On the midsummer evening, the slow breeze brought no coolness. Each breath was a wave of heat.
Lin Ye, carrying the garbage bags, turned from the third floor to the second, out of Tang Feiwan’s sight. Only then did her furrowed brows relax slightly. But the confusion swirling in her mind wouldn’t dissipate. Why had she rented a place outside? Why specifically next door? Why, after assuming she’d built a family with someone else, hadn’t she kept her distance, but instead tried to get closer…
Thoughts churning, Lin Ye’s calm heart was thoroughly disturbed.
She could only keep telling herself: maybe the other woman had planned to rent after returning, since it was closer to the hospital and convenient for commuting. Maybe she happened to know Professor Zheng’s old house was for rent at a good price.
Coincidence. All coincidence.
No need to treat her differently. An ordinary colleague living next door was nothing special.
However, one wave hadn’t settled before another rose. Lin Ye returned from dumping the trash. At the corner between the second and third floors, she clearly heard Lin Wenhui chatting with Tang Feiwan.
“You young people should eat less takeout. If you don’t feel like cooking, you can always join us for a meal.”
“Thank you, Auntie.”
“We’re having taro stewed with chicken tonight…” She was interrupted by Lin Ye: “Aunt Hui.”
Lin Wenhui’s lips curved, the fine lines at her eyes deepening. “Xiao Ye, the new neighbor is your colleague. I was just inviting her to dinner.”
Lin Ye pressed her lips. Never one to disrespect Lin Wenhui, she surprisingly didn’t respond immediately. It was Tang Feiwan who, reading the room, gave them both an out: “Auntie, no need. I’ve already ordered takeout. Can’t let it go to waste.”
“Then next time, next time.” After years together, Lin Wenhui knew Lin Ye’s way of dealing with people. She immediately sensed something was off. After exchanging pleasantries, they each returned to their own rooms, and she voiced her confusion. “Aren’t you close with Doctor Tang?”
Lin Ye’s right hand, hanging at her side, clenched into a fist. Feigning ease, she moved to the kitchen to wash her hands, speaking in as normal a tone as possible. “Mm, Doctor Tang just started. We don’t interact much. Besides, I’m tired and worried I wouldn’t be a good host.”
Seeing her exhaustion, Lin Wenhui suspected nothing. She responded casually, then turned and called out, “Yangyang, time for dinner!”
“Okay! Auntie, I’ll get the bowls and chopsticks.” Lin Yangyang placed StellaLou on the sofa, then, remembering Lin Ye’s rule about washing hands before meals, returned to the bathroom to wash before heading to the kitchen for her own bowl and chopsticks.
When it was time to serve the rice, the girl gently pushed Lin Ye’s wrist. “Mommy, let Yangyang do it.”
Lin Ye handed her the rice paddle and watched her obedient expression. The wrinkles in her brow finally smoothed.
One meat dish, two vegetable dishes, and a soup. A rich dinner. But the person across the way had no such luxury. Her takeout was spicy mixed vegetables, marked “mild.” But the first bite nearly set her mouth on fire, and she quickly drank water to ease the burn. Still, she didn’t want to waste it, so she rinsed the vegetables in water. The rinsed food was bland and tasteless, good only for filling her stomach.
Tang Feiwan’s mood was already glum from Lin Ye’s coldness, and now her appetite was unsatisfied. To top it off, her own father’s mockery arrived.
Tang Anhua’s video call came through. “What’s for dinner tonight?”
“Spicy mixed vegetables.”
Jiang Junli asked, “Why are you rinsing them?”
“Too spicy.”
Tang Anhua flipped the camera to their dinner table, showing off. “Your favorite dishes. Stir-fried shrimp with asparagus lettuce, shredded pork with garlic sauce. Colorful, fragrant, and delicious.”
Tang Feiwan gritted her teeth. “Dad, you…”
“I told you not to move out, told you over and over, but you wouldn’t listen. Now you know regret, right?”
Jiang Junli, rarely on his side, disapproved of Tang Feiwan’s moving out. “She made an impulsive decision. Maybe she’ll be back next quarter.”
“Doctor Jiang, Teacher Tang, I signed a one-year contract. Breaking it means losing my deposit.” Tang Feiwan closed her lunchbox and retorted firmly, “I won’t regret it.”
After hanging up, Tang Feiwan went out to walk the dog, then returned home to tidy up, clean, and disinfect the furniture, and finally lay in bed at nearly 10 p.m. She closed her eyes, close to 40 hours without sleep, but still couldn’t find rest. Her mind was full of Lin Ye.
Their physical distance had shrunk from over 8,000 kilometers, requiring a plane and a train, to less than 10 meters. A knock on the door and they could see each other. Yet the emotional distance seemed to grow, so far that Tang Feiwan was losing confidence in getting closer.
She didn’t know how long had passed. Tossing onto her side, she instinctively opened the drawer by the bed and pulled out an iron box.
A tin box that had seen some years, its cover printed in German: “Ein kostbares Geschenk. (A precious gift)” This was a New Year’s gift from her advisor in January 2014. She’d emptied the two books and two pens from it and used it to hold letters.
Three years, four letters. Mailed from Shujiang City, sent by Lin Ye.
Yet it wasn’t until nine days after their breakup that she’d discovered them.
The letter paper was somewhat worn with age. Though kept carefully, she took them out from time to time, held them, and reminisced, half a day passing in a blink.
Summer 2010
Tangtang, as I write, you’ve been gone less than two months. I don’t know if you’ll receive this letter, or when, but at this moment, I just want to write down my longing for you.
Lin Ye had shared her bewilderment in starting at the Second Affiliated Hospital’s emergency department, her journey through self-doubt, persistence, and finally gaining recognition from her director and colleagues, the trust of patients.
The last six words of the two-page letter: “Looking forward to your reply.”
Winter 2011
Tangtang, this is my third letter. The first two have probably sunk like stones in the ocean.
Lin Ye had reminded her to take care of herself, not stay up late, and dress warmly when the weather changed. The last six words remained: “Looking forward to your reply.”
The next letter spanned two years. Winter 2012
I always hoped you’d receive one letter from me each season abroad. Spring, summer, autumn, winter, four a year. This should be the tenth letter, right?
In each letter, Lin Ye shared her work and her life. As always, the last six words: “Looking forward to your reply.”
Summer 2013. Lin Ye’s twelfth letter, and the last one she received. Those six words remained the same. But in the second-to-last line, Lin Ye asked her, “Do you know why a raven is like a writing desk?”
Tang Feiwan vaguely remembered. On August 26 of that year, Lin Ye’s 29th birthday, at 10:32 p.m. Beijing time, because of the time difference, it was six hours earlier in Heidelberg, 4:32 p.m. She slipped out of the lab, looked up at the endless blue sky, and made an international call. At the time, they could still talk for so long. The call lasted 1 hour and 27 minutes. She called Lin Ye’s name in different ways, and the other responded each time.
“Senior Sister.”
“Mm?”
“Doctor Lin.”
“Yes.”
“Lin Ye.”
“I’m here.”
After counting down three seconds in her heart, she told Lin Ye to open the window, then whispered, “Can you see it?”
“The moon is beautiful tonight.”
After saying it, she blushed and asked the person on the other end if she understood her feelings. The next second, Lin Ye’s tender voice flowed like water into her heart. “Do you know why a raven is like a writing desk?”
