In the early morning of August 8, 2009, Ouyang Guang was awakened by the vibration of his cell phone.

He was rubbing his eyes and sitting up when a text message from Kim Min-ji popped up on the screen - "Don't come to the practice room today, I'll celebrate your birthday." followed by a cake emoji. The boy was stunned for three seconds before he realized that yesterday afternoon, when Min-ji handed him a watch, she casually asked that girl "Is your birthday coming soon?"

His birthday is always celebrated according to the lunar calendar, and his parents have already celebrated his birthday specially at home.

At this moment, I stared at the three words "Birthday" in the text message, and suddenly I felt a burning and numb sensation on the back of my neck.

While washing up, the blond boy looked at the date in the mirror again and again.

August 8, this auspicious number representing "fa fa fa" in Country Z, has now become the first birthday goodwill he received in South Korea.

He recalled how Minji helped him organize Korean language teaching materials when he was just in the club, and how she would secretly give energy bars to the trainees when they practiced until late at night - it turned out that those unintentional moments were all quietly remembered in people's hearts.

Toothpaste foam accumulated at the corners of his mouth, but he couldn't help smiling at the mirror, and even the movement of brushing his teeth had a jumping rhythm.

When I went out, I changed into new clothes and put on a black baseball cap, pulling the cap down to cover my eye-catching hair color.

The midday sun was as thick as melted butter. Ouyang Guang squinted his eyes and stood at the intersection at the entrance of Hongdae. The hustle and bustle was dazzling.

He looked at his watch - it was twelve forty-three. It seemed a little late to eat soup and rice at this time. The fatigue from training until the early morning last night was still lingering in his bones.

Ouyang Guang stood at the door of the legendary century-old soup restaurant recommended by Jin Shengxian. The queue of people had turned to the entrance of the alley. The August sun made the back of his neck hot, and sweat slid down his spine, soaking the back of his T-shirt.

"Are you alone?" the proprietress asked, wiping her hands with her apron.

Ouyang Guang nodded and replied in not very fluent Korean: "One signature soup rice, thank you."

The rich aroma of beef bones wafts through the 100-year-old soup restaurant in Hongdae.

While waiting for the food to be served, he began to carefully carry out the task assigned by Che Zhenyu - observing the people around him. The couple at the next table were arguing, and the boy's eyes were red but he was not crying; in the corner, an office worker was drinking soju alone with a numb expression; in the farthest place, an old lady was wiping tears, and it seemed that she was just crying because the soup was too spicy.

He saw a girl at the next table wiping tears in front of her phone screen. Her shoulders shrugged slightly, her nose was red, and she didn't even notice her tears falling on the rice. This was the first person he had observed crying that day, and he silently noted her pursed lips and the way her fingers unconsciously pinched the napkin.

"Have some soup and rice." The waiter put down the steaming stone pot.

Ouyang Guang scooped a spoonful of soup, and the heat blurred his vision. He suddenly remembered that in the summer in Shenzhen, his mother would always make iced mung bean soup to cool down. The thought came suddenly - if one day he could no longer drink his mother's soup...

"Ahem..." He choked, the spicy taste rushed into his nose, and tears flowed uncontrollably. This was real crying, but it was a pity that no one would give him a high score for "crying due to the spicy food".

When he walked out of the restaurant, Ouyang's lips were still burning. He bought a bottle of ice water at a convenience store and put it on his face to cool down, then wandered aimlessly on the streets of Hongdae. The singing of street performers, the laughter of couples, and the shouting of vendors intertwined together, but made him feel strangely lonely.

"Observe the real crying person..." Ouyang Guang bit the mouth of the ice water bottle, his amber pupils sparkling in the sunlight.

He suddenly realized that he had never cried in public. His mother said that he never cried since he was a child, and even if he cried, it was just silent and silent.

The sunshine in Hongdae was warmer than usual, and it made people's bones tingle. Ouyang Yang stood in front of the glass window of the cake shop, his blond hair was tanned. He should have observed the expressions of passers-by as planned, but he stopped when he passed by this shop.

The strawberry cake in the glass case looked so fresh that it seemed to breathe. The cream was dotted with a few bright red strawberries and a mini birthday candle. The edge of the cake was decorated with a crooked "Happy Birthday" in the cream, which was obviously the work of a novice clerk.

"Would you like to buy one? Today's special." The shop assistant with a bun asked in Korean, her eyes curved into crescents.

Ouyang Guang unconsciously touched the jade Guanyin on his neck with his fingertips. He actually didn't like strawberries very much, he always felt that they were too sweet. At that moment, he heard himself answer in stiff Korean: "Okay, please give me one."

While the clerk was packing the items skillfully, Ouyang Guang saw her own reflection through the glass window—her blonde hair was sticking up in disarray under her black baseball cap, and her T-shirt was stained with dark stains from sweat.

"Do you want me to write my name?" the clerk asked as he handed over the receipt.

Ouyang Guang shook his head, but felt an inexplicable sense of loss the moment he took the cake box. The paper box was heavy and exuded a sweet and creamy aroma.

He walked aimlessly on the streets of Hongdae carrying the cake, and suddenly he didn't know why he bought it. When he passed by a coffee shop, the cool air from the air conditioner came out from the crack of the door, tempting his steps.