Zhong Hua paused as he paid, remembering the teeth marks on the roll of film, and his lips curved into a barely perceptible smile: "He... just likes this kind of thing."
As he cycled through the underpass, the wind suddenly picked up. Zhong Hua instinctively pressed the zipper of his canvas bag; the evening breeze lifted the hem of his clothes, brushing against the old keychain at his waist, making it jingle. He smelled the scents in the wind—the fishy smell of the distant dock, the smoky aroma of street food stalls, and a faint, almost imperceptible scent of chemical reagents.
It smells like chemicals from a photo lab.
Zhong Hua looked up at the sky; the setting sun was sinking into the clouds, dyeing the sky the color of orange soda. He remembered that Ah Yu had rushed to the pier at noon to photograph the sunset, and was probably squatting on the breakwater now, holding her camera and waiting for the last rays of light. Perhaps she had a new roll of film in her mouth, her left hand holding the tripod, her right hand adjusting the focus, and her glasses covered with salt grains brought by the sea breeze.
When the bicycle stopped at the alley entrance, Zhong Hua first took out the roll of film. The envelope was slightly warm from his body heat. He tore open the triangular seal and took out the film. The streetlights in the alley were just turning on, and the dim yellow light fell on the packaging box, making the teeth mark even clearer—deeper than in college, probably because he had bitten harder over the years.
He stuffed the film roll into the inside pocket of his coat, close to his chest. Then he opened the bag of candied orange peel, poured out two pieces into his palm, folded the bag back up, and put it into the white porcelain jar that Ah Yu usually used.
The jar was already half full of candy, all bought by him whenever he passed by the general store. Ah Yu always said he forgot to buy it, but whenever he wanted some, he would always pull out orange-flavored candied tangerine peel candy from the jar, then scratch his head in confusion: "Strange, when did I buy this?"
Zhong Hua leaned against the doorframe, listening to the sound of water coming from the kitchen. Ah Yu must have just returned from the dock and was washing her hands; the sound of running water was mixed with the rattling of a camera bag zipper.
"You're back?" Ah Yu's voice came from the kitchen, tinged with excitement. "I took some amazing photos of the sunset today, I'll show them to you when I get them out!"
"Hmm." Zhong Hua responded, touching the film roll in the inner pocket, his fingertips brushing against the teeth mark again.
A gentle evening breeze slipped in through the half-open window, lifting a corner of the curtains and carrying the faint scent of chemicals from the photo lab. Zhong Hua watched the busy figure at the kitchen doorway and suddenly realized that some marks never need to be spoken. Like the teeth marks on this film, like the candied orange peel in the jar, like the past six months he'd taken a detour to the photo lab every day—silence, yet clearer than any language.
Ah Yu came out of the kitchen wiping her hands and saw him standing at the door. She casually asked, "You're off work early today?"
"Yeah, the project wrapped up ahead of schedule." Zhong Hua stepped aside, his gaze falling on his bulging camera bag. "It's windy at the dock, are you still warm?"
"It's okay, I'm wearing a thick coat." Ah Yu waved the camera in her hand, then suddenly exclaimed, "Oh no! I forgot last week's film at the photo lab, there was a picture of you by Qinghai Lake on it..."
Looking at his frustrated expression, Zhong Hua felt as if she were seeing the boy in the darkroom from many years ago. He didn't say anything, but simply took out the kraft paper envelope from his inner pocket and gently placed it on the cabinet in the entryway.
Ah Yu's gaze fell on the envelope, then she suddenly looked up at him, her surprise like ripples stirred by the wind.
"Did Xiao Zhou give this to you?" He picked up the envelope, his fingertips touching the roll of film inside, his movements unconsciously becoming lighter.
"Hmm." Zhong Hua bent down to change her shoes, the heels hitting the floor with a soft thud. "She said you left something behind."
Ah Yu opened the envelope and saw the film canister with the teeth marks on it, then suddenly smiled. He held up the film and waved it at Zhong Hua. The last rays of the setting sun streamed in through the window, landing right on his profile, casting the shadow of his eyelashes onto his glasses like a snowflake.
"See, I told you to mark it." His voice carried a hint of smugness, like a little animal that had been caught hiding candy but was still happy. "Otherwise, we wouldn't have been able to find it."
Zhong Hua looked at him without speaking. The evening breeze lifted the curtains, and the air, carrying the smell of medicine, drifted into the room, mingling with the aroma of tea eggs wafting from the kitchen. He thought, some things never really need to be searched for, like this roll of film that's been bitten, like those thoughts hidden in the years, already etched unique marks on each other's lives.
Ah Yu carefully put the film into her camera bag, turned and walked towards the living room, then suddenly stopped and looked back at him: "By the way, what do you want to eat tonight? I bought some fresh crucian carp, I'll make you fish soup?"
“Okay.” Zhong Hua followed behind him, watching his back, and suddenly felt that it was worth it no matter how long it took to walk this detour every day.
The streetlights outside the window shone even warmer, and the scent of medicine in the evening breeze gradually faded, mingling with the aroma of food inside the house, creating a unique flavor that belonged to them.
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