The Scorching Sun - 34

 Liu Qiaohong's bicycle was getting old. Years of sun and rain, combined with less-than-ideal maintenance, had left rust scattered across the frame.

Fang Zhuo couldn't bear to ride it and hastened its demise, so she simply walked beside him, pushing it slowly down the road.

The countryside wind rose and fell without warning. It swept in from the distant horizon carrying the scent of ripened vegetation at the end of autumn, mixed with the bleak chill of the coming winter.

Looking at Liu Qiaohong's back, Fang Zhuo reached out and brushed at the mud on his jacket.

The stain refused to come off.

Liu Qiaohong tugged at it himself and said, "It's fine. Consider it a battle scar. I'll wash it when I get home."

Battle scar was certainly one way to describe it. It was fairly obvious he'd been pinned to the ground and rolled around.

"Uncle Liu," Fang Zhuo called.

"Mm?" he answered.

Like Ye Yuncheng, his outward appearance was scholarly and slight. Yet there was something strangely dependable about him.

Fang Zhuo wondered if this was simply the glow of a civil servant.

"Back when you first started working," she asked, "how did you deal with things like this?"

When something could only be endured, what other solution was there?

Liu Qiaohong answered, half in jest and half in earnest, "Recite the Party Constitution a few more times."

Fang Zhuo stared at him in surprise. "You can actually recite them?"

"If I couldn't recite them, how do you think I've kept at it all these years?" Liu Qiaohong straightened his back proudly. "I keep them under my pillow. Every morning and every night, I take them out and read a little. That's how I begin my glorious red life."

He said it with such conviction that Fang Zhuo almost believed him.

Skeptical, she asked, "Then what's the first line?"

Without missing a beat, Liu Qiaohong declared, "The Communist Party of China is the vanguard of the Chinese working class!"

Fang Zhuo immediately followed up. "Then what's the third line?"

Liu Qiaohong fell silent. A moment later, he heard laughter behind him.

"Alright, that's enough." Liu Qiaohong laughed too. "I didn't ask you what the third word in your CET-4 vocabulary list is."

"I'm still a high school student," Fang Zhuo reminded him.

Working at the grassroots level had left Liu Qiaohong incapable of staying quiet for long. Halfway down the road, he began rambling to Fang Zhuo, telling her about the things he had seen and the results he had achieved over these years of poverty alleviation work.

For example, he mentioned a girl from a neighboring village who had recently been accepted into college. Though it was only a vocational college, for her, it was still a life-changing event. Because before she got in, her mother had arranged a match for her and wanted her to move to the city with the man to work as a migrant laborer.

"What work?" Liu Qiaohong scoffed. "A girl who doesn't continue her education is going to have a hard future. And the more society develops, the more people will look down on her. If you can hold on, don't give up that opportunity."

As he spoke, he glanced back at Fang Zhuo. His smiling eyes were gentle and bright, the warmth in them was different from his usual expression.

For the first time, Fang Zhuo truly believed he had devoted himself wholeheartedly to rural poverty alleviation. He had wagered his youth and his dreams into a tide of history that offered no retreat, gambling on a chance at a fresh start for more people at the bottom.

"You're very capable," he said. "Have you considered applying to A University? The atmosphere there is pretty good."

Fang Zhuo thought it sounded pretty good too, a school that could produce someone like Liu Qiaohong must be wonderful in every way.

...Except for the terrifying admission score requirements.

Looking at Liu Qiaohong's slightly overgrown hair, she was moved to speak despite herself. "Uncle Liu, you've got a few white hairs in the back."

Liu Qiaohong stiffened slightly. Then he said loudly, "I'm getting older. How could I not have white hair? When you reach my age, you'll have some too!"

In reality, he was only in his thirties. It was just that in recent years, poverty alleviation had become a national priority. The poverty relief post could be said to be the most grueling position in local government. The work had drained far too much of his energy.

Liu Qiaohong lived in the nearby town. It was livelier there and had a small market.

Passing by a barbershop whose interior still bore the décor of the 2000s, Fang Zhuo remembered her errand. She stopped walking and said, "Oh, right, Uncle Liu. I bought you a bottle of shampoo."

Liu Qiaohong accepted it in confusion. The moment he saw the familiar Bawang logo, he laughed and gave her a light push. "What exactly are you trying to say?"

Then he added, "Don't waste money on random things! Where did you even get the money for this?"

"It's just a bottle of shampoo. What, do I have to rob someone to afford it?" Fang Zhuo said. "When I make money in the future, I'll buy you a brand-new bike."

 

Patting the bicycle seat, Liu Qiaohong said sternly, "You're not allowed to insult it. This is my old partner."

After some thought, he accepted the gift and placed it in the small basket at the front of the bike. As he did, he casually ran a hand through his hair to confirm it was still thick.

Thankfully, genetics had spared him the danger of a bald spot.

Liu Qiaohong let out a breath of relief. Remembering how he'd been mocked by netizens during a previous event he'd organized, he asked vaguely, "Do you think I should dye my hair? Or maybe get a perm? Make myself look younger?"

Fang Zhuo said, "Sure. Let the young girls see how handsome you are."

"What's handsome about me?" Liu Qiaohong muttered. Out of the corner of his eye, he glanced toward the reflection in a nearby window and secretly inspected his own face.

Then he noticed Fang Zhuo was also studying him. His face flushed slightly, and he blustered, "What? I'm looking at the TV inside!"

Suppressing a laugh, Fang Zhuo averted her gaze. "I know. So am I."

No one was really paying attention to the TV program inside the barbershop. It was showing the news.

The news was currently discussing the goal announced at the national conference earlier that year: completing the building of a moderately prosperous society and achieving the first centenary goal by 2020.

The two of them watched quietly. For a moment, neither spoke.

Behind them was a clamorous world. Before them was a cramped little barbershop.

Crowds flowed endlessly past, nothing more than passing shadows unrelated to their lives.

The calls of street vendors filled the air, creating the illusion that life was nothing more than daily routines, meals, and ordinary days repeating themselves.

But they knew that beyond this, further out, was a thriving, rising, rejuvenating great nation. The pride embedded deep within its bones was straightening at last, surging forward atop the sweat and sacrifices of countless generations before it.

"Things are changing so fast," Liu Qiaohong said with feeling. "Sometimes I'm afraid I won't be able to keep up."

Fang Zhuo said, "We're all building the same dream. What's there to fear about falling behind?"

Liu Qiaohong laughed. Turning around, he rested a hand lightly against the back of her head. "Good kid."

Liu Qiaohong had written dates on every egg so they'd know how long each had been stored.

Fang Zhuo only took six eggs and put them in her bag, claiming the apartment in A City didn't have a fridge yet and that he should keep the rest to eat. She also thanked him for helping look after her feathered mascot.

Liu Qiaohong agreed and saw her off with a smile.

By the time she returned to A City, Yan Lie was back as well.

He hadn't just arranged for a mattress to be delivered. He'd also brought clean bedding, pillows, and some spare tables and chairs.

For the first time, the apartment looked somewhat livable.

After having dinner with them, Ye Yuncheng packed two rice balls as late-night snacks and urged them to return to school early.

Every holiday during senior year was precious. They should seize the time to rest well. Or at least, lay in bed and maybe study for a while.

Fang Zhuo truly did feel tired. She nearly fell asleep on the bus ride back to school. In her drowsy confusion, she almost leaned onto Yan Lie, but thankfully the broadcast saved her by announced that the next stop was A High School.

Even after getting off the bus, the drowsiness lingered. She still felt groggy.

January daylight disappeared quickly. Though it was only a little after seven, darkness had already settled over the sky.

Fang Zhuo yawned and walked along the main road lit by the amber glow of the streetlamps.

She wanted to return to her dormitory as soon as possible, but Yan Lie was walking unusually slowly. Every few moments she had to stop and wait for him. After repeating this several times, she eventually slowed down as well.

Together, they strolled leisurely through alternating patches of light and shadow. The cool evening breeze and the calmness settling over her mind gradually woke her up.

Yan Lie was right behind her. His shadow stretched long, trailing at her feet. Without turning around, Fang Zhuo could tell what he was doing just by glancing sideways.

Like the dedicated member of the Head-Down Phone Users Association that he was, Yan Lie was playing with his phone again.

Then the flash suddenly burst through the darkness. For an instant, it illuminated the world within Fang Zhuo's field of vision.

She instinctively turned around. Just as she faced him directly, the camera flashed again.

Squinting, she immediately concluded the photo had to be unflattering.

Maybe she looked exhausted.

Maybe she looked fierce.

Maybe her mouth was hanging open.

Maybe the flash had turned her eyes into something strange and ghostly.

Yet after looking at the photo and then back at her face, Yan Lie simply smiled.

It was a pure smile, one Fang Zhuo couldn't quite understand.

He quickly hid his phone behind his back and hopped backward twice, offering her an ingratiating grin. Clearly, he didn't want her to delete his photo.

Fang Zhuo didn't really mind, actually. She didn't think Yan Lie would deliberately keep an ugly photo just to mock her.

She only asked, "What are you taking pictures of?"

"Today's the first day of the new year," Yan Lie replied. "I'm taking a photo as a momento."

Fang Zhuo paused.

Their holiday had passed very plainly. They'd simply eaten a meal together. Nothing particularly special had happened.

The festive celebration, the significance of commemoration, all seemed very distant from them.

She carefully reviewed the entire day in her head. No matter how hard she searched, she couldn't find anything that seemed exciting enough to make Yan Lie this happy.

"Isn't it boring, hanging out with me all day?" she asked.

"Hm...?" Yan Lie counted on his fingers. "Today, one quarter of the time was resting. One quarter was studying. One quarter was doing random odds and ends. And the last quarter was spent with Comrade Fang Zhuo."

Then he concluded with a smile, "That's a good day. I was very happy today. Far happier than I was last year."

Sometimes Fang Zhuo thought he was an extraordinarily strange person. He possessed a kind of optimism and imagination she simply couldn't understand.

"You have a home in A City. Why do you board at school?" Fang Zhuo asked, puzzled. "You didn't used to board, right?"

Yan Lie wasn't sure how to answer. His vocabulary felt inadequate to accurately describe his thoughts.

He thought that if his life were a coordinate plane, then every place where Fang Zhuo existed would belong to the positive side of the axis.

Every place without Fang Zhuo would belong to the negative side.

On the surface, there wasn't much difference. But while moving forward, one direction carried him farther and farther away from zero. The other brought him closer and closer to it.

For every value where x was less than zero, the answer was unhappiness.

So he wanted to keep extending in Fang Zhuo's direction, becoming a single straight line, without end.

Since no answer came, Fang Zhuo turned her head and realized she had already reached her dormitory building.

Her lips moved slightly and she could only bid him farewell. "I'll head back then... Happy New Year."

Yan Lie nodded.

Carrying her backpack, she passed through the shadows of the trees and disappeared down the path.

Yan Lie stared at the streetlamp that had seen her off for a long time. The world seemed to grow quieter after she left.

Swinging his steps, he sat down on a bench not far away and took out his phone to look through his photo album.

His fingers moved back and forth across the screen several times.

After transferring the picture into a special album and giving it a name, he stared at the faint glow of the display and gradually lost himself in thought.

Not long afterward, footsteps emerged once again from the silent shadows. The sound was identical to the one he'd heard before she left. They stopped directly in front of him, less than a foot away.

Everything felt so perfect, as if time had flowed backward.

Yan Lie looked up.

The girl standing there seemed unreal in the dim light.

Fang Zhuo set down her backpack and sat beside him. She said seriously, "I thought about it and realized my study time today didn't actually reach one quarter of the day. I wouldn't mind completing that goal with you first."

Yan Lie blinked.

"Starting the first day of the year with studying can never be a bad thing." Fang Zhuo pulled out an English practice paper and flipped to the middle. "Are you free?"

Yan Lie was just about to agree when Fang Zhuo added, "Let me see those photos from earlier."

Yan Lie immediately said, "You can't delete them."

"I won't," Fang Zhuo replied. "Besides, aren't those my photos anyway?"

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