"Excuse me," Qiu Yun heard her own voice, hollow and trembling. "My friend—" She struggled to control her tone. "Which department is he in?"
"He should be in the Hematology Department in the inpatient building," the first nurse replied.
Before the words had fully landed, Qiu Yun turned and bolted outside.
She had forgotten to ask which building or floor the Hematology Department was on. This newly built hospital was massive. Dizzy and disoriented, she spun around the enormous plaza before finally spotting the words "Inpatient Building" on the structure opposite her. She rushed toward it, frantically scanning the directory: Hematology Department—Fourth Floor.
The fourth floor. The fourth floor. She waited anxiously in the elevator as it stopped at every level, feeling that the number "four" was particularly unlucky.
The elevator doors slid open. she took a step out, but then she hesitated, shrinking back in a daze.
Perhaps she had run too fast; her head was swimming.
The doors to the wards were all open. The hallways were lined with extra beds. People holding IV bags and others in white coats hurried back and forth, but no one noticed that one more person, Qiu Yun, had arrived.
Which room was Liang He in?
Was she ready to see him?
She swallowed hard, suppressing her emotions as she walked to the nurse's station. The young nurses inside were busy, and no one paid her any mind. She opened her mouth, trying several times before finally finding the resolve to ask in a weak, trembling voice, "Excuse me—is there a patient here named Liang He?"
Her voice was too low; no one heard her.
"Excuse me—" she spoke again, raising her volume, which only made the tremor in her voice more obvious. "Is there a patient here named Liang He?"
A young nurse looked up from a medical chart. "Who?"
"Liang He. 'Liang' as in Liangshan, 'He' as in seedlings."
The nurse looked down at the chart. "No one by that name. Are you sure he’s here?"
Qiu Yun froze. Her drifting heart finally grew wings and prepared for a steady landing. That first nurse must have been mistaken. Liang He was so healthy; he had stayed in such good shape even thirty years later. How could he be sick?
But her heart only dropped halfway before it was yanked back up again.
"Wait—" The nurse suddenly flipped back several pages. "There is a person by that name. But... he’s already been discharged."
"...Discharged?"
"Yes. He voluntarily withdrew from treatment."
***
Lin Shaohua went out in the afternoon, leaving Qiu Yun home alone.
Summer had arrived. People had changed into summer clothes, and the streets were never lacking in young women dressed in cool, light outfits. But no one came to talk to her wearing those simple, conservative, solid-colored clothes anymore; no one took her to the river to swim to escape the heat.
Qiu Yun’s phone was slick with sweat from her grip. Finally, she tapped on the avatar for "Dao and Wood" in her WeChat contacts.
A draft had been sitting in the chat box for a long time:
*Hello, Teacher Liang. I am Sima Qiuyun.*
This draft had been there for months. She had forgotten exactly when she typed it—perhaps when her hair hadn't yet grown back, or perhaps just after she was discharged. In any case, it had been a long time. But that simple line of text had stubbornly remained in the drafts, neither deleted nor sent, read over and over in Qiu Yun’s heart until today—when she pressed "Send."
She waited in trepidation; every second felt like an eternity.
Five minutes later, a reply came.
"Hello, Qiu Yun! I am very happy to receive your message. I saw the news of your awakening and am truly delighted for you. How have you been lately? How is your health?"
The message popped up suddenly. Before Qiu Yun could finish reading the words, tears dripped onto the phone screen.
It was good. He was still there.
He was still talking to her.
She read it again and again, over and over. Qiu Yun had imagined her first conversation with Liang He after her return many times, but she never expected it to be like this. She sniffled and continued editing her text through blurred vision. She couldn't call him "Liang He" directly; she could only respectfully address him as "Teacher Liang."
"Thank you, Teacher Liang. I am recovering very well now and have been discharged."
Thirty seconds later:
"That is good. A narrow escape from death brings good fortune. After all, you are still so young."
*Yes, I am still so young, but you have grown old.*
Qiu Yun wiped her tears and typed: "And you, Teacher Liang? How are you? How is your health lately?"
"I am very well. Thank you for your concern."
Qiu Yun was momentarily stunned.
Quickly, she continued typing: "I heard that while I was asleep, you came to visit me often. I am better now and would like to come and see you."
A minute later:
"There is no need. Ultimately, I bear some responsibility for what happened to you, so it was only right that I visit. Knowing you have awakened has settled a weight on my mind. I am truly happy for you. You should focus on recuperating right now; there is no rush for anything else."
A polite, courteous rejection, tinged with a certain distance.
Qiu Yun wept, her heart breaking as she edited a message: "Where do you live? I can go out on my own now. I can come to see you."
A long time passed with no reply.
Qiu Yun edited another one, asking almost bluntly: "Would it be convenient to tell me your address? Is it in the university faculty housing?"
No reply.
It was like a stone sinking into the ocean.
Qiu Yun picked up her phone dozens of times, but there was no response.
She opened the WeChat of her university class monitor, Liu Shan.
Liu Shan was surprised to receive a message from Qiu Yun. After some pleasantries, Liu Shan mentioned that she had returned to the university for a combined Master’s and PhD program and planned to stay on as faculty. Qiu Yun asked about the school and, in passing, asked about Liang He.
"Teacher Liang? He seems to be ill. I haven't seen him at the school for a long time," Liu Shan said.
"Has the class organized a visit to see him?"
***
After dinner, Lin Shaohua noticed something unusual about Qiu Yun. She had been clutching her phone tensely all evening.
"What's wrong?" He walked over and affectionately took her hand. On her ring finger was the ring he had just placed there that morning. "You've been a bit listless all day. Did I startle you this morning?"
"No," Qiu Yun said, a muscle in her right cheek twitching as she forced a smile. "I'm just a little tired today."
"Then get some rest early," Lin Shaohua said. "Do you need me to charge your phone for you?"
"No," Qiu Yun instinctively gripped the phone tighter. "I'll do it myself."
"...Alright."
A WeChat message came in.
Liu Shan: "We've been. He lives right in the university faculty housing."
"Shaohua," Qiu Yun looked up. "I want to go to the university tomorrow."
"The university? The Academy of Fine Arts?"
"Mhm."
"But I have to go on a business trip tomorrow." Lin Shaohua frowned.
"I can go by myself. Our class monitor, Liu Shan, is doing her graduate studies there now. She's waiting for me at the school," Qiu Yun added. "I can manage on my own now."
Lin Shaohua paused for three seconds before nodding. "Alright then. I'll call a car for you tomorrow."
***
Liu Shan had been the monitor of Qiu Yun’s university class. She lived in the dorm room next to hers, and while they weren't intimate confidants, they were on good terms. After Qiu Yun fell into a coma, Liu Shan had organized classmates to visit her. She met Sima Qiuyun at the school gate. As soon as Qiu Yun stepped out of the car, Liu Shan gave her a big hug. Afterward, she looked Qiu Yun up and down, and once she confirmed it was really her, Liu Shan sighed happily. "This is wonderful. Qiu Yun, it’s so good to see you like this."
She gave her another hug.
Qiu Yun was caught off guard by the embrace.
But as she was being hugged so tightly, she suddenly thought of Wang Chen.
Liu Shan took Qiu Yun’s hand and led her into the campus. Thirty years had passed, and the architecture of A University had undergone earth-shattering changes. Where there used to be two rows of single-story houses with pitched roofs, there were now four-story teaching buildings. What used to be a ping-pong area was now a small park with rockeries. The winding dirt paths had been replaced by lush, meticulously maintained artificial lawns. Only the West Classroom building to the front left, with its red walls and dark tiles, and the towering cedar trees before it stubbornly retained their original style, looking exactly as they had thirty years ago.
"Qiu Yun? Qiu Yun?" Liu Shan stopped. "What are you thinking about?"
"Ah? Oh, nothing." They had already reached the Oil Painting Department building. Qiu Yun asked, "How is it, being back at school? Are you busy?"
"It’s alright," Liu Shan said. "After working for two years, I felt I was better suited for academia, so I came back. But I’ve been neglecting my studies lately. Next week is the 80th anniversary of the Academy of Fine Arts, so I’ve been helping the department organize materials."
"Oh, right. September is the anniversary month." Qiu Yun followed her upstairs. "Shouldn't these things be left to the undergraduate kids?"
"They’re busy enough. I have three sophomores under me, mainly responsible for organizing the archives."
As she spoke, Liu Shan opened the door to her temporary office. The scent of old books wafted out. Stacks of books were piled all over the floor of the archive room; those on the left were tied up, while those on the right were scattered, evidently not yet sorted.
"It’s the weekend, so there aren't many people in the office. Otherwise, I could take you to see some of the teachers." Liu Shan pushed open a window.
"The weekend is fine. I don't like crowds much these days," Qiu Yun said. "Speaking of teachers, I mentioned Liang He on WeChat... Teacher Liang..."
"Yes," Liu Shan said, her face clouding with regret. "I heard it’s leukemia. When we first heard, none of us could believe it. Teacher Liang always looked so healthy; how could he suddenly get leukemia? Shortly after I heard, I asked in the group chat who was free and organized a group to visit him."
"How is he?"
"His spirits are quite good. Since he was at home and not in the hospital, he didn't really look like a patient, other than being a bit thinner. But I have to admit, the illness has taken its toll. He’s clearly aged a lot."
"How did he get leukemia? Why isn't he in the hospital? Where does he live?"
Qiu Yun asked three questions in a row. Liu Shan laughed. "Which one should I answer first? He lives in the faculty housing, Building 3, Room 302. But as for the other two questions, I really can't say. Environmental pollution is so bad these days; maybe some trigger just made him sick. As for why he isn't in the hospital, I don't know. When I said I wanted to visit with our classmates, he just sent me that address."
Qiu Yun lowered her eyes, remaining silent.
"Teacher Liang is also quite pitiful. His wife passed away from cancer just the year before last, and now he’s sick himself. And they had no children. When we went, we only saw him home alone..." Liu Shan sighed, then turned. "Let's not talk about that. Let me get you a glass of water first."
Just as Liu Shan set the water down, several tall boys, all around 1.8 meters, burst noisily into the room. The leader shouted as he entered, "Sister Liu, we finished early today! We're here to help you pack things up."
Before Liu Shan could speak, Qiu Yun stood up abruptly. "Liu Shan, if you have work to do, I’ll take my leave."
"They're just here to help me tidy up. It's fine, let's have lunch together," Liu Shan urged.
"No, it's okay," Qiu Yun gave her a reassuring smile. "You get to work. We'll catch up next time."
***
The faculty housing area of A University was quite large, containing fifteen buildings. Buildings 1 through 5 were red-brick walk-ups built in the mid-nineties, early welfare housing. Buildings 6 through 15 were eighteen-story elevator buildings constructed around 2005 as subsidized housing. Liang He’s residence was in Building 3, evidently part of the early welfare housing. The area was lush with vegetation and very quiet. Qiu Yun followed the main road to the very end. The red-brick building before her, which carried a sense of history, was Building 3.
She looked up and wiped the sweat from her brow. The midsummer sun peeked over the roof of the building, making her feel slightly faint.
Room 302.
A plain door, shielding Liang He’s world thirty years later.
Qiu Yun took a deep breath and rang the doorbell.
*Ding-dong— Ding-dong—*
No answer.
*Ding-dong— Ding-dong—*
Still no answer.
Was no one there? Qiu Yun knocked tentatively and called out, "Is anyone there? Is Teacher Liang inside?"
There seemed to be no one.
Qiu Yun went back downstairs to check. Building 3, Room 302. There was no mistake.
Was Liang He not inside? Then where was he?
Qiu Yun stood in silence for a moment, then took out her phone to type a WeChat message: *Hello, Teacher Liang! I am Sima Qiuyun. I am at your door in the faculty housing...* Halfway through, her patience ran out. Her fingers were not yet as nimble as they had been before the accident, and the more she hurried, the more typos she made. She gave up on typing and placed a voice call instead.
*Beep— Beep— Beep—*
No answer.
Qiu Yun began to panic.
Forgetting her manners, she began to pound on the door, shouting loudly, "Liang He! Liang He! Are you in there?"
Footsteps sounded from downstairs. An old professor was returning from grocery shopping. Qiu Yun thought he looked familiar, perhaps a retired teacher. Seeing Qiu Yun, he asked, "Student, are you looking for Teacher Liang He?"
"Yes, yes, Teacher." Qiu Yun felt as if she had found a lifeline. She asked hurriedly, "I heard he was sick and came to see him today. But he’s not home? He’s not answering his phone either. Do you..."
"He doesn't live here anymore," the old professor said.
"He doesn't live here?" Qiu Yun froze. "But my classmate said they came here to see him."
"He lived here before, but he moved out two months ago. Too many people were coming to see him, which wasn't good for his recovery. He wanted some peace and quiet, so he moved."
"Moved? Then do you know where he moved to?"
"That, I don't know. I haven't heard of him having another residence. He doesn't seem to have many relatives in A City."
The old professor walked away.
Qiu Yun, who had just been like a "Steel Barbie" capable of pounding on the door with great force, suddenly became like a refugee who hadn't eaten in three months, completely drained of strength. She leaned against the wall and slowly slid down to the floor.
He didn't live here anymore?
Then where had he gone?
She sat paralyzed on the ground, a massive sense of desolation and despair clouding her heart.
Her bag was open, revealing the corner of an old magazine—one that Qiu Yun had secretly slipped into her bag when Liu Shan turned to pour the water. She didn't know why she had done it. The moment she saw the cover, a sensation like an electric shock had surged through her body. Her actions had preceded her thoughts; she had taken it without telling Liu Shan.
Now, that magazine sat in her bag with a folded corner, as if it were smirking at her.
She pulled it out with trembling hands. The magazine had yellowed; from the layout style to the paper quality, it was clearly a product that did not belong to this era. Indeed, it was the inaugural issue of *Wild Wind*, published by the Academy of Fine Arts in 1987.
A magazine from over thirty years ago.
The breeze in the stairwell flipped the brittle pages. As if by design, it stopped on a particular page. On this page were three paintings—watercolor sketches of the Guiyun Zen Temple in the eastern suburbs, which had long since been demolished. The brushwork was somewhat naive, not showing any extraordinary level of skill. Each painting was signed: Wang Chen, Qiu Xiaoyun, Gao Zhifei.
One of them was titled *World-Vision*, the work of the student named "Qiu Xiaoyun." Beneath it was a short critique: "Vision, World. What you see may not be the truth. Illusion and reality may only depend on your own choice."
Reviewer: Liang He.
***
