Chapter 20

Before the New Year, a nursing home in another city made headlines when it was revealed that caregivers had forced elderly residents to drink urine. If this allegation was true, it would be a valuable piece of material, both socially and journalistically.

But Lin Ze didn’t show much interest, merely listening quietly as he turned on his recorder.

The elderly man cried and shouted for a long time, his loud voice drawing the attention of many reporters. The nursing home staff quickly ushered him inside, with the head nurse explaining, “The elderly gentleman is just overly emotional because he’s grateful to the municipal government.”

Lin Ze put away his recorder without a word, sitting back down with Situ Ye to continue watching the children’s performance.

“What are you planning to do?” Situ Ye asked.

“Huh?” Lin Ze was momentarily taken aback before replying, “Nothing. What can I do?”

“So you’re just going to ignore it?” Situ Ye pressed.

Lin Ze gave Situ Ye a skeptical glance. Situ Ye insisted, “I’m serious. Making an elderly person eat food off the floor, slapping him—”

“Shh.” Lin Ze quickly motioned for him to lower his voice.

Situ Ye whispered, “You recorded it, didn’t you?”

Lin Ze sighed. “Not necessarily. Elderly people are like children—some tend to fabricate things to draw attention and sympathy. Some even accuse their own children of abusing them. It’s like how children exaggerate their injuries to get attention from parents or others.”

“That’s way too cynical,” Situ Ye frowned.

Lin Ze clapped a hand on his shoulder. “I was just like you when I first started out. You’ll understand after a while. Stick with me later and don’t say anything reckless.”

Situ Ye was in a bad mood. After the performance ended, Lin Ze sought out the elderly man alone, patiently listening to his complaints and offering a few comforting words. After some thought, he took Situ Ye to knock on the door of the nursing home’s deputy director.

Lin Ze could tell Situ Ye was angry and warned him in a low voice, “Don’t speak out of turn, or I won’t bring you along next time.”

Situ Ye grunted in acknowledgment. Lin Ze sat down in the deputy director’s office and played the recording for him. Situ Ye immediately frowned. The deputy director interrupted halfway through, saying, “That’s not how it is, Reporter Lin. Let me explain.”

The deputy director stood up to retrieve some documents, searching for a long time before pulling out a resume and handing it to Lin Ze and Situ Ye. He then called in the accused caregiver—a young woman in her early twenties with a vocational school education. The moment she heard about the complaint, she was at a complete loss, utterly stunned.

Lin Ze remained patient, sitting quietly as he listened to the explanation. It turned out that while the caregiver had indeed behaved poorly, the situation wasn’t as exaggerated as the elderly man had claimed. The attitude of the man’s children had also played a key role in the incident.

The nursing home’s monthly fees weren’t high, but the man’s son had been overly critical of the overall environment. The deputy director sighed, “We charge 1,200 yuan, but he demands service worth 5,000 yuan. He’s very rude to our staff—how could we possibly provide that level of service? Even though our caregivers work in the service industry, they shouldn’t be treated like servants, right, Reporter Lin? His son is extremely impolite. The world is vast, and there are all kinds of people. Normally, we shouldn’t stoop to the level of rude family members, but Xiao Zhen is too young. After being scolded, she was emotionally unstable and ended up arguing with the elderly man. But hitting him? That’s pure fabrication. These kids are fundamentally kind-hearted. You can’t dismiss all their hard work just because of one mistake.”

Lin Ze didn’t think the girl looked like someone who would abuse the elderly—after all, one’s nature is reflected in their appearance. At most, she was just a young woman with occasional mood swings. Anyone doing this job long-term would feel the pressure and have moments of frustration. Lin Ze doubted he could maintain genuine warmth and care for the elderly for decades himself.

He flipped through the girl’s resume and saw that she had interned at the nursing home during her studies. She had performed well and was later hired as a full-time employee. The deputy director added, “Reporter Lin, hiring caregivers is incredibly difficult these days. You don’t understand the challenges our industry faces—low pay, high workload. These girls could work as nurses, in clinics, or do anything else. Only truly kind-hearted girls are willing to serve the elderly in nursing homes…”

“I know,” Lin Ze smiled, closing the resume. “That’s why I didn’t take the recording straight to the media. I understand your difficulties.”

The deputy director let out a sigh of relief and nodded repeatedly. Lin Ze glanced at Situ Ye before standing to leave. Situ Ye turned to the girl. “Just be more careful in the future,” he told her as he escorted her out.

After closing the door and stepping outside, Lin Ze chuckled. “That’s why journalists are called the ‘uncrowned kings.’ Don’t act impulsively in the future. If you suspect they’re lying, you can always go back tomorrow to check.”

Situ Ye’s expression was complicated as he sighed deeply.

While waiting at a red light in the car, Lin Ze took out a red envelope, counted the money inside—400 yuan—and handed 200 to Situ Ye. “For you.”

“From the nursing home?” Situ Ye looked incredulous. “Didn’t you just clear things up? Why did you take their money?”

“Just take it,” Lin Ze said irritably. “Accepting money means we’ve settled the matter and put their minds at ease. If they offer it, you take it. The moment you questioned them and started investigating, you were essentially asking for a red envelope. How could they not give one?”

“That wasn’t my intention,” Situ Ye replied.

“But others won’t assume your motives were pure. Keep it as a memento—your first red envelope. Let it remind you not to accept them in the future. And here…” Lin Ze smiled.

He then took out another red envelope and placed it on the car seat. “This is your year-end bonus from me personally.”

Situ Ye stared at Lin Ze for a long moment without speaking. Outside, a cold drizzle fell over Chongqing in winter. The car was parked outside Bei Cheng Tian Street, but neither of them got out.

“A reward for your outstanding contributions these past few months. Just a token—you’re a great partner,” Lin Ze added.

Situ Ye’s frown gradually eased. After a long pause, he said, “Thank you, A’Ze.”

Neither of them wanted to leave the car. The world outside was too cold, the car windows fogged with a thin layer of condensation. Inside, it was a warm little haven.

Lin Ze’s phone rang—it was Xie Chenfeng, finally returning his call.

“Work keeping you that busy? Shouldn’t you spend some time with your partner too?” Lin Ze asked.

Xie Chenfeng laughed. “Sorry, A’Ze. I really can’t get away. The boss is relying on me.”

“Then I’ll come to you. Damn it, why didn’t you say so earlier?” Lin Ze snapped.

“Don’t come. I have to accompany the boss to Dongguan to restock. We’ll be running all over the place. If you come, you’ll just be stuck at home alone,” Xie Chenfeng replied.

Lin Ze had assumed Xie Chenfeng only had to go to the store every day, but now he had to travel for work too. He was deeply disappointed.

“Fine,” Lin Ze muttered. “What about after the New Year?”

“We’ll see then,” Xie Chenfeng said.

“Mm.” Lin Ze’s voice was low.

The two fell silent on the phone for a long time. Lin Ze could hear the sound of advertisements on TV, followed by the familiar jingle of a show’s opening credits. After the “ah-ah-ah” music ended, My Fair Princess began playing. The mid-episode cry of “Xiao Yanzi—” echoed, and they just listened quietly to the sounds from the other end. The volume lowered—Xie Chenfeng must have turned it down—but the background noise made Lin Ze start piecing things together.

Where was he? Lin Ze couldn’t help but overthink it. Xie Chenfeng didn’t have a TV at home. The ads and mid-episode break had to be from a television, and Xie Chenfeng couldn’t be at the phone store—no one would play the volume that loud there.

So, he had to be at someone else’s place… or a hotel.

“A’Ze, are you mad?” Xie Chenfeng asked.

“No,” Lin Ze replied.

He wanted to ask Xie Chenfeng where he was—a hotel? But how could he be cheating?

“It’s pretty cold in Chongqing. Stay warm,” Xie Chenfeng added.

“Got it, Mr. Walrus. I’m heading to the office now. Let’s talk more at home,” Lin Ze said.

Xie Chenfeng didn’t say anything else before hanging up. Lin Ze sat quietly in the passenger seat, growing increasingly uneasy.

“Can I go home with you guys for New Year’s?” Situ Ye asked.

Lin Ze unbuckled his seatbelt. “Xie Lei isn’t coming back to Chongqing. I might go to Guangzhou to see him. You should go back with Zheng Jie.”

“Oh, come on,” Situ Ye said, torn between laughter and tears. “Are you messing with me? I was going to buy gifts for your parents.”

“You can still give them to Zheng Jie. Besides, why buy gifts for my parents? You might as well give them to me. Bye,” Lin Ze said.

“Then I’ll go to Guangzhou with you,” Situ Ye offered.

“No,” Lin Ze responded.

“You’re so cruel! How can you leave me here alone for New Year’s?”

Lin Ze wanted to get out of the car but hesitated, unsure whether to confide in Situ Ye about his relationship troubles. He knew Situ Ye was always jealous of Xie Chenfeng, though that jealousy might not be romantic—just a natural dynamic between friends. But still…

He got out of the car. Situ Ye pulled out the keys and followed him. “If something’s bothering you, share it so we can all have a laugh.”

Lin Ze couldn’t help but chuckle, unable to stay mad at Situ Ye. “Let me think,” he said.

Situ Ye stood dejectedly in the light rain. Lin Ze went home, his mind still full of thoughts about Xie Chenfeng. Maybe he needed physical intimacy too—had he booked a hotel room to hook up with another HIV-positive person? Was he out of his mind?

That was the worst-case scenario. If it were true, Lin Ze’s relationship with him would be over—again. It just wouldn’t be worth it. But it was also possible that Xie Chenfeng was telling the truth—that he really was just busy with work. Lin Ze didn’t even know Xie Chenfeng’s exact workplace. His first visit had been rushed, just one night before returning. After much deliberation, Lin Ze decided to go see him the next day.

Lin Ze searched for plane tickets online, but they were all sold out. Zheng Jie came home.

“When’s Xie Lei coming back?” Zheng Jie hummed a tune, showing Lin Ze his pay stub with excitement. Lin Ze glanced at him. “Xie Lei isn’t coming back. I’m going to Guangzhou to see him.”

“Oh,” Zheng Jie replied. “Why not?”

“Business is too busy,” Lin Ze said.

Zheng Jie nodded. “Makes sense. When are you going?”

Lin Ze couldn’t find any plane tickets, and the railway website was overloaded. He was getting frustrated.

“I’m upset,” Lin Ze said bluntly. “Zheng Jie, what should I do?”

Zheng Jie turned on the heater and warmed two cups of milk. Their slippered feet bumped together under the table, playfully nudging each other. Lin Ze laughed, his gloom lifting.

“You should go see him,” Zheng Jie said.

Lin Ze nodded. Zheng Jie’s unwavering friendship gave him strength. Zheng Jie rubbed his hands together, warming them on the milk, as Lin Ze shared his suspicions. Zheng Jie just listened sympathetically before saying, “Go check it out. Otherwise, you won’t feel at ease.”

“But I can’t get a plane ticket,” Lin Ze replied.

“No train tickets either?” Zheng Jie asked. “What about standing tickets? Ask a friend to help.”

Lin Ze had an idea—back in school, he and Zheng Jie would sometimes buy platform tickets to board trains first and pay later. He didn’t want to trouble anyone, but he’d try this method. The next afternoon, Zheng Jie took Lin Ze to the train station, only to find that security was tight during the Spring Festival travel rush—no one without a ticket and ID could enter. Lin Ze had no choice but to ask for help.

Fortunately, things went surprisingly smoothly. A contact at the station helped him buy a standing ticket. Lin Ze boarded with his travel bag while Zheng Jie saw him off on the platform, handing him a bag of snacks and telling him to upgrade to a sleeper ticket once onboard. Zheng Jie waited until the train departed, waving goodbye.

The Spring Festival rush was a sea of people—mostly migrant workers returning to Sichuan, Hunan, and other provinces from Chongqing. The crowd would thin after leaving Sichuan, with many students heading home too. Lin Ze could barely move once onboard. The conductor said all seats were taken, so he left his bag in the smoking car and sat down to play on his phone.

After a while, he took out his iPad and opened Jack’d, then realized it was pointless with the train moving so fast. He browsed the web idly before looking around—three migrant workers sat near the restroom, and a skinny, dark-skinned boy hugged a bag while sitting on another.

A small girl dozed on a suitcase by the window, her arms wrapped around her knees, swaying slightly with the train’s motion. She didn’t look like a student—probably a young worker.

The skinny boy kept staring curiously at Lin Ze’s iPad, iPhone, and other gadgets.

“Want to play cards?” Lin Ze asked.

“Sure,” the boy replied. “What do you know?”

Lin Ze dug out a deck of cards from his bag and scooted over. The girl woke up groggily, and the boy turned to her. “Wanna play?”

She rubbed the red mark on her forehead from sleeping and went to the restroom. When she returned, she said, “Sure, but I only know Fight the Landlord.”

The three played cards all night. Lin Ze suggested Truth or Dare instead of gambling and offered cigarettes. The boy didn’t smoke, but the girl took one casually, pulling out a lighter to light Lin Ze’s cigarette.

This became one of Lin Ze’s most memorable journeys. Years later, he would still think of that night on the train to Guangzhou and the two strangers he met because of their standing tickets—people whose names he never even asked. Like ships passing in the night, they crossed paths in that smoke-filled train car, destined to disappear into the crowds at Guangzhou Station after disembarking. But for that one night, all secrets were laid bare.

When Lin Ze lost a round, he told them he was going to Guangzhou to see his HIV-positive boyfriend and find out why he wasn’t coming to Chongqing for New Year’s.

The skinny boy lost and admitted he had dropped out after his first year of high school because his rural family in Sichuan couldn’t afford his education. He was heading to Dongguan to work, patting his bag of study materials, saying he wanted to keep learning while working.

Lin Ze didn’t discourage him, though he knew factory workers on 12-hour shifts rarely had energy to study afterward. Bosses always demanded overtime—paid, but endless. Most workers wouldn’t refuse the extra money, stretching their shifts to 14-16 hours. Who had the energy to study after that?

Work required stamina, and so did studying. Many rural teens forced to drop out and work in cities shared the same dream, but most ended up selling their books to scrap collectors.

Still, a few persevered, taking adult education or even regular college entrance exams. Lin Ze hoped this boy would be one of them—that he wouldn’t abandon his resolve from this train ride.

“Keep at it,” Lin Ze said. “Studying is all about persistence—just like anything else. Carve out an hour or two daily, and it’ll become a habit.”

The boy nodded with a smile. The girl told him, “Don’t overwork yourself. Money is endless—let go of some now to invest in yourself. That’s how you earn more later.”

The boy nodded eagerly. The girl, in her early twenties like Lin Ze, seemed more worldly. The boy, barely sixteen or seventeen, was like a little brother.

When the girl lost, she told them she was going to Guangzhou to find her ex-boyfriend. She had recently had an abortion because of him. Back home, they’d smoked, fought, and run with a rough crowd until her boyfriend was chased out by local gangsters. He’d called to break up, saying he wouldn’t be back for years and that she should marry someone else.

But how could she? Deep down, she knew—if he truly loved her, he wouldn’t have said that.

“Bomb,” the girl tossed down four sevens, then a straight of 8-9-10-J-Q without looking. “Any real man would work hard in Guangzhou and wait to bring me over. Who says stuff like that? He’s just tired of me, thinks I’m dead weight. Probably found someone else.”

Lin Ze and the boy stayed silent. Lin Ze wouldn’t have guessed this ponytailed, slightly plump girl had been a delinquent, but her words fit. The worst part? She didn’t have his new number.

Lin Ze asked, “What will you do?”

The girl replied, “Go to his uncle’s place. If they won’t give me his contact, I’ll camp outside.”

Lin Ze instructed, “No, stake out his place first. Make sure he’s not there before knocking.”

The boy asked, “What if they refuse to help?”

Lin Ze responded, “How can there be no way to contact him? If you really want to find someone, you can. Connections lead to connections. Just stay at their place, say you’ll leave once you find him. If you can’t, keep staying.”

The girl laughed. “Not bad. You’re ruthless.”

Lin Ze sighed, shaking his head. He realized all three of them were heading into the unknown, their futures shrouded in fog. But life went on, just like the rumbling train—it would always reach its destination.