Chapter 1: Vibration Within the Bubble

The sound of running water from the faucet filled the studio in the afternoon, carrying a slightly sticky warmth. Ah Yu squatted in front of the sink, her fingertips rubbing the patch on the elbow of her windbreaker—the beige stitching on the dark gray fabric was crooked and uneven; Zhong Hua had sewn it himself. Last time they went to Qinghai to film the salt lake, the wind whipped up some stones, tearing a gash in the fabric. Zhong Hua had only frowned at the time, saying, "I can mend it when I get home and still wear it."

"It looks like a spider web," Ah Yu muttered to the patch, a smirk playing on his lips. He poured laundry detergent onto the stain, and foam immediately welled up, sticking to his cuffs and chin like a cat that had just stolen a bite of cream. Sunlight streamed in through the blinds, casting dappled patterns of light on the foam, making his eyes feel warm.

The phone was placed on the shelf next to her, screen down. This was Ah Yu's habit; she was always afraid of splashing the lens or chemicals on it while working, but she couldn't help but glance at it in between washing things—as if a message would pop up any second later, most likely from Zhong Hua, asking if she wanted milk in her coffee, or if the afternoon light was good for still life photography.

The tremor came suddenly, a "buzz" echoing across the tiles, causing the photo developing bottle on the shelf to sway slightly. Ah Yu hurriedly turned off the tap, foam dripping from his fingertips into the sink. He shook his hand to reach for his phone, not noticing that the back of his hand brushed against the bottle opening, and a clump of foam splashed onto his skin with a cool, pleasant sensation.

The moment the screen lit up, those three words pierced my eyes like needles: "Fever."

The sender was Zhong Hua.

Ah Yu's fingers, still covered in foam, slid across the screen, leaving several white streaks. He stared at those three words for three seconds, his heart clenching as if gripped by something, then suddenly sinking. During the video call that morning, Zhong Hua had been laughing and saying the morning mist in the mountains was perfect for filming the terraced fields, with children's laughter echoing in the background. How come he hadn't noticed anything amiss with Zhong Hua?

"I'll go pick him up."

He practically shouted it out, startling even himself. He ripped off the apron around his neck, the straps knotted tightly behind his back. He yanked hard, the fabric digging painfully into his collarbone, but he felt no pain. Lin Wanqing's voice came from behind, tinged with a startled bewilderment: "Who? Who are you picking up?"

Ah Yu had already rushed to the door, frantically changing his shoes. His sneakers were tangled, so he simply kicked them off and ran barefoot towards the elevator. "Zhong Hua! He has a fever in the mountains!" His voice was weak, as if carried away by the wind.

When Lin Wanqing chased after her, she only caught a glimpse of Ah Yu's face, covered in foam, as the elevator doors closed. "Buy the earliest ticket! Check the time!" she shouted at the elevator, the echo muffled in the corridor. The elevator numbers dropped, and she sighed, turning back to her studio. She saw the foam still gently swaying in the sink, a corner of her windbreaker draped over the edge, dripping water, like a neglected little animal.

Ah Yu was the only one in the elevator. The mirror reflected his disheveled appearance: his hair was sticking up in the wind, there was still some white foam on his chin, he was barefoot, his trousers were rolled up to his knees, and there was a light brown scar on his exposed calf - it was when he fell into the pond and was scratched by a stone when he was taking pictures of lotus flowers in college, and Zhong Hua jumped in to save him, hitting his knee harder than he did.

He clutched his phone in his hand, the screen already dark. He turned it back on, glanced at the three words again, his fingertip hovering over the "Reply" button for a long time, unsure what to type. Should he ask how high his fever was? Should he ask if he had any medicine? Should he ask why he hadn't said so sooner? In the end, he only typed a "?", then felt it was too mild and deleted it.

The elevator doors opened, and he practically stumbled out, his bare feet landing on the cold marble of the lobby before he realized he wasn't wearing shoes. The security guard peeked out from his post, and he waved, mumbling, "Forgot something," before turning and running towards the door. A fallen leaf caught his foot, and he nearly slipped and fell.

The plane tree leaves rustled in the wind. Ah Yu stood under the bus stop sign, only to realize he hadn't even brought his wallet; his phone was burning hot in his hand. He opened the ticketing app, his fingers trembling so badly he pressed the wrong destination several times. The name of the small station in the mountains was obscure; he had to type it three times before the options appeared. The earliest bus was at 4 PM, requiring three transfers. The last leg was on a slow, old-fashioned green train, which wouldn't reach the county town until midnight. From there, he'd have to take a taxi to the village, probably until dawn.

"Too slow..." he muttered to himself, his voice hoarse. The wind whipped up dust and stung his face. He suddenly remembered that Zhong Hua was afraid of the wind and would cough every time the seasons changed. Now he had a fever, and the mountain wind was so strong. Wouldn't he feel even worse?

My phone vibrated; it was a message from Lin Wanqing: "I put your ID card and wallet in the parcel locker by the door. The password is your birthday. The shoes are on top of the locker. Wear something warm; it's cold in the mountains." She added a sighing emoji.

Ah Yu's nose tingled, he typed "Thanks" in reply, and turned to run back to the studio. This time he remembered to wear shoes; they were a pair of hiking boots that Zhong Hua had given him last year. The soles were thick, but they felt light and airy underfoot, like walking on cotton.

The parcel locker clicked open, the setting sun painting the clouds orange-red. In his wallet was a photo of the three of them by Qinghai Lake. Ah Yu pulled it out and glanced at it. In the photo, Zhong Hua stood in the middle, smiling somewhat foolishly, his arms draped over Ah Yu and Lin Wanqing's shoulders, the lake in the background a dazzling blue. He put the photo back, his fingertips touching the fever reducer in the wallet's inner pocket—leftovers from Zhong Hua's last cold, which he'd casually tossed in, never expecting it to come in handy.

On the way to the station by taxi, Ah Yu kept refreshing the page to find train tickets. The 4 PM train was sold out; he refreshed the page more than a dozen times before finally managing to snag a refunded ticket. His fingers were still trembling as he paid, and he entered the wrong payment password twice. The driver glanced at him in the rearview mirror, said nothing, and quietly sped up.

This chapter is not finished yet. Please click on the next page to continue reading the exciting content!