Chapter 20. Sea Breeze Part 2

When Lu Zhengming woke up, the sky was still dark.

The train car swayed rhythmically, and Yin Yan, lying on the lower bunk across from him, swayed along with it. He was sleeping deeply, as if a dense, inescapable exhaustion was pressing him into the bed, just like that night when Lu Zhengming held him. The position hadn’t been comfortable, yet he had been able to fall into a motionless slumber.

The train attendant went down the aisle, pulling open the curtains one by one with loud, grating noises from the curtain tracks. Many people were roused by the sound. When he reached the rows of hard sleepers where they were, Lu Zhengming silently stopped him, took over the task, and folded their curtain himself without making a sound.

Afterward, he returned to his bunk and stared blankly, sometimes at the scenery outside, sometimes at Yin Yan. He had an urge to climb into bed with him, wanting to be the first person Yin Yan saw when he opened his eyes. He wished every day could be like this. But at the same time, he found that desire ironic. Someone had once said something similar to him, and his immediate reaction had been to run.

Retribution.

Looking at Yin Yan, Lu Zhengming was filled with self-mockery.

Some early-rising students were already out of bed, carrying their toiletry bags past his bunk. Lu Zhengming pointed at Yin Yan, and the students nodded in greeting.

When he turned back, Yin Yan was already awake, his gaze sharp and clear, as if he had never been asleep.

In an instant, the refreshing feeling of morning vanished, replaced by a heavy weariness that seemed to transfer from Yin Yan onto him. Lu Zhengming yawned, murmured a greeting, and went to wash up.

The students had already finished. One of them was walking out of the washroom with their head down. When they looked up and saw Lu Zhengming, they were startled.

Was he really that scary?

He stepped in front of the mirror and finally saw it himself. His face did look a little too serious. As he brushed his teeth, he pondered what had made him wear such an expression.

The answer was obvious. Yin Yan.

Lu Zhengming really wanted to know why Yin Yan was always so tense and why he was so exhausted. But all of his encounters had been fleeting. He had never truly touched another person’s inner world. Now that he finally wanted to deepen a relationship, he found himself completely at a loss.

When he returned to his bunk, Yin Yan had also finished washing up and was coming back from the other end of the train car, carrying two breakfasts. Plain congee, stir-fried vegetables, steamed flower rolls, and hard-boiled eggs was all the dining car had to offer.

Lu Zhengming had no appetite, so he just sat on his bunk and watched Yin Yan eat.

He didn’t seem to have much of an appetite either. He treated eating like a task, his movements mechanical, his pace steady. After finishing his congee, he even used a flower roll to wipe the inside of his meal box, making sure not to waste a single bit of food. Then, he took out a thermos, added a pinch of tea leaves, and filled it to the brim with hot water.

After that, he pulled out two decks of poker cards. “Wanna play?”

Lu Zhengming had no interest in watching him put on a show with his mediocre card skills, so he said he wanted a smoke and got up to step out into the train’s connecting area for some air.

By now, the students had finished breakfast and were gathering in groups to chat. After his cigarette, Lu Zhengming lingered in the corridor, listening.

His classes never had a stifling atmosphere. Students were free to play music and talk, but he had never really paid attention before. Now that he was listening, he realized how little he actually knew about them.

There weren’t many students in this class, and each had their own distinct personality. Some really did come from families with mines, while others had relatives in government. Some were busy collecting all sorts of certifications, like teaching licenses and driver’s licenses, while others drifted aimlessly.

Some had high enough entrance scores to qualify for top universities, while others had taken the art exam route because they had no other option. There were Buddhists and Christians, heterosexuals and homosexuals. Everyone had endless topics to discuss with their peers.

Except for one person.

That was Ouyang, the only girl in the class.

Her weight was nearly the same as her height, and her face was unremarkable. She sat alone by the window, long black hair draped over a black robe, making her look like a massive, black bell. Whenever someone passed by, she would shrink into herself, as if trying to make sure she didn’t get in anyone’s way.

Lu Zhengming felt a pang of sympathy and walked over to sit across from her. He pulled out the peppermint candy he usually ate after smoking and offered it to her. “Want some?”

Ouyang shook her head with a polite but distant smile. From that, Lu Zhengming caught the hidden message, I’m fine, I don’t need pity. So he simply flipped open the box, popped two pieces into his mouth, and sat with her, gazing out at the scenery.

A few minutes later, Ouyang suddenly spoke. “Thank you, Mr. Lu.”

“Huh?”

“I just don’t like chatting.”

For some reason, Lu Zhengming thought of Yan Yan, and his chest felt a little heavy. He quickly adjusted his mood. “What do you like, then?”

“I like the crisscrossing power lines over urban villages and the shadows of clouds over the plains.” She pointed to the farmland outside. “Look.”

Lu Zhengming followed her gaze. The morning glow had faded, leaving a sky bathed in warm colors. The winter wheat had yet to sprout, and a veil of blue cloud shadows lay over the bare soil, its hues subtle and dappled.

He met Ouyang’s eyes, and she explained, “It’s beautiful.”

He could understand that kind of beauty and nodded, but her first answer intrigued him. “Why do you like power lines? What’s beautiful about them?”

“They’re not beautiful, but they’re interesting.” Ouyang smiled. “Inside those wires, human desires are flowing.”

Lu Zhengming turned the words over in his mind, unsure how to respond. But Ouyang didn’t leave him hanging. She simply turned back to the window, falling silent again.

Meanwhile, students around them were absorbed in their own conversations. The ones obsessed with certifications were asking the well-connected classmates about civil service exams. The rich and the poor alike were killing time with the same mobile game. Students of different sexual orientations were discussing the bisexual painter Freud. And the Buddhists and Christians had resumed their debate on the fate of humanity…

Everyone was happy to lose themselves in the lively chatter, except Ouyang, who gazed silently at the distant horizon, as if she were a riddle yet to be solved. Lu Zhengming watched her for a while but soon realized that sitting there any longer would just add to the dullness, so he returned to his lower bunk.

Yin Yan was playing Sheng Ji with his students. He had only brought three graduate students, which made for a perfect four-player game. Since Lu Zhengming’s bunk was occupied, he had no choice but to sit on the seats in the corridor, watching from a distance. Alone, he found himself forming a quiet connection with Ouyang a few meters away.

The card game was lively, with the students unreservedly poking fun at Yin Yan’s poor skills. Yin Yan took it all in stride, laughing along and promising to treat them to some local seafood specialties.

Lu Zhengming felt a little lonely. And in that loneliness, he started to see the train car as some kind of metaphor, like a boat drifting down the river of time and fate, each passenger inevitably headed toward their own destination.

People tend to have all sorts of thoughts while traveling, but the noise and activity around them always pull their attention back, scattering those drifting thoughts like mist, or suspending them midair, waiting for the next quiet moment to descend again.

Lu Zhengming’s musings were soon interrupted by the laughter from the card table. His curiosity piqued, he moved to sit beside Yin Yan and watch the game unfold.

A few hours later, the train arrived at Qingdao.

The station was close to the sea, and the moment they stepped off the train, a salty breeze greeted them. Despite the island’s higher latitude, the air felt warmer than expected, the wind thick with moisture, like the breath of something intimate.

Almost instinctively, Lu Zhengming glanced at Yin Yan. He was engaged in conversation with the person from the art base who had come to pick them up. The woman spoke quickly in the local dialect, which Lu Zhengming couldn’t understand at all. Yin Yan, on the other hand, responded in Mandarin without any difficulty, conversing smoothly with her.

Lu Zhengming waited until their exchange was over before stepping in to direct the students onto the bus.

In just a short ride, the students quickly struck up conversations and bonded, their youthful energy bridging the gap between undergraduates and graduate students. A few bold ones even managed to add Yin Yan’s female graduate student on WeChat.

Yet, despite also being a girl, the air around Ouyang remained eerily still. Because of her size, she occupied a double seat alone, sitting motionless as she stared out the window, silent, just like Yin Yan.

Yin Yan briefly translated the reception staff’s introduction for Lu Zhengming, then fell quiet again, staring out the window. His hands were clasped tightly together in front of him, fingers twisting so hard that his knuckles turned pale.

Lu Zhengming lost interest in the scenery. Instead, he sat beside Yin Yan in silence for a while. Then, when no one was looking, he reached out and held his hand.

It was damp and cold.

“I’m fine.” Yin Yan gave a slight squeeze in return before slipping his hand into his coat pocket.

When Lu Zhengming looked at him with questioning eyes, Yin Yan chose to change the subject, launching into a detailed introduction of Qingdao’s unique local specialties, its history, and cultural heritage. He seemed to know the place inside out, as if he were a local himself.

His explanation was that he had brought students here for sketching trips multiple times.

Lu Zhengming had a vague feeling that Yin Yan was holding something back, but before he could dwell on it, the car began to slow down. They had arrived at their destination.

The sketching base was situated on a small hill. Originally built as an observatory, the facility had later been expanded to twice its size thanks to a donation from a local female philanthropist, transforming it into a major art academy’s field study base. It was also open to the public. Though its facilities weren’t as polished as commercial hotels, its affordable rates and strong artistic atmosphere attracted plenty of young backpackers with a love for romance and adventure.

The moment they stepped into the base’s lobby, they were greeted by a wall covered in photographs detailing the history of the observatory and Qingdao City. Among them was a half-body portrait of the female philanthropist who had funded the expansion.

Lu Zhengming’s eyes were immediately drawn to it. He couldn’t quite put his finger on what was so striking about it. He just felt that the woman’s brows and eyes looked somewhat familiar.

The students lingered in the lobby, waiting for further instructions. Some wandered around, taking in their surroundings, while a few were also studying the photographs.

Lu Zhengming didn’t have time to examine them further. He and Yin Yan went to the front desk to handle the check-in procedures. As he watched Yin Yan sign the paperwork with quiet focus, a sudden thought struck him.

At that very moment, a murmur rose from behind him. One of the students was whispering.

“This woman looks kind of like Professor Yin.”