(Continued from Part 1)
The bus stop. The bus wasn't there yet. He crouched under the sign, pulled out the crumpled ad paper, unfolded it. A phone number, too blurred to read. He folded it into a paper airplane. Threw it. It flew two meters, nosedived into the ground. The wind blew. The plane flipped over, its wing bent.
The bus came. He got on, swiped his card. The card reader beeped. The bus was crowded, no seats. He stood by the back door, holding the rail. There was a piece of dried gum on the rail, hard. His fingers rested next to it, not touching. His other hand was in his pocket, feeling the coin. The edge he'd been scratching all night was now rough.
---
Back at school, the cafeteria was almost empty. Only a few leftovers at the window. The greens had gone yellow. The rice had formed a skin. He got rice and stir-fried greens, sat in a corner, and ate. The greens were too salty, the rice too hard. Chewing made his jaw ache.
Someone sat down across from him. Zhao Lei. Holding a bowl of noodles, already clumped together.
"I thought you were out," Zhao Lei said, not looking at him.
"I came back."
"Yeah."
Zhao Lei took a bite of the noodles, chewed twice, couldn't swallow, spat it out. "It's gross. Not good." He put his chopsticks down on the bowl.
"There was a lecture this afternoon. I went. It was boring. Something about AI. Didn't understand." He paused. "My mom wants me to go on a blind date over winter break. I'm only a sophomore. Blind date?"
Lin Yuan didn't respond. Zhao Lei didn't wait for him to.
"What's wrong with your hand?" Zhao Lei stared at him.
Lin Yuan looked down. The lines on his hand were hidden by his sleeve. He tugged his sleeve down. "Nothing."
"You always say nothing." Zhao Lei looked at him. "Your hand is shaking."
Lin Yuan put his hand under the table. Didn't speak.
"Forget it." Zhao Lei stood up, picked up his noodle bowl, and walked away. Didn't look back. At the return station, he put the bowl down. It spun once on the counter before stopping.
Lin Yuan sat there, pulled his hand out from under the table. It was shaking. He made a fist, dug his nails into his palm.
The cafeteria lady came over, dragging a mop. She mopped the floor beside him. Mop water splashed onto his shoe. She didn't notice. Kept mopping. He looked down at the water stain on his shoe. Rubbed it with his other shoe. Didn't come off.
---
No classes in the afternoon. Lin Yuan lay on his bed. Zhao Lei wasn't there. Old Zhao wasn't there. The other roommate's bed was empty. The dorm was empty. He stared at the ceiling. The water stain was still there. He reached out his finger and traced the shape in the air. When he finished, his hand fell to his side.
His phone buzzed. A message from Su Wanqing: "Training room. Seven." He replied: "Okay."
He turned over. The lines on his hand glowed once. He covered them with his hand. Then got up, put on his shoes, and left.
---
The training room was empty. Su Wanqing wasn't there. The punching bag hung still. The mats were rolled up against the wall. He stood for a moment, then started warming up on his own. Stretched his legs, stretched his arms, then put on his gloves and started hitting the bag.
Punch. Punch. Punch. The bag swung, the chains creaked. After a dozen punches, he stopped to catch his breath. The lines on his hand burned inside the glove. He took off the glove and looked. The lines weren't glowing, but he could see them. Dried blood was still in his fingernail grooves.
The door opened.
Su Wanqing walked in. Her hair was wet, hanging over her shoulders. She wore a black long-sleeved shirt and sweatpants. No makeup. Dark circles under her eyes. She glanced at Lin Yuan, didn't speak, walked to the windowsill, and sat down. She pulled a hair tie from her pocket and tied her hair up. The hair tie was dark red.
"You're late," Lin Yuan said.
"Yeah." She finished tying her hair, leaned against the wall, and looked at him. "Keep going."
He put his glove back on, turned to the bag, and punched. One punch. Another. The bag swung back, he caught it with his shoulder, punched again. No sound from behind. Su Wanqing didn't speak. No "too soft," no "harder." Just the creak of the bag and his own breathing.
After more than twenty punches, he stopped and looked back. Su Wanqing sat on the windowsill, one leg bent, the other hanging down, swinging slightly. She wasn't looking at him. She was looking out the window. The sky was almost dark. The streetlights weren't on yet.
"Su Wanqing," he called.
"Yeah." She didn't turn her head.
"What's wrong with you today?"
Silence. She swung her hanging leg. "Nothing."
"Your hair is still wet."
"Yeah."
He took off his gloves, walked to the wall, picked up a bottle of water, unscrewed the cap, and took a sip. Then stood there, also looking out the window. The two stood side by side, a meter apart.
"The day my brother died," Su Wanqing said, "was my birthday."
Lin Yuan's hand stopped. The water bottle was in his hand. He didn't put it down.
"I never told him." Her voice was flat, like she was talking about someone else. "He never knew."
A long silence. The streetlights came on outside, orange light spilling on the ground.
"Your brother's case," Lin Yuan said. "Did you find out?"
"I found out." She said. "But it's not time yet."
"When?"
"When I'm ready." She jumped down from the windowsill, brushed off her pants. "Are you done?"
"Yeah."
"Let's go." She left first. Her footsteps faded down the hallway.
Lin Yuan stood there, looking at the door. It hadn't closed all the way. A sliver of light from the hallway came through the gap. He stood for a while, then picked up the water bottle, screwed the cap back on, and put it back by the wall. Then took off his gloves and hung them on the bag stand. Walked out. Closed the door.
---
Night. Lin Yuan lay on his bed. Zhao Lei was already asleep, facing the wall, blanket pulled to his neck. On the desk, the grad school entrance exam book was open to a new page. He had done two questions, drawn two circles in pencil. The circles were heavy, almost tearing the paper. The pencil had rolled to the floor. Its tip was broken, the break slanted.
He held out his hand. The lines on his hand weren't glowing, but he could feel them. Hot.
He turned over. His hand touched something under the pillow. He pulled it out. A hair tie. Dark red. The one Su Wanqing had used today. When had she put it there? He didn't know. He held it in his hand. The hair tie smelled faintly of shampoo.
"Lin Yuan." Zhao Lei's voice came from the top bunk.
"Yeah."
"You're still awake?"
"Almost."
Silence. Zhao Lei turned over, the bed frame creaked. "Is your hand still shaking?"
Lin Yuan paused. "No."
"When you lie, your right eye doesn't twitch." Zhao Lei's voice was muffled, coming from under the blanket. "But your hand shakes."
Lin Yuan didn't speak. The lines on his hand glowed once. He shoved his hand under his pillow. Under the pillow was the coin, and the hair tie. The coin was cold. The hair tie was warm, like it still had someone's body heat.
He closed his eyes. The man in the dream came again. Standing before the crack, his coat snapping in the wind. Said "Return."
He woke. Wind outside. The curtain puffed up, then deflated. Moonlight slipped through the gap, a small white patch on the floor. He pulled his hand out from under the pillow. The lines on his hand had faded. Faded like an old scar.
(End of Chapter 13)