“Wang Luxi, are you awake?”
A voice message.
Unlike Yuan Bei, Wang Luxi didn’t have the habit of putting her phone on silent when sleeping, and she kept it right next to her pillow. Let alone WeChat messages, she was such a deep sleeper that she usually had to set three or more alarms in the morning, each five minutes apart, just to drag herself out of bed. Especially after walking a lot during the day when she was tired, she’d sleep even more soundly.
But somehow, it felt as if someone was tugging at her ear.
Nine in the morning.
Wang Luxi drowsily reached for her phone and saw it was from Yuan Bei. He had only sent one message with no follow-up.
That’s not how you wake someone up.
She wanted to reply to Yuan Bei, “I’m awake, I’m awake,” but when she held down the voice message button, she just couldn’t get those four words to sound right.
Her just-woken-up voice sounded terrible, a bit lazy and hoarse. Wang Luxi tried several times, adjusting her tone and pitch, trying to create a languid, leisurely, natural effect, but ultimately failed and had to send a text message instead. Then she buried her face in her pillow and thrashed her legs around, punishing herself mentally for being so affected and pretentious.
Yuan Bei sent over a link.
“Universal Studios tickets are hard to get. Fill in your ID information, and I’ll have a friend at a travel agency help out,” he said.
Wang Luxi got out of bed.
When she pulled back the bed curtain, she discovered everyone had gotten up early today. The young woman in the bed across from her was visiting friends in Beijing and seemed to be leaving today. Seeing Wang Luxi wake up, she moved her suitcase aside and made casual conversation: “How much longer are you staying here?”
“I’m here for school. I’ll register in a while and then I can move into the dorms!” Wang Luxi replied. She mentally calculated the days. There were still half a month until classes started. At this moment, she suddenly had a profound understanding of time’s passage. It was going so fast; she’d already been out having fun for so many days.
Beijing’s summer was truly coming to an end.
While brushing her teeth, she messaged Yuan Bei back: [You got up so early today? How many hours did you sleep? Aren’t you tired?]
Yuan Bei: [Not bad.]
Wang Luxi yawned with a mouth full of toothpaste foam: [But I don’t think I slept enough.]
Yuan Bei: [Sleep a bit more.]
Yuan Bei: [I’ll call you when I get downstairs.]
–
Today’s itinerary was the 798 Art District.
This area used to be an industrial project built with Soviet aid, where many factories clustered together. But due to changing times, they gradually faded from the historical stage. Later, because the rent was relatively cheap, it attracted many artists who set up roots here, opening galleries and studios…
The former factory district became an art district, and with the addition of shops and media companies, it upgraded into a cultural creative industry park. In previous years when the term “wenqing” (artsy youth) was still popular, there was a saying: all literary and artistic young people are destined to linger in 798, writing their own footnotes, with very few exceptions.
No matter when you come here, you can always see various art exhibitions. Different themes, different fields, unbridled imagination; you don’t need to be particularly knowledgeable or professional, just appreciate them. This kind of unexpected surprise is available to everyone.
Wang Luxi was one of those unknowledgeable people. She didn’t think she had much artistic sensibility, but that didn’t stop her from browsing around here.
There was an internet-famous wall in the park that attracted many people to take photos every summer because of its dense clusters of ivy that grew with overwhelming momentum, nearly covering the entire wall surface, not even sparing the glass windows.
Wang Luxi held up her Polaroid camera, catching sight of Yuan Bei stopping at an exhibition entrance in her peripheral vision.
It was a solo exhibition by a young calligrapher, or rather, using the title “artist” would be more appropriate. Unlike traditional calligraphy and painting that uses brush, ink, paper, and inkstone, this artist’s creative tools came from nature.
For example, he would write characters on stones, using ink made from the juice of fresh spring grass crushed beside the stone. Or he would use drones to photograph summer beaches, then let his imagination run wild, treating the mottled footprints left by tourists as brush strokes, randomly connecting them into a few characters.
Wang Luxi really couldn’t understand it.
But she thought this artist had quite an imagination.
Seeing Yuan Bei studying the brochure intently, she thought he was interested, but Yuan Bei said: “This is one of my grandfather’s students.”
Wang Luxi was slightly surprised.
She hadn’t expected Yuan Bei’s grandfather to be a master in the calligraphy and painting field. Then she had another thought: so Yuan Bei could be considered as coming from a prestigious lineage?
“I’m my grandfather’s worst student,” Yuan Bei said.
“Why? Because you don’t have that kind of imagination?”
…Does practicing calligraphy require imagination?
“No, because I had a bad personality as a child and couldn’t sit still,” Yuan Bei smiled. “I was careless when practicing writing. The old man said I lacked reverence and told me to stop fooling around, I’d never amount to anything.”
This was the second time Wang Luxi heard Yuan Bei use the phrase “bad personality.” She became increasingly curious. How bad was “bad”? The childhood Yuan Bei she imagined was nothing more than sullen, not liking to talk, perhaps a bit withdrawn, but Yuan Bei said that wasn’t right.
“I was sneaky and mischievous as a child.”
“?”
…
According to Yuan Bei, he had grown up looking delicate and weak, like a little girl, always getting sick, and he started school early, only beginning to grow taller much later. When teachers saw he was reluctant to speak, they even suspected he was autistic or had some psychological problem, asking his parents to take him to the hospital for a check-up.
“Actually, I did it on purpose. The more teachers called on me to stand up and answer questions, the tighter I’d clam up. Watching the teachers get anxious but unable to do anything about me, I thought it was quite fun,” Yuan Bei said.
…What a little troublemaker.
Wang Luxi punched Yuan Bei’s shoulder on behalf of his teachers.
“…Later in middle school and high school, I wasn’t very obedient either.”
Everyone’s adolescence was more or less the same, all having had their stubborn rebellious phases, wanting to act like adults, not knowing that in the eyes of real adults, they were clumsy and laughable. Yuan Bei was no exception.
He used to like Shawn Yue, Edison Chen, Stephen Chow, and had even used the silhouette of the Monkey King as his QQ avatar, pretending to be artistic, dreaming of riding a motorcycle solo around northern Xinjiang after graduating high school. Unfortunately, his grand ambitions went unfulfilled. He borrowed a motorcycle to practice and on the first day crashed and split his chin, nearly disfiguring himself.
Appearing well-behaved on the surface but quietly causing trouble underneath, with weak points and numerous flaws. He was reliable sometimes, but when his “whatever” attitude emerged, it could drive people to death.
Just an ordinary Beijing kid who stumbled his way to adulthood.
And then became an ordinary adult.
…Wang Luxi found it quite entertaining to listen to.
She felt that listening to Yuan Bei talk about his childhood was very vivid, especially with the person standing right in front of her now. This contrast was extremely interesting.
Turning a corner, they came to an area of industrial ruins.
As a former factory district, most corners of 798 preserved the original industrial equipment to create an artistic atmosphere. Industrial-style old windows, abandoned old boilers, and towering smokestacks.
There happened to be a free exhibition nearby with many visitors. The theme was [Old·Beijing]. From the introduction, it was clear that they had collected some “tears of the era”—photos of Xinjiekou, old Xiushui, Changchun Street from years ago, Xidan Mingzhu Mall, many shops that had long since disappeared, and old brands that were changing or attempting to change. You could count how many times the white bear on the Arctic Ocean soda logo had changed its appearance…
Wang Luxi looked at the exhibition while talking to Yuan Bei.
Actually, not just her, some things were so distant that even Yuan Bei didn’t quite understand them or couldn’t remember them. He saw Wang Luxi stop and stare blankly at an old photograph, pointing at it and asking him: “Yuan Bei, how many airports does Beijing actually have?”
The photo showed Beijing Nanyuan Airport.
That was China’s first airport, full of historical traces, but later, with the completion of Daxing Airport, Nanyuan Airport closed in 2019 and now exists only in memory.
Wang Luxi had never seen it, so naturally she didn’t know.
She also saw some dolls displayed in the exhibition case.
They were Fuwa, the mascots of the 2008 Beijing Olympics.
Wang Luxi smiled: “I know these! I was too young during the Olympics, but I watched recordings of the opening ceremony.”
Yuan Bei pulled the corner of his mouth: “Are you doing this on purpose?”
Deliberately reminding him that there was a bit of a generation gap between them.
“Of course not! I’m being serious!” Wang Luxi continued forward. “I didn’t experience your childhood, but you didn’t experience mine either. Even if you’re a few years older than me and have seen more things, everyone’s life is different. Stop acting like an old-timer, Yuan Bei.”
She tilted her head and grinned at Yuan Bei: “You told me about yours, so I’ll tell you about my childhood too, okay?”
Yuan Bei glanced at her and quickened his pace: “I don’t want to hear it.”
“Just listen for a bit! Please listen! I’m begging you!”
“…”
–
In the evening, they went to Beixinqiao to eat luzhu.
The cold dishes looked fresh, just made. Wang Luxi also ordered mustard cabbage stumps and ginger-flavored preserved eggs.
The beverage cooler had ice-cold glass bottles of Arctic Ocean soda. The most common flavors on the market were orange and tangerine, which tasted similar to Fanta but with more carbonation. If Wang Luxi had to describe it, it was a bit “spicy,” and if you paired it with a bite of mustard cabbage, it would clear your sinuses completely.
She saw there were also canned versions in the ice cooler, sour plum flavor, which she’d never tried. She took a can, tasted a small sip, and couldn’t help but furrow her brow.
“Doesn’t taste good?”
Wang Luxi pursed her lips: “…The flavor is a bit strange. I still prefer the orange one.”
“Go get another one.”
The luzhu restaurant had very old-fashioned decor with wooden tables and chairs, and quite a few customers. Wang Luxi went to the ice cooler to get a new can and turned back to see Yuan Bei sitting among the crowded tables and chairs, so conspicuous.
His back was straight, shoulders level. Actually, he wasn’t at all the devil-may-care or unruly person he claimed to be. At least during the days she’d known him, the Yuan Bei in her eyes had always been very proper.
Handsome, clean, and proper.
Except for occasionally being lazy.
When she looked up, Wang Luxi’s gaze unconsciously swept across his neck and bobbing Adam’s apple. It took her a moment to realize that Yuan Bei had finished the can of sour plum Arctic Ocean that she’d taken one sip from, and he hadn’t used a straw.
This made her feel uncomfortable, as if thorns were pricking her back. This kind of most casual intimacy often touched people’s hearts, as if without knowing it, they had already become so intimate.
…Had they?
Or was it just an illusion?
Yuan Bei didn’t notice Wang Luxi’s expression.
The luzhu required taking a ticket, and their number hadn’t been called yet. During their idle chat, he casually asked her: “What day does school start?”
“September 1st,” Wang Luxi said. “Do you want to come with me? When was the last time you went back to school? Orientation day should be lively. Want to go have a look? Senior?”
Yuan Bei chuckled: “Probably not possible.”
The electronic voice for calling numbers rang out at that moment.
He got up to collect their order.
Two identical portions of small intestine luzhu. When they were placed in front of her, Wang Luxi felt regretful: “I forgot to tell the chef not to add cilantro!”
“…”
Never mind, she’d make do.
There was chili oil on the table. She scooped two spoonfuls, then pulled out chopsticks and wiped them with a napkin.
“What did you just say? Why isn’t it possible? Do you have something that day?”
“Mm,” Yuan Bei’s voice was very calm, flat, “I need to go away for a while.”
“Where to?”
The restaurant was noisy. Yuan Bei didn’t look up: “Abroad. I’m leaving at the end of this month.”
Wang Luxi thought she had misheard, completely surprised: “Abroad? What for?”
“Study abroad.”
Another electronic calling sound.
Like a sudden rain falling on the bustling human world, extinguishing all the voices. The surroundings suddenly became very quiet.
Wang Luxi momentarily forgot her movements, holding her chopsticks with the tips trembling slightly.
“…Where are you going to study?”
“Sweden.”
“For how long?”
“Two years, more or less.”
Oh.
Oh, going to study.
A gap year from work, taking a break, returning to school; it seems to be a very popular trend nowadays.
It seemed so. She’d seen many bloggers on social media platforms with similar experiences.
That’s nice.
Sweden, Northern Europe, an introvert’s paradise. It sounded like a place Yuan Bei would choose, probably very suitable for him.
Really nice.
…Many things flashed quickly through Wang Luxi’s mind, but she couldn’t grasp any of them. Subconsciously, she felt she should be sad, because she had just arrived in Beijing, just met someone wonderful and worth being attracted to in her favorite city, and before she could savor the sweet and sour complexities, he was leaving.
It was like waiting for a train at the station, and while waiting, the station moved away.
She should be sad.
But she had no reason to be sad.
He was going to study abroad, to experience a new environment and fresh life. This was a good thing.
Wang Luxi felt a bit confused for a moment, her emotions delayed, leaving only bewilderment in the present.
“Oh… so when you said you were busy with things the past few days, were you busy packing?”
She didn’t know why she suddenly asked such a question, something completely irrelevant.
“Right,” perhaps because of her reaction, Yuan Bei’s voice also became low and slow, “and some other things that need to be taken care of before leaving. The apartment, and the cats.”
Oh, right, he also had to arrange for his cats.
He was always so thoughtful, very meticulous.
Wang Luxi’s lips moved, her breath suspended in mid-air. After swaying for a long while, when she spoke again, her voice was a bit unsteady: “That’s really good, haha, you won’t need to adjust to the time difference. It’ll be just right when you get there.”
Dry laughter accompanied by such a cold joke made the atmosphere suddenly strange.
…In her field of vision, Yuan Bei didn’t laugh.
He just looked at her quietly like that, calmly meeting her eyes, saying nothing.
Both fell into silence simultaneously.
Wang Luxi very much wanted to continue chatting naturally and gracefully, for example, asking Yuan Bei about the details of studying abroad and his future life. As a friend, she should have such concern, but somehow she couldn’t ask.
She had the standing of a friend, but heaven knows, what she had always been thinking about and pondering in her heart had never matched with the word “friend.”
What she ultimately wanted to become to Yuan Bei, what kind of relationship she wanted to establish with Yuan Bei—only she knew.
Closing her eyes and covering her ears, yet thinking this and that, Wang Luxi realized she had already drifted too far on this path.
…
The chopsticks in her hand had just been placed on the table when Yuan Bei pulled out a new pair for her: “Let’s eat.”
A long stretch of silence was ended.
He was offering her a way out again.
Wang Luxi was slightly stunned, looking at the bowl of luzhu in front of her without cilantro. Yuan Bei had picked out all the cilantro and switched his bowl with hers.
The table next to them seated two elderly men who were also waiting for their number to be called. They had Beijing accents much heavier than Yuan Bei’s. One man clicked open a large folding fan, fanned himself a couple of times, and talked about the recent weather: “Ah, it’s too hot these days.”
The other man responded: “Soon, the Start of Autumn has already passed. It’ll be cool soon.”
Yes, Wang Luxi thought, the Start of Autumn had long since passed.
But she suddenly realized she wasn’t looking forward to Beijing’s autumn anymore.
Yuan Bei sat across from her, silently eating. Because of the two spoonfuls of chili oil she had added, fine beads of sweat appeared on his forehead, tiny dots, and his face was also somewhat flushed.
He really couldn’t handle spicy food.
But he chose to endure it.
They were both enduring, at this moment, right now, each with their own difficulties lying across their hearts, and neither could help the other.
Wang Luxi remained in a daze, pushing the soda toward Yuan Bei.
The iced Coke from that day, today’s Arctic Ocean soda.
They were just briefly intersecting.
She understood the logic, but Wang Luxi couldn’t express her regret and sadness at this moment. She finally realized that she was indeed sad, and in this noisy space, everything was expanding.
Beijing’s summer was truly wonderful.
Wang Luxi sniffled.
How she wished this summer would never end.