Phoenix Street was an east-west thoroughfare in the heart of City A. In 2018, as the core of the old city, its low-rise houses had long since been razed to the ground, replaced by a forest of skyscrapers and a kaleidoscope of commercial streets. During the planning phase, the design firm—seeking to establish a connection with the area’s cultural and geographical context—had constructed a faux-antique pedestrian street over the site of the demolished courtyards, calling it a gesture of respect toward history. The pedestrian street was filled with small commodities from Yiwu, and the air along the way was perpetually thick with the smoke of barbecue and skewers. Despite the haze, business was never bad. When she was young, Sima Feng would bring Chen Liping and Qiu Yun here on weekends to go shopping, buying new clothes and trousers for the mother and daughter. Qiu Yun remembered it clearly: the tallest building was Sogo Department Store, where everything was most expensive, but the ice cream by the first-floor entrance was delicious; the shorter one was Century Plaza, which was more mainstream and affordable, a place their family frequented; later, Millennium Gate was built to the north, catering to the "light luxury" market with items that were beautiful but impractical.
These details were etched vividly into Qiu Yun’s mind. Yet, when she hopped off the bus and stood beneath the Phoenix Street sign, the memories in her head and the scene before her eyes refused to overlap.
In the eighties, this was still an area of dilapidated, low-rise residential houses with sloped roofs, only one or two stories high. The sidewalks were crumbling, and a clear stream cut through the city nearby. The trees lining the road were tall and straight, their bare branches stretching toward the sky. Elderly men, unafraid of the cold, sat on wooden benches by the roadside smoking hand-rolled tobacco. With a sharp *ding-ling*, a young man on a bicycle brushed past her.
Walking forward twenty meters, she saw the sign for "Lin Xiang Sundries." Qiu Yun had put on a hat before leaving and walked with her head down, feeling like a thief. Passing house number 88, she came upon a courtyard with a wooden gate. The vermilion paint on the gate had faded; it had been sprayed with other colors and then scraped off. There was no lock on the door.
Qiu Yun figured this must be No. 89 Phoenix Street. Seeing no one around, she took a deep breath, ducked her head, and pushed the door open.
***
The moment Liang He entered the office, Lin Zhongren said to him, "One of your students was just here to use the phone."
"Who?" Liang He asked.
"What was her name... Yun?" Lin Zhongren thought for a moment. "The one who lay in the hospital for three days without any family showing up."
Liang He looked up. "Qiu Xiaoyun?"
"Yes, that’s the one."
"She came looking for me?"
"No, she just came to make a call to see if anyone was home. Said she forgot the number, so I told her to look for it on your desk."
"Nothing else?"
"Nothing. She left right after the call." Seeing Liang He dazed, Lin Zhongren asked, "Do you happen to be looking for her?"
"Oh, no," Liang He said, walking to his desk.
The desk was clean, the glass top reflecting the light; there was no sign that anyone had been there.
"Did the call go through?" Liang He asked again.
"It did," Lin Zhongren said, packing his documents into his bag, preparing to leave. "But it was the number for a sundries shop, so of course it went through. Whether anyone is actually home, I don't know."
"Alright. Thank you."
"This Qiu Xiaoyun’s family..." Lin Zhongren started to say something, but fearing he would sound gossipy or ridiculous, he changed his mind. "Well, I’m off. Happy New Year!"
"Happy New Year!" Liang He smiled at him. "An early New Year's greeting to you!"
Lin Zhongren left, but his cheerful "Happy New Year" continued to echo in the room. Liang He pushed aside the books on one side. Beneath the glass plate, the three people in the photograph wore harmonious, blissful smiles. After staring for a while, Liang He’s gaze slowly drifted out the window. The usually bustling playground was empty. The New Year was fast approaching. Liang He thought of Qiu Xiaoyun as he had seen her during the class meeting. What had she and Wang Chen been whispering about? Were they discussing their plans for the holiday? In that phone call just now, did her grandfather say he was coming back? If not, how would she spend the New Year this year?
This sudden surge of concern caught Liang He by surprise. He wondered what was wrong with him—why was he acting like a nagging mother-in-law? He’d only been a counselor for one semester; was he already showing symptoms of a menopausal auntie? Yet he couldn't help but think: Qiu Xiaoyun was a student in his year. It was only natural to worry if something was wrong at her home; anyone would do the same. He stood up and stretched, trying to shake these circling thoughts from his mind, but his eyes involuntarily fell back on the contact list on his desk. No longer hesitating, he walked straight to the telephone and dialed the number.
"—Yes, you’re looking for Qiu Zhenghong too? What a coincidence, someone else was just asking. He’s not here. Haven't seen him in many days."
"—Then I wouldn't know. Look, brother, the shop is busy with the New Year coming up. If you're in a hurry, come see for yourself, alright? I'm busy right now, hanging up!"
***
Qiu Yun emerged from the courtyard looking disheveled.
She had expected that upon pushing the door open, she would find a scene of several families living together—just like in the TV dramas, where a courtyard was a chaotic tenement housing multiple families and generations, where illegal additions and renovations were common, and domestic squabbles played out daily. But when she pushed open the gate to this courtyard, she found it completely empty. Not only were there no people, but the entire structure was very tidy. Aside from a small kitchen built in the southwest corner, the rest of the original layout had been preserved to the greatest extent possible. However, this tidiness only served to highlight the desolation. No, it wasn't just desolation; there wasn't a single breath of life. The courtyard was overgrown with weeds, and the stone benches were thick with dust. There were no signs of neighbors living in the east or west wings either.
A massive question mark rose in Qiu Yun’s mind.
As she stood there puzzled, a head suddenly poked through the main gate. "Eh? Old Man Qiu... is that Xiaoyun back?"
Startled, Qiu Yun turned to see a middle-aged woman holding a basket of vegetables, standing on the stone steps.
"Uh... yes..." Qiu Yun didn't know who she was, so she could only offer a silly smile.
"I saw the door was ajar on my way home, so I came in to check," the woman said, appearing very familiar with the Qiu household. "Is your grandfather back?"
Qiu Yun pursed her lips, making a helpless expression.
"So you're on break? Your grandfather really is something... I heard you were in the hospital for three days and they couldn't even find him. Why don't you come to Auntie Zhang's house for the New Year? Cheng Peng is coming back tomorrow too. It'll be livelier for the holiday."
So this was Auntie Zhang. Qiu Yun figured she must be a neighbor; from her tone, she seemed to know about Qiu Yun being kicked in the head at school. But who was Cheng Peng?
Qiu Yun didn't dare ask too many questions, only smiling as she said, "Thank you, Auntie Zhang. My grandfather should be coming back. I'll come to your house to give you New Year's greetings then."
"Alright then," Auntie Zhang said, scanning the courtyard. "Look at this place, tsk tsk. It'll take quite some effort to clean it up properly. If you need anything, just call me. I'll make Cheng Peng provide some free labor for you."
Qiu Yun thanked her with a smile. Auntie Zhang left with her vegetable basket.
Qiu Yun’s back was drenched in sweat.
How did they write it in novels? Setting aside the soul-transmigration itself, shouldn't some of the original body's memories remain? Why was it that when she took over, the original owner of this body hadn't left her a single shred of memory?
Fearing someone else might come by to ask questions, Qiu Yun hurried to close the main gate. But once it was shut, it felt as though she had been cut off from the outside world. The silence in the courtyard made her feel a bit panicked. After all, this wasn't her real home; she felt the guilt of a thief. The rooms in the courtyard were all locked, and since Qiu Yun didn't have a key, she could only peer through the windows. She tentatively identified the main room as the grandfather's, the side room as the one Qiu Xiaoyun used to live in, and another empty room that looked like a guest room which hadn't been used in a long time. Without a key, this was as far as her deductions could go.
The question mark in her mind grew larger: What kind of background did Qiu Xiaoyun’s family have to occupy an entire courtyard alone? Could a fortune-teller really be this powerful? If this were 2018, this would be worth hundreds of millions—total financial freedom.
The sky was gradually darkening, and she didn't dare stay any longer. She hadn't noticed while leaning against the windowsills, but her bangs and clothes were covered in dust. She brushed herself off and walked out of the courtyard gate.
***
Liang He knew Phoenix Street.
It was an old street in City A; he had come here to do sketches when he was in university. Whenever he passed through Phoenix Street in the past, he had noticed one courtyard gate that looked different from the others. He hadn't thought deeply about how it was different; after all, he was just passing by. Now he knew, because he saw Qiu Xiaoyun coming out of it. The gate she closed was darker and older in color than those of the neighbors.
He walked up to her. "Qiu Xiaoyun."
Qiu Yun was utterly shocked. She hadn't expected to run into Liang He here. Her eyes widened. "Teacher Liang, what are you doing here?"
Indeed, what was he doing here? Liang He hadn't expected to encounter her so quickly and was momentarily stunned by her question. But he couldn't exactly tell the truth—that he had come here specifically for her. He asked back nonchalantly, "You live here?"
"Ah... yes."
"I came here to take care of some business and happened to be passing by."
"Oh..."
"Is your grandfather back?"
"...Not yet."
Liang He glanced at the gate. Qiu Yun had closed it tight when she came out, so nothing could be seen inside.
"Do you know how to contact him?"
"I don't."
Seeing her honest yet helpless expression, Liang He asked again, "What do you plan to do?"
"We'll see," Qiu Yun answered briskly, as if she were used to this and wasn't particularly anxious.
"Is your family always like this? Does your grandfather have places he frequents?"
"..." How could Qiu Yun possibly know? However, looking at the layout of the courtyard, she also felt that the Qiu household was indeed strange. But she thought this might not be a bad thing; his absence saved her a lot of trouble. She didn't want to live under the same roof as a strange old man during the New Year, even if he was this body's biological grandfather. Thus, she said dismissively, "There are still a few days until the New Year. I'll figure it out then."
Liang He had wanted to ask more, but compared to Qiu Yun’s calm expression, his long trip from the school made him feel like he was worrying more than the party concerned. He didn't know how to continue the conversation, and a strange sense of stifled frustration rose in his chest. A breeze blew past, and a solitary leaf spiraled down from above his head.
After a two-second silence, he fell back on a timeless conversational filler: "Have you eaten?"
"Oh, not yet."
"Let's go," Liang He said, almost subconsciously. "There's a noodle shop nearby. I'll treat you to a bowl of noodles."
"Teacher Liang," Qiu Yun said, now somewhat confused, "aren't you here on business?"
"...Let's eat first."
