“Awake so soon?”

As Qiu Xing walked out, Mao Jun looked at him with surprise.

“Couldn’t sleep anymore,” Qiu Xing grabbed a bottle of water, twisted it open, and took a sip, then asked, “How’s it going?”

“Almost done.” Mao Jun was wearing work clothes with a row of parts laid out on the ground, which he was assembling.

Qiu Xing wore a plain black t-shirt and gray sweatpants. His hair was very short, and his build looked solid.

“You didn’t sleep all night, and just now you’ve barely slept half an hour? How can that work?” Mao Jun spoke to Qiu Xing while applying oil to the parts.

Qiu Xing leaned against a stack of tires, resting on his elbows, yawned, and said, “Couldn’t sleep soundly. We’ll talk about it tonight.”

“You just think too much, weighing you down so you can’t sleep,” Mao Jun said. “You should empty your mind a bit, stop overthinking. You’re so young but always so gloomy.”

This made Qiu Xing laugh. “I’m not thinking about anything.”

“Yeah right, if we weighed your brain it would be at least two ounces heavier than mine.”

Qiu Xing smiled and took another sip of water without responding.

Mao Jun was a master mechanic at the repair shop, someone Qiu Xing had brought over from Brother Lin’s factory. He was two years older than Qiu Xing and had been repairing vehicles for over ten years. He was an optimistic person. In his own words, he was simply happy-go-lucky, carefree. When Qiu Xing wasn’t around, he was in charge of the shop.

Two winters ago, Qiu Xing’s truck broke down completely, and instead of overhauling it, he sold it.

The truck was already near the end of its life when he started driving it, but Qiu Xing used it for more than four years. In the end, it couldn’t even be sold as a used vehicle—it was sold as scrap metal.

This truck had been driven by Qiu Xing’s father for over a decade before passing to Qiu Xing’s hands. Despite needing repairs every few days, he managed to use it to pay off the nine hundred thousand yuan debt. He sold the other truck at the same time. Having been used for fifteen to twenty years, these vehicles had fulfilled their maximum value as freight trucks.

With this, Qiu Xing had finally ended his years of debt repayment. He had paid off all the debts his father owed and the compensation he had promised.

This silenced those who had once mocked him. Qiu Xing was nineteen when he shouldered these debts, originally just a boy who only knew about studying and playing soccer.

Later, Qiu Xing used his remaining money to buy a semi-used truck cab with an old trailer. He spent another half year on the road, this time with a young driver who was clever, capable, and quick-witted. Qiu Xing worked with him until last summer, then hired another driver and let the two of them handle the driving. Qiu Xing no longer drove long distances, only maintaining remote contact and occasionally joining them on trips.

He hadn’t abandoned his cargo sources and clients, maintaining those relationships. Besides his truck, he also had several regular freight arrangements, and when cargo needed urgent transport, Qiu Xing would hire other vehicles.

The repair shop opened last autumn. Qiu Xing wasn’t the main boss; he owned a smaller share, while Brother Lin owned the majority. The money and personnel were mainly Brother Lin’s.

Old Lin’s repair factory carried significant weight in several neighboring provinces. His few master technicians had excellent skills, and over the years, vehicle fleets from neighboring provinces occasionally had Old Lin send people over for concentrated repairs and maintenance.

Now Qiu Xing had opened another shop with his team in a different province, also at Brother Lin’s repeated suggestion. Being in another region, Old Lin’s technical expertise wasn’t enough by itself. Out-of-town business was difficult, especially in this industry, which didn’t follow educated people’s ways. If you took someone else’s livelihood, they wouldn’t let you off easily.

Honest people could operate however they wanted on their home turf, but in other places, they were easily bullied and pushed around. Old Lin couldn’t constantly oversee operations here, so he needed someone bold and capable.

If Qiu Xing hadn’t left the trucking business, Lin would never have invested in opening this shop. Qiu Xing was quick-witted, knew how to speak to different people, and feared nothing.

In many ways, Qiu Xing was indeed like his father, a natural at getting things done.

Last night, Qiu Xing had taken an urgent job—a truck had broken down on the highway, carrying a load of seafood that couldn’t wait. Qiu Xing drove over two hundred kilometers in the middle of the night with workers and equipment. After finishing the repairs and returning, it was already this morning.

His truck had also returned today. Qiu Xing waited for the driver to come back to give him instructions. After lunch, another client arrived—the owner of a local logistics company who signed a two-year cooperation contract with Qiu Xing.

Qiu Xing was an upright and straightforward person who knew how to talk and please people, so he didn’t lack clients. These kinds of long-term cooperations with logistics companies or vehicle fleets—having just one was basically enough to ensure the survival of a repair shop of reasonable size.

The shop’s kitchen uncle was an excellent cook. Today he had braised two geese, and the aroma wafted over from the kitchen. Qiu Xing smiled and said, “I’m hungry.”

“Eat, then sleep. Tomorrow’s problems are for tomorrow,” Mao Jun said. “I’m going out tomorrow afternoon. Do you have anything planned? If not, stay put.”

“Sure,” Qiu Xing said.

Mao Jun said, “My sister set me up with someone. Hehe, I’m going on a date.”

Qiu Xing smiled. “Good luck.”

“Wish me luck.” Mao Jun put down the nearly assembled parts on the ground and held up his hands, saying, “Time to wash up and eat!”

*

At ten in the evening, all the roommates were already on their respective beds—some sitting reading books, others lying down watching shows.

Lin Yiran was wrapped in a blanket, sitting below, still typing. She was wearing thick pajamas and cotton slippers, with a headband in her hair, having been sitting there since after her shower.

She was working on a translation manuscript, a project planned by an editor she knew well—an imported selection of children’s science fiction novels from Britain, which she was working on together with a female graduate student in English translation.

Lin Yiran was no stranger to words.

Perhaps influenced by her somewhat talented father, she had loved reading and writing from a very young age. She had won prizes for her essays as a child, a first prize in a middle school writing competition, and even earned extra points for her high school entrance exam. Her high school years had been a break, though she still sporadically wrote some words on paper.

When she picked up her pen again in her freshman year, it was different from before. Gone were those ethereal, elusive words and naive imagination.

She had submitted several pieces to literary magazines in her freshman year, and one short story had won a fairly prestigious award that year.

After that, she published several more pieces in high-standard magazines. A novelette about deaf-mutes had been signed for publication but hadn’t been printed yet.

Some said her writing was solid and delicate, cold and sharp, yet with a kind of cruel tenderness.

This seemed at odds with her personality, but upon careful thought, it wasn’t so incongruous.

Lin Yiran’s hands were cold as she sat below, her slender fingers slightly reddened.

A text message arrived on her phone, and Lin Yiran picked it up to look.

It was a bank account notification.

Lin Yiran frowned slightly and immediately opened her mobile banking app to transfer it back.

Lin Yiran: [What are you giving me money for?]

Qiu Xing didn’t reply, and after a while, Lin Yiran received another bank notification—Qiu Xing had transferred ten thousand yuan back to her again.

Lin Yiran: [I have enough.]

After Lin Yiran transferred it back once more, Qiu Xing transferred it to her again.

Qiu Xing: [Go to sleep.]

Lin Yiran didn’t reply.

Qiu Xing was always like this. The money he sent, Lin Yiran couldn’t send back. The decisions he made, Lin Yiran couldn’t change. He was a man who never went back on his word, and Lin Yiran was accustomed to listening to him.

Qiu Xing assumed their relationship included this aspect. Compared to the companionship Lin Yiran had initially spoken of, he seemed to define their relationship more simply.

*

Mao Jun returned from his blind date looking quite animated.

Seeing him like this, Qiu Xing asked, “Successful?”

“Not sure yet. After dinner, we watched a movie together, and I sent her home,” Mao Jun said happily.

“Then why not stay for dinner before coming back?” Qiu Xing asked, wearing work clothes and helping to change tires.

“I was afraid I’d annoy her.” Mao Jun rubbed the back of his head, smiling somewhat hesitantly. “I think at first she looked down on my low education, my lack of culture. I thought I shouldn’t be too enthusiastic—what if she doesn’t like me and finds me annoying?”

Qiu Xing asked, “What’s her education level?”

Mao Jun said, “Junior college.”

While working, Qiu Xing casually asked, “And yours?”

Mao Jun: “I didn’t finish high school, dropped out in my second year. I wanted to join the army but couldn’t, so I ended up learning auto repair.”

Qiu Xing comforted him: “She must have already known this before meeting you. If she were willing to meet, she wouldn’t mind. Don’t overthink it.”

Mao Jun chuckled, then asked, “Little Qiu, what’s your education level?”

“Me?” Qiu Xing rolled the dismounted tire to the side and went to get tools. “High school too.”

“Ah, we’re both low-education folks, not well-regarded in society,” Mao Jun sighed. “If I had another chance, I’d study hard and go to college.”

Mao Jun was very cheerful but not particularly clever. Having stayed with Qiu Xing for a long time, he automatically considered Qiu Xing to be like himself, forgetting about Qiu Xing’s family background.

“If we had studied harder back then, we wouldn’t be doing such dirty work now, looking like ghosts covered in grime,” Mao Jun stood beside him and specifically asked Qiu Xing, “Don’t you agree, Little Qiu?”

Qiu Xing grabbed some glue and a wrench, then picked up a huge basin from the side and placed it next to the tire.

There was no particular expression on Qiu Xing’s face as he played along, saying simply, “That’s right.”