Fang Muyang brought an old German camera he had bought at a consignment store on his way—buying second-hand items there was not only cheaper but didn’t require ration coupons. He planned to take some photos of Fei Ni.

Besides the camera, he brought Fei Ni malted milk powder, American milk powder, chocolate, and five apples. He had saved the apples and asked a nurse to buy the malted milk powder, and the chocolate and American milk powder were gifts from his mother’s distant relative who had visited him.

This relative had overseas connections and possessed foreign exchange certificates, allowing them to buy items ordinary citizens couldn’t access.

From the large bag of chocolate, Fang Muyang ate just one piece, secretly stashed away two handfuls, and distributed the rest to patients and nurses on his floor.

Fang Muyang began drawing three days after Fei Ni left. That morning, he had been dreaming continuously, with various characters appearing, but he recognized none of them. In this vast world, he knew so few people. He knew Fei Ni best, but she wouldn’t come anymore. He woke at four in the morning, turned on the light, and grabbed the dictionary to memorize it—Fei Ni had said she would visit once he finished memorizing it. After half a page, he began drawing on the dictionary with the pen Fei Ni had left behind, sketching eyes, nose, and mouth—all Fei Ni’s features, the Fei Ni who had visited him three days ago.

He had forgotten that he had been drawing since age four and had won major international children’s art competitions in primary school, but his muscle memory remained. With Fei Ni no longer visiting, he drew her portraits in the dictionary. He sketched over ten quick drawings of Fei Ni from memory. In his memories, she was always in motion—entering the ward carrying things, smiling as she came in, putting down her items before questioning him, and then becoming serious when unsatisfied with his answers. Her movements while washing clothes were fluid—soap-covered hands scrubbing his shirt collar. If he noticed the sweat on her nose and tried to wipe it, she would deftly dodge away, or if she couldn’t dodge, she would glare at him. He had to pause these memories and freeze-frame them at specific moments to draw, which wasn’t easy. After drawing many times, Fang Muyang discovered Fei Ni had a unique body language that was more interesting than her spoken words.

Through remembering Fei Ni to draw her, he came to know her again, more deeply and in greater detail. When she had still been visiting, he hadn’t even noticed which button she fastened her collar to.

Drawing became Fang Muyang’s way of understanding the world. He asked nurses to help him buy paper and pens. After drawing Fei Ni, he began drawing the trees outside his window, and then the young nurses inside. Fang Muyang’s figure sketches were more popular than his landscapes. His first subject was a young nurse surnamed Hu, who blushed whenever she saw him for a week after receiving her portrait—though it was just a quick sketch, it had precisely captured her body’s curves.

Fang Muyang had a keen eye and an even keener brush. His grasp of the nurses’ features was so precise it made people question his motives. The young nurses didn’t care about his motives; they only cared about how good they looked in his drawings. Fang Muyang became like a human camera, to the point where nurses would unconsciously adjust their posture when they saw him, straightening their backs more than usual, even deliberately slowing their movements to give him time to compose mentally. An artist must use their eyes to capture people’s features, and it’s hard for a man constantly watching young women not to appear lecherous, but Fang Muyang’s eyes helped him—his long eyelashes and slightly furrowed brow while observing, and when people noticed his gaze, he would give a slight smile without speaking. His silence, caused by limited vocabulary, made people think he was proper, and it was the subjects who became embarrassed, slowly turning away.

Fang Muyang still received his sent-down youth allowance, which hadn’t stopped, and the Youth Office, considering his patient status, gave him an additional subsidy. When Fei Ni was around, this money went to food. After she left, Fang Muyang downgraded his meals, managing to eat enough forty fen a day. He gave the saved money to friendly nurses, asking them to buy sunflower seeds, preserved fruits, and fresh fruit, which usually ended up in the nurses’ mouths. Sometimes he would take these treats to visit other patients on his floor and draw their portraits.

When word reached hospital leadership that a young man spent his time observing and drawing multiple young women besides eating and sleeping, considering the potentially serious consequences, they immediately ordered nurses to have no extra contact with Fang Muyang beyond routine care.

But these young nurses didn’t think Fang Muyang was being inappropriate. They ate his chocolate, the preserved fruits and peanuts bought from the hospital entrance, and small red bean popsicles, and loyally repaid him by helping buy paper and pens. When they had treats, they shared with him, and some kind-hearted nurses even offered to take his clothes home to wash. Fang Muyang said he could wash them himself. It was summer, and he washed clothes daily, wringing them out quickly and hanging them to dry, not even bothering with soap. When washing shirts, he thought of Fei Ni—she was very good at washing clothes.

The leadership spoke with Fang Muyang, saying they would help resolve his marriage and relationship issues but asked him not to be hasty and to mind his influence.

Fang Muyang didn’t deny anything, and after promising to stop drawing young women, the hospital gave him an easel and allowed him to sketch outside the ward.

During this time, he had few visitors. One was his classmate Lin Ge, who had been at the same sent-down youth location as Fang Muyang and had received much help from him there. While on leave, Lin Ge specifically made time to visit, bringing apples.

In their first year as sent-down youth, they lived with local families. The village provided timber for them to build their own houses. The oldest among them wasn’t even twenty, and some, like Fang Muyang, were only fifteen or sixteen—not only separated from their parents but having to build their own houses. Initially, no one was enthusiastic about building, but after Fang Muyang drew up plans for a house better than their current rough accommodations, everyone became motivated. Fang Muyang knew nothing about construction, yet by the time the house was finished, he had become a semi-professional bricklayer and carpenter. The completed house was the finest in all the surrounding villages.

Unlike other sent-down youth, Fang Muyang didn’t dislike rural life—he thrived there, helping whoever needed roof repairs or furniture made. The village elderly liked him because he could paint doors gods and kitchen gods well. His kitchen god paintings had an oil painting style, different from traditional ones, but people didn’t mind as long as they looked good. One painting could be exchanged for two fried eggs and an oil-fried pancake—the pancakes were made with fermented dough, very thick and oily.

The village secretary had him teach at the local primary school, where he taught mathematics and art, made willow whistles for the children, and taught them Soviet tunes. Soon after, he had another sent-down youth who couldn’t do heavy labor take over his position, and returned to earning work points in the fields.

Their village was democratic—even recommending sent-down youth for the university was done by village vote. Despite his poor family background, everyone recommended Fang Muyang, but he gave up his spot to Ling Yi, reasoning that her educational level was higher. Before this, Fang Muyang’s love life had been unclear—he had good relationships with all the female sent-down youth, helping anyone in need and not being shy about asking for help with sewing clothes or cotton quilts. But after this incident, everyone believed Fang Muyang and Ling Yi were dating—why else would he give up his university spot if they weren’t boyfriend and girlfriend? Only someone who had lost his mind would give up such an opportunity for someone else.

Lin Ge asked if Ling Yi visited him often.

“Who is Ling Yi?”

“You shouldn’t have given up your spot to her back then.” Lin Ge felt indignant for Fang Muyang—he had given up his university spot, yet when he fell ill, Ling Yi didn’t even visit.

Fang Muyang didn’t respond to this, instead asking, “Do you know where Fei Ni lives?”

After his former classmate left, Fang Muyang packed everything from his cabinet into a bag and left the ward with the address note. Since he often sketched outside the ward, the nurses didn’t question where he was going.

Old Fei, to entertain his daughter’s guest, brought out the Biluochun tea Fei Ni had bought him—normally he only drank rough tea. Since taking early retirement, his income had decreased significantly, requiring frugality in everything.

Old Fei politely said the tea wasn’t anything special, just makeshift.

Fang Muyang, who could now live independently and converse with people but couldn’t distinguish polite conversation, asked if it was aged tea. Despite years without tea, his palate retained its sensitivity to tea quality.

The tea was indeed not fresh, being two years old. Old Fei was displeased hearing this—having tea at all was good enough, everyone was working class now, and here he was serving tea he usually couldn’t afford, yet the guest was being picky.

Unable to leave his guest ignored, Old Fei made small talk, eventually discussing Fei Ni. Fang Muyang asked about Fei Ni’s work, her hours, and days off, and after understanding these, asked what was keeping her so busy that she couldn’t visit him.

Old Fei was straightforward, saying Fei Ni now had someone she was seeing, and today she had gone to watch a movie with him.

Fang Muyang didn’t ask further. He took out chocolate from his bag, unwrapped it, and offered it to Old Fei.

Old Fei took a bite and said politely, “Young man, just visiting is fine, no need to bring gifts. Please don’t bring anything next time.”

Fang Muyang replied, “Alright, I won’t bring anything next time.”

Fearing Fang Muyang might come again, Old Fei added, “We’re usually not home. You were lucky to catch me here today, otherwise you’d have wasted a trip.”

“Then when are you usually home?”

“Well…” Old Fei lifted his teacup for a sip.

Fei Ni let Ye Feng enter first while she put the bought braised meat and tripe on the kitchen counter in the corridor.

Her mother whispered in her ear, “That young Fang from the hospital is here.”

“Who?”

“Fang Muyang.”

“Really?”

The excitement in Fei Ni’s voice was unmistakable, making her mother frown. “What are you thinking? You’re seeing Ye Feng now. We don’t approve of two-timing—people will talk.”

“It’s not what you think at all.” Fei Ni thought Fang Muyang must have recovered his memory—why else would the hospital let him out? If he was well, she might even be recognized as a model worker. But she hadn’t visited for a month, perhaps already labeled as a failed opportunist. Regardless, his recovery was good news.

“Where are you going?”

“To buy a watermelon.”

“Don’t bother, we’re having noodles with sauce today, and there’s so much food already—who has room for watermelon?” Her mother lowered her voice again, “Hurry inside. What if that young Fang says something inappropriate and ruins everything?”

Ignoring her mother’s words, Fei Ni went downstairs and cycled to the store for watermelon. She had grown accustomed to the Fang Muyang who couldn’t even cut his nails—if he had truly recovered his memory now, she wasn’t sure how to face him.

Fang Muyang didn’t ruin anything for Fei Ni. He introduced himself to Ye Feng as Fei Ni’s classmate, saying he came specially to see her in gratitude for her care these past days. Learning that Fei Ni had gone to buy watermelon, he asked Old Fei to give her the two packages he brought. Old Fei, habitually polite, invited him to stay for dinner, but Fang Muyang declined, saying he needed to return to the hospital.