Cheng Boyan glanced at the clock on the wall; it was half past five.

Outside, the sky had turned dark. Through the window, he could see the bare branches of trees swaying, as if the old northern wind was trying to borrow another five hundred years from the sky.

The weather forecast said it would snow tomorrow, and judging by the current conditions, it was likely to start tonight.

In the next examination room, Doctor Liu was half-shouting at a patient who was hard of hearing. After talking all day, his voice now sounded like it might crack.

Cheng Boyan quickly grabbed a throat candy and popped it in his mouth before calling in the next patient.

A woman, presumably a first year student's mother, was helped in and sat down. One of her legs couldn’t touch the ground, and she winced, her face showing signs of pain.

After she sat down, she stared at Cheng Boyan for a moment and then interrupted before he could speak: “Is the older doctor next door free? Can I have him see me?”

“He has patients too. If you want to choose a doctor, you need to do that when making the appointment,” Cheng Boyan replied with a smile. “Did you hurt your leg?”

“I couldn't get an appointment. How was I supposed to know a few days in advance that my leg would break?” The woman pointed to her leg. “Can’t I switch to another doctor? I’m getting old, and I can’t break my leg too often. An older doctor would have more experience, wouldn’t he?”

Cheng Boyan felt a bit helpless. “Can I take a look at you first? Please don’t delay your treatment any longer.”

The woman glanced at Cheng Boyan. Perhaps due to her pain, she didn’t say much more: “Alright, young man, you better fix me up properly.”

“Madam,” Cheng Boyan got up from his chair and squatted down in front of her. “Is your calf hurting?”

“Yes,” she frowned. “Isn’t that something? I was just watching TV and somehow ended up breaking my leg! What kind of thing is that!”

“How did that happen?” Cheng Boyan was taken aback; it did sound unusual. He reached out to gently push up her pant leg to take a look, but since she was dressed warmly, he wasn’t successful.

“I just propped my leg up on the coffee table. After watching a segment on the Central TV station, I thought I’d take a nap before going out to buy groceries. There was nothing to eat at home, and I had to go buy some, so I could serve these gluttons later…”

“Madam,” Cheng Boyan had to interrupt her. “You took a nap, and then what?”

“Then? There’s nothing more to say! When I lifted my leg,” the woman said, slapping the table, “crack! My leg broke! I couldn’t touch the ground anymore! I had to wait for my daughter to come home and take me here. Oh, it hurts so much, Doctor; you need to fix me up quickly.”

Cheng Boyan understood what had happened, explained the situation briefly to her daughter who was accompanying her, and then wrote a referral for an X-ray.

“Doctor, what do you think happened to me? I work out every morning and even run into trees, making loud noises! How could my leg break just from lifting it? Have you ever seen anyone like me? This must be a first!” The woman couldn’t understand her own situation.

“You're older now; it’s called osteoporosis. This isn’t too uncommon,” Cheng Boyan said with a smile as he quickly wrote up the order. “This morning, an older lady turned over in bed and broke her leg too. But you need to be careful; if you keep running into trees, just stop doing that. Take this for the X-ray; I’ll expedite it for you.”

Before the X-ray results came back, Cheng Boyan finished seeing the last few patients. It was already time to get off work. He checked the time and remembered he had promised to have dinner at his grandma's house. By now, dinner was probably almost ready.

He quickly sent a text to the woman to let her know he would be late.

Fortunately, there weren’t many patients waiting for X-rays at this time, and the expedited X-ray for the woman came out quickly. Cheng Boyan reviewed the results and found that the fracture wasn’t too serious; an external fixation would suffice.

“Doctor,” the woman said, sitting in the treatment room, looking at Cheng Boyan, “did I delay your getting off work?”

“It’s fine. I’ll finish up with you, and then I’ll clock out,” Cheng Boyan replied, glancing at her. “I need to…”

“I know, I know. Just wait while I take this off,” the woman waved her hand, and her daughter came over to help her remove one pant leg. “If I had known that watching TV would break my leg, I definitely wouldn’t have worn these skinny pants.”

The woman was quite talkative, and while Cheng Boyan was silently applying the external fixator, she kept asking questions: “Doctor, how old are you?”

“I’m almost 30,” Cheng Boyan replied.

“Oh, that’s not young. You don’t look it; you look like you’re only 28 or 29,” the woman remarked.

“Is that so?” Cheng Boyan smiled.

“Are you married?” the woman asked, staring at his face.

“No,” Cheng Boyan secured the splint in place.

“Where's your girlfriend?” The woman asked enthusiastically, “You guys are so busy; you probably don’t have time for romance, right?”

Cheng Boyan was afraid that if the conversation continued, the mother would enthusiastically take charge of his marriage matters, so he replied, “I have a girlfriend.”

“Oh…” the mother looked a bit disappointed as she turned to look at her daughter, “Then there’s no hope for that girl from the old Chen family next door. That doctor is so handsome.”

“Even if the guy doesn’t have a girlfriend, there’s no hope for that girl from the Chen family,” her daughter said helplessly. “Mum, please don’t ask randomly; it’s so rude. That doctor is busy; don’t keep interrupting.”

After finally sending the mother away, Cheng Boyan let out a sigh of relief, changed his clothes, locked the door, and quickly walked out of the hospital.

On his way to the parking lot, he called his Old Mom: “I’m on my way now.”

“Okay, buy a few bottles of oil at the supermarket by the entrance. Your grandma keeps eating greasy food; it’s useless to tell her, just buy it and bring it back.” Old Mom instructed over the phone.

Old Mom, a former nutritionist, would always check on everything wherever she went, and Grandma’s house was always a key focus.

“Got it.” Cheng Boyan tugged at his collar; the wind was really strong.

The north wind blew fiercely, almost as if hurrying him along, and it stung his face.

It seemed like it would snow soon. The sky darkened unusually early today; it was already pitch black before six o'clock, resembling a shadow puppet play.

*

Xiang Xi leaned against the wall, staring at the cars that occasionally passed by, feeling the chill of the north wind seeping through his collar, and inexplicably felt a bit anxious.

Only a month until the New Year.

Another year had passed.

“It’s almost the New Year, right?” Mantou (NT: a soft steamed bun made of wheat flour), who had been squatting beside him to avoid the wind, asked perceptively.

“Yeah.” Xiang Xi replied, glancing down at the cigarette butt in Mantou’s mouth, which had already gone out.

Xiang Xi stretched out his hand and flicked his finger, and the cigarette butt flew far away from Mantou’s mouth.

“How much longer until the New Year?” Mantou stood up, tucking in his neck. “Where should we go?”

“I don’t know.” Xiang Xi adjusted his collar and turned to walk down the street in the direction sheltered from the wind.

“Don’t know? Do you not know when the New Year is or where to go?” Mantou limped behind him.

Mantou’s limp wasn’t too severe; he could walk normally with just a slight wobble, but he always tried to exaggerate it a bit more.

This way, he looked more pitiful. Mantou had said that if they were caught, the victim might just let it slide out of sympathy.

“I don’t know either.” Xiang Xi didn’t feel like talking much. First, he was getting blasted with wind every time he opened his mouth, and second, he hadn’t made any money in the last two days. If he didn’t manage to get some money tonight, he’d have to wander around outside all night. If he went back, he’d have to let Uncle Ping turn him into preserved meat.

His mood wasn’t very bright.

After walking a bit down the street, Xiang Xi turned a corner. He wasn’t very familiar with this area; he rarely came here. Further ahead was no longer Uncle Ping's territory, so it would be easy to get into trouble.

But he had to take some risks today. This residential area was old, with many buildings lacking property management, and some even had no walls, making it easy to get in and out.

After circling around a few old apartment buildings, he saw nothing but broken electric bikes, which was dull.

Finally, Xiang Xi stopped in front of a row of storage rooms.

Mantou said nothing, went over to check a few doors, and stood in front of one door. He took out a pair of pliers from his pocket and quickly unlocked the padlock on the storage room door.

“Hey.” Mantou pushed the door open and happily called out softly.

Inside was a brand new bike, but it was locked up tightly, so they could only take the battery.

Xiang Xi looked around and glanced up at the upper floors behind him. All the doors were closed, and the light spilling from the windows gave him an indescribable feeling of loss.

What a damn hypocritical moment.

Mantou’s skills in taking apart the battery weren’t as good as Xiang Xi’s, but Xiang Xi had an injury on his hand today, so he had to take on this task.

Using the dim streetlights that barely illuminated the area, Xiang Xi watched Mantou at the storage room door, whose presence flickered in and out of view. Mantou’s movements were rather clumsy; he seemed to be fumbling around for quite a while and still hadn’t finished.

After waiting for about ten seconds, Xiang Xi couldn’t stand it anymore and prepared to go over and switch places with Mantou.

It was dinnertime, and the north wind had been howling miserably, like someone mourning their father. Normally, no one would venture out in such weather, but Xiang Xi didn’t want to take any chances. He hadn’t eaten, and the cold seeped into his bones. He felt that if anyone started chasing him, he’d break into pieces while running.

After taking a couple of steps forward, he heard hurried footsteps coming from the corridor behind him, which didn’t sound like a normal pace.

“Go!” Xiang Xi didn’t think much and ran towards the street, grabbing Mantou by the collar.

“Catch the thief!” a man’s voice rang out behind them, loud and full of energy. “Catch the thief!”

Xiang Xi didn’t need to turn around; he knew just by the voice that this person was sturdy. A person like him wouldn’t be enough for even one of those guys to swing an arm at.

“Chase him! Let’s see if we can’t beat him!” another voice shouted. “Didn’t catch him yesterday; he dares to come today!”

Damn! Xiang Xi stumbled a bit—there were actually two!

“Split up?” Mantou asked amidst their frantic run.

“In a moment,” Xiang Xi replied, glancing back. Both of them were armed.

This wasn’t a random encounter; they had been watching from upstairs, chasing them down with weapons in hand.

From the sounds of it, someone had already swept through this area yesterday.

What a stroke of bad luck.

Xiang Xi sighed, hearing Mantou’s uneven footsteps behind him.

The terrain here was relatively high; below the first floor was a large platform, and they needed to descend several steps to reach the ground level.

After rounding the corner of the building, Xiang Xi suddenly slowed down and pushed Mantou down towards the platform, lowering his voice: “You stay here for a bit.”

Mantou was pushed down like a sack.

Xiang Xi took a quick glance. The platform wasn’t high, and if Mantou squatted down, he could hide from sight. He continued running forward.

Although fighting and taking hits weren't Xiang Xi's strengths, running was. The pursuers were persistent and chased him all the way to the street outside, finally giving up.

Xiang Xi found a sheltered corner against a wall and leaned against it, breathing heavily. He wasn’t cold anymore; he was sweating slightly, but his throat was dry and scratchy.

“Damn it, we didn’t even grab anything, and they chased us so hard!” Mantou met him at the street corner. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Xiang Xi glanced at him, noticing that Mantou had gotten a bit of dirt on his face when he was pushed down. He shoved his hands into his pockets. “Let’s go.”

“Where to?” Mantou spat on the ground, pulled out a cigarette pack, and looked inside—empty. He grumpily crumpled the pack and tossed it away. “Got any cigarette?”

“None,” Xiang Xi replied, keeping his head down as they walked. “Let’s go get something to eat.”

“Something to eat? Aren’t we going to get another one? We’re heading back today?” Mantou brushed off the dust from his pants. “If we go back like this, we probably won’t have a good time. When I left today, I saw Uncle Ping’s face looking all grim... Hey, I’m saying, Xiaozhan, why are you so down lately? You weren’t like this before; you haven’t made a move in two days, and it’s not like you... No words left.”

“Want a smoke?” Xiang Xi pulled out his cigarette pack and offered it to Mantou.

“Hey!” Mantou took out two sticks, putting one behind his ear and lighting the other. “Didn’t you say you had no smokes?”

“You talk too much; have a cigarette to rest your tongue,” Xiang Xi said. “I’m trying to be deep lately; could you cooperate a little?”

Xiaozhan was the nickname Uncle Ping gave to Xiang Xi when he found him.

Wrapped in a little blanket was a piece of paper that seemed to have his birth date and surname on it, so Uncle Ping named him Xiang Xi based on that surname.

His surname was Xiang, and he was found in the west. (NT: "Xi" (西) means "West")

He was also given a nickname, saying it represented great aspirations. (NT: Xiaozhan : Xiao (小) for little, conveying familiarity;  Zhan (展) for extension, suggesting ambition, development)

Xiang Xi never attended school, so he didn’t know what “great aspirations” meant. It wasn’t until he grew up that a fake blind artist next door explained the term to him while pretending to read fortunes. That’s when he understood.

He laughed for an entire evening.

Great aspirations?

Shouldn’t it be called “Great Development”?

What could a person like him show off? Great aspirations, huh?

“Why aren’t you eating?” Mantou glanced at Xiang Xi while munching on his rice bowl.

“Not hungry,” Xiang Xi replied, poking his chopsticks into the rice a few times, picking up a piece of meat before setting it down again.

“Is it because you just got wind in your stomach and now it hurts?” Mantou frowned. “How about switching to some porridge? Drinking porridge is good for the stomach.”

“I’m fine; just eat your food.” Xiang Xi leaned against the wall. It’s not like drinking a bowl of porridge would magically fix things.

He looked outside. Through two layers of glass and the condensation on the surface, the already dim street scene appeared ghostly, reduced to blurred spots of light and shadows.

“Xiaozhan,” Mantou put down his chopsticks after eating for a while and looked at Xiang Xi. “Thanks for earlier… you really came through for me.”

Xiang Xi smirked slightly. “Don’t get too invested; I’m not doing it for you.”

Mantou said nothing and picked up his chopsticks to continue eating.

“You were running too slowly; I had to drag you along, or we wouldn’t have escaped.” Xiang Xi took a sip of hot tea, feeling like someone was scraping his stomach with a dull knife.

“You’re something else… If you want to say that, then say it,” Mantou chuckled a couple of times. “But why didn’t you come down and hide together? You had to lead them away?”

“Did your brain get scraped by a skateboard?” Xiang Xi sighed, his fist pressing against his stomach. “If a person turns around and sees two people gone, the next second they’ll definitely know we’re hiding under the platform. With your kind of brain, it’s a miracle that Erpan (NT: litt. Second plate) kept you you around after all this time.”

Erpan was Uncle Ping’s sworn brother, and Mantou was considered part of his crew.

As soon as Mantou heard Erpan’s name, his expression soured.

Uncle Ping was the boss, and Erpan often listened to him. But that guy was ruthless, and Mantou’s leg had been broken by Erpan's kick, nearly crippling him. Mantou was afraid of Erpan.

But just like Mantou trembled at the mention of Erpan, Xiang Xi feared Uncle Ping. Uncle Ping had a round face and always smiled at people; his ruthlessness was hidden beneath that exterior. Xiang Xi grew up following him but never fully understood his nature.

“Xiaozhan,” Mantou quietly finished his meal, his face somber. “I need to tell you something.”

“Don’t tell me,” Xiang Xi stood up, grabbing his coat and turning to leave. “I don’t want to hear it.”

Xiang Xi had never seen that expression on Mantou’s face. He knew Mantou had something significant to say, but he didn’t want to know. Mantou’s big issues would only relate to Erpan or Uncle Ping, and knowing about them would only bring him trouble.

“I’m about to burst,” Mantou grabbed his hand. “I just want to talk to someone.”

“If you tell me now,” Xiang Xi stared at his face, “I’ll go back and tell Erpan.”

“I’m leaving,” Mantou gritted his teeth and said, then released his hand, leaning back against the chair. “Go tell Erpan.”

Whether he said it or not, according to Xiang Xi’s temperament, he could easily come back and beat him to a pulp.

But Xiang Xi didn’t move; he kept staring at him. After a few seconds, he finally managed to squeeze out, “Damn you.”

Mantou was different from Xiang Xi. Xiang Xi had been picked up by Uncle Ping when he was just a few months old and had been following him ever since, while Mantou had been brought back by Erpan when he was around seven or eight years old.

Erpan found him while “on a business trip” in the south, and when he first came, Xiang Xi couldn’t understand what Mantou was saying.

It wasn’t abduction; Mantou insisted he ran away from home, having firmly stated that he never wanted to return.

“Are you tired of living?” Xiang Xi sat back down.

“I can’t take it anymore,” Mantou bit his lip, a bit excited as he rolled up his sleeves and hiked up his pants, slapping at his arms and legs, “How many injuries? Don’t say you don’t know. I don’t even know myself. If I stay any longer, I’m going to die!”

Xiang Xi squinted and said nothing. Everyone had their share of injuries; Mantou hadn’t left all these years, so it wasn’t likely that was the reason for wanting to go now.

“I want to go back to the south,” Mantou poured himself a cup of tea and took a couple of sips. “I want to go home.”

Xiang Xi raised an eyebrow, finding Mantou’s statement a bit unbelievable and shocking. He almost forgot to put his brow back in place.

“I know you don’t believe me. If it were me, I wouldn’t believe it either. I dare not run away; if Erpan finds me, I’m dead. Plus, I don’t have money to run…” Mantou’s voice dropped as he looked at Xiang Xi, his eyes sparkling. “But now I can have money.”

Xiang Xi said nothing.

“Erpan has thirty thousand yuan at his place. I… know where it is.” Mantou said.

Xiang Xi felt as if something had poked him, jumping up from his chair, grabbing his coat, and turning to walk out.

There were hardly any people left on the street, and Xiang Xi planned to head forward to take the subway.

After walking with his neck shrunk for a while, a person walked out of the supermarket ahead. Xiang Xi took a glance, quickly turned his head back, and saw Mantou limping behind him a few meters away.

The person coming out of the supermarket was holding two plastic bags in one hand and talking on the phone with the other.

He wasn’t carrying a bag, and his pants were fitted, showing that his pockets were empty; his wallet was in the inner pocket of his coat, which was unzipped because he had just come out of the warm supermarket.

Xiang Xi whistled at Mantou.

Mantou looked ahead and immediately understood. He hurriedly limped over, shouting, “Hey, you idiot, wait for me! Why are you walking so fast?”

“You idiot, your grandpa…” Xiang Xi muttered, quickly walking toward the man.

“Don’t run!” Mantou ran over, stumbling as he threw himself at Xiang Xi. “Let’s go drink!”

With that momentum, Xiang Xi staggered and bumped into the man.

“I bought it at the supermarket at the corner,” Cheng Boyan was speaking into his phone, “I’ll…”

Before he could finish, he felt someone crash into him. He looked up but didn’t see clearly before getting solidly bumped in the chest. He frowned, “Hey!”

“Didn’t I tell you not to rush blindly?” the person who bumped into him shouted at another. Then he turned to Cheng Boyan and bent his head, “Sorry, big brother (NT: he uses dage), my bad.”

“What’s going on?” came the voice of the person on the other end of the phone.

“Nothing,” Cheng Boyan sidestepped the two people and continued walking forward. “Just got bumped a bit. I’ll… wait, I’ll call you back.”

Cheng Boyan hung up and reached into his coat pocket.

Sure enough, it was empty.

He turned around, but the two people who had bumped into him were already out of sight.

It was a miracle that a limping person could run so fast.

After standing in place for a few seconds, Cheng Boyan continued walking forward, making a few calls to report his bank cards lost. Then his phone rang again; it was the same person. “What’s wrong?”

“I just went inside; I… got robbed,” Cheng Boyan sighed.

“Robbed?” the voice on the phone sounded surprised.

“Yeah, just now.” Cheng Boyan looked back again, but there was no one.

“Your ID is in your wallet, right?” the voice sighed. “How many times have I told you not to put your ID in your wallet?”

“I was wrong,” Cheng Boyan chuckled. “I needed it today, so I just put it in there.”

“Forget it, just come over,” the voice didn’t say anything more, “You know your grandma is waiting for you.”

“Okay.” Cheng Boyan hung up and zipped up his coat.

*

Xiang Xi opened his wallet and pulled out some money to count—over four thousand.

“Damn, we hit the jackpot.” Mantou sniffed beside him.

Xiang Xi slapped the money into Mantou's hands. “It’s all yours.”

“Xiaozhan…” Mantou froze, not accepting the money.

Xiang Xi stuffed the cash into Mantou’s pocket and turned to walk away. “Don’t bring that up again. I don’t want to hear about what you love and do; I know nothing.”

“I didn’t make a mistake being your friend.” Mantou’s voice suddenly choked up.

“Who said we’re friends?” Xiang Xi frowned and looked back at him. “Don’t be such an idiot.”

Silently continuing forward, Xiang Xi cleared out the remaining items in his wallet—some bank cards, which were useless, and an ID. He pulled it out to take a look—Cheng Fuyan. (NT: Fuyan means perfunctory)

What a broken name.

It was rare to see a handsome guy on an ID photo, and Xiang Xi clicked his tongue. As he turned the corner by the post office, he tossed the ID into the mailbox and then threw the bank cards into a trash can.

The wallet was made of good leather and was quite new; he decided to keep it.

After taking a few steps, he paused. Cheng Fuyan?

Or was it Cheng Boyan? (NT: Boyan could mean articulate or knowledgeable)

Xiang Xi had never been to school; he learned his letters from playing cards and yellow literature (NT: erotic literature). He could remember simple strokes but only remembered the shapes of more complicated characters.

Was it Fuyan or Boyan? (NT:  Fuyan (敷衍) and Boyan (博衍) have complex characters)

He turned around and walked back to the mailbox, peering inside while reaching in to feel around.

“What are you doing?” Mantou looked at him, puzzled.

“Damn it,” Xiang Xi walked around the mailbox twice and kicked it. “Forget it, let’s go.”

Cheng Boyan.

Who would name their kid "Fuyan"? That’s just too superficial. (NT: word play as Fuyan also means superficial)

Since they had some money, the two took a taxi back.

“Zhao Jiayao,” Xiang Xi said from the back seat.

The driver turned to glance at them several times before adding, “I’ll only take you to the intersection.”

“Got it,” Xiang Xi replied impatiently.

Zhao Jiayao was an urban village with a large area, known for its capacity to harbour filth and chaos. It was the most disorderly place in the city, where various thugs diligently performed their daily shows of “Watch Lao Tzu (NT: me in an arrogant way. Litt ‘this old master’) beat you to a pulp.”

Every time they took a taxi back, the driver would add that line—only to the intersection.

At the intersection stood a white road sign with the street name, along with a small blue sign below it that read “Strict Management Street.”

The car stopped right in front of the sign, and Xiang Xi opened the door and jumped out.

He didn’t know when the sign had been put up, but it seemed to serve little purpose other than to inform everyone that this area was dangerous.

And it wasn’t just this street; it should be renamed “Strict Management District.”

Mantou paid the fare and rummaged through his pocket, seemingly wanting to discuss how to split the over four thousand they had. Xiang Xi ignored him, tossing out, “Don’t touch Erpan’s money,” before turning and walking inside.

There were almost no streetlights in the Zhao Jiayao area. The various tangled electric wires seemed decorative, and only the lights seeping out from the countless illegal constructions on either side provided illumination. Shadows of people lurked in the dimly lit corners, and occasionally, there would be shouts of curses and sudden high-pitched cries echoing from who knows where.

In such an atmosphere, just being there at the intersection could scare a lot of people.

In the central area of this neighborhood, Ping Shu had two self-built two-story houses, located at 17 Zhao Jiayao Dawa. There were also some shops and rental rooms, all illegal constructions.

This was Xiang Xi’s “home” for over ten years.

As soon as he turned into the narrow street, he felt as if the ground was sloping downwards, pulling him further down, making it a bit hard to breathe.

When he was about ten meters away from No. 17, a short, sharp scream came from the second-floor balcony nearby, followed by a man’s shout: “Go to hell!”

Before Xiang Xi could look up, a thin figure flew off the second-floor balcony and landed heavily right in front of him and Mantou.

 

Translator : DarNan