Chapter 45
Winter in Country J seems exceptionally long. The practice room mirrors are covered in a lingering layer of vapor, a mingled scent of sweat, pain-relieving spray, and the faint aroma of caffeine. Ling Yao's life is compressed into a minute-by-minute routine. At 5:30 a.m., the alarm goes off, and he practically leaps up. The first thing he does isn't to wash up, but to step on the scale and stare at the ticking number. Even a mere 0.1 kg increase in weight would put his appetite on hold for the entire day.
The company's nutritional meals were meticulously calculated, with every calorie counted. The bland chicken breast, boiled broccoli, and brown rice made one's tongue numb after a while. Occasionally, passing by a convenience store, the steaming bowls of fried noodles and bread smothered in golden sauce, or the colorful desserts in the freezer, seemed like an unattainable temptation. It wasn't that he wasn't hungry; it was that he didn't dare. During a physical exam, the instructor mercilessly prodded his waist with a ruler, even the slightest slack. The cold humiliation was more unbearable than hunger. He learned to guzzle gulps of ice water or train frantically until physical exhaustion overwhelmed his thirst late at night when his stomach burned with hunger.
His practice clothes, wet and dry, dry and wet, formed a white frost of salt. His knees and ankles, still wounded, were now covered in pain-relieving ointments and muscle-strengthening patches. The dance teacher's whip still fell, either hitting old wounds or fresh bruises, reminding him of flaws in his movements. He gritted his teeth, silent, his eyes colder, his movements more ferocious, venting all his pain and repression in every push and every moment.
Life on Su Rui's side of the world follows a different rhythm. Interior design classes require extensive hands-on practice. His desk is piled high with color swatches of various materials, fabric samples, and design sketches. In modeling classes, he meticulously cuts PVC sheets and glues them together with U-glue to create intricate interior models. His fingertips often bear tiny scratches from the chisel and indelible glue marks. He has a superb sense of color, and his assignments are often used as examples by his teachers, slowly building up a small confidence in his profession.
Photography was the realm where he completely relaxed and shone. In the club's darkroom, under the red light, he watched intently as the image slowly emerged from the developing solution on the photographic paper. The magical creative process captivated him. The photo studio where he worked part-time was small, but its atmosphere was warm and inviting. The owner was kind and allowed him to have his own creative space between completing client portraits. He began systematically studying lighting and even used the money he saved from his part-time job to buy a used film camera, becoming obsessed with the waiting and anticipation required for photography.
He remained frugal. He often ate lunch at the cheapest counter in the cafeteria or brought his own. But he never skimped on buying medicine and daily necessities for his grandmother. He replaced his washed-out old schoolbag with a more durable backpack that could hold a camera and lenses.
Their conversations became more specific. Sometimes it was Ling Yao's hushed, exhausted voice: "I weighed myself today, and I'm another 0.3 underweight... I'm so hungry I can't sleep." Su Rui's heart ached, yet she managed to sound cheerful: "Hold on a little longer! When you come back, I'll... I'll make you braised pork until it's tender!" Even though his cooking skills were mediocre. Sometimes it was Su Rui excitedly sharing: "Ling Yao! I used a film camera today and captured a beam of light shining through the window onto an old desk. It was so beautiful! But developing it is a bit expensive..." Ling Yao, listening from the other end, could almost see his sparkling eyes through the airwaves, and the corners of his mouth would twitch unconsciously: "Yeah. Great photo. If you're short on money... tell me." Even though his account was almost empty. Sometimes, the calls would fall silent, with only the soft sounds of each other's breathing and the hum of the unstable signal. They didn't need to talk constantly; just knowing there was someone listening, someone with them, was enough to comfort the loneliness of being thousands of miles apart.
Ling Yao hung up the phone, stood up from the cold stairwell steps, stretched his stiff limbs, and walked back to the brightly lit practice room, which looked like a gladiatorial arena. His eyes were more determined. Su Rui put down her phone, opened a new design sketch, or wiped the camera lens, her eyes brighter.
Like two complementary puzzle pieces, each experiencing pain and growth along its own trajectory, each possessed the added reason and courage to persevere thanks to the presence of that distant person. Transformation quietly occurs in every seemingly ordinary detail of each day and night.
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