Cheng Boyan sat in the consultation room. Outside the window, the sky switching quickly between cloudy and clear, and the wind bent all the leaves and branches, as if they had entered a Japanese restaurant (NT: a humorous exaggeration, the bending trees look meticulous or “polite” in their posture, like something you’d see in a Japanese restaurant setting), probably signalling an incoming storm.

His mood wasn’t very good today—he’d been scolded by patients’ family members in the morning and again in the afternoon.

A boy of around ten had twisted his ankle. He walked quite briskly but kept crying in pain. Cheng Boyan examined him and took X-rays; there was no bone injury. The boy’s mother was very worried, insisting that the bone was broken. Cheng Boyan showed her the X-rays and explained for a long time, also suggesting that if the pain was severe and he couldn’t walk, they could do an MRI to check the ligaments.

“All right, all right, all right, don’t give me these technical terms; I can’t understand!” The mother supported the boy out of the consultation room, half-shouting in displeasure, “I’m going to make an appointment with the chief! Young doctors just want patients to spend money instead of treating them properly!”

Cheng Boyan smiled but didn’t respond.

After work, he was thinking of calling Xiang Xi to ask if he had eaten, when a patient with a fibula fracture came in to remove an external fixation frame. This was a patient who had come in the morning but had been delayed until now.

Removing the frame was simple; if smooth, it would take about 10–20 minutes. But this patient nervously grabbed Cheng Boyan’s arm and wouldn’t let go: “Not going into the operating room?”

“This doesn’t need surgery; just unscrew the screws and it comes off,” Cheng Boyan said. The patient’s leg was injured, but his hands were strong, and holding his arm made it a little sore.

“Screw it?” the patient shouted, “Do we need anaesthesia?”

“No need,” Cheng Boyan smiled, “it doesn’t hurt much. Even ten-year-old kids usually get it removed directly.”

“No, doctor, I want anaesthesia. I’m scared of pain,” the patient held his arm sincerely, “I’m really super afraid of pain. Without anaesthesia, I’ll move around, kick you, bite…”

Cheng Boyan had no choice but to let him have local anaesthesia, and it took a long time to remove the frame.

After changing his clothes and leaving the consultation room, Cheng Boyan looked outside—the sky was already pitch black. As he was closing the door, a flash of lightning appeared, followed a few seconds later by thunder.

“Ah!” a young nurse jumped in fright, “Doctor Cheng, you’re off work?”

“Mm,” Cheng Boyan smiled, “jumped pretty high.”

“Second place in high jump at the school sports meet,” the young nurse joked, running off.

Dr. Liu in the next consultation room also left late, closing the door while talking on the phone with his wife: “Just steam some buns; haven’t had them for a while…”

“I want some too; steam extra for me,” Cheng Boyan chimed in, “bring me some tomorrow.”

“Steam more; I’ll bring some for young Cheng tomorrow,” Dr. Liu laughed into the phone, “abachelor survives on mixed bean porridge every day.”

Cheng Boyan smiled and continued down the corridor to the inpatient ward.

Everyone in the ward had eaten; Xiang Xi had finished too. When Cheng Boyan entered, Xiang Xi was sitting upright on the bed, staring at the TV. The neighbouring patient, just out of surgery, was groaning, with his family gently comforting him.

Thinking back to when Xiang Xi had his arms, legs, and neck in braces, compared to this patient, he seemed brave and strong. Perhaps groaning without comfort also made him feel weak.

“What are you watching so seriously?” Cheng Boyan asked, looking at the TV, which was broadcasting the city news. “Waiting for the weather forecast?”

“Why wait for the weather forecast?” Xiang Xi turned his head when he heard him, smiling.

“Who knows,” Cheng Boyan said, noticing his lunchbox on the bedside table had been cleaned, “my grandma is set on watching the weather forecast every day, strictly the central channel; provincial or city channels won’t do.”

“Why? Isn’t it on the phone? Just tell her the weather,” Xiang Xi didn’t understand.

“It has to be on TV, right after the central news broadcast on CCTV-1; nothing else works,” Cheng Boyan chuckled. “She decides from this whether her old ‘cold legs’ (NT: refers to chronic leg pain common in the elderly) will hurt tomorrow.”

Xiang Xi laughed along with him, then rested his head on his arm and returned his eyes to the TV.

Cheng Boyan looked back. The news continued, nothing shocking. When Xiang Xi was with him, he never watched news, but now he stared at it silently.

“What's wrong?” he asked, “You…”

“I’m practising reading characters,” Xiang Xi smiled, glanced at him, and then returned his gaze to the TV screen. “The news has captions; I’m seeing how many I can recognize.”

“…So diligent. Finished reading with Dad at the supermarket?” Cheng Boyan sat on the edge of the bed. He hadn’t been able to sit properly during work. Now he was a bit tired and had changed into casual clothes, though he still stood when the nurse came in.

“I didn’t bring it; I just took a pen and notebook,” Xiang Xi rubbed his nose. The news had finished, and the weather forecast started. His gaze finally left the TV. “How long until I can leave the hospital?”

“Usually a week. If you recover well, four or five days should be enough,” Cheng Boyan said with a smile. “What, you’re already bored after just one day?”

“A bit bored,” Xiang Xi scratched his head. “Previously, when hospitalized, I was seriously injured. Now, with my arms and legs fine, I just sit here zoning out.”

Cheng Boyan smiled but said nothing. Xiang Xi felt a little off.

He couldn’t pinpoint exactly what felt off, just a restless, uneasy feeling. But there was nothing in the news that could make him feel this way—or so it seemed.

“You haven’t eaten yet, right?” Xiang Xi asked him.

“No, I’ll go to the supermarket across the street in a bit…” Cheng Boyan began, but before he finished, another lightning bolt flashed outside, and as the thunder rumbled again, a downpour struck. The sudden flash and roar felt like the end of the world. He paused. “I’ll just grab something at home.”

“Ah…” The groaning patient in the neighbouring bed let out a sigh, finally speaking a complete sentence, “Someone’s undergoing a calamity (NT: expression from Taoist/xianxia fantasy meaning experiencing a severe test or hardship)…”

Everyone in the room froze, then burst out laughing together.

“Can you even make it back?” Xiang Xi laughed. “By the time you reach the parking lot, you must be soaked, then back home to wash with disinfectant.”

Cheng Boyan clicked his tongue. “I should’ve taken a photo of you before surgery that day for retaliation.”

“Damn!” Xiang Xi tapped the bed, then laughed again. “Actually, I should have taken a commemorative photo… I mean when I was dressed.”

Cheng Boyan laughed and took the phone Xiang Xi had placed by his pillow, stepped back two paces, and took a photo of him.

“Let me see, let me see,” Xiang Xi immediately reached for it. “Am I handsome?”

“Handsome,” Cheng Boyan said, handing him the phone. “If not, we’ll keep taking until it is.”

Xiang Xi looked down. In the photo, he was sitting on the bed facing the camera, smiling foolishly. He chuckled, “Pretty good, better than…”

Better than Fang Yin’s photos.

He nearly blurted it out but quickly bit back, instead saying, “Better than when I look in the mirror.”

Cheng Boyan looked at him and guessed what Xiang Xi had almost said during that brief pause. He thought about guiding the conversation if Xiang Xi had slipped, but Xiang Xi’s skill in patching up slips was impressive; he smoothed over his words without a trace.

After chatting a bit longer, they noticed it was almost nine o’clock. Cheng Boyan looked out the window. “I should go.”

“Has the rain let up?” Xiang Xi also looked outside. “Still like this…”

“No problem, it’s just a few steps,” Cheng Boyan pressed his stomach. “I’m starving.”

“Will you be in the inpatient ward tomorrow?” Xiang Xi asked.

“Tomorrow is still outpatient,” Cheng Boyan smiled. “But I’ll be on duty here at night.”

“Great,” Xiang Xi smiled happily, softly saying, “Come chat if you have time. Help me count—I counted yesterday and it actually helped; I fell asleep quickly after.”

“Okay.” Cheng Boyan nodded.

Xiang Xi felt a little anxious inside but couldn’t pinpoint why.

Was it because of Mantou, or Mantou possibly being found by Erpan, or the risk that his own life could overlap with Mantou’s?

He never admitted how close he and Mantou really were, but the time spent together over the years was more than with anyone else.

Mantou was cunning, capable of pretending, his words running like a train, almost a high-speed one. Yet Mantou had always been a true friend, treating him as a bro, though he didn’t admit it.

Now, with Mantou’s whereabouts unknown, he sat in the hospital feeling lost.

Erpan never watched TV, but uncle Ping did. Ping Shu loved watching news, from central channels to city channels, and various legal programs. Xiang Xi thought this was probably how he learned his street-smart skills.

If he could recognize Mantou, could Ping Shu?

Thinking about these things made it hard to sleep.

Cheng Boyan would come see him when free, even during night duty, chatting with him briefly. Something that should have been pleasant now made him conflicted: wanting Cheng Boyan to come, yet fearing Cheng Boyan might notice his concerns.

Hearing Cheng Boyan’s gentle voice, Xiang Xi enjoyed it, feeling a soft, feather-like comfort when closing his eyes, yet fearing that such comfort might one day vanish.

These days, Xiang Xi kept an eye on the news. Though he knew it was just a small fake-liquor black market bust, too tiny for follow-ups, he still stubbornly hoped to spot Mantou’s figure in the broadcast.

By the time he was discharged, he had nearly memorized all the city affairs, even the names of the mayor, deputy mayor, and various officials. It was the first time in his life he had paid so much attention to the modernization process of his city…

“Rest for two more days,” Cheng Boyan stood at the hospital gate to see him off. “I told Song you’d return to work next Monday. Don’t exert yourself too much in the meantime, okay?”

“Mm!” Xiang Xi twisted his arm on his waist. “A week cooped up makes not just bones, but skin feel tight too.”

“Shall I loosen it for you?” Cheng Boyan asked, gently pressing and twisting his fingers with a click sound.

“Oy! I can loosen it myself!” Xiang Xi quickly moved his legs and swung his arms. “Okay, I’m loosened up. Now it’s so loose it’s like it’s about to fall apart, just hanging by the skin; otherwise it’d spill all over the place.”

“You’re sick, go home,” Cheng Boyan laughed. “Call me if anything comes up.”

“Okay.” Xiang Xi nodded, took a couple steps outside the hospital, then stopped. He suddenly felt reluctant to leave. While hospitalized, it had been annoying, but he could see Cheng Boyan every day. Now, leaving the hospital meant returning to the grind of work, going back to his cramped room, and practising reading characters…

“What’s wrong?” Cheng Boyan asked, still standing behind him.

“Let me take you out to eat?” Xiang Xi turned back. Cheng Boyan stood in his white coat, his features clear yet softened by a smile, making Xiang Xi squint slightly. “Consider it a thank-you, a proper meal—not the kind where I barge into your place and raid it.”

Cheng Boyan laughed. “Sure, when?”

“Up to you. Before I go back to work, whichever day you finish early, call me.” Xiang Xi smiled.

“Then wait for my call,” Cheng Boyan said, pointing at him. “Have money ready.”

“No problem!” Xiang Xi snapped his fingers.

When he returned to his little shabby room, it was nearly lunchtime. The couple next door were cooking noodles again. The girl saw Xiang Xi and smiled. “Ah, you’re back?”

“Mm.” Xiang Xi smiled.

“Several days haven’t seen you. Went traveling?” she asked.

“…Yeah,” Xiang Xi shook his backpack. “Not far, just a few nights camping nearby.”

“Was it raining heavily that night?” the boy, Liu Yuanping, came out, tossing him a cigarette. Xiang Xi had spoken to him a few times before about the deaths downstairs.

“We stayed in a motel those two days, then camped,” Xiang Xi clicked his tongue twice and made up the story smoothly. “The ground was wet; even the moisture mats couldn’t help—no fun.”

“You didn’t have a proper time, huh? If you like the outdoors, next time our classmates go cycling overnight, come along,” Liu Yuanping, feeling he found a kindred spirit, immediately suggested.

“Okay, but depends on my schedule; I work.” Xiang Xi smiled, chatted a bit more, then returned inside.

The room hadn’t been occupied for a week. Dust had settled on the table; Xiang Xi brushed it off. The bed was probably dusty too, but he didn’t bother. He showered, changed into the clothes Cheng Boyan had given him, and tossed them on the bed.

If Cheng Boyan saw this scene, he’d probably go mad.

Xiang Xi lay on the bed for almost half an hour before getting up. His stomach was a bit hungry, and he planned to go downstairs for a bite, and also… step out for a while.

He couldn’t save Mantou and couldn’t think of how to help him, but he wanted to know what Mantou had experienced and how he was now.

He calculated the time: over a week had passed since the news aired. The black market spot was gone, the boss caught. If Ping Shu had seen the news and recognized Mantou, then informed Erpan…

Erpan would have already gone there. Now, if Xiang Xi went, he wouldn’t run into Erpan or his people. Mantou would already be gone.

So why did he still want to go?

Yes, why?

Xiang Xi couldn’t explain. He just wanted to see what kind of place Mantou was working in, and what kind of life he was living.

The news didn’t give a specific address, only said a street in Linjiang. Locals knew the area. It wasn’t just one black market; the whole area was full of unlicensed small workshops.

Xiang Xi took three buses to reach the area.

Although a cluster of small workshops, it was much better than Zhaojiayao; at least it didn’t give the impulse to avoid it.

Xiang Xi tore off the bandage from his face and walked slowly, looking into small alleys as he searched. After over an hour, he found the counterfeit liquor workshop, already closed and sealed.

Not an old courtyard, next to another obvious food workshop of the same type. Though not closed, it was spooked and had shut as well.

Xiang Xi didn’t approach. He lit a cigarette and squatted by the roadside, half a street away, watching the workshop. How Mantou got the job, how long he worked there, what he did every day…

Many questions filled his mind. Rather than wanting to know Mantou’s life, it was imagining what he himself would face without Cheng Boyan.

A motorcycle came out from the narrow alley next to the workshop. Two helmets hung on it; clearly a taxi motorcycle.

The driver drove across the street and stopped under a tree next to Xiang Xi.

Xiang Xi clicked his tongue in his mind. Good, someone to take him, otherwise he’d have to go back just for the toilet.

The driver took out a cigarette, touched his body several times, then walked over. Xiang Xi put his hand into the bag at his feet, which contained a fruit knife.

“Little brother,” the driver called, “lend me a light.”

Xiang Xi looked at him and handed over the lighter. The driver lit his cigarette, returned to the tree, and lay on the motorcycle.

Xiang Xi exhaled.

“Waiting for someone? Or heading somewhere?” the driver asked between puffs. “Want me to call a car?”

“Waiting for someone,” Xiang Xi said. “You just stay here.”

“Mm.” The driver nodded toward the counterfeit workshop.

“Just there?” Xiang Xi played along and looked. “Hey, big brother, wasn’t that place in the news a few days ago…”

“That’s the one!” The driver’s eyes lit up. “The one that got shut down. I watched from upstairs: police, administration, TV reporters… a lot of people came.”

“Ah! The boss was caught?” Xiang Xi leaned closer.

“Caught. Still in custody. Wife and kids went back home,” the driver clicked his tongue. “Don’t know who reported them.”

“The worker too?” Xiang Xi asked.

“The worker? Which… oh, that lame kid?” The driver took a puff. “After questioning, they let him go. Who’d bother catching a worker? He came back to pick up stuff and left.”

“Yo, that’s frustrating. A lame guy finding a job isn’t easy.” Xiang Xi clicked his tongue.

“Frustrating? No way. I bet he’s happy. Gets hit every day, beat badly. I can hear him upstairs when he screams. Don’t know why he doesn’t run… maybe he can’t escape because he’s lame.”

The driver didn’t chat long; someone called a car, and he left with them.

Xiang Xi squatted in place a while longer. The sun was strong today, warming his back, but he still felt cold. Sweat appeared on his forehead, yet he wasn’t warm.

Standing to walk to the bus stop, Fang Yin’s call came through.

“Don’t bother me.” Xiang Xi answered.

“Have you been discharged?” Fang Yin asked him.

“I said don’t bother me!” Xiang Xi yelled, raising his voice.

“Then I’ll send you a text.” Fang Yin said.

“Send your ‘one mom one egg’ text (NT: a vulgar way to say ‘I don’t give a damn about your text’)!” Xiang Xi hung up the phone.

After getting on the bus and sitting down, Fang Yin’s text still arrived. Xiang Xi didn’t want to look, but thinking about the fifty yuan from that day, he took out his phone and glanced at it.

Now he could recognize quite a few characters. Fang Yin’s text was easy to read, and he understood it: “Take time to look at those photos, preferably in the next couple of days. Tell me what you think.”

The message was completely baffling. Xiang Xi didn’t want to look and had no interest, so he called Fang Yin: “What do you want?”

“I think you should see them. Not all photos are posted, just a small selection on the blog. The address is on my business card,” Fang Yin said. “You must look at them.”

Xiang Xi was annoyed. “I don’t have anywhere to look!”

“Then come to my place?” Fang Yin said. “It’s really important. Xiao Zhan, I hope you see them and tell me your thoughts. It affects my upcoming work.”

Xiang Xi hung up, changed buses, and after returning to his place, hesitated, then went to a nearby internet café.

He had never been to this internet café before. It was quite shabby, very similar to the one he and Mantou used to go to. The smell of smoke and the occasional shouting immediately threw him back to the past.

“You need ID to log in,” the café attendant told him.

“I don’t have one,” Xiang Xi frowned. “Give me a temporary card.”

“No temporary cards these days, someone’s checking,” the attendant said.

“Damn,” Xiang Xi was extremely annoyed. “Even in this lousy café they check?”

“Even a lousy café has to be registered, everything must be checked,” the attendant said, then lowered their head to play with the phone.

“Go to hell.” Xiang Xi turned and walked out.

Standing outside, he didn’t know where to go.

He first didn’t want to see the photos. He wasn’t interested in what Fang Yin did, and he especially didn’t want to see himself in those unpleasant poses Fang Yin had captured.

But now he suddenly wanted to see them.

It was like when he squatted by the street, looking at where Mantou had been, hearing a stranger describe how he had been beaten.

He suddenly wanted to know what he looked like in other people’s eyes—was it the same as how Mantou saw him?

When Cheng Boyan returned home, Xiang Xi was already waiting at the door.

“Have you eaten?” Cheng Boyan asked.

“Yes,” Xiang Xi replied. “I came… hope I’m not disturbing you?”

“Too fake,” Cheng Boyan laughed and took out his keys to open the door. “Your first time coming?”

“I mean…” Xiang Xi followed him inside, a bit embarrassed. “I want to use your computer, don’t want you to watch…”

“I’m reading; you play your own thing,” Cheng Boyan said.

Cheng Boyan went to take a shower. Xiang Xi stood in the living room, hesitated, took off his pants, hung them in the wardrobe, then sat in his underwear at the computer.

The blog address on Fang Yin’s business card wasn’t long, but typing it felt like a death sentence to Xiang Xi. Luckily, halfway through, the computer auto-completed the rest.

“Pretty smart,” Xiang Xi exhaled.

The moment the page opened, Xiang Xi saw his photos. Although slightly unfamiliar, he recognized the clothes—the jacket Cheng Boyan had bought him, which Fang Yin had once complained was too new.

Cheng Boyan had taken longer than usual in the shower. When Xiang Xi called saying he wanted to use the computer, Cheng Boyan had guessed what Xiang Xi wanted to do.

Fang Yin wasn’t someone focused only on his “dreams.” He said he would consider Xiang Xi’s thoughts, and it seemed he really had.

Standing in the shower, Cheng Boyan estimated the time to give Xiang Xi enough chance to see the photos and read the text.

When it seemed Xiang Xi had finished, Cheng Boyan got dressed and came out.

Xiang Xi was still sitting in front of the computer, facing the shower side. When Cheng Boyan came out, Xiang Xi seemed almost asleep, not noticing him, staring motionless at the screen.

Cheng Boyan took two steps toward him and stopped. Xiang Xi’s eyes and the tip of his nose were slightly red, and there were still some tears on his face that hadn’t been wiped away.

Translator : DarNan