Qing Hang’s parents and grandfather had all died from illness. When his parents passed away, he was still young, and when his grandfather became seriously ill, he was still at an age where he could do little to help.

In the summer of 2013, he didn’t take the college entrance exam. After being admitted to Tsinghua University through a special selection process, he brought his grandfather to Beijing. It took him more than two months to complete the hospital admission procedures. At that time, he had no money to rent a place, and even paying for medical bills was difficult. During the day, he worked part-time, and at night, he slept on a bench in the hospital corridor.

After school started, he became even busier, needing to earn money while keeping up with his studies. Most of the time, he could only visit the hospital at night, and missing the last subway was a common occurrence. The corridor bench was cold and hard; his legs couldn’t even stretch out straight, but exhaustion always helped him fall asleep.

Late-stage gastric cancer—all they could do was use medication to reduce the suffering.

His grandfather grew thinner by the day. Qing Hang knew the outcome but couldn’t just give up. He still hadn’t taken his grandfather to Tiananmen Square to see the flag-raising ceremony, nor had they climbed the Great Wall.

One night, the doctor spoke with Qing Hang and suggested that the old man be discharged.

Later, he rented a tiny apartment, but only managed to take his grandfather to Tiananmen Square once.

Compared to Bai City, Beijing’s winter was very dry. In January, it snowed. That night was especially cold. Qing Hang had studied until dawn for his final exams, slept for just over an hour, then rushed to the classroom for the test. Before he could return home at noon, his grandfather had already passed away.

Just before the exam, his grandfather had reminded him to wear more clothes, and in the blink of an eye, Qing Hang could only watch as his grandfather was reduced to a handful of ashes at the crematorium. That was the day he missed Cheng Wanyue the most in all these years.

When he thought he couldn’t endure it, he always told himself things would get better when he grew up, when he graduated, when he completed his internship, when his job stabilized.

Now he had achieved all of that and done it well. He had become a doctor, envied by many people, but what did it matter?

The competition he had most wanted to win had long passed, and the person he most wanted to see remained distant.

Bai City’s summers were humid and stuffy, yet the clearest in his memory were those muddy downpours. In the alley, a “water bomb” might hide beneath a certain stone slab or broken brick. Stepping on it accidentally would splash mud all over, inevitably staining pants and shoes.

Several times, Cheng Wanyue had fallen victim to this right after changing into new clothes. She’d go to his house with a drooping face. Even after he carefully cleaned her up, she would still be unhappy, always feeling she smelled of stinking mud, insisting on wearing his clothes. Then she would rummage through his wardrobe, casually taking a T-shirt to change into, running around with bare legs in front of him.

Sometimes it was intentional, unintentional.

The rain grew heavier, water stains on the glass window spreading in circles. The cool breeze carried Qing Hang’s thoughts far away, and he didn’t even hear the door opening behind him.

“Up so early,” Zhou Heng said, yawning as he came out of his room.

The living room lights were off, and the first thing he saw was the flickering light between Qing Hang’s fingers.

The two had joined the hospital at the same time. After signing contracts with the personnel department, they found an apartment to share. In all this time, Zhou Heng had only seen Qing Hang smoke once. That night, a critically ill patient in their department had died. Qing Hang happened to be on duty and participated in the rescue effort, but couldn’t save the patient.

“Didn’t sleep, or just nervous?” Zhou Heng found the light switch in the corner of the wall and turned it on. “Why are you smoking so early in the morning? It’s just a ward round with the director. You’re not that nervous, are you?”

Qing Hang came back to reality, pulled away from his memories. The half-smoked cigarette in his hand suddenly lost its appeal.

“I slept, just woke up early.”

“This rain is too heavy. We should leave a bit earlier, or we’ll be stuck in traffic,” Zhou Heng took a couple of sips of water, then remembered something else. “Last night the landlord messaged me, urging us to pay the rent. I’ll transfer the money to you, and you can forward it to him. By the way, the lease has expired. When do you have time to sign a new one with the landlord?”

Contracts were usually signed for a year. Qing Hang thought for a moment but didn’t immediately agree.

“We’ll see. I have a pre-surgery talk scheduled with a patient’s family. I won’t wait for you.”

Zhou Heng knew that Qing Hang had a major surgery in the afternoon. The lead surgeon was a senior, experienced colleague in their department—a great learning opportunity. “Alright, you go ahead. I’ll wash my hair first.”

Qing Hang freshened up again, making sure he didn’t smell of smoke before changing his clothes and leaving. Their place wasn’t too far from the hospital.

Rainy days were especially crowded. He still remembered his first time taking the subway in Beijing. Just buying a ticket had taken a long time. In the entire carriage, only he carried a worn-out suitcase, standing out noticeably from everyone around him.

Pre-operative preparation, post-operative care—Qing Hang participated in the entire process and only sat down to rest by evening.

The rain outside had stopped. After completing the patient records, his gaze fixed on the calendar on the desk. After a long while, he moved the mouse to open a new document.

Zhou Heng came looking for Qing Hang after work. Two minutes earlier, Qing Hang had been called to the director’s office by a nurse, so Zhou Heng sat in Qing Hang’s chair to wait. The computer wasn’t turned off, and he helpfully closed a pop-up advertisement, accidentally opening a document on the desktop.

Qing Hang returned quickly. Before Zhou Heng got up, he closed the document, but his sharp eyes had caught its contents.

There was only a title—the three characters for “Resignation Letter” were quite prominent.

He had already started writing a resignation letter, which meant he wasn’t just hesitating but had already made a decision.

“Have you been under too much pressure lately?” Zhou Heng didn’t ask directly. “You’re off this Sunday evening, right? I’ll take you somewhere to relax.”

Before Qing Hang could approach, a doctor nearby joined the conversation. “Dr. Zhou, what good place do you have in mind?”

“Just that Hutaoli on South Academy Road. Eat some food, listen to music, and have a drink. I think it’s pretty good.”

“I know that place, the environment is nice. Isn’t there one near where you and Qing Hang live? They’re chain restaurants, all the same. Why go all the way there?”

Zhou Heng smiled and said, “The food might be the same, but the singers are different.”

“My friend went to the one on South Academy Road last week. They said there’s a new resident band,” he looked up at Zhou Heng with a smile. “Dr. Zhou, it seems like the wine is not what you’re after.”

Zhou Heng didn’t deny it. He did have something in mind.

He seemed to recall something, unable to hide the smile on his face.

Qing Hang understood clearly both what he saw and what he heard. He wasn’t the type to play wingman for friends. “If you want to pursue someone, go by yourself. I’d just be in the way.”

“It’s not that fast, we just met. It’s just going for a drink. My sister is the manager there,” Zhou Heng scratched his hair and changed the subject, urging Qing Hang to finish work. “Don’t dawdle, there’ll be heavy rain again tonight.”

“Should we buy some groceries and cook at home?”

“You’ve been busy all day, let’s not cook. Just eat something simple in the cafeteria.”

…

Qing Hang had half a day off on Sunday. After lunch, he took a nap. Zhou Heng made several phone calls to arrange plans, secured a reservation, and then stood in front of the mirror shaving and applying hair gel. He was urging Qing Hang to leave before six o’clock.

June in Beijing was already getting hot.

It was too early; the restaurant had few patrons. All the dishes had been served by the time Zhou Heng’s friends arrived. Qing Hang knew them—one was Zhou Heng’s childhood friend, another his college classmate, and the other two were his roommates during residency training. They were all about the same age and had common topics to discuss.

Around 7:30, the resident band took the stage.

The restaurant aimed for an atmospheric vibe, with dim lighting. When the electronic screen on stage lit up, a fog formed on Qing Hang’s glasses, and he couldn’t see the drummer whom Zhou Heng had been praising for days. His seat was tucked in a corner, his view partly blocked by a lamp.

Xu Qian was Zhou Heng’s childhood friend. When Zhou Heng went to the restroom, she tactfully asked Qing Hang, “Why has Zhou Heng been coming here so often lately? The food is average, the drinks are average. What’s so good about it?”

Qing Hang couldn’t handle very spicy food; there were only two mild dishes for him. Yet he was the one at the table who drank the most.

“I don’t know. Ask him yourself.”

Xu Qian didn’t believe him. “You two live together and work at the same hospital. You know him better than his parents do.”

She kept asking, so Qing Hang had to make up an excuse. “His cousin is the manager here. We all have to eat somewhere, maybe he just wants to support the business.”

When Zhou Heng returned, Xu Qian was touching up her makeup.

She finished applying her lipstick before starting to eat. “Big brother, can you not arrange meetings so early next time?”

Zhou Heng glanced at the stage. “She only performs until nine. If we come late, we won’t see her.”

He told Qing Hang, “The girl playing the drums on stage, see her? She’s super cool, but also a health-conscious player who puts physical wellbeing first—early to bed, early to rise, never stays up late, drinks milk and tea, not alcohol.”

After hearing this, Xu Qian sneered, “Nine o’clock? For young people, nightlife begins at nine. She’s pretending, right? Is she Cinderella? Does she have to rush home before her magic disappears? Did she arrive in a pumpkin carriage earlier?”

Zhou Heng smiled. “Why are you so prickly today?”

“I say a couple of things, and I’m being prickly to her?” Xu Qian poked at the spicy chicken in her dish. “What kind of dish is this? It tastes terrible. Next time, if you’re meeting here, don’t invite me.”

These two always managed to argue over something small whenever they met. Qing Hang was used to it. Around nine o’clock, the nursing station called Qing Hang’s phone. There might be some post-operative issues with a patient. It was too noisy in the restaurant, so Qing Hang got up to take the call outside.

A waiter carrying drinks approached from the opposite direction. Qing Hang stepped aside to make way, only turning his head slightly to look at the stage. A girl with blue-purple short hair unexpectedly entered his line of sight.

The male singer on stage was performing “One Hundred Years of Solitude”: “The silhouette is real, but the person is fake, nothing to hold onto. A hundred years ago, you weren’t you, and I wasn’t me. The sorrow is real, but the tears are fake, no cause and effect. A hundred years later, there will be no you and no me…”

This song didn’t require a drummer. Cheng Wanyue was preparing to finish her shift. She twirled the drumsticks in her hand, tossed them into the air, then caught them with precision.

In a moment of confusion, she seemed to see a familiar silhouette, but it disappeared the next second.

Beijing was so vast, and she had only been here for a month. Not running into him was the norm.

“Wanyue, ready to leave?” Meng Qi was the manager here, and she had recruited Cheng Wanyue. Not only could she play the drums, but she could also sing. Occasionally, when the lead vocalist had something come up, Cheng Wanyue could fill in.

She followed Cheng Wanyue’s line of sight. “That handsome guy just now, you know him? You can go say hello first. I’ll wait for you here.”

“No,” Cheng Wanyue shook her head. “I’m not sure if it’s him. We haven’t seen each other for a very, very, very long time.”

Meng Qi had something to tell her, but she wasn’t in a hurry. “Go take a look. He probably hasn’t gone far.”

Cheng Wanyue smiled. “No thanks.”

Xu Qian had also gone outside to take a call. Seeing Qing Hang standing dazed behind the door, she thought he’d had too much to drink. “Are you leaving? Aren’t you waiting for Zhou Heng?”

Qing Hang’s face showed little emotion. He said quietly, “Something came up at the hospital. I need to rush back. Can you tell him for me?”

“…Alright.”

Xu Qian answered her phone, watching Qing Hang’s receding figure from the corner of her eye. Although she had met Qing Hang many times, she still felt a great distance from him and didn’t know him well.

The restaurant was still lively. Cheng Wanyue had said “no thanks” twice. Meng Qi’s sixth sense was keen; earlier, Cheng Wanyue and the “him” she mentioned were more than just ordinary friends.

“If you mistook someone, you mistook someone. It’s just saying hello. What, do you have a grudge?”

“A bit, yeah,” Cheng Wanyue said with a smile. “I’m dressed too casually today. If it were him, I would look too sloppy like this. Not only has he not gotten fat, gone bald, developed a beer belly, or become ugly, but he’s even more handsome than before. And he had such a beautiful woman standing beside him. I definitely can’t lose.”

Meng Qi: “…”