oh, I see. So I could feel lonely even at a party full of people.

Exactly. Loneliness has very little to do with how many people are around you.

So after three years alone, are you lonely?

Very much at the start. Back then I'd turn on the TV the moment I walked in. I wasn't really watching, I just wanted to hear a voice.

I've done that too! I put on videos and leave them running all day.

Then I got Xiao Hua, and it got much better.

Once Xiao Hua arrived, the place felt alive.

Right. She runs to the door to wait for me when I come home, even if she only wants dinner.

Haha, but for that one second it feels like someone is waiting for you.

You could get one too.

I've thought about it, but I'm too busy right now. I leave early and come back late, and that wouldn't be fair to an animal.

So how does your family feel about you living alone?

My mum video calls me every week, and her first line is always, have you eaten?

Haha, that sounds so familiar.

The second line is, why are you so thin?

Chinese mums and British mums are exactly the same on this one.

And my grandma. She keeps asking why I don't move in with her.

Your grandma is worried about you. In her generation's thinking, living alone means nobody is taking care of you.

Right. She says, you have a home and you won't go back, out there suffering on your own.

A lot of older people say that. They think living alone is expensive and exhausting for young people, so you might as well live at home.

But it's different in the UK. Many people move out at eighteen for university, and their parents are quite happy about it.

Happy?

Yes, they see it as growing up and becoming independent. If a thirty-year-old still lives with their parents, people would find that odd.

In China it's the opposite. Many people stay at home and only move out when they get married, and that's completely normal.

So they're two completely different ways of thinking.

It's slowly changing though. A lot of my friends rent their own place once they start working, just to have a bit of their own space.

Have your parents ever given you a hard time about it?

They have. My mum still says, when you live alone, you cook a bowl of noodles and there's nobody to eat it with.

How do you answer her?

I say, mum, I can live a good life on my own. She goes quiet, and the next day she mails me a box of fruit.

That's a lovely answer.

Xiao Yue, talking about all this, I realise living alone is actually a skill.

How so?

Because nobody does anything for you. The light breaks, you fix it. The food runs out, you cook. When you feel awful, you carry it yourself.

Kang, to carry it. You used that word really well.

Back at home, I never had to think about any of this.