Chapter 2: Evening Breeze

That afternoon, I returned and, for no reason I could name, felt the half-painful, half-joyful sensation of life holding me tightly in its embrace.

—Jian Zhen, Splitting Silk in April

October brought slightly cooler weather, the finest time of year in Dancheng. Each morning, the air smelled fresh with moisture, and the sky overhead was a brilliant blue.

On the Monday after the National Day holiday, Su Nan went to Lin Han’s office to meet the three newly admitted graduate students.

There were two women and one man. Of the two new junior schoolmates, one was tall and the other short. Both wore glasses and seemed quiet and reserved, precisely the sort Lin Han favored. The male student was extremely tall. When he stood to pour water for everyone, Su Nan estimated that he had to be at least 185 centimeters.

After chatting for a while, they settled on a time for everyone in their academic group to have dinner together. Lin Han saw the three new students out, then kept Su Nan behind and asked whether she had any ideas for her thesis topic. In Dancheng University’s journalism department, academic master’s students had to submit their thesis proposals in their second year alongside the professional master’s students.

Su Nan honestly admitted that she did not have any ideas yet.

“There’s no hurry. Go back and give it some thought. You can also talk to Professor Chen. He knows the history of communication studies well.”

Su Nan murmured her assent and said, “All right.”

“Professor Chen praised you to me. He said you’re diligent and dependable.”

Su Nan froze.

Lin Han stood and went into her inner office to retrieve a form. “The university is holding the Boshi Forum on Saturday. I’m one of the moderators, and we need two student volunteers. You should go. Come to the school administration office after class tomorrow afternoon for the planning meeting.”

The Boshi Forum was hosted annually by Dancheng University’s School of Journalism and lasted two days. The attendees were all renowned scholars in their respective fields from major universities.

Su Nan accepted the form, looked over the schedule, and nodded in agreement.

Her finances were not particularly good, so whenever the school had work that came with a small stipend, Lin Han would assign it to her. In this respect, the element of command inherent in a teacher-student relationship made Su Nan considerably more at ease.

At the planning meeting the next day, Su Nan once again saw the new junior schoolmate from the day before.

The meeting had not yet begun, and he was sprawled over the table with earphones in his ears.

She looked around. The only remaining empty seat was beside him, so she walked over and sat down.

He stirred and slowly turned his head. The moment he saw Su Nan, he hurriedly sat up, removed his earphones, and greeted her as Senior Sister Su Nan.

Su Nan thought for a moment before remembering that his name was Jiang Mingqian. It was not a particularly distinctive name and was difficult to remember after hearing it only once.

“Sister Han asked you to come?”

Jiang Mingqian nodded. “Sister Han said she still needed someone to do the grunt work. I’m the only man in our academic group, so naturally, I had to step up.”

Su Nan smiled. “Our group has always been overwhelmingly female.”

Jiang Mingqian smiled as well. “I couldn’t ask for anything better than serving my senior sisters.”

During the meeting, they assigned all the tasks one by one: preparing the X-banner stands, arranging the accommodation list, coordinating registration, and assembling the conference materials. Finally, each volunteer was assigned three professors.

After Lin Han finished assigning the visiting professors, she saw that five professors from their own university remained. With a broad stroke of her pen, she assigned them all to Su Nan.

“These five don’t need accommodation. You take care of them.”

Su Nan glanced at the list. Sure enough, Chen Zhiyu was among them.

On Thursday, Su Nan received an email from Chen Zhiyu announcing that their afternoon class was canceled. She quickly forwarded the news to the WeChat group.

On Friday evening, she began contacting the professors assigned to her and collecting in advance the PowerPoint presentations they would need for the conference the following day.

When she reached Chen Zhiyu’s name, she hesitated before sending him a WeChat message.

She deliberated over every word.

Once she sent it and read it again, she saw that she had included far too many phrases like “forgive the presumption” and “sorry to disturb you.” Now it seemed excessively formal.

After a short wait, Chen Zhiyu replied with two words:

Didn’t make one.

Clutching her phone, Su Nan had no idea what to do. Just as she was about to ask Lin Han how to handle it, another message arrived from Chen Zhiyu:

Is your university hospital reliable?

She hurriedly replied:

It would be better to go to the nearby Dancheng People’s Hospital.

A moment later, something occurred to her.

Professor Chen, are you ill?

A long time passed without a response. She hesitated but did not dare ask any further questions.

Even after collecting the other professors’ presentations, she remained restless.

Only then did Su Nan realize that Chen Zhiyu might also have canceled Thursday’s class because he was ill. Whatever it was must have been serious for things to reach this point. She did not know what kind of illness he had. It was not her place to interfere, but perhaps she ought to tell Lin Han. Then again, Lin Han might already know.

She decided to wait until ten. If Chen Zhiyu had still not contacted her by then, she would mention it to Lin Han.

She was copying the PowerPoint files when her phone vibrated.

She instinctively snatched it up and saw a message from Chen Zhiyu:

Bring your laptop. Come to the infusion room in the emergency department at People’s Hospital.

She did not ask why. She replied with a quick “All right,” hurriedly changed her clothes, put her laptop in her backpack, and left.

It was only a ten-minute walk from the university to People’s Hospital.

The infusion room was overflowing with people. Su Nan stood at the entrance and searched on tiptoe for a while before spotting Chen Zhiyu in a row of seats by the window.

She hurried over. “Professor Chen.”

Chen Zhiyu slowly raised his eyes. “Mm.”

Su Nan had been his teaching assistant for more than a month. Every time she saw him in class, he wore a shirt and trousers, sometimes with rimless glasses. This was the first time she had seen him dressed as he was today, in a gray cotton T-shirt.

He sat casually, but his long legs made the already narrow aisle seem especially cramped.

“Sit down. I’ll dictate.”

Su Nan was somewhat confused, but she sat beside him and opened her laptop.

With one hand resting on his knee and his back slightly hunched, Chen Zhiyu spoke in a somewhat hoarse voice. “The presentation has three sections...”

Only then did she understand what Chen Zhiyu wanted. She hurriedly opened PowerPoint.

Chen Zhiyu glanced at her screen. “Write it down first. You can make the slides afterward.”

“Oh.” She opened a Word document instead.

Chen Zhiyu’s thoughts were clearly organized, and he finished dictating before long. Then he leaned back slightly and closed his eyes.

Su Nan silently turned her head to look at him.

He did not look well and seemed somewhat haggard. His skin was pale, making the dark circles beneath his eyes even more conspicuous.

Su Nan did not leave immediately. She remained beside him, working on the presentation while unconsciously keeping an eye on the medication in his IV bottle.

Chen Zhiyu occasionally opened his eyes and glanced at her. He said nothing before closing them again.

Half an hour later, Su Nan finished the presentation. She turned toward Chen Zhiyu, uncertain whether he had fallen asleep, and softly called, “Professor Chen.”

Chen Zhiyu slowly opened his eyes.

“I’ve finished... Please check it.”

“It’s fine as it is.”

She hesitated before closing her laptop. “Are you feeling any better?”

Still noncommittal, Chen Zhiyu gave an “Mm” and closed his eyes again.

She could neither leave nor find a reason to stay. In the end, she could only sit there awkwardly with the laptop in her arms.

A moment later, she suddenly came to her senses and looked up at the IV bottle. It was nearly empty. She hurriedly rose, waited until the medication was almost gone, and pressed the call button for a nurse.

The nurse hung up another, smaller bottle and drew a line across the form with her pen. “This is the last one.”

Su Nan estimated the flow rate and judged that it would take about fifteen minutes to finish, so she sat down again.

She opened her laptop, checked the PowerPoint presentation she had just made, and then opened another document.

“Are you starting your thesis?” Chen Zhiyu suddenly asked.

She jolted in surprise. “Yes... My thesis proposal is due in November.”

“What are you planning to study?”

“I haven’t decided yet.”

“Is there nothing you want to investigate?”

She pressed her lips together.

She was rather contradictory. She could not bear to hear other people criticize her, yet she had also given up on herself enough to think that it was only natural for them to do so.

Chen Zhiyu glanced at her. “Last time, I said you had no reverence for scholarship. That wasn’t true.”

Her eyes remained lowered, her unfocused gaze resting on the back of her hand.

“You have a good attitude toward your work. It may simply be that you genuinely aren’t particularly suited to academia.”

“Not everyone who graduates each year is suited to academia either,” she muttered before she could stop herself.

There was a hint of defiance in her words.

Chen Zhiyu paused in surprise. He looked at her and smiled, but said nothing more.

A short while later, the IV bottle was empty. A nurse came over and removed the needle from Chen Zhiyu’s hand.

Su Nan returned the laptop to her backpack and left the hospital with him. Chen Zhiyu lived in an apartment in the university’s faculty residential area, so they were heading in the same direction.

At eight or nine in the evening, the street was at its liveliest.

Warm yellow streetlights shone through curling smoke. The air was filled with the aroma of food: scallions, tofu, chilies drenched in oil... Pedestrians came and went, and an elderly couple holding a dog’s leash passed them by.

A corner of the night sky showed through the lush leaves, illuminated by the lights below.

After they entered the university, the phone in Su Nan’s pocket began to vibrate. She took it out and glanced at the screen, then looked up at Chen Zhiyu.

“Professor Chen...”

Chen Zhiyu stopped. His voice was calm. “Go on back. Thank you for today.”

“It was nothing. It’s what I should have done...”

When she saw Chen Zhiyu set off toward the faculty apartments, she hurriedly answered the call.

Chen Zhiyu had walked only a few steps when he stopped and looked back.

Su Nan stood beside the road with her head lowered.

The backpack behind her seemed to weigh her down, bending her slender frame slightly. The streetlight stretched her narrow shadow far across the ground.