After the light goes out
[Resort's Inner Courtyard Transition Space in the Evening]
After the interior lighting of the transition space was installed, Hu Li invited Mu Tianlang to test the newly designed motion-sensor light track together that evening.
The space was dimly lit. Light footsteps echoed on the ground, activating the lights like ripples on water, creating sequential halos of light as people walked, like an invisible school of fish swimming along their footprints. The scent of metal and wood mingled with a slightly salty dampness, and in the distance, the sea breeze rustled through the plants in the courtyard, the leaves gently brushing against each other.
Mu Tianlang stood on the innermost side, his back to her, inspecting the last set of corner sensors. His cuffs were neatly ironed, the markings on his watch were a cool white, and his fingertips touched the control panel and then withdrew, his movements crisp and decisive.
She stopped three steps away and asked casually, "I'll walk over there and check the sensor readings."
He simply hummed in response, his eyes remaining fixed.
She walked forward, deliberately making her steps light, as if treading on an invisible lake. A halo of light rose around her feet, then slowly faded after she left. She turned, a smile playing at the corners of her eyes: "This light is beautiful."
"Don't talk about adjectives." His voice was low, as if he were suppressing all his emotions. "Numerical values."
She gestured "okay" with her hand and was about to move closer when all the lights suddenly went out.
A light tap was made on the electrical distribution box in the corner, and the echo on the ground suddenly went silent.
Darkness engulfed the entire space in an instant, leaving not a single ray of light. The air seemed to be sucked away, and the temperature dropped a notch.
Hu Li was startled. He took a breath and was about to speak when he heard a suppressed yet rapid breathing sound coming from ahead. The sound wasn't panicked panting, but rather like someone forcefully pulling him back.
She paused, her vision slowly adjusting to the darkness, barely managing to make out the silhouette of Mu Tianlang standing there. The silhouette was stiff and motionless, his shoulders taut, his back muscles like a suit of armor pulled too tight.
Even from a distance, she could sense that unusual restraint. It wasn't waiting; it was as if a certain reaction was being forcefully suppressed.
She didn't lean closer, but lowered her voice and said, "I'm here." Her hand paused in the air for a moment, but didn't touch him.
About ten seconds later, the lights came back on. The edge of the light climbed up from the toes of his shoes, as if pulling a person back to shore from deep water.
He paused his fingertip on the phone's power button for a moment, then released it, quickly adjusted his posture, and regained his composure, simply saying, "The sensor has a delay; it needs to be recalibrated."
She said nothing, but quietly kept the image in her heart. She saw the darkness in his eyes for a moment, like the wind blowing through a crack in the night, silent, yet giving her goosebumps.
She smiled and said playfully, "Then I'll take two steps back first, and you can try it—see if you feel more comfortable when I step back."
He looked up, but didn't smile: "No need."
She blinked: "Really not? Or... will you be disappointed?"
His gaze darkened slightly, and he didn't reply, simply saying, "Continue."
She stopped teasing him, straightened her steps, and let the light and shadow flicker in rhythm with him. But those two sentences lingered in the air, like two tiny teeth marks.
[Resort President's Office Lounge - Early Morning]
He wore boxing gloves and punched the sandbag again and again. Sweat slid down his forehead to his collarbone. The air conditioning was on, but it couldn't extinguish the heat emanating from his body, as if he had locked the afternoon sun inside his chest.
Hu Li's words kept echoing in my mind—
If I back down, will you feel relieved, or... a little disappointed?
That wasn't a casual joke; it was a door that pushed open his defenses of reason.
He could have ignored all the provocation, filing away all his emotions like documents, sealing them away, and locking them up. But she defied the rules. She approached, without touching, and with a slight lilt at the end of her voice, she created a breach in his entire order.
He threw a punch at the sandbag, the force of the blow heavy, almost carrying the emotions he had suppressed for too long. The second punch was even harder, and the third punch almost left him breathless.
With a low growl, he stopped, pressed his forehead against the sandbag, his chest heaving, and clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white.
He answered in his heart: Disappointment.
No one heard. Only the shadows that kept moving on the wall looked like a wolf circling in place, unwilling to retreat into the snowy forest.
Wolves don't stay in a lurking position forever. Once a wolf takes its first step, it's hard for it to retreat.
She drew closer, but he had nowhere left to retreat. The line between abstinence and temptation had blurred. And he was no longer the Mu Tianlang who could hide all his feelings in silence.
He took off his boxing gloves, turned off the main light, leaned against the door, his fingertips gripping the doorknob, his other hand on the light switch on the wall. He counted to ten in the darkness, the sweat on the back of his neck cooling down, then opened the door a crack, letting the light from the outside corridor slowly seep in.
[Afternoon in the resort's inner courtyard transition space]
One day, Hu Li invited him to check the unfinished area at the back while he was doing a soundproofing test.
The walls were thickened, and the silence was eerily profound; even the sound of shoes scraping the floor was swallowed up. She tapped on the corner of the wall: "I want to replace this side with bamboo strips, leaving gaps, not sealing it off completely. A little wind needs to get in, and people need a way out."
Mu Tianlang stood by the door, like a wolf guarding the entrance, his back straight, his gaze fixed on the red dot in the corner of the ceiling.
She turned her head to look at him: "What are you thinking about?"
He spoke in a low, flat voice: "I was locked up before, in the dark. For quite a while."
She didn't lean in, but stood shoulder to shoulder with him, her tone light and slow: "So you don't like the dark, and you don't like people getting too close."
He turned his head, looking at her directly for the first time. They were only a step away from the wall, their breaths bouncing off the surface. "But you—you're very close."
She raised an eyebrow as if she'd heard something amusing, her voice softening imperceptibly: "Are you afraid, or are you enduring it?"
His Adam's apple bobbed slightly, and his knuckles tightened in his palm, but he did not answer.
She took another half step closer, still not touching him, her voice as soft as a feather brushing behind his ear: "If I step back, will you feel relieved, or will you feel... regret?"
The air paused for half a second.
Mu Tianlang's eyes darkened slightly.
She smiled faintly, gently tapping his chest through his shirt with her fingertip, and softly added, "I'm not here to dismantle your armor, I just want to know—does it still hurt down there?"
His voice was so soft it was almost a whisper: "It will be very difficult to get close to me."
Her eyes flickered, as if she had words on the tip of her tongue: "Then let me share your hardships. If you're tired, I'll be here for you."
He didn't leave, only exhaled a barely perceptible breath. That breath landed on her fingertips, carrying warmth.
She withdrew her hand, retreating to a position aligned with the wall, like a fox peeking out of its hole and then swiftly retreating into the shadows: "I'll write a plan regarding the gaps in the bamboo strips. I'll give you two versions; you can choose."
"Okay." He said only one word.
She tilted her head: "Just say yes? No praise at all?"
He glanced at her: "Well done."
She laughed out loud: "His tone was like approving a document."
He didn't respond, but from an angle she couldn't see, he lightly tapped the door frame with his finger, as if locking a memory back in its place.
In the evening, they took the test again.
She walked ahead, a halo of light spreading out from her feet like layers of tossed pebbles. Xiao Zhou, on the other end of the phone, counted out, hands-free: "0.4."
"Then I'll speed things up." She shortened her pace, sometimes quickening, sometimes slowing, and lowered her voice, half-jokingly and half-seriously, "Do you prefer me to go slower or faster?"
He glanced at her and said in a low voice, "Follow the procedure."
She smiled and did as she was told. She stopped at the brightest point of the light strip, looked up at the black glass in front of her as if looking at him: "Mr. Mu, may I come a little closer?"
He nodded, his words brief: "Get closer."
She did as she was told, and the halo of light folded into a small ball by her steps, clinging to her feet like a small animal trapped in a narrow space.
She lowered her voice and said, "Look, even though I'm standing so close, the lights aren't off."
There was a one-second pause on the other end of the phone, and Xiao Zhou simply reported, "Stable."
He took a half-step closer, lowering his voice even further: "I know."
She wanted to laugh, but dared not laugh too obviously, so she lowered her voice and asked, "Are you still afraid?"
He turned his head away, keeping his voice down, and said, "Don't be afraid." Then he added, just so she could hear, "You're here."
A thought flashed through her mind, but she feigned composure: "I'll keep those words to myself for now."
He didn't reply, but simply raised his hand to signal Xiao Zhou to further soften the light.
[Evening in the Resort's Archives]
Night fell into the archives, and the shadows of the trees outside the glass were shattered by the wind. Her pale white cup sat on the corner of the table, the tea half-cooled. Hu Li flipped through the memos he had left behind and unexpectedly found a yellowed note.
The text above is handwritten: "Enclosed spaces require ventilation on both sides / Avoid delays in sensor light / Corners must not be sealed."
The handwriting was neat but clearly overly forceful, each stroke seemingly written with suppressed emotion. The corners of the paper were worn shiny, as if they had been touched repeatedly.
She felt a pang of anxiety, suddenly realizing that these weren't just simple design preferences, but rather... a kind of fear prevention.
She folded the note and put it back in its place, gently smoothing the corner with her fingertips. She looked up at the ventilation duct on the ceiling, and the image of his breathing in the darkness floated into her mind.
"It's been a long time." These four words don't sound like a description; they sound more like a scab forming on a wound.
She turned off the lights, leaving only the wall lamp on, sat back down at the table, picked up her pen, and drew a tiny circle in the corner of her sketchbook—like a beast curled up in the darkness. She then made a small opening to let the little beast breathe.
—Late-night text messages—
She took a picture of the note and sent it to him, adding: "Your handwriting is very tight."
He quickly replied with two words: "I saw it."
She texted again: "Next time it gets dark, you can arrest me."
He replied after a while: "No need." Another message: "I'll handle it myself."
She stared at those three words, thought for a long time, and finally typed: "Okay. Then I'll stand next to you."
She placed her phone face down on the table. On the other end of the line, he stared at the words, a sudden tightness in his chest, and his initial turmoil slowly subsided.
[Late at night at the end of the corridor]
After turning off the lights, he didn't leave immediately. As he reached the end of the corridor, the sensor lights turned on one by one. He stopped halfway down, slowed his breathing, and counted to ten. In the darkness, he heard his own heartbeat, steady and rhythmic, as if it were tapping out a beat for someone.
He suddenly remembered that she had said, "I'll stand next to you."
He raised his hand in the darkness, as if to grasp something, but it only fell into thin air.
He didn't look back. He just walked forward, letting the lights follow him and shine their light all the way.
[Afternoon at the storage area behind the resort's tea room]
The engineering team was routinely taking inventory of materials. Due to a shortage of manpower, Hu Li volunteered to help with the inventory of the decoration samples piled up in the back area. The narrow corridor was filled with cardboard boxes, wooden strips and samples, and the air smelled of sawdust and glue.
She neatly tied her long hair back with a pencil, and walked along reciting the list as she went: "Two boxes of lamps, three bundles of bamboo strips, connectors..."
As she bent down to look through the list of lighting fixtures, the wooden slat that had been placed securely slipped and fell with a clatter, hitting her ankle. She groaned, crouched down in pain, and instinctively touched the hot spot with her fingertips.
He was on the phone not far away. Hearing that sound, he hung up before finishing his sentence, his jaw tightening, and he took two steps forward: "Don't move."
His gaze swept across the ground first, then landed on her face, his brow furrowing. "Where?"
She tried to sound tough: "It's alright."
Without a second thought, he picked her up in his arms. In that instant, his arms tightened as if to confirm her presence. As soon as her body left the ground, the pain of being pressed down surged upwards.
She instinctively reached out and put her hand on his shoulder, the steady yet rapid beating of his heart ringing in her ears. She whispered, "Someone will see us."
"Yes," he said quickly, "but I don't want to see you suffer in silence."
Hu Li froze, pressing her entire body against his chest, clearly hearing a barely perceptible tremor in his breath.
He carried her through the narrow storage area, his steps steady and quick. A passing worker glanced at him, but he only gave her a cold look, so indifferent that people automatically made way for him.
"Why did you go and move that pile of stuff all by yourself?"
His voice was low and hoarse, suppressing anger and panic, "Does it hurt?"
"I'm not a child anymore, it was just an accident."
"You're not a child, so you should protect yourself even more." He spoke quickly, as if suppressing something that was about to burst out.
Back in the CEO's office, he placed her on the sofa. He half-knelt, his movements steady, and said in a low voice, "Apply ice first."
He went to get the ice pack himself, and when he returned, he carefully supported her ankle and helped her take off her shoes. He placed his palm on her foot, quickly withdrew it, and then gently pressed it again to check. The swelling was obvious.
"This won't do; you need to go to the hospital for an X-ray."
She stared at him: "Mr. Mu, you even care about this?"
He didn't look up: "If I don't care, who will?"
His eyes shone, but not with anger; rather, they held the restlessness of something that had been suppressed for too long finally breaking down. It wasn't blame; it was fear.
"You seem really nervous." Her voice softened, a hint of teasing in it. "Are you afraid I'll break a bone right in front of you?"
He paused for a moment by her ankle with his fingertip, his voice barely audible: "I can't pretend I don't care."
She heard a slight tremor in his throat. "What if something really happens to you..." he didn't finish his sentence.
She leaned back in her chair, looked at him, and said slowly, "The more you pretend everything's fine, the more I know you're in turmoil."
He didn't retort, but just looked up at her, his eyes like a long-burning fire that was finally about to ignite.
She suddenly reached out and gently touched the faint trace of weariness at the corner of his eye with her fingertips: "You are not without pain, you just never say it."
In that instant, Mu Tianlang loosened his clenched fist slightly.
He softened his tone and said, "Let's go to the hospital."
She nodded: "You'll deliver it?"
He paused, then stood up: "I'll arrange a car."
She understood his cautiousness and said softly, "Okay, I'll listen to you."
He turned and dialed a number, speaking quickly and coldly, his instructions brief and concise. After hanging up, he turned back, his palm unconsciously resting on the outside of her knee, pausing for a second before removing it.
She looked at him and said, "You just looked like you were lifting me out of somewhere."
He lowered his eyes: "Storage area."
She laughed: "No. I mean, it was like being pulled out of the darkness."
He didn't reply, but there was a slight warmth behind his ear.
Xiao Zhou pushed a wheelchair from the resort's clinic. He bent down, picked her up, and gently placed her in the wheelchair; Xiao Zhou pushed forward, and he followed beside her, taking her to the car.
The car stopped at the side gate of the park. He called the driver over to the car and said in a cold and brief tone, "There is an injured person in the car. Drive slowly, avoid potholes, and don't bump around." After confirming the seat belts, the department, and the time of the X-ray, he did not get in the car. Instead, Xiao Zhou accompanied him to the hospital. He stayed in the park and monitored the process by phone.
Shortly after the car left the park, he made two phone calls. The first was to Hu Li—"Tell the doctor directly if you feel unwell, don't try to tough it out. Don't worry about work, I'll keep an eye on things." The second was to Xiao Zhou—"Register for a triage first, then get an X-ray; send me all the results." His tone remained steady, and his instructions were short and precise.
Upon arriving at the hospital, Xiao Zhou kept the phone on speakerphone, reporting on the progress of the triage, X-rays, and waiting. Hu Li sat on a bench, applying ice to his face. Listening to the calm rhythm on the other end of the line, he felt much more at ease.
The X-ray results came back, and the doctor diagnosed it as a minor soft tissue contusion, with no bone damage. He prescribed medication and recommended ice packs. Xiao Zhou sent him the diagnosis and the images. He paused for a second, then only said two words on the phone: "I understand." He added, "According to regulations for work-related injuries, you're on leave tomorrow."
Hu Li took the medicine bag and said into her phone, "I'm not that delicate."
He replied calmly, "It's not being spoiled, it's being disciplined."
On the way back, the shadows of the trees outside the car window receded, and the wet road surface shimmered like a long, trailing fishback stalk. She dozed off by the window, and Xiao Zhou sent Mu Tianlang a message: "Back on the way."
When the car arrived at the side gate of the park, Mu Tianlang was already standing in the wind waiting. As soon as the driver came to a stop, he stepped forward first, not touching her, but only giving her head a slight pat, his tone restrained: "We're here."
She stepped out of the car with a light touch, and he instinctively supported her arm before quickly letting go. She whispered, "Mr. Mu, you're being too conspicuous."
"I'll take responsibility if anything happens." He remained cold, but his movements were gentle. He escorted her to her dormitory entrance before turning to leave.
[Night at the Resort Staff Dormitory]
The night wind seeped in through the cracks in the window, carrying a slightly damp, salty scent. She raised her feet, continuing to apply the ice pack. Her frosted white glass sat on the bedside table, a thin layer of condensation forming on its sides. A sketchbook lay open on the table; she had drawn a halo of light around a small nightlight on the paper, with a corridor horizon drawn around the outer edge; a little fox and a little wolf stood outside the light, looking up at a thin crescent moon, with blank space in the middle.
She added a few more strokes, making the wolf's ears more pointed and the fox's tail more charming. Next to it, she wrote: "Getting close will be hard; staying away will also be hard." After writing that, she gently crossed it out, leaving only a faint shadow.
She closed the sketchbook, and her phone lit up with a message from him: "Remember to keep applying ice."
She replied, "Received."
After a few seconds, he replied, "I'll see tomorrow morning."
She stared at those two words and couldn't help but laugh: "You still sound so rigid." She didn't reply, but placed her phone beside her pillow.
[Employee Dormitory in the Morning]
The next morning, the sky was still a grayish-blue. The doorbell rang twice; he arrived five minutes earlier than agreed, standing at the door with breakfast. She sat on the edge of the bed, her feet elevated. As he entered, he casually half-closed the window: "It's windy."
She looked up at him and blinked: "Then you can block it."
He stood beside her, like a wall. She took a steaming hot tea egg from the paper bag, peeled it, took a small bite, then broke off half and brought it to his lips: "Want some?"
He looked down at her, his tone cold: "No."
She took the egg back and was about to eat it herself when he suddenly lowered his head, pressed his thin lips to hers, and simply bit off a small piece of her fingertip.
She froze, her fingertips still hovering in the air.
He chewed for a moment and said calmly, "Don't cross the line again."
Her heart skipped a beat. She looked up at him, and after a long pause, she chuckled softly, "So, who crossed the line first yesterday?"
He glanced at her sideways, his Adam's apple bobbing, but he didn't take her hand. She withdrew her hand, her fingertips still slightly brown and warm, and slowly rubbed them on her thumb joint, as if trying to hide the warmth from that moment.
After she finished eating, he put the bag away and reminded her to take her medicine on time and continue applying ice. She didn't go out that day, resting and painting in her dormitory as instructed by the doctor. Her phone would occasionally light up: he would ask how long she had been applying ice and if she had taken her medicine; she would reply with a sketch of a little wolf and a little fox and an abbreviated smile.
A light rain began to fall at night, and the corridor lights outside her dormitory window shone pale white in the rain and mist. She leaned against the window and watched as the motion-sensor lights were turned on one by one by the wind, as if someone had walked through the corridor. She knew it wasn't a person, but the wind, but she still smiled, as if she heard someone say "goodnight" in the distance.
【Early Morning on the Seaview Trail】
A few days later, at dawn, the sea slowly brightened, and the clouds seemed to be smoothed from their edges by an invisible hand. The two stood side by side by the railing—not touching, but simply sharing the same wind. Waves crashed in, washing away the noise in their hearts.
She pulled her scarf up a little, her cheek warm from the wind. She couldn't help but ask, "If you didn't have a job, would you stay at the beach?"
He looked at the sea, not at her: "No."
She pressed, "Why?"
His brow furrowed, his gaze sweeping over the distant breakwater blocks. He tapped his fingertip on the railing, as if recalling a less-than-pleasant moment, and murmured, "Waves can mislead people's judgment of distance. What looks close is actually very far."
He didn't explain. After a while, he asked, "And you?"
"I will," she answered quickly. "When the sound of the sea comes, the noise in my brain will be washed away, leaving it clean."
He turned his head slightly, as if trying to remember the expression on her face when she said that. She noticed and looked up to meet his gaze: "Why are you looking at me like that?"
He looked away: "It's windy."
She laughed: "Are wolves afraid of the wind?"
"I'm not afraid." He paused for a second, then gently added the second half of his sentence, "I'm afraid you'll be cold."
Her heart warmed, but she still wouldn't let him go: "Then move closer to block the wind."
He took a half-step closer to her, but didn't touch her. A salty scent from the sea separated them. The wind whistled through the gap between them. Suddenly, she reached out and tapped her fingertips twice on the railing: "I drew here."
He looked down at the metal edge, its surface streaked with salt by the sea breeze, and said simply, "I've seen it."
She asked in surprise, "You've seen my sketches?"
"All of it." He said it in a flat tone, as if it were something that should have been said.
She paused for two seconds, then blinked: "Then you should be rewarded too."
"Need not."
"Then I'll draw you." She picked up her pen and quickly wrote in her notebook—a wolf standing in the wind, its ears pointing towards the sea, a slender shadow cast beneath the railing. Next to the wolf, she drew a tiny fox outline, its tail raised, half a step away from the wolf, not touching it.
She finished drawing and showed it to him: "Does it look like it?"
He stared at the two small images for a long time before nodding: "They look alike."
[Construction Coordination Meeting at Noon]
The coordination meeting was held in a temporary conference room at noon. He sat in the main seat, speaking slowly and clearly, and anyone who tried to interrupt was immediately pulled back by his "key point".
When it came time to discuss the indoor lighting, she opened two versions of the design with gaps in the bamboo strips: one warm and the other cool white, with different angles and densities of light leakage.
She said, "I prefer the warm version. People are comforted as soon as they come in, and then they see the highlights."
He asked, "Why not Leng Bai?"
"A stark white color makes people wary; it's suitable for passing through, not for lingering. We hope our guests will slow down here." She looked up at him. "Only by slowing down can we see each other."
He didn't say anything, his gaze sweeping over her drawings and landing on the mark she had drawn—she had drawn a small circle in the corner with the word "ventilation" written next to it.
He tapped his fingertips on the table and said to the engineer, "Use this version."
After the meeting, she caught up with him: "You understood it just now?"
"Um."
"What do you understand?"
"You want a place where you can breathe," he said, and then turned to leave.
She laughed and added insult to injury behind his back: "Then you need to breathe too."
He didn't stop walking, but the tips of his ears turned slightly red.
After the meeting, she returned to her dormitory, applied medicine to her ankle, sat by the window, and retraced the two small images she had drawn on the beach that morning, making the lines cleaner. She lengthened the wolf's shadow a bit, curled the fox's tail a little more, and drew three very small dots between them, like invisible footsteps.
As she drew, she recalled his words, "Waves can make people misjudge distances." She wrote on the paper, "It looks close, but it's actually far. So let's get closer step by step." After writing it, she erased it, leaving only those three dots.
[The CEO's Office from Dusk to Night]
He returned to his office before dusk and revised the meeting minutes to their most concise form. He placed the matte black glass beside the papers, his finger unconsciously tracing a faint line along the glass's surface. He stared at the line for a few seconds, then suddenly picked up his phone and opened the two sketches she had sent that afternoon.
He zoomed in on the image, then zoomed out again. The little wolf and fox were reduced to two tiny shadows, no bigger than sesame seeds, but he could still recognize them. He rarely spent so much time on images outside of work.
His assistant knocked and came in to ask about the meeting arrangements, but he only said, "Postponed."
The assistant paused for a moment, then asked, "All of them?"
"All of them." He said in a flat tone.
After closing the door, he moved the cup under the lamp. The ring mark was clearer in the light than before. He reached out and pushed the cup inward an inch, exposing the ring mark, as if to tell someone—I lingered here.
The phone vibrated.
She sent me a photo of herself connecting three small dots with a very faint line. The text was just one sentence: "Take your time, you'll get there."
He stared at it for a long time before finally replying with two words: "I saw it." After a long pause, he added a third word: "Thank you."
He paused for a moment the instant he sent that word. He rarely said thank you. He didn't know how she would reply.
She replied with a smiley face, followed by a message: "You're welcome. Don't be late tomorrow."
He stared at the smiling face, and for the first time in his life, he felt that a small symbol could dispel some of the chill of the entire night. He closed his phone and returned to his desk.
He sent out the updated process from his desk, adding a note at the end: "Highlight the corners, keep everything else simple."
The black glass lay at his side. Instead of moving the rim outwards, he gently rotated the bottom of the glass half a turn, so that the rim faced the window, as if letting the water glance at the light outside. He took a sip, leaving a faint watermark on the wooden table. He didn't wipe it away, but simply tapped twice with his knuckles next to the mark, like marking a spot. Those two taps, along with the watermark on the bottom of the glass, formed three dots, reminding him of the extremely faint line in her painting.
The lights outside the window came on one by one, as if someone was walking down the corridor.
He looked at the ring of watermarks and suddenly thought of the little nightlight she had drawn.
He moved the cup to a position level with the end of the paper and paused slightly.
He rarely brought anyone into his nights. But tonight, he let the sound of footsteps linger in his mind before closing the file.
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