In early April, rain fell on Changding. The newly warmed air suddenly turned cold again, and as expected, Fang Li caught a cold. He spent his days sniffling and congested, his head heavy and foggy. Seeing how miserable he looked, Qi Jian asked if he wanted to go to a nearby clinic. Fang Li shook his head, saying it wasn’t necessary.
He hadn’t spent a single cent of the money Qin Weidong had given him, except for food. For something like a cold, it just didn’t seem worth spending money on.
Night school only held classes in the evenings. Since Fang Li had fallen too far behind, he couldn’t focus in the dorm during the day, so he found an empty classroom to study alone. These crash courses didn’t require tests or grades anyway—many of the women attending had to leave halfway through class to take care of kids at home, and the teachers weren’t too invested either. They’d finish the lecture and head out. There was no one to ask questions.
Unfortunately, Fang Li wasn’t particularly gifted when it came to studying. Sometimes Qi Jian had already grasped a lesson while Fang Li was still flipping through his books after class, trying to understand—it was hard going.
These days, Fang Li just waited for Qin Weidong to come see him. Back when they used to stick together all the time, he hadn’t thought much of it. But now that Qin Weidong had been gone for so long, Fang Li found everything unfamiliar. Even his words had become fewer.
One day, while collecting laundry on the balcony, he heard the dorm manager downstairs calling for 603—it was a phone call. He dropped the clothes in his hands and rushed out in a flash.
Outside, it was drizzling. As Fang Li ran to the school gate, he saw across the street a large covered semi-truck parked at the curb. Under the canopy stood Qin Weidong, a cigarette between his lips, cupping his hands to light it. Through the rain, the spark of the flame cast a soft orange glow against his sharp brow.
Fang Li shouted joyfully, “Qin Weidong!”
At the sound of his voice, Qin Weidong looked up immediately. Seeing Fang Li watching him with surprise and delight from the gate, the stern lines of his face softened. He flicked his cigarette and tucked it behind his ear, stepped onto the running board, grabbed a bag from the driver’s seat, and walked over.
Fang Li ran to him and held up an umbrella, noticing the wet patch on Qin Weidong’s shoulder. He scolded, “Didn’t you see it was raining? Why didn’t you bring an umbrella?”
“Whose umbrella is this?” Qin Weidong asked.
“I borrowed it from the dorm manager downstairs.”
Qin Weidong pulled a brand-new umbrella from the truck. “The radio said it’s going to keep raining. I bought you a new one.”
The umbrella was a deep navy blue. Fang Li glanced into the truck and asked, “What about yours?”
“I’ve got one.”
The semi-truck was a massive beast. Fang Li searched for a while before finally finding the step to climb up. He leaned in to take a look inside—the cab wasn’t cluttered, but it smelled of smoke. On the passenger seat lay two sets of work clothes, looking like they’d just been wrung out from muddy cement. Lime and rain had hardened into crusty patches.
“Liar, you didn’t have an umbrella at all.”
A sour ache rose in Fang Li’s chest. He knew Qin Weidong had changed out of his dirty work clothes just to come see him. He didn’t want Fang Li to worry. This place wasn’t like Chongsi. In Chongsi, at least, they were on familiar turf. But here, everything was new and unknown. He couldn’t even imagine what it took for a newcomer like Qin Weidong to assert himself as a team lead at the mine.
While Fang Li was still feeling heavy-hearted, Qin Weidong’s solid arms came around his waist from behind and effortlessly lifted him down, setting him gently on the ground.
“What are you doing…!”
“I’ve got rain boots and a raincoat.”
Fang Li didn’t believe him, so Qin Weidong added, “I need to work—holding an umbrella’s not practical.”
He reached into a plastic bag and pulled out a pair of black rubber rain boots. “It’s supposed to pour the next few days. Boss Xu bought boots for the workers at the mine. The tall ones are too uncomfortable for going underground. When I went to pick out a pair, I got you a short pair too. Want to try them on?”
They walked together, sharing the umbrella, to a quiet school corridor for shelter. The building was off the main path, so few students passed by. Fang Li sat down, and Qin Weidong squatted in front of him, untied his shoelaces, and helped him into the boots. He measured with his palm, gave a gentle squeeze to check the fit, then looked up and asked, “How do they feel?”
Fang Li nodded and gave him a smile. “Anything you pick out fits just right.”
Qin Weidong smiled too.
They had really missed each other.
Fang Li leaned forward and slumped against Qin Weidong like a boneless cat. Qin Weidong didn’t move—he stayed in a squat, letting Fang Li rest against him. He raised a hand and gently brushed the stray hair at the back of Fang Li’s neck. “Had a rough time?”
Fang Li’s nose was pressed to the side of Qin Weidong’s neck, breathing in his scent—sweat, but faint, and comforting. It smelled real. Safe.
He shook his head, then nodded. “Classes here are exhausting.”
He pouted, “The teacher just drones on and on. His accent’s different from ours in Chongsi. Sometimes he lapses into dialect—I can’t understand a word. And he doesn’t care if we’re following or not. As soon as class ends, he hops on his bike and takes off. It’s like he’s racing a rocket home. I’ve got no one to ask. It’s not like school, when I could just ask you.”
Qin Weidong listened while doing mental math. He had left early today on purpose just to make time to see Fang Li. He still had a little while.
“Did you bring your textbook? Let me take a look.”
“I ran out too fast, didn’t bring it. Want me to go grab it?”
Qin Weidong nodded, and Fang Li dashed back to the dorm to get his book and some scratch paper, then found an empty classroom.
“What are you stuck on?” Qin Weidong asked, flipping through the textbook.
Fang Li sat close beside him, pointing at Chapters 3 and 4 in the table of contents. “We’re already on Chapter 4 now, but I still don’t really understand Chapter 3. Or the stuff before that.”
Qin Weidong marked the page with a pen and started reading from the beginning. Fang Li couldn’t help yawning—he hadn’t been sleeping well lately.
Qin Weidong looked at him. “Get some rest. I’ll wake you when I’m done.”
Tears of drowsiness welled up in the corners of Fang Li’s eyes. He nodded. He had been anxious and restless these past few days, unable to sleep because he couldn’t grasp the lessons. But now that Qin Weidong was here, a strange sense of peace settled over him. He felt relaxed.
Qin Weidong would fix everything for him—even if the problem was him.
By the time Fang Li woke up, the rain outside had stopped, and dusk had begun to fall. Qin Weidong was still beside him, immersed in the thick Principles of Accounting textbook. He had used up seven or eight pages of scratch paper. Fang Li propped up his head and leaned closer. “How far did you get?”
“Chapter Seven,” Qin Weidong replied.
Good grief. Fang Li glanced at the page number—the book was more than two-thirds through. He was stunned. “You’re already at Chapter Seven? You read through everything before that?”
Qin Weidong gave a small nod. It was getting late—there wasn’t time to finish the rest, but the earlier chapters weren’t too difficult.
He pushed the book toward Fang Li. “What part didn’t you understand?”
Fang Li admitted defeat. A wave of frustration washed over him. People really couldn’t be compared to each other. He’d been studying for over two weeks and still didn’t get it, but Qin Weidong had grasped most of it in a single afternoon.
Still, no matter how much he resented his own slowness, he couldn’t let the tuition go to waste. Fang Li rallied and asked several practice questions. Qin Weidong answered each one, speaking more in that hour than he had during an entire week at the mine.
But Fang Li was a slow learner. Just three problems took almost an hour.
By the time they reached the last one, his brain felt overloaded and sluggish. He grew frustrated. “Why can’t it go on the credit side?”
Qin Weidong furrowed his brow. It was a very basic question, but he didn’t show it. Patiently, he flipped the book back to the beginning and explained.
Fang Li couldn’t absorb any more. He exhaled, slumping over the desk. “Guess I’ve got a blockhead’s brain. If I’d known it’d be like this, I should’ve sent you to study. I’m just wasting tuition money.”
Qin Weidong could tell Fang Li didn’t want to keep going. “You don’t want to study anymore?”
Fang Li gave a lazy hum of assent, lifting his eyelids and looking pitiful. “You worked so hard for that money so I could study… and I’m just wasting it.”
Qin Weidong shut the textbook. “Then fine. If you don’t want to do it, come back with me. This stuff is useless anyway.”
This was what Qin Weidong truly felt—deep down, he thought Fang Li’s endeavors were no more than child’s play. He had never expected Fang Li to earn money. He simply hadn’t said it aloud. If Fang Li wanted to give it a try, he could go ahead.
Fang Li had only been joking with Qin Weidong. He had no idea what the man truly thought. With a laugh, he rested his chin on his hands. “Come on, I’m messing with you. Don’t worry—if I can’t get it, I’ll stay up all night if I have to. I will understand it and make the tuition worth it.”
Qin Weidong disapproved. “No staying up late. Bed by nine.”
Fang Li nodded, then muttered softly, “If you keep babying me like this, how am I ever supposed to grow up?”
When would he ever be able to shoulder the responsibilities of a man like Qin Weidong?
That night, the two of them had a bowl of noodles in the school canteen. It was the best meal Fang Li had eaten in days. After dinner, Qin Weidong returned to the mine, and Fang Li went back to night school.
Mining operations wrapped up around June, far earlier than Xu Jianchuan had expected. When the refinery owner guaranteed that the ore from this batch was of reliable quality, Xu Jianchuan became even more convinced that Qin Weidong was no ordinary man.
Truthfully, Xu Jianchuan had never had much success in business—it was only thanks to a well-placed brother-in-law that he’d made it this far. But this time, having unexpectedly relied on Qin Weidong, he finally understood what it meant to have the right person for the job—someone who could accomplish twice the work with half the effort.
Every month, Qin Weidong would visit Fang Li and bring him living expenses and daily necessities. Fang Li rarely had to shop for himself. Meanwhile, Xu Jianchuan sold off some mid-grade ore through the Changding train station, making a decent profit reselling it elsewhere. He handed that task off to Qin Weidong as well, who had to run back and forth between the refinery and the shipping lines—squeezing out time from his tight schedule just to see Fang Li.
Fang Li felt bad for him. More than once, Qin Weidong had waited for him in a truck and fallen asleep there, using that time to catch a few precious minutes of rest. Fang Li started wondering how he could help shoulder some of the burden. Night school wouldn’t bring in income anytime soon—and it was costing them money.
One night, while trying to sleep in the dorm, mosquitoes buzzed loudly around him, keeping him awake. He was swatting at them in frustration when the dormitory door was suddenly pounded on violently in the middle of the night.
“Open up! Open the door!”
A drunken voice shouted from outside. Qi Jian, on the bottom bunk, woke up, climbed down, turned on the light, and opened the door.
The man at the door was completely drunk and collapsed straight into the room. Qi Jian jumped. “D-Ding Haoyang?!”
The moment he came in, the entire room reeked of alcohol. Fang Li was dizzy from the smell and sat up, rubbing his head. “Who the hell is that?”
Qi Jian pointed to the bed that had been empty for months. “Him. Ding Haoyang.”
Fang Li, annoyed from being woken up, was livid. Ding Haoyang was totally passed out, and the two of them had to work together to get him into bed. His snoring soon filled the room like thunder. Fang Li was so angry he could scream. He stuffed two wads of tissue into his ears just to barely get back to sleep.
When daylight broke, Ding Haoyang woke up with a splitting headache. Only then did he recall that he had returned to school the night before. He glanced around the dormitory—Qi Jian was gone, and the only person there was someone he didn’t recognize, sitting at the desk flipping through a book.
“Sorry, man, I got totally wasted last night,” he said.
Fang Li looked up at him without much friendliness. Ding Haoyang was briefly stunned—this classmate was almost too good-looking. Red lips, white teeth—he couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but there was something about the look that made it hard to tell if he was male or female at a glance. Especially those fox-like eyes staring back at him.
“Shit, you’re a guy?”
The words slipped out before he could stop them. As soon as he said it, he regretted it—what a dumb question. Of course he was a guy; otherwise, why would he be in the boys’ dorm?
He opened his mouth to explain, but as he did, a wave of nausea rose from his stomach.
Fang Li gave a cold laugh, his expression darkening. “If you’re still drunk, sleep it off a little longer. If you’re gonna puke, do it outside. Don’t throw up in here.”
“Ah—sorry, sorry! I must still be drunk. My vision’s all blurry. Hey, are you a Changding student? How come I’ve never seen you before?”
“Night school.”
“Ohhh, that makes sense.”
Ding Haoyang was often away from school. He liked to think of himself as bursting with artistic talent—especially when it came to music. He ditched classes during the day without his family’s knowledge, messing around with a band and some equally wayward friends.
He fished a guitar out of the bag slumped next to his bed and slung it over his shoulder. He’d just strummed a chord when Fang Li looked up again.
Ding Haoyang quickly said, “Oh, right—forgot! Am I bothering your reading? I’ll go.”
“No,” Fang Li replied. His gaze shifted downward. Ding Haoyang immediately realized he was looking at the guitar.
Ding Haoyang grinned and patted it. “This is a guitar. Ever heard songs by the superstar Chen Leisheng? He’s my idol! Loves playing guitar and singing at the same time, like this—”
Once Ding Haoyang started talking about music, he couldn’t stop. He placed his fingers on the strings. “My buddies all say I sound like him. I’ll sing his Wild Rose for you.”
He sat cross-legged on the bed. As his fingers gently plucked the strings, the melody deepened. Fang Li’s eyes unknowingly fixed on the guitar. Somewhere inside him, a string seemed to hum along—faint, but undeniably moved.
Axolotl Translations 
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