A gust of wind blew in as the studio door opened. Zhong Hua walked in carrying a cardboard box, his bangs ruffled by the wind, his nose red from the cold. "I just picked up the new photo paper," he said, placing the box on the table. His gaze swept across the window, paused, and then quickly looked away. "Ah Yu, the filter you asked for yesterday has arrived; it's in my drawer."
"Mmm," Ah Yu responded, her gaze still fixed on the ball of yarn.
As Zhong Hua turned to leave, Lin Wanqing suddenly spoke up: "Zhong Hua, when you jumped down from the ladder yesterday, did you twist your ankle? I noticed you were walking a little limping this morning."
Ah Yu suddenly looked up.
Zhong Hua stopped in his tracks, his back to them, his shoulders stiffening. "No," his voice was a little muffled, "it's just that sand got into my shoes."
"Really?" Lin Wanqing raised an eyebrow. "That sand really knows how to pick its spot, just enough to rub a red mark off your ankle bone?"
Zhong Hua didn't speak and quickly walked into his office. The moment the door closed, Ah Yu heard a slight noise, like someone gently stomping their feet inside.
The hot cocoa wasn't so hot anymore. Ah Yu picked it up and took a sip. The sweet, warm liquid slid down his throat, but it didn't suppress the stuffy feeling in his chest. He got up and walked to the window, his fingers stroking the ball of yarn again—it was stuffed more carefully than he had thought, even the tiny gap at the top was plugged with loose threads.
He recalled how Zhong Hua helped him stick the lens cap back on when they were in college.
It was a rainy day, and he took his camera to take pictures of the rain scene. The lens cap accidentally fell into a puddle and cracked. He was heartbroken and squatted by the roadside, staring blankly at the crack. Zhong Hua silently handed him a tube of super glue and said, "Let me try."
He squatted on the library steps, using a toothpick dipped in glue to fill the crack little by little. Raindrops fell on the back of his hand, but he didn't notice until Ah Yu tilted the umbrella mostly towards him, then he looked up, smiled, and said, "Almost done."
The lens cap, once glued on, had a slightly crooked edge, but it never came off again. The camera was replaced long ago, but Ah Yu kept that lens cap in her drawer, as if it were a secret.
Just like now, there's a secret hidden in this ball of old yarn.
Ah Yu turned and walked toward Zhong Hua's office, his hands clenched tightly in his pockets. He remembered there was a bottle of safflower oil in the storeroom, which he had bought when Lin Wanqing twisted her back, and there was still more than half a bottle left.
The door wasn't closed properly, leaving a crack. When Ah Yu pushed the door open, he saw Zhong Hua with his back to him, bending over and rubbing his ankle, his brows furrowed tightly. Hearing the noise, he hurriedly straightened up, but his ankle gave way, and he stumbled.
"What happened to your foot?" Ah Yu walked over, her voice a little harsh.
Zhong Hua shifted slightly to the side, his eyes darting around: "I said it's nothing, the sand..."
“Lin Wanqing saw it all.” Ah Yu interrupted him, squatting down to look at his ankle—it was indeed red and bruised, as if something had poked it.
Zhong Hua's ears turned bright red, and she reached out to help him up: "It's really nothing, you'll be fine in a couple of days."
Ah Yu didn't move, but gently touched the bruise with her finger. Zhong Hua's leg flinched, as if he had been burned.
"You're afraid of heights, yet you climbed so high." Ah Yu's voice was soft, carrying a hint of grievance she herself didn't realize. "Couldn't you have waited for me?"
Zhong Hua opened his mouth, but no words came out. Sunlight streamed in through the gaps in the blinds, casting dappled patterns of light and shadow on his face, like an unfinished sketch.
"Didn't you always say you were cold?" After a long while, he said in a low voice, "The weather forecast says it will get colder tomorrow."
When Ah Yu looked up, she met his eyes. Zhong Hua's eyelashes were long, and when they hung down, they looked like small fans, but at this moment they were trembling slightly, as if hiding some unease.
"I'll go get the safflower oil." Ah Yu stood up, turned around and walked out.
“No need—” Zhong Hua’s voice sounded from behind, sounding a little urgent.
Ah Yu didn't turn around.
He found the safflower oil in the storage room, poured a glass of warm water, and returned to Zhong Hua's office. He saw Zhong Hua staring blankly at the computer screen, the mouse hovering on the desktop but not clicking.
"Take off your shoes." Ah Yu placed the water glass on the corner of the table and unscrewed the cap of the safflower oil.
Zhong Hua hesitated for a moment, but still obediently took off his sneakers. When his socks were down to his ankles, he subconsciously shrank back, as if afraid of being seen in his disheveled state.
Ah Yu poured some safflower oil into her palm, rubbed her hands together to warm them, and gently placed them on his ankle. The warm medicinal oil mixed with the warmth of her palms seeped in, and Zhong Hua's body stiffened slightly, but he didn't pull away.
"When you were changing light bulbs in college," Ah Yu said softly while rubbing her hand, "were you especially scared standing on the ladder?"
Zhong Hua's breathing paused. The wind outside the window picked up again, but this time there was no more whistling sound of drafts, only the gentle trembling of the ball of yarn.
“A little.” He finally admitted, his voice as soft as a sigh, “but you were watching from below, you can’t just say you were scared.”
Ah Yu stopped moving.
He recalled himself at that time—he was indeed standing below, but he was only focused on watching Zhong Hua reach for the light bulb, and didn't even say "be careful."
"Don't do that again." Ah Yu's fingertip paused on the bruise on his ankle. "It's just a draft, I can always wear more clothes. The ladder is so high, what if you fall?"
Zhong Hua didn't speak, but secretly glanced at him. Sunlight shone through his glasses, casting faint patches of light on Ah Yu's face, like a layer of scattered gold.
“Actually…” Zhong Hua’s voice was a little hoarse, “I’ve been looking for that ball of yarn for a long time.”
Ah Yu looked up.
“There’s new sealing cotton in the storage room,” Zhong Hua’s ears turned red again, “but I remember you said that the scarf Lin Wanqing knitted, although ugly, was especially warm. I think… this leftover yarn should be the same.”
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