Zhong Hua slipped the last thermos into Ah Yu's side pocket. It contained freshly brewed honey water; he knew Ah Yu didn't like plain water. "The train is at 9:40. If we leave now, we can catch it." He glanced at his watch; the strap gleamed softly in the morning light.
Ah Yu suddenly remembered what he had discovered last week—Zhong Hua's watch was five minutes slow. Every morning, he would secretly adjust it while Zhong Hua was making coffee, until one day he was caught. At that moment, Zhong Hua held down his hand as he turned the crown, saying, "I deliberately slowed it down so I could get to the studio five minutes earlier than you and fully charge your camera battery." Now, thinking back, how much unspoken concern was hidden in those five minutes that were secretly sped up?
"What about Lin Wanqing..." Ah Yu was a little worried.
“I called her, and she said she’ll come over as soon as the meeting is over and that you shouldn’t wait for her.” Zhong Hua picked up the camera on the table, helped Ah Yu hang it around her neck, and carefully put the lens cap back on. “Her meeting is very important; whether she can get her curator’s certificate depends on this.”
Ah Yu nodded. Lin Wanqing had been looking forward to this qualification certificate for a long time. She stayed up several nights in a row to prepare the materials. Zhong Hua even helped her organize the thick booklet of materials, and even corrected the punctuation marks neatly.
The two walked out of the studio side by side. The corridor was quiet, with only the sound of their footsteps echoing. Ah Yu looked at Zhong Hua's profile. The morning light outlined his clear features: a high nose bridge and lips pressed into a straight line, as if he was holding back something.
“Oh, right,” Ah Yu remembered something and took out a small photo frame from her bag. Inside was a photo of the three of them with their shadows overlapping, taken during their trip to Qinghai. “Please keep this safe for me. When I come back, I’ll cover that wall with more photos.”
Zhong Hua took the photo frame, his fingertips gently tracing the edge of the photograph. The shadows in the photo were long, stretched by the setting sun, and the three heads were close together, making it impossible to tell who was who. It was taken when their studio was first established. Ah Yu said he wanted to take a photo "symbolizing unity," but when the shutter clicked, Zhong Hua was bending down to help him straighten the crooked camera, while Lin Wanqing stood beside them, smiling as she watched the two of them.
"Okay." Zhong Hua carefully put the photo frame into his pocket, as if it were some rare treasure. "I'll wipe it for you every day, and then you can put up new photos when you come back."
When they arrived at the train station, there was still half an hour before departure. Ah Yu sat on a bench in the waiting room, watching Zhong Hua queue up to buy bottled water, his back standing out prominently in the crowd. He suddenly remembered that last night, Zhong Hua had filled the whiteboard in the studio with notes, from "check the camera lens for moisture every day" to "don't take shelter under trees when it rains," the entire whiteboard was densely covered, and at the end he had even drawn a small cactus with the note "remember to water it" next to it.
"Here you go." Zhong Hua handed a bottle of mineral water to A Yu, the cap already half-unscrewed. A Yu remembered what Lin Wanqing had said, that the two of them were now like mirror images; Zhong Hua would loosen the cap half-unscrew before handing it to him, and when he packed up his camera, he would always place the lens cap where Zhong Hua could easily reach it. These habits had formed sometime during this period, like two trees slowly growing closer, their roots quietly intertwining underground.
The announcement for ticket checking began over the loudspeaker. Ah Yu stood up, patted Zhong Hua on the shoulder, and said, "I'm leaving."
Zhong Hua nodded without saying a word, but simply straightened Ah Yu's collar, which had been ruffled by the wind. His fingers were very hot, and when they touched Ah Yu's neck, Ah Yu's heart skipped a beat.
“When you arrive, remember…” Zhong Hua wanted to say “report that you are safe,” but was interrupted by Ah Yu.
"Okay, I'll text you every day." Ah Yu smiled, her eyes curving like crescent moons. "Remember to take care of yourself too, and don't stay up all night fixing cameras. Lin Wanqing said you stayed in the studio until the early hours of the morning again last week."
Zhong Hua hummed in agreement, watching Ah Yu turn and walk into the ticket gate, her figure growing smaller and smaller in the crowd. Ah Yu suddenly stopped, turned back, and waved to him. Sunlight fell on his face, and he smiled like a child. Zhong Hua also raised his hand and slowly waved until that figure disappeared around the corner.
As the train slowly pulled away, Ah Yu leaned against the window, watching the platform recede into the distance. Zhong Hua's figure remained rooted to the spot, like a silent tree. He suddenly remembered the envelope Lin Wanqing had given him. He opened it and found a photograph inside, taken during the downpour—the three of them huddled under the eaves of a bakery. Zhong Hua had draped his coat over his shoulders, half his body exposed to the rain, while Lin Wanqing stood beside him, playfully poking Zhong Hua's arm. On the back of the photograph were Lin Wanqing's words: "Some warmth takes root."
Ah Yu carefully placed the photo into his wallet, his fingertips tracing Zhong Hua's profile in the picture. He suddenly remembered the small cloth bag that Zhong Hua had secretly slipped into his backpack before he left. Inside was a small cactus-shaped stone with the words "Waiting for you to come back" written on it in marker.
The train pulled away from the city, and the scenery outside the window gradually changed into green fields. Ah Yu took out her phone and sent Zhong Hua a text message: "On the train, all is well. Remember to turn the cactus halfway to the sun."
Not long after, my phone vibrated. It was Zhong Hua's reply, containing only two words: "Okay."
Ah Yu looked at those two words and suddenly smiled. He knew that behind those two words lay Zhong Hua's unspoken concern, a quiet, growing care that seemed to grow like a cactus. Three months in the mountains might be a long time, but he knew that someone was always waiting for him in the distance, carrying a fully charged battery and a perfectly sour fruit candy, turning all the warmth into the sweetness of time.
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