Screensaver on an empty workstation

As Ah Yu tightened the camera lens cap, the soft clanging of metal echoed in the studio like pebbles thrown into a lake. He stared at the photo he had just imported onto the computer screen, his fingertip hovering over the delete key, but he hesitated to press it. In the photo, Zhong Hua was squatting by Qinghai Lake adjusting his tripod, the sunlight casting a long shadow that almost reached the tips of Ah Yu's shoes.

This was the second day after Zhong Hua left.

The studio's blinds swayed gently in the breeze, casting dappled sunlight that moved across the floor like lingering footsteps. Ah Yu spun around in her office chair, her gaze sweeping across the workstation opposite her—it was empty. Zhong Hua's black thermos still sat on the corner of the table, a layer of light brown tea stains clinging to the rim—his usual oolong tea. Usually at this time, Zhong Hua would be using this cup to make his third cup of coffee, a strong brew with a slightly burnt aroma. Ah Yu always found it too bitter, but would sneak a sip when he turned away.

With a "click," the camera strap slipped off onto the back of the chair. Ah Yu stood up, his shoes scraping against the carpet with a soft sound. He walked to Zhong Hua's workstation and found the computer screen still lit up. On the deep blue background, a photo of the three of them by Qinghai Lake was slowly scrolling. In the photo, Lin Wanqing stood in the middle, her left hand on Ah Yu's shoulder and her right arm linked with Zhong Hua's. The three of them were smiling so hard their eyes were almost closed, and the lake behind them was as blue as a melted gemstone.

"He changed the screensaver before he left," Lin Wanqing's voice came from behind, carrying the aroma of freshly brewed coffee, "saying that if you stare at the computer for too long, looking up and seeing this will help you relax."

Ah Yu took the coffee cup, his fingertips touching the warm rim. As he looked down, he suddenly realized his cup was resting in the indentation on the edge of the table—the spot where Zhong Hua always handed him candy. Whenever Ah Yu was working late on a project, Zhong Hua would take a piece of fruit candy from the snack cabinet, unwrap it, and place it in this spot; the rustling of the plastic wrapper became a secret code in the studio late at night.

"He even thought of this." Ah Yu moved her coffee cup to the side, but stopped when it touched the table. There were still some faint marks in the wood grain, left by Zhong Hua when he left a screwdriver here to help him fix his camera last time.

Lin Wanqing leaned against the door frame, watching Ah Yu stare blankly at the empty workstation, and suddenly laughed: "You two are really something, it's like a missing part when either of you is gone." She turned back to her easel, her brush swirling on the palette, creating a blue similar to Qinghai Lake.

Ah Yu didn't reply, but simply reached out and touched Zhong Hua's computer mouse. The screen instantly lit up, the screensaver disappeared, revealing folders on the desktop—"Ah Yu's Lens Parameters," "Alternative Public Welfare Project Plans," and "Three-Person Travel Plan." He opened the last folder, which contained a spreadsheet prepared by Zhong Hua, detailing the route for their field trip to Yunnan next month, even marking the sunrise time for each day.

On the calendar on the corner of the table, Zhong Hua circled a date in red pen, with the words "Ah Yu, lens replacement" written next to it. Ah Yu suddenly remembered that she had casually mentioned last week that the telephoto lens was a bit out of focus, but she didn't expect Zhong Hua to remember it.

The wind outside picked up, making the blinds rattle. Ah Yu walked to the window and saw that the sycamore trees below had sprouted new leaves, a tender green that looked exactly like the school uniform Zhong Hua wore in high school. Back then, they were in the same photography club, and Zhong Hua always wore that uniform, his pockets filled with film and Ah Yu's favorite fruit candies. Once, while trying to photograph lotus flowers in the morning mist, Ah Yu squatted by the pond and almost slipped in. It was Zhong Hua who pulled him back by the back of his uniform collar; a faint crease still remains on the shirt to this day.

With a "ding," her phone vibrated in her pocket. Ah Yu took it out and saw a photo sent by Zhong Hua: children from a primary school in a mountainous area were gathered around an old camera, their eyes shining like stars. Below the photo was a line of text: "They said they wanted to see photos of Qinghai Lake, so I saved all the ones you took to a USB drive."

Ah Yu's fingertips traced the screen as she suddenly remembered that yesterday, when Zhong Hua was packing his luggage, he had stuffed his thick photography album into his backpack. At the time, she had laughed at him, saying, "Why are you bringing this? It's so heavy." Zhong Hua had just pressed the album into the bag and said, "The kids might want to see it." Now that she thought about it, he was worried that he didn't have enough photos and wanted to bring Ah Yu's photos as well.

He opened the chat window, typed "Keep warm," then thought for a moment, deleted it, and changed it to "Take clear pictures of the children's smiling faces." The moment he pressed send, his eyes suddenly felt a little hot.

As Ah Yu turned around, she knocked over Zhong Hua's chair. The chair leg drew an arc on the floor and stopped next to his workstation, as if searching for its owner. When he bent down to pick up the chair, he noticed half a note sticking out from under the cushion. It was Zhong Hua's handwriting: "Ah Yu's camera battery is in the second drawer. Remember to bring the spare memory card."

This was Zhong Hua's habit. Every time he went on a long trip, he would write down what Ah Yu might have forgotten on a sticky note and hide it in a conspicuous place that wouldn't be easily noticed. Last time they went to Qinghai, Ah Yu only found a sticky note in the side pocket of her camera bag on the train, which read, "Motion sickness medicine is in your left pocket." At the time, she scolded him for being nosy, but secretly kept the medicine in her hand.

Ah Yu folded the sticky note into a small square and stuffed it into his pocket. He walked to the snack cabinet and opened the bottom drawer—there were fruit candies left by Zhong Hua there, the wrappers a faded orange, exactly the same as the ones from high school. He peeled one open and put it in his mouth; the sourness instantly spread, but he didn't squint like last time.

"Still eating this?" Lin Wanqing appeared behind you at some point, holding a paintbrush. "Zhong Hua said before he left that eating too much sour food is not good, and asked me to make sure you switch to milk candy."

Ah Yu, with a candy in her mouth, couldn't speak, but could only point to Zhong Hua's workstation. Lin Wanqing followed his gaze and suddenly sighed: "Before he left, he ground the coffee beans you usually drink and put them next to the coffee machine, saying that you couldn't get up in the morning to grind the beans."

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