Another ending
The rain in Paris always carries the scent of old books. Zhong Hua stood under the plane trees below his apartment building, watching the raindrops weave a transparent curtain along the ribs of his umbrella, softening the warm yellow light of the bakery across the street. His phone vibrated in his pocket; it was a message from Su Rui: "The equipment is all set up, next week's exhibition is fine."
He replied with an "okay," his finger hovering over the screen for a moment, but ultimately didn't mention that he had already canceled his return ticket. His suitcase still stood in the corner of the hallway, its wheels covered in Beijing dust, like a silent witness, watching him suddenly decide on his third day in Paris to turn his "business trip" into a "stay."
I. Echoes in the Attic
When they found the attic, the landlady pointed to the slanted window in the ceiling and said, "On a clear day, you can see the church steeple." Zhong Hua looked up and indeed saw a corner of the gray-blue dome. The stone angels on the eaves had their eyes downcast in the rain, as if they were sizing up this uninvited guest.
While packing his luggage, a folded note fell out of the inside pocket of his suit. It was the one Lin Wanqing had given him in the hospital corridor last year. It had only one line of address on it, the penmanship blurred by water, turning into a light blue cloud: "If you want to come sometime, the key is under the doormat."
He ultimately didn't ring the doorbell. On the morning of the fourth day, however, he was awakened by the sound of arguing downstairs. Looking out the window, he saw Ah Yu holding a broken camera, gesturing to the bakery owner, while Lin Wanqing stood beside her, smiling, her canvas bag dangling, revealing half of a charity event flyer.
As Zhong Hua grabbed his coat and rushed downstairs, Ah Yu was stuffing her camera into her coat pocket: "I just wanted to take a picture of the bread coming out of the oven, I'm not stealing the recipe!" The shop owner retorted in broken French, spittle flying onto the glass display case. Lin Wanqing turned around, paused for a moment when she saw him, then smiled: "What are you doing here?"
“I happen to live nearby.” Zhong Hua said, naturally taking the camera from Ah Yu’s hand, and explained to the shop owner in fluent French, “He’s a photographer who wants to capture the everyday life on the street corner.” The shop owner’s expression softened, and he turned around and handed out a freshly baked croissant from the counter: “It’s a gift for you. Take some pictures, and make sure they look good.”
Ah Yu took the croissant, the heat making him rub his hands, but his eyes lit up: "Zhong Hua, when did your French become so fluent?" Lin Wanqing smiled and patted his arm: "He studied abroad properly, unlike you, who has been here for three years and can only say 'thank you' and 'I love you'."
Zhong Hua's gaze fell on the strap of Ah Yu's camera, where the edges were worn and frayed, yet a familiar pendant adorned it—a small brass windmill, a prize the three of them had won at a temple fair during their university days, its blades long since rusted. He suddenly remembered the night before their departure, when he pulled out an old photo album containing a faded group photo: the three of them huddled on a metal bunk bed in their dormitory, Ah Yu holding the camera, Lin Wanqing's hair brushing against his shoulder, the curtains in the background lifted by the wind, revealing a corner of the gray sky.
II. The Folds of the Seine
"Are you really planning to stay?" Lin Wanqing pushed the hot cocoa in front of him just as the rain outside the café stopped. Sunlight pierced through the clouds, spreading a layer of shattered gold on the surface of the Seine, and as the cruise ships passed by, the light rippled like melting honey.
Zhong Hua stirred the sugar cubes in his cup: "As for Su Rui... I've recommended a new person in charge." What he didn't say was that on the night he made the decision, he stood in front of the Louvre's glass pyramid, watching the lights cast intersecting diamond shapes on the water's surface, and suddenly remembered when he was 28, Ah Yu shouted on the phone: "Zhong Hua, come to Paris! The sunsets here dance!"
He was staring at the quarterly report on his computer screen when he casually replied, "I'll be done with this busy period." That busy period turned into five years.
Ah Yu ran in, camera in hand, grass still clinging to his hair. "I found a great spot to photograph the sunset!" He placed the camera on the table, the screen displaying a fiery sunset. Light filtering through the clouds wove a golden bridge across the river. "Doesn't it look like Qinghai, the place we wanted to go to together back then?" Ah Yu pointed at the screen. "Look at this light, it's exactly like the reflection in Chaka Salt Lake."
Zhong Hua's heart felt like it had been struck by something. He remembered their graduation trip that year. On their to-do list, Qinghai was circled three times, but it was changed to a farm stay in the suburbs because of a project he got at the last minute. Ah Yu patted his back and said "It's okay," but the disappointment in her eyes was like a piece of paper soaked by rain, crumpled and wrinkled.
“There’s a charity event next week, at an orphanage in the suburbs,” Lin Wanqing suddenly said. “We need someone who can fix things. Would you like to come?” Her tone was casual, as if she were just inviting him for a regular afternoon tea. Zhong Hua looked at the smile in her eyes and remembered how she had asked him with a similar smile at a charity gala years ago: “Would you like to help build a library for the children?”
He declined at the time, saying he was "too busy." Now, gazing at the cruise ships slowly drifting by outside the window, he hears himself say, "Okay."
In the orphanage's activity room, Zhong Hua squatted on the floor repairing a rocking horse, the screwdriver spinning rapidly in his hands. Ah Yu, camera in hand, chased after the children, their laughter in the lens like sprinkles of candy. Lin Wanqing sat in the corner mending dolls, sunlight filtering through her hair, casting dappled patterns of light on the fabric.
"Zhong Hua, look at this!" Ah Yu ran over with her camera. The screen showed a little girl with pigtails, tiptoeing to hand Zhong Hua candy. The moment he looked down, the lines of his profile were as soft as if ironed by sunlight. "This needs to be developed and put on the wall of our studio."
Zhong Hua was stunned: "Studio?"
“Yes,” Lin Wanqing put down her needlework, her eyes sparkling, “Ayu and I want to set up a small studio to shoot promotional videos for charity organizations and sell photos to raise funds. We just need someone who knows how to run it…”
Ah Yu scratched her head: "We know you're a big boss, you definitely wouldn't care about this kind of petty stuff..."
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