1

The Tibet Ali Kunsha Airport is located southwest of Shiquanhe Town, where the regional administrative office is based. Built in 2007, it is currently the world’s third-highest airport by elevation.

Zuo Si’an was afraid of developing altitude sickness. After flying from Chengdu to Lhasa, she rested for one night, then flew from Lhasa to Ali the next day. After disembarking and stepping onto solid ground, she had a dizzy sensation of her body floating weightlessly. From Lhasa, it had taken only an hour and a half. That arduous, lengthy journey fifteen years ago driving from Lhasa to Shiquanhe Town in Ali had actually been simplified to this extent—it amazed her. She seemed to have passed through a time tunnel, standing at some junction point between future and past, the long years in between suddenly becoming ethereal and illusory, barely there.

It was the peak tourist season in Tibet. A tour group had arrived on the same flight, already extremely excited on the plane. After disembarking, the guide and local contact were counting heads—the scene was quite lively. Zuo Si’an retrieved her luggage and stood alone to one side, looking around blankly, momentarily almost not knowing where she was or who she was. She thought this feeling probably couldn’t be explained purely by altitude sickness.

“Xiao An.”

Following the voice, she saw a middle-aged man wearing a gray suit and white shirt standing a few meters away, removing his sunglasses and looking at her hesitantly. No need for close examination—that person was Zuo Xuejun. Zuo Si’an walked toward him as if sleepwalking, stopping two steps away from him, calling out “Dad.”

The last time they had met was nearly thirteen years ago, when Zuo Xuejun returned to Hanjiang to handle divorce procedures with his wife. Shortly after, Zuo Si’an went abroad with her mother. Over these years, their phone conversations could be counted on one hand. She had grown from a young girl to an adult, while he had completely lost the spirited vigor she remembered. Though only fifty-five years old, years of living in the harsh high-altitude region had left his dark skin covered with wrinkles, his temples graying, his movements slow, his back slightly hunched—already showing signs of aging.

After deciding to return to China to visit family this time, Zuo Si’an had imagined meeting her father more than once, feeling indescribable trepidation. But only when truly facing him did she clearly realize that the long passage of time lay between them. The bond of blood mingled with the strangeness of long separation—she could no longer, as she had when young on her first trip to Tibet to visit her father, throw herself at him upon seeing him and righteously demand a warm embrace.

Their gazes couldn’t even linger long on each other. They simultaneously showed smiles, looking elsewhere.

“Have you been waiting long?”

He took the suitcase she was pulling. “No, the plane was only twenty minutes late today.”

“That’s good.”

He led her out of the airport to the car, driving toward Shiquanhe Town while chatting casually with her. “Do you feel uncomfortable?”

“A little, but I took medicine to prevent altitude sickness and adapted a day early. I feel alright.”

“It’s only fifty kilometers from here to town. We’ll be there soon.”

“Oh, this road is quite well built.”

“Look, those flying over there are wild ducks.”

Zuo Si’an looked in the direction her father’s finger pointed. Under blue sky and white clouds, in the distance where snow peaks and mountains embraced, several waterfowl danced gracefully on a lake surface that was blue with a slightly purple tinge.

“This season is really beautiful.”

“Tomorrow I can take you to Pangong Tso. There’s a famous bird island there. Every June and July, countless migratory birds gather—it’s quite spectacular. There should still be some migratory birds now, but they’ll all be flying away to winter soon.”

“No need. You have to work. Don’t take special leave for me.”

“I’m about to retire. I’ve basically completed the work handover. My time is fairly flexible.”

Zuo Si’an was somewhat stunned. “Retiring so early?”

“Yes. National policy stipulates that after working fifteen years in high-altitude areas, one can retire. Many people retire in their forties. I’ve actually been working past retirement age already.”

“Oh.” After hesitating, she still asked, “Where will you live after retirement?”

Zuo Xuejun smiled. “I’m used to life here. I plan to teach some courses within my ability at the school after retirement and write a book about Ali region folk customs.”

“As long as you’re happy.”

“And you?” After hesitating, he asked, “How have you been living abroad?”

“Alright.” To such a vague question, she could only give a brief answer.

He changed the subject. “I don’t know if you’re interested in archaeology. I can also take you to see the excavation site of Xiangxiong civilization.”

“I’m only staying two days before leaving. I’m afraid there won’t be enough time.”

“Two days?” Zuo Xuejun unconsciously raised his voice.

“Yes. My leave time is limited. I’ve already bought my return ticket. Dad, please take me to the hotel first to drop off my luggage.”

Zuo Xuejun was stunned again and said carefully, “Xiao An, your Aunt Shi has already cleaned up the room. There’s no need to stay at a hotel.”

The Aunt Shi he mentioned was Shi Wei, who had entered Tibet with Old Zhang fifteen years ago, met up with Gao Xiang, Sun Ruodi, and Zuo Si’an, then entered Ali together. She returned to Cuoqin in Ali twelve years ago to volunteer teach and stayed ever since. Eight years ago, she married Zuo Xuejun, and five years ago gave birth to a daughter named Zuo Siqi.

Zuo Si’an smiled as naturally as possible to explain. “I’m used to living alone. Before coming, I already asked the travel agency to help book a room. I won’t disturb you.”

Zuo Xuejun suddenly fell silent. Neither of them said anything more until they reached town. He followed her instructions and took her to the hotel first, then to his home.

The Zuo family lived on the second floor of a three-story dormitory building. The house was spacious and comfortable, with bright windows, beautiful wool tapestries hanging on the walls, and various Tibetan-style crafts displayed. Shi Wei warmly welcomed Zuo Si’an’s arrival. She was in her early forties, her skin condition not great, but her manner gentle, her eyes still as clear and bright as before, giving people an immediate sense of warmth.

Shi Wei’s young daughter Zuo Siqi stood beside her. Only five years old, with a bowl cut, round face with a bit of baby fat, and clever eyes darting about, she examined Zuo Si’an curiously. Shi Wei smiled and said, “Xiao Qi, didn’t I tell you? Quickly greet your sister.”

Zuo Siqi obediently called out, “Hello, Sister.”

“Hello, Xiao Qi. I’m Zuo Si’an.”

She solemnly took Zuo Si’an’s extended hand and shook it. “Mom said you live in Baltimore, America. That’s very far away, right?”

“Right. Baltimore is near the American capital, Washington. Flying from Washington to Beijing takes seventeen hours.”

Zuo Siqi actually didn’t have much concept of time or space, but was satisfied with the detailed answer from this unfamiliar big sister and began playing with the cartoon toys and storybooks Zuo Si’an had given her.

Zuo Si’an watched her and said to Shi Wei, “Xiao Qi is really cute.”

Like all mothers, hearing praise for her child, Shi Wei immediately smiled genuinely. “She’s just very mischievous and talks endlessly. Oh, where’s your luggage?”

“Already left at the hotel.”

Shi Wei was also stunned, but she didn’t press further and immediately changed the subject. “Did you feel uncomfortable flying directly here this time?”

“It’s alright. I just feel somewhat strange. My impression of this place was bare Gobi Desert, wind, sand, and low buildings. Coming from the airport today felt so unfamiliar, as if I’d never been here before.”

“These past years, Shiquanhe Town has strengthened greening. The replanted tamarisk has gradually grown. The sandstorms are much less than before. Plus the town’s population has increased rapidly, with many more buildings. Come, have some hot tea. I’ve prepared all the dishes. Your father went to get lamb someone is slaughtering fresh for us. He’ll be back soon. This type of lamb is a local specialty—the meat quality is especially delicious. You can’t get it elsewhere.”

“Really, don’t treat me as a guest.”

“Your father has been especially excited these past days. Even Xiao Qi noticed.”

Hearing her name mentioned, Zuo Siqi nodded repeatedly. “Dad told me that Sister was a carnivore when she was little and loved eating street-grilled lamb skewers the most. Mom, I’m also a carnivore, right?”

Shi Wei laughed heartily. “Right, right. You are too.” She turned to Zuo Si’an and said, “Xiao Qi also loves meat. People on the plateau all have big appetites. When you see how she eats later, you’ll definitely laugh.”

Zuo Xuejun brought the lamb back. Shi Wei cooked while he went in to help her. They looked like a well-matched couple, their every move showing the tacit understanding formed from long cohabitation. A table of dishes was quickly prepared—the variety rich, obviously thoughtfully matched, and the taste quite delicious. However, Zuo Si’an had some headache and didn’t eat much.

After eating, she suggested returning to the hotel to rest. Unexpectedly, Shi Wei directly said, “Xiao An, I’ve already cleaned the guest room. Rest here a bit, then go back to the hotel in the evening—it’s the same.”

She couldn’t refuse again and had to enter the neat, comfortable guest room. She could only hear in the living room that Xiao Qi was bargaining with her mother. “I don’t want to go to kindergarten. Can I stay home and play with Sister this afternoon?”

“No. I brought you back to meet Sister. Sister came from very far away and is tired. She needs rest.”

“Then I’ll play with you.”

“Mom still needs to prepare lessons. Be good. Quickly change shoes. Dad will take you to kindergarten.”

“No. When I go, the teacher makes me take an afternoon nap. I’m not tired at all. I don’t want to sleep…”

“Xiao Qi, change your shoes.”

With Zuo Xuejun’s gentle voice, Zuo Siqi surprisingly stopped being willful and obediently changed shoes and went out with him. Zuo Si’an walked to the window. Just then, Zuo Xuejun came out of the hallway holding Zuo Siqi’s hand. Zuo Siqi vigorously tilted her face up and said something. Zuo Xuejun lowered his head to answer. The two slowly walked away.

This scene struck her vision. She suddenly seemed to see her childhood self. Time and space became confused before her eyes again. She subconsciously grabbed the curtain.

This was different. Zuo Xuejun’s back was no longer straight. Little Zuo Siqi walked very properly, moving her short legs to closely follow her father, unlike when she used to go to kindergarten—after just a few steps, she would inevitably try every means to be lazy, jumping onto her father’s back demanding he carry or hold her, and he was also happy to comply… Her breathing suddenly became difficult, her eyes stinging, as if unable to endure gazing long at such bright light.

2

“Xiao An, have some hot tea to cut the grease.”

Shi Wei knocked once and brought tea in. Zuo Si’an tried hard to calm down. “Thank you, Aunt Shi.”

“You used to call me Sister Shi Wei. Sigh, in the blink of an eye, over ten years have passed.”

“You still look very young. But I must call you Aunt, otherwise the generational hierarchy gets too confused.”

“That’s true.”

Zuo Si’an was just about to make an excuse about her headache when Shi Wei had already pulled over a chair and sat down. “Xiao An, I had your father take Xiao Qi so I could have a good talk with you.”

She could only smile. “Alright.”

“Have you been well abroad these years? Is Baltimore lively?”

“Alright. Baltimore is Maryland’s largest city, with nearly 800,000 residents. It counts as quite lively.”

“That’s good. Tomorrow, have your father take leave and drive you around properly. Since he was transferred back to the administrative office three years ago, he’s devoted himself to researching Ali folk customs. He can be considered an Ali expert now.”

“No need, Aunt Shi. As I told Dad, I’m staying two days then leaving. I don’t want to go too far.”

“Why are you in such a hurry to leave?”

“My leave time is only this long. There’ll be other opportunities.”

Shi Wei hesitated. “Xiao An, do you have some opinion about me marrying your father?”

“Aunt Shi, why would you think that?”

“All these years you and your father have had almost no contact. I’ve always wanted a chance to explain to you—I really didn’t destroy your parents’ marriage. Back then, I chose to volunteer teach in Cuoqin partly because I was tired of city life, partly because I was too deeply impressed by the schools and students there. I wanted to do something within my ability for them while finding peace of mind. I fell in love with your father absolutely after his divorce. Moreover, he avoided me for quite a long time, refusing to accept my feelings. Even if you’re angry at me, please don’t resent him, okay?”

Zuo Si’an was helpless and could only answer as sincerely as possible. “Aunt Shi, you don’t need to explain to me. I know my parents reaching the point of divorce had nothing to do with others. I have no reason to oppose his remarrying, especially marrying you. A woman willing to marry him in such a harsh place—I’d only think he’s very lucky. He couldn’t possibly find a more suitable wife than you.”

However, Shi Wei didn’t feel relieved by this. Instead, she showed a bitter smile, her manner very hesitant and uncertain. She had to continue further. “Coming this time, seeing you living peacefully and happily, I’m relieved.”

“Thank you for being so understanding, Xiao An. You rarely come back, and you say you’re only staying two days before leaving. I shouldn’t bother you with these matters. But your father has been unhappy all these years. He refuses to explain why. I can only guess this is somewhat related to the estrangement between him and you.”

Zuo Si’an was secretly annoyed. “Aunt Shi, you’re overthinking. All these years my father has been working in Ali, I’ve been abroad—the distance is too far, contact inconvenient. After all, I’ve long been an adult with my own life. He married you and had Xiao Qi. You’re now a complete family. That’s what’s most important.”

“A complete family?” Shi Wei smiled bitterly and sighed. “Xiao An, to give birth to Xiao Qi, I transferred to work in Pulan County, which has the lowest altitude in Ali. I’ve been living separately from your father. Only three years ago did he transfer back to the administrative office and I also came to Shiquanhe Town—the family reunited. But this completeness is only superficial. Probably it can’t be maintained much longer.”

She froze and had to ask, “What happened?”

“I don’t know if your father told you, but he’s about to retire and plans to stay in Ali afterward.”

“Mm. He said he’s used to it here.”

“But I plan to take Xiao Qi back to Guangdong. My parents are both elderly and need care. Plus, Xiao Qi will be six next year. I hope she has a better environment to receive education.”

“You can discuss this with Dad. I think he has no reason to object.”

“I’ve discussed it with him. No, perhaps that shouldn’t be called discussion—it was just me repeatedly stating my reasons for wanting to return. He listened quietly without raising any objections, finally saying he respects my decision but wants to stay. When I pressed harder, he brought up a local rumor saying that cadres from inland who come here, after getting used to it, generally don’t live more than five years after retiring and returning inland.”

Zuo Si’an was quite surprised. “Is there such a thing? Is there official statistical data?”

“What statistics? I specifically asked around. It was just that two aid-Tibet cadres happened to die in the same year after returning inland. People sighed and lamented, joking and chatting about it—that’s all.”

Zuo Si’an relaxed slightly, thought carefully and said, “Dad living in Ali—when I was in medical school, I researched materials on plateau diseases. I really haven’t seen systematic pathological analysis or statistical data in this area. Psychological self-suggestion can create such rumors, but long-term life in plateau regions does increase the heart’s burden and truly affects health.”

“Your father had an episode of high-altitude heart disease from overwork. The doctor’s recommendation was also that continuing to stay on the plateau was dangerous—it would be best to return to the lowlands. He didn’t listen at all. Instead, he brought up the joke everyone tells as his reason—he simply doesn’t want to return inland.”

Zuo Si’an froze again and immediately asked a series of questions. “When did his high-altitude heart disease occur? Has it recurred since? Does he get checkups every year? Does he take medicine regularly? What symptoms does he have?”

“His high-altitude heart disease episode was nine years ago in Cuoqin. He was urgently transferred to Lhasa for emergency treatment. I received two critical condition notices. The doctor said bringing him back was somewhat fortunate. Later I cried and begged him. The organization also talked to him several times. Finally, we convinced him to transfer to work in Gar County, which has lower elevation and relatively better conditions, for five years. Three years ago, he transferred back to the regional administrative office. These years he’s been doing routine physical exams without recurrence. Occasionally I see his expression looks uncomfortable. When I ask if his heart hurts, he says it’s not exactly pain—just feels like his heart is suddenly grabbed by a hand, and it passes after he relaxes. Many people working here have this symptom. I think it shouldn’t be too serious.”

“This… I don’t know what to say.”

“Xiao An, your father is the most impeccable good person I’ve ever met, even better than how newspapers promote him. He continuously volunteered to extend his aid-Tibet work time, worked consecutively for six years in Cuoqin, famous for being harsh, first as county magistrate, then as county party secretary. He traveled to every remote corner of the county, improved infrastructure there, helped herders escape poverty, repaired schools, raised educational funds, donated almost all his salary to prevent children from dropping out of school. He declined almost all honors and refused promotion opportunities. He lives like an ascetic, spending most of his money and time helping others. I don’t care about any of this. I admire these qualities in him. But I gradually discovered he’s really neither a good husband nor a good father.”

This conclusion, almost an accusation, completely shocked Zuo Si’an.

Since entering, she had seen what was almost a model of a happy family. The room was arranged warmly and orderly. The male head of household was somewhat silent but family-oriented and steady. The female head of household was friendly and hospitable, clearly a virtuous wife and loving mother. Little sister Zuo Siqi was lively and adorable. She had never imagined that beneath the harmonious surface, undercurrents were already surging. She couldn’t help but regret not insisting on returning to the hotel right after eating.

She could only speak with difficulty. “Aunt Shi, I don’t know what happened between you, but my father and I… haven’t met in many years. If he’s done something inadequately, perhaps you should communicate well with him.”

“We can’t communicate. By this July, I’ll have been married to him for eight years. I’ve tried every method to communicate with him. He hasn’t been cold or heartless, but part of his heart always remains closed off. I’m not complaining about him. He’s never pretended to be a cheerful person in front of me. Back then, I fell in love with his silence, his character. After living together this long, I haven’t become disillusioned with his character. I can even say without exaggeration that he’s already almost a moral paragon. I still respect him, can’t bear to leave him. It’s just… I increasingly feel he doesn’t care about Xiao Qi and me at all.”

Although Zuo Si’an was unwilling to intervene in the emotional entanglement between her father and stepmother, seeing the dejected Shi Wei, she couldn’t help but feel pity. She was just thinking how to word comfort for Shi Wei when Shi Wei suddenly grasped her hand. She slightly startled, almost instinctively pulling back, but Shi Wei held tight.

“Tell me, Xiao An. Has he always been this kind of person? What exactly happened to make him become like this?”

She immediately held her breath, unable to answer this question. Shi Wei murmured, “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to probe the secrets of his heart. I truly don’t understand how he could be like this. I’ll never forget the scene when you met him on the road to Cuoqin. You were so attached to him. He loved you so much. He looked like such a loving good father, willing to do anything for his daughter. But why did you stop contacting each other later? Whenever I mention you, he falls silent and gets up to leave.”

“Aunt Shi, bringing up the past serves no purpose.”

“I’m not making trouble over nothing, Xiao An. I just want to understand. Perhaps this is also the reason he doesn’t love Xiao Qi.”

“Doesn’t love Xiao Qi? That’s impossible.”

Shi Wei smiled bitterly. “Not to mention you don’t believe it—if I said this to anyone who knows him, no one would believe it. He’s been helping support several Tibetan children, not just sending them money and leaving it at that, but regularly writing letters to communicate with them, caring about their lives and studies, taking time to visit them. He even brought home an orphan named Ge Sang and raised him for four whole years, until that child got into a school in inland China. But he’s very distant toward his own biological daughter.”

Zuo Si’an’s mind was in chaos. After a while, she understood Shi Wei was talking about Xiao Qi, not her, and couldn’t help but smile bitterly too.

“Before we married, he said he didn’t want more children. I could understand—after all, he thought he was too old. Plus, I was thirty-five at the time, equally afraid of being an advanced-age mother. I completely agreed to this condition. But later I got pregnant unexpectedly. When I discovered it, I was already nearly four months along. I’ll never forget when I told your father this news—his face was pale as death. Without thinking, he said: Hurry up and abort it.”

At this moment, Zuo Si’an’s face had also gone pale. She stared blankly at Shi Wei, unable to speak.

“Having no plan is one thing. The child coming is another. I didn’t want to give up my right to be a mother. Your father lost his temper terribly. No one could imagine that a normally refined and gentle person could fly into such a rage, completely unreasonable. I was terrified, completely at a loss. But when maternal love erupted, I still held firm. I thought once a lively, healthy child was born, how could he not love her? Looking back, that idea was naively laughable. You’ve also seen Xiao Qi—such an adorable child. Everyone who’s met her likes her. But since she was born, her father has always been cold. No matter how I complain or beg, he almost never holds her, rarely plays with her, always maintaining distance. Xiao Qi is still so small, but he speaks to her like speaking to a stranger—kind, reasonable, just not at all affectionate, making Xiao Qi always afraid of him. No matter how I begged him, he refused to file for transfer, preferring to live separately. Even after transferring to Shiquanhe Town, he often goes out to participate in cultural relic research and protection work, spending limited time at home. I truly don’t understand how a kind man who genuinely cares about other people’s children could try so hard to maintain distance from his own daughter. If he treated you this way when you were little, you couldn’t possibly love him so much. When he came to aid Tibet, you wouldn’t have traveled thousands of miles from inland to see him, right?”

This entire analysis left Zuo Si’an unable to nod or shake her head. She only felt her mouth full of bitterness—either the tea she drank was too strong, or the sorrow accumulated in her heart for years had risen to her sense of taste. And Shi Wei’s emotions grew lower as she spoke, as if she had never faced the confusion in her heart so directly.

“If I said he completely doesn’t care about family, that would wrong him. When I’m sick, he takes very good care of me. Whenever he comes home, he proactively does all household chores. When I remind him he doesn’t care enough about Xiao Qi, he immediately makes time to read her storybooks and teach her to recognize characters—but I’m a mother. Comparing to my feelings for Xiao Qi, I know he’s only doing what he thinks he should do, not giving love. If he’s like this toward Xiao Qi, toward me goes without saying.”

Zuo Si’an said haltingly, “Aunt Shi, all these years, my understanding of Father comes from online searches seeing reports about him—many deeds, very moving, just that they seem distant and strange, impossible to connect with my own dad. I… I don’t know what to say.”

“I’m sorry, Xiao An. I apologize for telling you so much. I also know you’ve only seen him once in over ten years, coming and going in a rush. You have no obligation to listen to me pour out troubles, and I shouldn’t seek answers from you. I’m just tired, probably disheartened too, and don’t want to probe further. If Xiao Qi is destined not to receive complete love from both parents, I might as well take her back to my hometown. At least my parents will care about her with me, and she can receive better education.”

Both fell silent for a long time. The room was very quiet. After who knows how long, the outside door opened—Zuo Xuejun had returned. He walked to the guest room door. Zuo Si’an and Shi Wei simultaneously looked toward him. He sensed something was wrong but didn’t ask anything, only saying, “Let Xiao An rest well.”

“I’m not tired.” Zuo Si’an stood up. “Dad, walk with me along the Shiquanhe River.”

3

Shiquanhe Town was an elongated town. Walking through it, Zuo Si’an discovered that the desolate little town standing alone in the wilderness in her memory no longer existed. This place already looked like a prosperous, lively small city. The roads were wider than before, with various taxis and SUVs running about. There were more pedestrians than before—local residents, migrant workers from elsewhere, and outdoor enthusiasts in assault jackets mixed together, all accents present.

However, what surprised her most was that many entertainment venue signs had appeared on both sides of the street. Gaudily dressed women chatted and came and went at the entrances. The closer to the Shiquanhe River, the more there were.

Zuo Xuejun clearly detested this frivolous scene. “It’s still early to watch the sunset by the river. I’ll take you to a small street selling handicrafts. You’ll definitely like it.”

The place he mentioned wasn’t far—a nameless, narrow street, very quiet. The afternoon sunlight hid behind the buildings. One simple shop stall after another displayed various textiles and wooden, leather, and silver handicrafts. The stall owners were almost all Tibetan people. Unlike typical tourist area vendors with eyes in all directions and glib tongues soliciting business, they quietly carried on making things. When someone came in, they’d look up and smile. Many of them obviously knew Zuo Xuejun, greeting him in Tibetan, pouring him tea. He also conversed with them in Tibetan.

Here, Zuo Xuejun looked more relaxed and casual than at home. He pointed out to Zuo Si’an handicrafts he considered distinctive.

“This orange wooden bowl is dyed with natural grass juice and won’t fade.”

“This is Tibetan incense. The production process is very complex. It has calming effects.”

“What they’re weaving is pulu. Sewn into Tibetan robes, it can resist cold and rain.”

“This is called sixteen bells.” He picked it up and shook it. The sound was very crisp. “Herders often hang them on cattle and sheep’s neck rings or children’s wrists.”

“A bit like the bell sound when trams departed from the starting station.” Zuo Si’an, who had been listening silently, suddenly said. This was the first time she mentioned past life. Zuo Xuejun seemed caught off guard, momentarily unable to react. “This time returning to Hanjiang, I rode the tram once, still along the old route.”

“Really?” Only after a while did Zuo Xuejun say, “This silver-carved tea tray has very complex craftsmanship. Look at these patterns…”

Zuo Si’an didn’t look at the tea tray but continued examining the bells.

When she was little, first attending the agency kindergarten, later a key elementary school in the city, Zuo Xuejun took her to and from school daily along the way. They lived on Zhongshan Road, the trolleybus starting station. Every day, with a clear, long bell ring, the trolleybus departed and entered the station. At that time, transportation was limited. Many commuters took the trolleybus. When there were no seats, her father would protect her in front of him, trying hard to create a small safe space for her. When there were seats, he’d hold her sitting on his lap. She always had endless things to say, endless questions to ask, and he was never impatient.

That was the happiest time in her memory, such that years later in a foreign land, when her boyfriend Fred suddenly asked her, “What do ‘Shanghai Road’ and ‘Shenyang Road’ mean?”

She was stunned by his awkward pronunciation. He explained, “You talk in your sleep. You’ve said these two words more than once.”

She had long chosen to bury the past deep in her heart, not planning to share with anyone. She couldn’t explain to her foreign boyfriend what these two street names named after cities represented—childhood memories and homesickness—much less the displeasure of having her inner secrets spied on. Later, when she and Fred had a dispute, Fred said wistfully, “I love you, but I feel you always maintain some distance from me.”

She couldn’t deny this accusation. She hadn’t expected to now hear her stepmother describe her relationship with her father in the same tone. Thinking of this, she felt a tightness in her chest.

“Do you like this?”

What Zuo Xuejun showed her was a pair of silver earrings with complex, exquisite craftsmanship. She nodded. “Really beautiful.”

“I’ll buy them for you.”

“I don’t have pierced ears.” He said “Oh” and prepared to put them down. She said, “Still buy them. Give them to Aunt Shi. She has pierced ears. She’ll definitely like them.”

“Alright. What do you like?”

Zuo Si’an casually pointed at a turquoise necklace. “This one is quite cute.”

Zuo Xuejun immediately picked it up. “I’ll buy it for you.”

She laughed despite herself. “Dad, are you eager to give me a gift, then successfully end this walk?”

Zuo Xuejun froze.

“I came back just to see you, staying two days then leaving. I don’t want to disrupt your life rhythm or force you to have heart-to-heart talks. But you are my father after all. I have to ask you—how do you plan to live out the second half of your life?”

“Did Aunt Shi say something to you?” She acquiesced. His eyes flickered somewhat. “She wants to return to her parents’ side to fulfill filial duties. Of course I can’t obstruct her.”

“Your family affairs—I don’t know clearly and it’s not convenient to say much. But what consequences come from a family not living together—you don’t need me to remind you, right?”

Zuo Xuejun said with difficulty, “I’ve wronged you, Xiao An.”

She raised her hand to stop him from continuing. “No, don’t drag up the past again. What’s important is now. Aunt Shi is very good to you. Xiao Qi is still so small. You have plenty of opportunities to live well with them. When I leave this time, I don’t know when I’ll come back again. Whatever reason makes you turn yourself into a lonely person doesn’t need explaining to me, but still think it over carefully. I’m going back to the hotel first. Please tell Aunt Shi I won’t come over for dinner.”

Zuo Si’an walked out of the handicrafts street without looking back. In this small town, identifying the general direction, there was no need to worry about getting lost. But she was anxious to leave and forgot she was on a plateau. Walking too quickly, she soon felt her heart beating unbearably.

Ten minutes later, she could only crouch down, gasping for breath. Surrounding pedestrians, accustomed to the sight, walked past her. Oxygen deprivation and the empty feeling of being alone in a foreign place struck powerfully. She suddenly regretted this family visit trip.

From the moment the idea arose, she could no longer dissuade herself. Like going mad, she searched online for flight information, trying to connect all the places and people she could think of in the shortest time. She first went to Portland, Maine to visit her mother. Yu Jia and her American husband Peter seemed to live peacefully and calmly. Seeing her daughter suddenly appear during a non-holiday time, beyond happiness, they were somewhat puzzled. They beat around the bush inquiring about her life situation, interrogating her about her relationship progress with her boyfriend, what her plans were after becoming a resident doctor. And she answered all these very vaguely. Even though her mother was a career-oriented woman, different from typical mothers who care too much about daughters, she couldn’t feel satisfied.

She stayed there only one day before taking leave, going via Beijing to fly back to Hanjiang City. After Gao Xiang saw her, the first thing he showed was vigilance. He even personally caught up with her, watching her all the way from Liuwan back to Hanjiang until seeing her onto the plane. The meeting with her father went without saying. She involuntarily participated in his family affairs, speaking sternly, as if this weren’t a visit after long separation but coming with resentment, making a big issue of small matters. Wherever she was, she was already a stranger, incompatible with others’ complete lives.

She was dizzy and lightheaded, her hands and feet numb. She knew she was experiencing respiratory alkalosis again. She barely lifted both hands, cupped them together to cover her mouth and nose, trying to self-regulate. At this moment, a strong arm pulled her up, silently handing her a kraft paper bag. She grasped it like a lifeline, immediately covering her face and beginning to adjust her breathing. Looking up, she discovered standing before her was Gao Xiang.

She suddenly put down the paper bag. “How did you get here?”

Gao Xiang unceremoniously took her hand and forcibly pressed the paper bag back over her face, saying with a stern expression, “Don’t talk.”

She could only breathe slowly, letting the excessive expelled carbon dioxide gradually return to her body. When slightly better, she moved the paper bag away and said urgently, “Are you crazy? Why don’t you trust me like this? Why must you watch me like a criminal? Have you forgotten you nearly died in Ali last time?”

“Don’t get excited. I’m fine. On the contrary, you’re a doctor yet made yourself this pathetic again.”

She was exasperated, her breathing becoming rapid and disordered again, unable to speak.

Gao Xiang held her shoulder with one hand, covered her with the kraft paper bag again with the other, and said, “Don’t speak anymore. Don’t do anything. Breathe.”

The sunlight was brilliant. The air was so clear there wasn’t a speck of dust. Time passed slowly and distinctly, second by second. When her breathing returned to normal, she had already calmed down.

“Gao Xiang, you can’t stay here. It’s too dangerous.”

“I said I’m fine. Don’t be nervous.”

“No. Last time you nearly died here. You can’t take this risk again. Leave quickly. I’ll go to the hotel right now to get my luggage, change my ticket to leave Ali for Beijing, then immediately return to America. I guarantee I’ll never return to China again. This time I’ll definitely keep my word.”