Fang Zhuo got off the vehicle and stood at the street corner, looking at the smoothly paved cement road ahead, feeling momentarily lost.

There were no obvious signposts on either side, and the houses all looked alike.

She continued walking in the direction she’d come from. Before long, she saw a few men sitting under a large tree, chatting idly.

Spotting her from a distance, one of them shielded his eyes from the sun with a fan and called out first, “Little girl, who are you looking for?”

The man who spoke wore a loose, dark red undershirt. He looked to be in his sixties or seventies, with stubble he hadn’t bothered to shave and messy, unkempt hair, which made his face look somewhat unfriendly.

Fang Zhuo hesitated for a moment before giving the name: “I’m looking for Ye Yuncheng.”

“Ye what?” The middle-aged man’s words carried a heavy accent, mixed half with dialect, and he spoke very quickly. “Where does he live? What’s the name of the elder in his family? How old is he? What’s your relation to him?”

Fang Zhuo understood only about half of it. She pulled a courier slip out of her bag, about to read the address aloud. Before she could, the man blurted out, “You can read characters, and you can even write letters, can’t you? I know who you mean now — it’s Ye Yuncheng! What’s your relation to him? I never heard he had any family!”

Fang Zhuo was left dazed by his barrage.

Seeing that she didn’t understand, the man repeated himself, then finally waved the cattail-leaf fan in his hand and gave up, saying, “Forget it, come with me. I’ll take you there. He lives just inside.”

The man walked ahead to lead the way, glancing back now and then to make sure Fang Zhuo was keeping up, giving her a simple, good-natured smile each time.

But Fang Zhuo’s steps grew slower and slower. She kept her head bowed, her mind blank.

The two of them walked the rest of the way in silence, until they stopped in front of an old wooden house.

The man circled around to the side of the house, where there was a dark wooden door. The lock was an old-fashioned type that looked like it could be kicked open with one blow; it was merely held shut with an iron latch, loosely fastened.

The man knocked hard and called out toward the inside, “Get up, Little Ye! Someone from your family has come to see you!”

A muffled response came from inside, and the man pushed the door open and walked straight in.

Fang Zhuo stood still where she was, peering inside through the gap.

The light inside the room was dim, the curtains drawn tight so that even in daytime little sunlight got through. The floor was bare cement, and the air drifting out carried a faint smell of mildew.

The man went over and yanked the curtains open, then came back and pulled the door wide, so that the two people, inside and out, could finally see each other face to face.

“Take a look, see if you recognize her, Little Ye.”

It was as if dazzling daylight had spilled into a dark box — fine motes of dust drifted through the air, glinting with faint specks of gold.

A bed stood diagonally across from the door, and the person Fang Zhuo had come to find was lying on it.

He wore a pale blue set of pajamas. His hair was thick but had a sallow, dried-out tinge, and he looked rather lacking in spirit, though his features were handsome. His skin was pale to the point of looking almost wan, and his whole body had a sickly frailty about it. The moment he saw Fang Zhuo, he froze for an instant, then instinctively straightened his back, sitting himself upright.

Fang Zhuo’s gaze swept across his face, then landed on an iron box he’d set beside the bed, before moving on to the other corners of the room.

A few books were stacked at the foot of the bed; there was almost nothing of value to be found anywhere in the house.

Fang Zhuo’s gaze wandered for a while before refocusing on Ye Yuncheng. He, too, was sizing her up.

Both their gazes were deep and complicated, giving away nothing of what lay in their hearts.

Even though she had no memory of ever having met him before, Fang Zhuo inexplicably didn’t feel like he was a complete stranger. Perhaps it was because the two of them really did look somewhat alike.

There was a rustling on the bed. Ye Yuncheng seemed to want to get up; he straightened his clothes a little, but in the end stayed lying under the covers.

His hand lay limp on top of the quilt, looking even paler against the red fabric — the bluish veins beneath the skin showed clearly through. He probably didn’t get much sun under ordinary circumstances.

“Fang Zhuo?” His voice was clear and cool, with a slight hoarseness from thirst. “What brings you here at a time like this?”

Fang Zhuo hesitated a moment, then walked into the room and pulled a note out of her bag.

She said quietly, “Grandmother passed away. My father sold the house. The person in the village who handles the mail sent this to my school. I only got it last week.”

Ye Yuncheng froze for a moment, then leaned forward slightly, studying Fang Zhuo’s clothing closely, trying to guess how her life had been going. But the standardized school uniform and a pair of new white shoes didn’t reveal much. If anything, it was he who now looked the more awkward of the two.

Ye Yuncheng coughed and pulled the corners of his mouth into what looked like a bitter smile. “So, do you have any particular plans for coming here this time? I… I might not have much savings to spare.”

Fang Zhuo’s reaction was sluggish, her thoughts moving like a rusted chain. After a moment she said, “No, that’s not it… I just want to move my household registration out of the family’s.”

In this day and age, as long as the household registration booklet existed, there remained, in procedural terms, a tie that couldn’t be severed. That registration made her feel a powerful sense of being trapped.

Before coming, Fang Zhuo hadn’t really decided what she wanted to do.

Maybe she could sweep Ye Yaoling’s grave, just to fulfill some sense of remembrance. And see this relative she’d never properly met, to thank him for his long-standing concern. After all, she’d received the letter, and she was a little curious.

It was only on the walk here, following that warm-hearted local man, that she’d thought of it — maybe she could transfer her household registration over.

She didn’t have any particular expectations. Given the precedent set by Fang Yiming, she felt that so-called blood ties and family affection were, more often than not, distant things.

The man who’d been standing by watching suddenly cut in, “You can’t transfer it back here. He’s got rural registration — you can’t transfer registration into a rural area now.”

Both of them turned to look at him at once.

The man finally, belatedly, realized he was somewhat in the way. He waved his hand with a smile, “I’ll get going. You two take your time talking.”

Only the two of them remained in the room, and an awkward atmosphere began to spread.

Fang Zhuo realized her visit had been somewhat presumptuous; the stifling air made it hard for her to breathe. She was about to find an excuse to leave when she heard Ye Yuncheng, after racking his brain, ask, “Your father isn’t good to you?”

Fang Zhuo didn’t answer, and no change of expression crossed her face, as though she hadn’t heard him at all.

But Ye Yuncheng could guess. Even though they’d only exchanged a few short sentences, even though they’d met so few times, he felt he could read a great deal from this cool, quiet child standing before him.

Ye Yuncheng said, “Wait here a moment, I’ll go tidy myself up. Just make yourself at home.”

He threw back the quilt, found the cane propped at the head of the bed, and pushed himself to his feet with effort.

Below the left knee, there was nothing there at all.

Fang Zhuo’s eyelid twitched. Before he could glance over at her, she looked away first, her gaze drifting aimlessly near the window.

Ye Yuncheng made his way toward the bathroom inside, and turned back to remind her, “Make yourself at home, I’ll be out soon.”

He went into the bathroom and closed the door. The mirror reflected a rather disheveled face.

The haggard face made him suddenly realize just how long he’d been drifting through life in a daze.

He had no idea what his expression had looked like out there, or whether such a sloppy state would make Fang Zhuo dislike him. He turned on the tap and splashed a couple of handfuls of water onto his face.

The icy water soaked his face, some of it running into his eyes, bringing a faint stinging sensation.

Somewhat awkwardly, he bent down, stretched his arm into the cabinet below, and felt around until he found an old razor.

Perhaps his leg had gone numb from lying down too long, or perhaps his hand was unsteady from his unstable emotions — halfway through shaving, he suddenly fell. By the time he pulled himself up, there was a fresh, bloody gash on his chin.

Ye Yuncheng panicked and quickly rinsed it with water. But no matter what, the bleeding wouldn’t stop.

He had no choice but to let go of his cane, leaning his weight against the sink. With one hand pressed over the wound, he kept stubbornly shaving with the other.

When he’d finally cleared the stubble from the lower half of his face, he quickly washed his hands and the wound, pushed the door open, and made his way quietly into the inner room.

This, too, was a room, though it had been unoccupied for so long that it now mostly served as storage. Still, traces of someone’s former daily life lingered there.

Posters were stuck on the walls; neatly folded bedding sat by the bed; two pairs of faded shoes still lay on the floor, as if whoever had lived here might walk back in at any moment.

Going by memory, Ye Yuncheng searched through the drawers of the wooden cabinet for a bandage.

His movements knocked over a photograph standing on the counter, and he hurried to set it upright.

Before he’d finished rummaging through the drawers, the photograph toppled over again.

Ye Yuncheng picked it up, wiping the dust away with his fingers, but no matter how he looked at it, the figure in the photo stayed blurred, as though seen through a layer of mist.

His eyes had blurred with tears.

All his restraint gave out in that instant. He raised a hand to cover his face and let the tears come, stifling the sound as he sobbed quietly, giving the turbulent emotion churning inside him some outlet.

Fang Zhuo had come back.

For how many years had this house seen no second person?

Did she need him?

Ye Yuncheng felt himself adrift between alternating layers of light and dark, as if his withered soul were beginning to grow anew.

He needed so badly for someone, anyone, to need him.

A man like him.

Ye Yuncheng steadied his emotions and finally dug out a box of bandages — who knew how old they were — and stuck one over the cut on his chin, covering the wound.

He hastily straightened his clothes and made his way out, leaning on his cane.

“Fang Zhuo, Fang Zhuo!”

He called out twice, excited, and walked into the outer room — only to find she was already gone, the wooden door even thoughtfully closed behind her.

Ye Yuncheng hurried over and pulled the door open, gazing toward the end of the path.

Fang Zhuo’s figure had already vanished.

He turned back, disheartened, and only then noticed a stack of cash and a note left on the table. The note said she was heading back to school; it didn’t say whether she’d come again.

·

Fang Zhuo had no idea how often the minibuses passed by. She waited by the roadside for over an hour before she finally managed to catch one.

By then, the sky had already turned pitch black.

Following the same route as on her way there, she reached the bridge, walked some distance on foot, then boarded the rural-urban bus, planning to head back to school.

Because the transfer in between had taken so long, Fang Zhuo only managed to catch the last bus, which had very few passengers.

She hugged her backpack and sat in the very corner seat.

At first she watched the dazzling lights flash by outside the window, but before long exhaustion crept in and her eyelids drooped. By the time she came to again, the bus had already stopped somewhere unfamiliar.

The sound of the engine switching off woke her with a start. Fang Zhuo stood up abruptly and walked to the front of the bus.

The driver, who had just pulled out the key, was startled to see her. “How is there still someone on the bus?”

Fang Zhuo opened her mouth, her face still confused from just waking, “Where is this?”

“The terminal station, of course!” the driver said, looking at her school uniform. “You’re headed to A High School, aren’t you? You passed your stop ages ago. You should’ve told me when you got on — I could’ve reminded you. I thought you’d gotten off long before now.”

Fang Zhuo gave a dazed murmur of acknowledgment, swung her bag onto her back, and got off through the open rear door.

The driver, somewhat worried, followed and asked, “Are you all right, kid? Why don’t you call your parents to come pick you up? There aren’t any more buses now.”

Fang Zhuo shook her head and, answering nothing in particular, just said “thank you,” then found her way to the main road by the dim glow of the streetlamps.

Fang Zhuo hated getting lost, because she knew that if she went missing, no one would come looking for her. And yet her sense of direction was poor — whether in the mountains and woods or in unfamiliar places, it always took her a long time to find her way.

It was deep night now, and there weren’t many passersby for her to ask.

She trudged along, thinking that, like last time, she might find somewhere she could stay the night.

Unfortunately, she was especially unlucky tonight — she walked a long way without finding a hospital or a fast-food place open all night.

She sat down by the side of the street, meaning to rest a while, her mind blank and unfocused, when a beam of warm orange light swept over from not far away. It circled over her once, then drew back, lighting up the face of the person who’d cast it.

“Fang Zhuo?”

Yan Lie switched off the flashlight and walked out of the murky darkness into the glow of the streetlamp.

One standing, one sitting; one tall, one low — the two of them stared at each other across a distance of about two meters.

After a long moment, Fang Zhuo said flatly, “What a coincidence.”