Salt Circle and Night Breeze
[Dinner at the resort staff restaurant]
The restaurant lights were warm, as if the sea breeze had been simmered into a soup. On the long table was a last-minute group meal: the clear soup was steaming hot, the skin of the sea salt chicken was slightly crispy, and the hot vegetables were still steaming. The laughter of my colleagues gently broke through the glass window and then fell back down.
Hu Li sat by the window, twirling her chopsticks in her palm as if taking a selfie. She pushed the soup bowl in front of her, first inhaling the aroma, then taking a sip. The warmth slowly spread from her throat, easing the tightness in her chest. Someone handed her a phone, saying she was trending again. She just smiled and pushed the phone back: "If you don't read the comments while eating, you'll get indigestion."
The PR person held up their phone: "Come on, let's take a picture of the whole table together."
Hu Li raised her hand and waved, "Everyone, don't just film me." She took the salt shaker and gently drew a circle on the dark plate, the fine white salt like a halo of moonlight on the table. She then pressed the bottom of the water glass on top, and when she lifted it, a fine serration appeared on the edge of the circle. She pushed it apart with her fingertip, and the edge of the circle became like the edge of receding tide.
A gossipy colleague chimed in, "Designer Hu even makes his meals into installation art!"
She laughed: "Salt remembers a moment of wind."
After the laughter subsided, someone brought the topic back to today's live stream: "That comparison was really satisfying; it turns out telephoto lenses can be so deceptive."
Hu Li nodded: "Let everyone compare for themselves, and the facts will stand firm."
There was a sudden commotion at the door, and Mu Tianlang entered a few steps later. His coat was slightly cool from the night breeze. He nodded to the people at the table, sat down diagonally opposite her, and hung his coat on the back of his chair. Someone teased, "Mr. Mu is here to inspect the dishes too," to which he simply replied, "To see how everyone is enjoying their meal."
Hu Li lowered his head and pushed the soup bowl in front of his colleague: "Don't just talk, drink a few more sips."
My colleague at the end of the table turned his phone over: "The platform wants to create a special feature for you."
She placed her chopsticks horizontally across the rim of the bowl and said in a flat tone, "Let's schedule the work first, then we'll talk."
Another colleague laughed, "Someone even dug up your college portfolio."
She said, "Oh, let the work speak for itself."
Some suggested she do a live stream to thank her fans, but she shook her head: "I'm not going to ride the wave. I haven't finished my work yet."
Mu Tianlang glanced at her, his gaze deep and heavy, as if he were suppressing something. He didn't say much, only addressing the entire table, "You've had a hard day."
Just then, his phone vibrated on the table. He answered, his voice steady: "Hello." The other end spoke quickly, like someone talking in a hallway, with the sound of bed wheels scraping the floor. His first "um" was very soft, and his second "I'll be right there" was very low.
He hung up and pushed his chair back, saying, "Something came up, I have to go. Enjoy your meal."
The dining table fell silent for a moment. Hu Li looked up, but didn't ask any further questions. He simply mouthed to him: Are you alright?
He shook his head almost imperceptibly, grabbed his coat, and left. She watched his retreating figure disappear through the glass, like a gust of wind drying up the heat under the lamplight.
She turned to the side and quickly sent a message: What's the matter that's so urgent?
Soon, two lines of text popped up: My mother is in the emergency room. My father is overseas and has not returned.
Her fingers paused for half a second, then flew up again: Drive carefully. Let me know when you arrive.
The reply from the other end was just one word: Okay.
She pressed the tissue against the salt ring she had just made, imprinting a light white outline. Then she overlapped the bottom of the cup with another ring, the two rings not completely overlapping. She used her fingertip to push the boundary apart, leaving an irregular bright line. She left a small blank space between the two rings and wrote three small words: Don't force it.
As the event ended, Jiang Rouyin called out to her from the outer corridor, lowering her voice: "Someone is bringing up your past again, don't pay attention to it for now."
Hu Li nodded: "Okay, I won't go back."
Jiang Rouyin: "Should I issue a unified version of the statement?"
Hu Li smiled and said, "Once you take action, they won't dare to argue anymore. Let's leave it at that for now and deal with it again tomorrow morning."
[Night in the Hospital Corridor]
The lights were excessively white, making the night feel cold. The voices outside the emergency room mingled together, with cries and the creaking of wheelchairs appearing and disappearing, and the disinfectant seemed to reset everyone's sense of smell to the same standard.
At the autograph table, Mu Tianlang flipped through the medical record. The doctor pushed the last page towards him, and he gripped the pen, the tip pausing for three seconds at the signature area before finally writing his name.
"Currently, it appears to be temporary hypokalemia, coupled with some chest tightness, which is why you felt dizzy. You'll need to stay in the hospital for observation for a few days to confirm that your cardiac indicators and heart rate are stable before considering discharge." The doctor's voice was calm and his pace was well-controlled.
He nodded: "According to your plan."
The gurney slid out of the automatic door, but got stuck for a moment. He instinctively stepped forward to hold onto the doorframe to prevent it from slamming shut. The nurse looked up and said thank you. He stepped back against the wall, his knuckles white in the cold light.
His reflection in the glass looked like someone who had walked from a very far place. He suddenly remembered a certain year, the same corridor, the same lights, the soft creaking of the bed wheels on the floor, the beeping of the electrocardiogram monitor, and how the world seemed to be cut in two when the curtains were drawn. His throat tightened, as if there was a word stuck there, unspoken.
That sentence ultimately remained only in my heart: I am not a good son.
He buttoned his collar tighter, as if he were buttoning away his emotions. His phone vibrated. He walked to the window, took out his phone, and dialed an overseas number. The ringtone went to voicemail. After the prompt, he left a short message: "My mother is in the hospital. I'm outside the ER. Please call or text me back."
He hung up, opened the chat window with Hu Li, and sent a single word: "Here."
The screen lit up briefly in his palm, but he said nothing more. The wind from the opening and closing of the automatic doors swept in from the other end of the corridor, carrying the damp scent of the night.
He sat on the bench in the outer room for a while, his back against the cold wall. Nurses came and went several times, and he got up a few times to ask about the prescription and observation period, his tone as somber as ever, but not as cold as during the day. Finally, he only said, "Please take care of me."
[Night at the Resort Staff Dormitory]
Back in her dorm, Hu Li carefully transferred the salt ring from her napkin into her sketchbook, drew a wind direction line next to it, and wrote the date in the corner. She turned her phone over, stared at the word "arrived" for a few seconds, and didn't reply. She opened a food delivery app, ordered congee and a few side dishes, and noted: "Delivered to the ER counter, for family sharing, anonymous." After paying, she wrote in the corner of the note: "Eat something first, then bear it."
She lit the small salt lamp on the table, its orange light spreading across the wall. She hesitated for a moment, then sent the message:
[Hu Li]: You don't need to speak, I'll just talk and you can listen. I'll open the window a little, and you can listen to the cicadas outside and count your breaths with me.
Soon after, he replied: There are too many people outside, it's inconvenient.
She replied: "Then you listen, I'll tell you. I'll put my phone by the window so you can hear the cicadas and count along."
She pressed the call button, and before he could speak, her voice was soft and steady: "Inhale for three seconds, pause for one second, exhale for four seconds, and follow me through one round." She moved the phone slightly toward the window, and the chirping of cicadas at night seeped in, as if keeping time for her breathing.
There was silence on the other end of the phone, broken only by the distant sound of wheels rolling across the ground. She didn't offer any pleasantries, but instead used her breath to rhythmically press against his chest: "Five more times. You don't have to hold on until you're fully erect, or you'll crack."
A few seconds later, he replied in a low voice, "I just realized today that I've been skipping classes all along."
She leaned against the edge of the bed, listening as he solemnly finished saying those words: "Homework at home."
She smiled and said, "Then let's start tutoring tonight. I'll be your deskmate, and you can copy from me if you want."
A very soft laugh came from the other end, like a knife whose sharpness had been dulled slightly. "Hu Li."
"Um?"
"Thank you."
She raised her voice a little: "When you come back, you'll thank me with your actions, by treating me to a late-night snack."
"good."
Before hanging up, she added, "Go get some hot water, and grab something to eat if you're hungry. We'll think about the rest tomorrow."
There was a two-second pause on the other end, followed by a calmer voice: "Okay."
She sat against the wall for a while, then took out her sketchbook and sketched a few lines on the table, completing the salt circle, the wind direction, and the two lines she had drawn earlier. She also added the time in the corner. When her wrist relaxed, she put away her pen, leaned back in her chair, and closed her eyes to rest for a bit. A breeze slipped in through the half-open window, carrying away a bit of the dampness and the tension in her heart.
[Hospital Night]
He passed the nursing station and saw a freshly delivered meal box on the counter. It was unsigned, with only a note underneath: "Eat something first, then you can carry it." After signing for it, he led the way back to the outer room of the waiting ward, closed the door, and saw only a small nightlight in the corner of the room.
He placed the meal box on the low table for the caregiver, stared at the words for a long time, and then opened it. The porridge was still warm. He sat down on the sofa for the caregiver and drank it sip by sip. His stomach warmed up first, and then his mind calmed down.
He folded the note very small and tucked it into the inner pocket of his wallet. The crisp little "click" of the clapper seemed to lock away his panic.
When the nurse came to make her rounds, he stood up to give her space, simply said thank you, and then confirmed the observation indicators and the time for the next measurement. After confirming that the values were stable, he leaned back on the sofa, closed his eyes, and followed the breathing rhythm she had just led him through for another round—the cicada chirping seemed to be counting the beats, three, stop, four—the tension in his chest eased a notch.
After finishing, he stood up, collected the empty meal box and threw it in the trash can, straightened the corners of his mother's blanket, and confirmed that the IV drip and monitor were working correctly before checking the time at the door. He then went to the nursing station to leave his contact number and whispered, "I'm going downstairs for some fresh air, I'll be right back." He signed in and turned to leave.
He went downstairs, stepped out of the automatic doors, and headed towards the driveway in the night. He had one more thing to do tonight—go back to the resort and see her.
[Night at the Resort Staff Dormitory / Entrance]
She got up to make a cup of tea, poured it into a frosty white cup, placed it on the table, and then returned to the window.
After a moment, there were two knocks on the door.
She went to open the door, and one of the motion-sensor lights in the hallway turned on. Mu Tianlang stood there, his coat draped over his arm, the ends of his hair cool with the night breeze. They looked at each other for half a second, then he lowered his voice: "The doctor said to keep him under observation for a few days; his condition is stable. I came to get some fresh air, and I'll go back to keep watch later."
She didn't ask for details, but simply stepped aside to make room for me: "Want to come in and sit for a while?"
He stopped at the doorway, like a wolf leaving its body outside the safety line, but his gaze didn't waver. "It's inconvenient."
She didn't insist, and turned to hand him the tea that had been brewed in the misty white cup: "It's not too hot anymore, it's just right."
He took it, his fingertips touching hers, a subtle electric shock shooting through him. He held the glass, his Adam's apple bobbing, but he didn't drink.
She leaned against the door, her voice lowered: "You did very well today."
He glanced at her, his eyes both cold and burning: "If you keep saying that, I'm going to lose control."
She laughed, like a fox: "Then go back and get some sleep first. Come find me again when you can control it better."
He paused for two seconds, took half a step forward, but remained standing outside the threshold. The air around him carried the scents of tea and salt lamps. He seemed about to say something, then stopped, only whispering, "Goodnight."
She whispered, "Goodnight."
He placed the white glass back in her hand and added in a low voice, "I have to go back." He took two steps and then turned back, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and paused his fingertips near her ear for half a second, as if a fire had passed over it, before finally withdrawing his hand and leaving.
The door closed softly, like a kiss that never quite landed. She listened to the footsteps fading into the distance until the elevator dinged.
[Dormitory close to midnight]
Hu Li sat back down at her desk and turned to a new sheet of sketch paper. She didn't draw the fox and the wolf, but only two similar lines, leaving a finger-width of white space between them. She lightly touched the white space with her fingertip, as if she had placed an invisible nail there.
She knew what she was waiting for, and she knew she wouldn't beg. She was waiting for him to come to her on his own.
The wind outside the window carried a faint salty scent, distant yet seemingly close at hand. She turned off one of the lights, leaving only the small glow of the salt lamp. The night enveloped the room in a deep darkness, and she slowly drifted off to sleep in that stillness.
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