Ah Yu walked to the coffee machine and saw that the glass jar contained ground coffee powder. There was a note on the jar: "Two spoonfuls are enough, any more will be bitter." He suddenly remembered that he had complained yesterday that "hand-grinding coffee is too tiring." At that time, Zhong Hua was tidying up his documents and seemed not to have heard him, but he remembered it.
While making coffee, Ah Yu noticed the tissue box next to the coffee machine was empty. He turned to go to the storage room to get a new one, but saw Zhong Hua's coat hanging on the hook behind the door—the dark gray coat that he always draped over Ah Yu's shoulders. Last time during a rainstorm, Ah Yu was outside taking pictures of the rain scene, and Zhong Hua ran over wearing this coat, wrapping him up tightly while getting half-soaked himself.
Ah Yu took off his coat and smelled the faint scent of camphor mixed with the fresh fragrance of Zhong Hua's usual laundry detergent. He draped the coat over the back of his chair, as if Zhong Hua had just gone to the tea room to get water and would be back in a little while, and reached out to take the coat away.
The coffee was ready, its aroma filling the entire studio. Ah Yu poured the coffee into her cup and placed it in the spot where Zhong Hua usually handed her sugar. Sunlight streamed through the blinds, casting dappled patterns of light on the coffee's surface, like blinking eyes.
He returned to his workstation, opened Photoshop, and pulled up the group photo of the three of them by Qinghai Lake, enlarging Zhong Hua's smiling face. In the photo, Zhong Hua was looking directly at the camera, his lips curved in a smile, and the light in his eyes was brighter than the sunlight over Qinghai Lake. Ah Yu's mouse hovered over the screen for a moment, then created a new folder and named it "Waiting for Zhong Hua to come back so we can fix it together."
The wind outside the window gradually stopped, and the blinds ceased their swaying. Ah Yu picked up his coffee and took a sip; it still tasted a bit bitter, but he didn't go looking for sugar as usual. He knew that the sugar Zhong Hua had left was meant to be sweet enough when he returned.
A time notification popped up in the lower right corner of the computer: 3 PM. Ah Yu remembered Zhong Hua saying that the sunlight was best in the mountains at this time, perfect for photographing children reading. He picked up the camera and checked the battery and memory card—both were full, as if someone had prepared everything for him long ago.
As the camera focused on the sycamore tree outside the window, Ah Yu suddenly smiled. He seemed to see Zhong Hua standing under the tree, wearing that dark gray coat, holding a roll of film, calling out to him, "Ah Yu, the light is perfect here!"
The moment Ah Yu pressed the shutter, he felt as if something had quietly filled the empty space in his heart. It turned out that what was missing from his field of vision wasn't because his workstation was empty, but because the person who always watched him from behind the lens was temporarily gone.
But it doesn't matter, he will bring a camera full of photos to wait for him to come back, just like Zhong Hua always remembers to secretly prepare his favorite candy, commonly used batteries, and those unspoken thoughts.
The studio door was ajar by the wind, letting in a touch of spring warmth. As Ah Yu got up to close the door, he saw Zhong Hua's cactus swaying gently on the windowsill, as if nodding. He suddenly remembered what Zhong Hua had said before he left: "When I come back, we'll go take pictures of the cactus blooming."
Yes, we'll wait for him to come back.
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com
