Naijuan didn’t go straight home.

She drove to the community center.

Li Jialiang was teaching a group of elderly ladies water aerobics in the pool.

The elderly people were probably all over seventy, but young at heart, giggling and laughing like a group of little girls. Everyone grows old.

When Naijuan was very small, she thought children were born as children and old people were born as old people, and so on, unchanging forever.

Grandmother showed her childhood photos: “Naijuan, this is you at one year old.” “No,” Naijuan answered, “that’s a baby, not me.” Later, she learned that everyone originated from being a baby.

Everyone would one day become an old man or an old woman.

In the future, if she were fortunate enough, Wu Naijuan would also become a grandmother.

Naijuan smiled as she watched the elderly doing exercises.

Oh, skin sagged and folded at the joints, faces covered with age spots, movements slow, but their spirits sparkled—free and optimistic.

Li Jialiang, needing to stay in the water for long periods, wore a tight black wetsuit. The human body in its peak condition was truly beautiful to behold.

Naijuan sat quietly on a bench, appreciating the scene.

“Are you also waiting for someone?”

The speaker was a round-faced elderly gentleman.

“I’m accompanying my wife. She had a mild stroke last year—the doctor told her to do water aerobics.”

Naijuan praised him: “You should encourage her.”

The old gentleman smiled, “Health is most important.”

“Usually it’s not until thirty or forty that this concept gradually emerges.”

The old gentleman asked, “Do you know Dr. Li?”

Naijuan was startled and gently shook her head.

Li Jialiang was a doctor?

“Dr. Li volunteers at the center every week—truly remarkable.”

After a while, Naijuan heard herself ask, “What kind of doctor is he?”

“He specializes in facial reconstruction. After my wife’s stroke—oh, there she comes up now.”

The old gentleman took a large towel and went to attend to his wife.

Naijuan suddenly felt optimistic about marriage.

One in ten thousand—there were truly loving couples after all.

In the old gentleman’s eyes, his wife was probably as beautiful as when he first saw her.

Naijuan’s eyes moistened.

She hurriedly left the center pool.

Back in her car, she collected herself.

Li Jialiang didn’t just have a handsome face—how devastating. He also had substance. Such a perfect person—what had he been fed growing up?

Naijuan returned to the office to look for materials.

Seeing her, Tan Xin said, “I have a friend who was in a serious car accident last year. Her entire lower jaw was torn off, disfigured. The family once worried she couldn’t be saved, but after several surgeries, she’s gradually returning to normal.”

Naijuan’s heart stirred. “Who was the attending physician?”

“A Dr. Li at Huaguang Hospital, reportedly both young and handsome.”

Naijuan nodded.

“Truly miraculous skill. He removed a section of the patient’s leg bone, laser-shaped it into a jaw, fitted it for the patient, then reconstructed the flesh. After surgery, it was no different from before the injury—truly great.”

“Divine craftsmanship.”

“Exactly those four words. The patient lost all her teeth, but titanium tooth roots could be implanted with false teeth.”

Naijuan was filled with admiration.

Such a person was even willing to teach elderly ladies exercises.

Initially, she thought what she was infatuated with was merely a physical form—she could still control herself. But now, discovering he also had a soul, made things more complicated.

Naijuan felt her head was unbearably heavy, needing support.

Li Jialiang officially became Wu Naijuan’s object of secret love.

The next day, a young couple surnamed Zhu came to her office.

More precisely, it was Mr. Zhu and Miss Zhong—they had agreed to separate.

“What other problems are there?”

Miss Zhong said, “He’s harassing me—five or six emails daily, seven or eight phone calls, sending flowers to the office, waiting at the door. I want to speak clearly in front of an expert that we’re no longer husband and wife or lovers.”

Mr. Zhu was a very steady young man who didn’t seem like a rogue.

Naijuan said gently, “Mr. Zhu, is this true?”

“I’ve always cared for her this way.”

“But you’re already divorced.”

“Separated—we mutually agreed to cool down. She never said she didn’t love me anymore.”

Naijuan looked at Miss Zhong, “Do you still love him?”

“I love him, yes, but I don’t love him anymore, I—”

Naijuan saw she was somewhat uneasy and couldn’t fully express her intentions, so she spoke for her: “You still care for him, but no longer have romantic feelings.”

“Yes, yes, thank you.”

Naijuan said, “Mr. Zhu, do you understand?”

His face turned ashen.

He pleaded, “I’ve changed all the faults you told me to change. Can you give me one chance?”

But Miss Zhong was unmoved.

She remained silent, her eyes fixed on the window.

“Tell him clearly—make it clear that this relationship is truly over,” Naijuan advised. “Don’t let him have any misunderstandings.”

Miss Zhong suddenly gathered courage, raised her head, and said loudly and clearly, “You and I no longer have any future. I don’t love you anymore. Please let me go.”

After saying these words, she gasped as if exhausted.

The room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

Naijuan asked Mr. Zhu quite cruelly, “Did you hear? Do you understand?”

Miss Zhong then stood up and left without a word.

Mr. Zhu also tried to stand, but his knees went weak, and he sat back down.

Naijuan said, “This isn’t the end of the world.”

He said bitterly, “For me, the earth has already been destroyed.”

Naijuan smiled, “I’ll bet you that by this date next year you’ll have a new partner.”

He remained silent.

Naijuan continued, “And you’ll be amazed why you were so obsessively clinging then.”

“What gives you the right to say that?”

“Good question—based on real data. Mr. Zhu, according to statistics, even when the woman initiates the breakup, after one year, sixty-eight percent of men find new partners faster.”

Mr. Zhu suddenly felt invigorated. “Will I recover?”

Naijuan answered, “One hundred percent recovery.”

His knees regained strength, and he stood up at once. “Thank you.”

“I wish you happiness.”

He opened the door and walked out.

Naijuan breathed a sigh of relief.

Tan Xin asked, “Why doesn’t Mrs. Zhu love her husband anymore?”

“She didn’t say, I didn’t ask. There are many reasons—romantic love is a feeling that evaporates easily.”

“I’ve never been in love—what a pity.”

“You don’t know how lucky you are.”

“What about you, Miss Wu?”

“I’m more down-to-earth.” She smiled.

Tan Xin went out.

After work, Naijuan still went to browse the bookstore.

Without books to read before bed, she felt fearful—she had to bring home a stack of novels every week.

In the corner, a white-haired foreign lady was reading poetry to children.

They were international school students—regardless of nationality, they were all more lively and active, and knew they had the right to ask questions.

The lady was reading Emily Dickinson’s most famous little poem:

I’m Nobody! Who are you?

Are you Nobody too?

Then there’s a pair of us—don’t tell!

They’d banish us, you know.

How dreary to be Somebody!

How public, like a Frog

To tell your name the livelong day

To an admiring Bog!

After listening, the children burst into laughter—they all understood.

Naijuan also smiled.

This was indeed poetry’s function, literature’s ultimate purpose.

Suddenly, she saw a familiar face in the crowd.

He also saw her but was too embarrassed to come over and greet her, probably because they had encountered each other many times in the downtown area.

Naijuan took the initiative to walk over, “Hello, Mr. Li.”

Li Zhizhong was overjoyed and made room for half the bench.

Naijuan sat down. “I often meet you in bookstores.”

“An oasis in the urban desert.”

“Well said.”

The white-haired lady continued teaching the children to write poetry.

“Today, everyone tries writing a poem with ABAB rhyme scheme, any topic, four lines per stanza, write three stanzas total.”

She distributed paper and pens—the children enthusiastically got to work.

If you think others don’t write well enough, just pick up the pen and demonstrate yourself. All talk and no action—what kind of hero is that?

“There might be future poets among them.”

“That little boy in the front row looks so refined—poet material.”

Li Zhizhong suddenly said, “Can you smell the coffee?”

It drifted over from the bookstore’s attached café.

“Let’s go have some coffee.”

With coffee there must be muffins. They found a small table to sit at and discovered it was raining again.

“From your accent, you studied in Britain?”