Fang Li did a quick mental calculation—it had been nearly six years since they were last in Chongsi.
Back when Qin Weidong was still in Chaojiang, he’d arranged for Grandma Fang’s ashes to be brought back to Chongsi, to be properly buried on the family land. The older generation, after all, always believed in returning to one’s roots.
That night, Fang Li curled up in Qin Weidong’s arms and asked, “Why the sudden urge to go back?”
Qin Weidong replied, “These past four years abroad, you were with me. And because you were with me, of course I remembered.”
He looked down at Fang Li in his arms. “You don’t want to go back? If you don’t, we won’t.”
“It’s not that…” Fang Li shook his head. “It’s just… it’s been so long. Do you remember the year we got kicked out of Chongsi? You stood in front of them by yourself. I thought something had happened to you. I went back to look for you… Then we went to Suixing, stayed in a tiny clinic. I had a fever. Your head was bleeding. You still found a doctor for me. Our car—our only car—was burned down… I really thought we were finished.”
Qin Weidong’s thoughts were pulled back too. That winter had truly been brutal.
“With me around, how could we be finished?”
“It feels like it all happened in another lifetime… and also just yesterday.”
Fang Li reached out from under the covers and gently touched the scar on Qin Weidong’s brow. After all these years, it had faded significantly. “Does it still hurt?”
“It’s long since stopped hurting.”
Fang Li murmured, “Back then, I never imagined we’d have today… That we’d live in such a big house… that you’d be the son of the Qin family… that we’d go to America… that I’d sing for a living…”
Fireworks had gone off all night, and now it was nearly dawn. Qin Weidong pulled Fang Li’s hand back under the covers. “So sentimental.”
Qin Weidong had always been less emotional by nature. He wasn’t the type to dwell on the past. He didn’t have the luxury of it—too many things around him constantly pushed him forward, upward. He had no time, and no intention, to stop.
Once New Year’s Eve passed, Qin Weidong spent the first two days of the New Year with his family. Fang Li and Qi Jian took a little trip to the nearby town of Luxi, which the Jinyang government had recently developed as a cultural tourism hub. They took lots of photos and bought souvenirs.
On the third day of the new year, Feng Hui finally extricated himself from his family obligations and bought two plane tickets to Europe, taking Qi Jian on vacation. He’d been at odds with his family for years over Qi Jian. His mother kept pushing blind dates on him with the daughters of various CEOs, and Feng Hui had rejected them all. This New Year, it seemed she had pushed too far—he simply disappeared, leaving her no trace.
Qin Weidong came back to pick Fang Li up and head to Chongsi. He popped the trunk and loaded in two heavy down jackets, snow boots, and a stash of Fang Li’s favorite snacks for the road.
There were still a few expensive bottles of liquor and health supplements in the car—gifts from the Qin family relatives during the holidays—but Qin Weidong didn’t bother unloading them. He drove straight back with Fang Li.
It was over 400 kilometers from Jinyang to Chongsi. That distance, six years ago, had seemed unimaginable—like an impossible journey. Back then, they couldn’t even afford tickets. They crammed into a train carriage and clattered through the night just to get there.
Nowadays, the drive back took a little over five hours. It was the New Year holiday, and Qin Weidong didn’t bring his assistant—he drove himself, at a leisurely pace.
Fang Li stared out the window. After a while, maybe because returning to Chongsi stirred too many buried memories, his mind grew chaotic. Eventually, he got drowsy. When they passed a service area, Qin Weidong pulled over.
“Need to use the bathroom?”
Fang Li shook his head. The temperature outside was near freezing. Winters in Jin Province chilled one to the bone; stepping out just to pee could almost freeze you solid. Fang Li shrank back into the passenger seat. “I’ll hold it. I’ll go when we get there.”
Qin Weidong clicked his tongue. “It’ll be noon by then. Just go now.”
Fang Li gave in reluctantly—Qin Weidong even had to micromanage his bathroom breaks. It was exhausting.
After he came back from the restroom, Fang Li bought a can of candied sour plums from the service area’s mini-mart. This station was one of a new set piloted in Jin Province, located only on highways connecting to Jinyang. Open 24/7, but pricey. At checkout, the total came to sixty-eight yuan.
Getting into the car, Fang Li muttered, “That’s outrageous. One tiny can for sixty-eight? No way this place stays open long…”
As he started the engine, Qin Weidong said, “They’re planning to expand these nationwide.”
“Selling at that price? Who’s gonna afford it?” Fang Li might not lack money now, but that didn’t mean he treated it like monopoly cash.
Qin Weidong glanced at the price tag. “These pilot stations are being built by a subsidiary of Zhongsheng. Next year, Feng Hui’s handling the pricing negotiations with the government’s investment office.”
Fang Li looked out the window. To be fair, the place was well built—clean and tidy, far better than the old roadside public toilets. He asked if Zhongsheng was really in the business of building service areas now. Qin Weidong explained that just south of here were a few mines Zhongsheng was developing, and these were all part of the supporting infrastructure.
After nearly four hours of driving, they reached the tollbooth in Suixing County around noon. Chongsi lay just past it.
The toll station had a delay in their morning cash handover, and the cashier fumbled for change. Just then, there was a loud bang behind them. Fang Li jolted forward sharply—their car had been rear-ended.
Instinctively, Qin Weidong reached over to shield him. Thankfully, even when seatbelts were often just for show, he never once forgot to buckle Fang Li in.
Fang Li strained his neck. He winced, clutching it in pain. From behind, someone was shouting, “I told you not to drive! Now look what happened! Who the hell’s car is that in front? Damn it—taking forever at the toll!”
Qin Weidong got out, locking the doors behind him. The car that hit them was an old Santana. The damage wasn’t serious—just a bit of paint scraped and a coat of grime knocked loose. And since it was a rear-end collision, the other driver was at fault.
But it was freezing, Fang Li hadn’t eaten lunch, and Qin Weidong didn’t want to make a fuss. He figured they’d sort things out back in Jinyang if needed.
Who would’ve guessed the driver behind still had an attitude? “You’re not pressing charges? We should be the ones asking for compensation! You sat there so damn long at the toll—you were just asking for it. Look at my headlights—how are you gonna pay for that?”
Coincidentally, the toll station manager was bringing out a new box of change and saw the scene. One glance at Qin Weidong’s car made him freeze. He blinked, doubting his eyes—then looked again to confirm the license plate. Cold sweat ran down his back.
“It’s New Year’s—no need to argue,” the manager tried to mediate. “You didn’t even wait for the barrier to lift before hitting the gas. It’s your car’s fault. He’s not even asking for compensation, so just let it go…”
“What, and he has no responsibility at all?” the man barked, blocking their way. “Call the traffic police—I know everyone around here.”
The manager couldn’t reason with him. Qin Weidong didn’t want to waste time. “Then let’s call the police.”
Qin Weidong made a call. No one knew who he contacted, but within ten minutes, three traffic officers arrived. Leading them was the captain of the local precinct. As soon as the captain spotted his own nephew, his heart sank. Then he saw Qin Weidong and the car, and he instantly realized what was going on—his superior had just phoned to tell him to handle a situation urgently, and this was it.
The man spotted the captain and called out, “Uncle! That bastard—he was driving and—”
“You idiot! Driving like you’ve got no eyes in your head on New Year’s Day!”
The captain cut him off with a furious scolding. “This is entirely your fault. You’re paying for the damage.” But looking at Qin Weidong’s car, he couldn’t even finish the sentence properly.
Qin Weidong frowned. “Forget the compensation. Just have them move their car.”
The captain exhaled in relief. Before he could say more, the man protested, “How is this all my fault? Uncle, look at his—”
“Shut the hell up!” the captain snapped. His nephew was absolutely hopeless. He grabbed him and growled, “Do you even know what kind of car you just hit? You think you can afford to pay for this? Even a chip of paint off that thing is worth more than ten of your cars! That was a call from up top telling us to take care of this fast. Don’t cause trouble on New Year’s!”
The man only had one relative with any kind of authority—his uncle. Hearing him talk like that, even though he wasn’t happy about it, he stepped aside and called his younger cousin to come drive.
Inside the car, Fang Li saw another man get out of the backseat and move to the driver’s seat. He winced and poked his head out the window: “Peng Chao?!”
The man turned back. Fang Li recognized him, though with some hesitation. He pulled down his face mask. “Peng Chao? It’s me! Don’t you remember? Fang Li!”
Peng Chao leaned in, trying to be sure. After a moment, he exclaimed, “Fang Li?!”
It really was him.
Peng Chao had gotten darker and a little chubbier over the years. The guy who had rear-ended them asked, “You know each other?”
Peng Chao replied, “Of course we do! Fang Li—he’s my childhood best friend from our hometown in Chongsi! We grew up together!”
He then glanced across the road. “Qin Weidong?!”
He’d been dozing in the car earlier and hadn’t looked out. If Fang Li hadn’t called out, Peng Chao probably wouldn’t have recognized them at all—they both looked so different now.
Fang Li hadn’t expected to run into his childhood friend, Peng Chao, here. It turned out the man who had been driving earlier was Peng Chao’s cousin—they had also come back to Chongsi for ancestral tomb sweeping.
Now that they recognized each other, no one brought up the accident again. Peng Chao said the road between Suixing and Chongsi had been rebuilt two years ago, and many routes were now different. He offered to lead the way back together.
Peng Chao got into Fang Li’s car. He ran his hand over the interior. “This is real leather, huh? Must’ve cost at least several hundred thousand.”
Even several hundred thousand wouldn’t cut it—the car had cost nearly two million before import taxes.
Peng Chao added, “Why didn’t you chip in a bit more and get a Hutou Benz? There’s this big boss in our county who drives one—super flashy, especially around New Year’s.”
Fang Li licked his lips, unsure what to say.
Peng Chao said, “It’s really been years since we saw each other—what, seven or eight? Where are you guys now?”
Fang Li told him they were living in Jinyang. Peng Chao suggested that since it was such a rare reunion, they should get lunch together. The group found a restaurant in Suixing.
Getting out of the car, Fang Li realized Peng Chao was married—and had a son around four or five years old, who was being carried by his wife.
Peng Chao said, “I remember saying I’d wait for you guys to come to my wedding. Who knew you’d both never make it back all these years?”
Fang Li suddenly felt emotional. Peng Chao’s wife seemed quite simple—she had only gone to school through elementary grades. During lunch, she just sat quietly feeding their son without speaking.
Peng Chao recounted that after the two of them left, he had worked at a distillery for two years, got married, and then had an accident—one of his fingers was crushed by a bottling machine and he had to quit.
Only then did Fang Li notice the tip of Peng Chao’s right index finger was missing.
“But it didn’t really affect anything. I run a tobacco and liquor store in the county now, and business is okay.”
By the time everyone had mostly finished eating, Peng Chao’s wife finally began her meal. Fang Li asked the waiter to bring a few more hot dishes. Peng Chao waved it off: “No need. We’ll just take the leftovers home—she can heat them up.”
Qin Weidong paid the bill. Then Fang Li borrowed Qin Weidong’s wallet and stepped into the jewelry shop next door. He came back out with a solid longevity lock.
“For your little boy,” he said. “I didn’t make it to your wedding back then.”
Seeing Fang Li casually drop a few thousand on a trinket—more than he made in a year—Peng Chao’s cousin didn’t dare speak again. Peng Chao tried to refuse twice, but finally had his wife tuck it away for their son. He asked, “What about you two? Still single?”
“Nope. Haven’t met the right one.”
Peng Chao laughed. “You’ve always been picky. And Weidong? He must be a big boss by now—bet he’s got women throwing themselves at him. Even when you guys left back then, I already thought he didn’t belong in a small place like this.”
Fang Li smiled. “That’s for sure.”
He really didn’t—not then, and even less so now.
The two exchanged a few words before Peng Chao asked Fang Li how he’d been all these years.
Fang Li thought for a moment and said, “Had surgery, went to the U.S., came back… now I sing for a living.”
“You sing?” Peng Chao pulled a cigarette from his pocket. “Can you actually make a living singing? There should be plenty of money-making opportunities in the provincial capital. Didn’t Weidong help you get connected? Ah well, you’ve never been the type to worry about these things…”
They chatted for a while, but it became clear even to Peng Chao that there wasn’t much left to say. They had just reunited, yet unlike back when they were sixteen or seventeen—barefoot on the mine site and full of things to talk about—their life paths had diverged too far.
When they arrived in Chongsi, the sight of Mount Bailing came into view. The two cars went their separate ways—Peng Chao had to first take his wife and child to visit her family. He looked at Fang Li, then at Qin Weidong, and ultimately said nothing.
Perhaps he knew, deep down, that ever since he’d been working odd jobs at the foot of this mountain—getting married, having a child—he had already stepped onto a different road than theirs.
After saying goodbye, Fang Li felt a mix of emotions. Mount Bailing felt like a shadow from their past. It had once nourished them, and also restrained them. And now, within that shadow, some still lived there—while others had never returned.
Chongsi had recently built new roads. At his grandmother’s grave—where she was buried alongside Fang Huiwu, as she had once requested when she was still in good health—Fang Li stood still.
Qin Weidong carried paper money they’d bought along the way. Looking at Fang Li, he realized how painful it must have been for Fang Li to agree to this all those years ago—something he hadn’t understood back then.
As soon as Fang Li stepped out of the car and saw his grandmother’s gravestone, tears fell uncontrollably. Qin Weidong supported him. Fang Li didn’t say a word—he just cried in front of the grave all afternoon. Qin Weidong burned the paper offerings beside him, keeping him company.
When Fang Li finally cried to the point of near-collapse, Qin Weidong tried to carry him. Fang Li refused. He wiped the tears from his face—his eyelids swollen—and took the paper money from Qin Weidong’s hands to burn some for Fang Huiwu too. After all, that was his brother.
“Grandma always worried the most about Xiao Wu…”
When Fang Li said Xiao Wu, it was unclear whether he meant himself or the person buried beneath the gravestone. But in front of his grandmother, he had never been Fang Li.
The old Fang family home had been vandalized by debt-collecting workers after they left. Later, no one in the small town took responsibility, and the township government took over the land, redistributing it to their own relatives. All these years, neither of them had ever tried to reclaim it.
That night, Qin Weidong booked the best hotel in the county town for them to stay in.
That night, Fang Li had a nightmare. It was chaotic—he dreamt that he had returned to Chongsi, but Fang Hongqing cursed him as a whore’s son and threw him out of the house. Li Wenling told him she was marrying an American. Even his beloved grandmother appeared—Fang Li dreamed that he and Fang Huiwu were both standing before her, but she only recognized Fang Huiwu. She held Fang Huiwu’s hand, then picked up a broom and drove Fang Li away.
Startled awake by one nightmare after another, Fang Li’s face was pale, which gave Qin Weidong quite a scare. “Had a nightmare?”
Fang Li took several deep breaths, then turned and held onto Qin Weidong, needing the warmth of his body. He held him tightly—so tightly it hurt a little. Qin Weidong patted his back, wondering if the place they had visited earlier—the gravesite—was too full of yin energy. Maybe it had clung to Fang Li? People in the old town used to say that those who were physically weak shouldn’t go to graveyards.
Qin Weidong stroked his arm. “Don’t be scared. It’s alright. I’m here.”
Fang Li held him for a long time before finally murmuring, “Mm.”
Qin Weidong fell asleep with him in his arms. He was tall, strong, and full of vitality—he wrapped Fang Li entirely in his embrace, as if trying to merge him into his own body, shielding him from all harm.
The next morning, they set out for home. Fang Li hesitated for a long time about whether to relocate his grandmother’s grave to Jinyang. He asked at the town office, but the person on duty replied, “Move a grave? How can you go digging up your ancestors?” Then, pulling the glass window shut, they closed up for the New Year holiday.
Qin Weidong said, “If you ever want to visit, I’ll drive you here.”
Fang Li nodded. On the drive back, he looked at Chongsi and Suixing growing distant in the rearview mirror. The endless mountains slowly faded into the snowy mist. Once upon a time, they had escaped those very mountains in disgrace.
Now, perhaps the mountains were emptier, more faded than before—but they still stood, lush and unmoving, looming between their past and their future, splitting their world into two parallel lines that would never again intersect.
Axolotl Translations 
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